Ride To Remember Europe 2014

We left the Grafton Guest house after an early breakfast. The owners Anne and Jeff were absolutely wonderful. They agreed to store our additional items and suitcases in their basement storage area till we returned from Europe. They were devout Christian people who understood very well what we were about to do on our trip. We'd spoken to them the previous evening and interestingly Jeff gave us one piece of advice. He told us to be aware that a significant number of even younger German people were still upset that Germany had lost the war all those years ago. He suggested we don't advertise our mission widely and always be cognisant of our surroundings and the people who could potentially impact on us directly. We took the advice even though we were surprised to hear it from people like this. The morning was cold, we uncovered the bikes, quickly loaded our luggage. We developed procedures we had practised back in Australia and they certainly held us in good stead when the real deal was upon us. We gave Anne and Jeff our farewells and took off on the wet roads with the rain almost imperceptible. Hopefully, we could avoid the worst if we made tracks. So confident were we that we had not even donned our wet weather gear. That is until we arrived at the petrol station near the port to top up fully. The rain began as soon as we filled our tanks. The wet weather gear came on and we headed off.

Day one in Felixtowe. A walk along the promenade and a well deserved rest in the cold blustery conditions. A full explanation of the train journeys from Paris and a small snapshot of our location along the beach in Felixtowe.

Our final preparations on the bikes at the Grafton Guest House. Luggage off and inside our room. Bikes securely locked together and covered for the night. The weather is looking a little ominous for tomorrow but hopefully we can make tracks early and reach Dover some 225kms away to board the ferry to Calais before we are drowned in rain. The "in house" joke I was referring to was the temperamental nature of Sol's Italian made Ducati bike. It's electrical system leaves a little to be desired so we need to keep an eye on this or we will be push starting it regularly.

After preparing the bikes...pumping up tyres, reconnecting batteries (must be disconnected for the ocean voyage), packing all our very extensive luggage with around 65kg of clothing, extra riding gear, some spare parts, heavy security locking chains, bike weather covers and of course all our personal gear...we now could ride out of the bonded warehouse and basically fill the bikes with petrol. For the ocean journey the fuel tanks must be empty. We bought a fuel container to the warehouse and filled each tank with couple of litres to enable us to head out to the nearest fuel stop. It was wonderful getting onto the bike saddles and feel the freezing cold English winds in our faces. At least the rain had held off.

Arrival at Felixtowe UK. Our time in Paris was very brief but the journey on the bikes must proceed. From the Novatel in Paris we negotiated the Paris underground dragging two very heavy suitcases each. When our train ticket failed to unlock the entry turnstyle allowing us entry to train platform, Sol jumped over the turnstyle and dragged his bags through from below. For me this was not an option. With a failing right hip I was not up for gymnastics so I took the low road and crawled under the turnstyle with my bags in tow. Lucky no security people were on site at the time. This local train took us to the centre of Paris where we switched to a train headed for the Port of Calais where the Paris-Nord train under the English Channel would see us arrive in London. The problem in London was that I had booked Sol's ticket to Ipswich correctly but mine was dated incorrectly (a silly typo on my part) and did not allow me access to a seat. I had no choice but to buy a new ticket or I would be a resident of London for tonight. We arrived in Ipswich eventually and then booked a one carriage train to Felixtowe...a trip of some 20kms. We arrived at the end of the line, literally and called a local taxi to take us to the Grafton Guest House, our booked lodging for the next two nights. Our bikes had arrived in the Port of Felixtowe about 2 weeks earlier and we eagerly awaited a visit to the port to collect the bikes and begin our long journey. To provide some perspective, Felixtowe is a major container ship port on the east side of Britain approximately 180kms north east of London. They receive large volumes of freight from all parts of the European continent as well as many other parts of the world. They also receive large volumes of heavy 18 wheeler trucks with goods from Europe loaded onto large ferries from ports like Rotterdam in the Netherlands.

A day in Paris. Our first day exploring Paris We found a motorcycle repair shop in a back laneway. They gave us great advice about a later destination in France. We found the Eiffel Tower after doing ridiculous circles in the local streets. We found a Kosher Butcher shop close to our Hotel and the fear that emblazoned the owners face told us much about rampant anti semitism here caused mainly by the heavy influx of Muslim Arabs into France and indeed much of Europe. We found a Chevrolet dealership with the latest Corvettes for sale there. We found the most delicious food in a local market, in local patisserie stores and in one local Deli on the way back from the Eiffel Tower. We spent several hours in the Deli, eating, drinking, talking about what lay ahead.

For me visiting Betty and Gilbert in Paris was the highlight of the trip. While Sol slept that first afternoon, I took two separate trains to reach Gilbert and Betty's apartment block on the south east part of Paris. To put the relationship in perspective, Gilbert was my mother's 1st cousin. When I arrived at the apartment block I was overwhelmed with anticipation. Running on adrenalin was the order of this day. I knew this would be my only opportunity to see my family in Paris so I had to make sure it happened. I called Gilbert from the hotel at about 1.30pm when we were finally able to take possession of our room. The hotel staff had not prepared the room in time for our earlier arrival so we had a delay and stored our bags in their lock up security room and went out to walk and buy some lunch. Once settled the call to Gilbert greeted me with a "please come now, since we need to be somewhere later tonight". I told Gilbert it will take me about an hour and that I would leave right away. He spoke no English, I spoke no French. We both however spoke the mama Loshen...Yiddish so communication was possible. Upon arriving at their apartment block I rang their apartment intercom and asked if I should come up in the elevator. They were on a high floor. Gilbert replied that I should wait at the elevator and he will come down to get me. When the elevator door opened I smiled broadly and very excitedly. He was a little more subdued and seemed as though he was unsure what type of person he was allowing into his home. He knows I'm family but as we all know the individual person can still be someone he may not wish to interact with until he feels comfortable that I'm the type of person he hopes I am. It took very little time for all of us to bond and communicate as though we lived in the same city and were close. Betty and Gilbert were wonderful. I brought Mary's Genealogical family tree of the Goldfarbs (my mother's and Gilbert's mother's family) so we could fully discuss the linkages. Of significance to me was the fact that I could ask Gilbert about all the details of exactly when his parents left Poland for France. I could ask about how his parents and older brother survived the war in hiding, How he survived in a Catholic orphanage as a very young boy because of the kindness and bravery of the Catholic priest who ran the orphanage. Details also of his sister Blima, who was caught by the French Police by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her transport to Auschwitz began in Paris and was facilitated by a train ride to Drancy in Paris from where huge numbers of French Jews were train transported to Krakow in south western Poland only 60kms from their last port of call on this earth, Auschwitz. Also known as the Polish town of Oswiecim. The Germans called this town Auschwitz in German and refused to use the Polish place name. The journey for Blima and so many tens of thousands of French Jews was more than 1500kms of hell in itself. Many died on the journey without food, water or any sanitary conditions. My visit continued with Betty and Gilbert including a short meeting with one of their daughters Sophie. As I first said, this was the best 3 hours of the whole trip for me. I was able to talk to, laugh with, reminisce with and become fully at home with the last remaining vestige of my mother's family in Europe. They were wonderful. A year earlier I had been fortunate enough to ship my bike to Israel and ride Israel from top to bottom and most places in between. I visited with Betty and Gilbert's other daughter Karinne who had moved from France to Israel some 18 years earlier. When it was time to leave their apartment Betty and Gilbert refused to let me take the train back to my hotel. They drove me the whole way through some of the scenic sections of Paris itself. It was emotional and painful saying goodbye. Unfortunately, this year...2021 Gilbert passed away from a long term illness. Betty and Sophie and her children have now moved to Israel to be near Karinne so the family is together there. Hopefully I will be able to visit with them in the foreseeable future. If I had not made this trip to Europe I would have never met with Gilbert. He was exactly the same as my mother's description of Gilbert's mother (my mother's Aunt Hinda)...a wonderful person. Since he has now passed away our meeting has become even more meaningful. I spoke to him on the phone over the years but the physical meeting was something I will never forget. Baruch Dayan Haemet

At Melbourne Airport ready to board. We both know this will be a journey fraught with danger, excitement, sadness and elation but most of all...discovery and emotional pain. Our flight takes us first to Paris. I have family there I have never met.

Arrival in Paris after the long flight was good. We were tired of course but the weather was cool and without any rain. We took the train from the airport to the center of Paris where we would spend the night in one of the Novatel Hotels in the city.

My final morning walk. Mary is under the weather with a bad cold so I'm on my own. At this point in time all we can do is hope for the best. I've tried to think of everything but one never knows what pitfalls or challenges will lay ahead. I've never been to Europe so familiarity is something out of the picture. Frankly, being there as a tourist as Sol has been will really not prepare anyone for the type of journey I've been planning for the last 3-4 years. A motorcycle ride covering the distances required with no logistical back up is at the best of times a daunting task. We will not have the luxury of a support vehicle and crew like the typical adventurers one sees in cash infused documentaries. We really don't care. Our journey is in the hands of our creator and the spirits of our forebears.

The planning phase was done over nearly 4 years. Sol was not in the picture till a number of months before the trip actually took place. My wife Mary had found a photograph of what appeared to be a random inmate in Auschwitz II (Birkenau) on some obscure web site. She has always been an avid genealogist researching both her family and mine. Both families were survivors and on Mary's side there was significant volumes of photos and information. On my side there were zero photos and almost no information other than what my parents had told me. With this single photo Mary had stumbled upon, a series of events were set in motion which would change my life going forward. The photo in fact was the only reason I made this trip at all.

Final planning has been done. Our bikes have actually reached the Port of Felixtowe in England so we have our final few days before leaving for Melbourne Airport. Our first stop will be Paris where I have the last of my mothers relatives living. In fact her 1st cousin Gilbert, his wife Betty and daughter Sophie live there. Gilbert is the younger son of Hinda, my mother's aunt. Hinda moved to France with her husband in 1927 from Poland. Hinda's daughter, Gilbert's older sister was captured by the French Police in Paris who handed her over to the nazis. She was transported to Auschwitz along with thousands of French Jews and she was murdered there along with untold numbers of others who suffered a similar fate. Our plan was to arrive in Paris, spend a few days there, take the train to London and then to Felixtowe to pick up the bikes to begin our journey.