Trip to Italy

[bins]

Hi, not sure if this the right place to post this but the moderators will move it I'm sure, I have a picture to go with the story if someone can explain how to get it from an attachment to here! 4th October I set off at 6.30 am, to catch the ferry to France on my 2 year old S1000RR, standard bike apart from a hollowed out seat and lowered back end, it may slow the steering down a bit but it’s still steers quick enough for me! the seat modification is compensated for comfort on long distances with an Air hawk, also has flat bars which make it really comfortable to tour on. Past Colchester it starts to rain, before Chelmsford I get that all too familiar feeling of cold water around the delicate bits, have to stop and fill with fuel and try and make sure all the zips, studs and Velcro are in order. On to Dover and it’s brightening, in Calais the sun is out, I find a bike shop to purchase another over suit but it’s shut, never mind it may not rain any more. I see a sign for St Omer on the route National road and think that’ll do, so take it, I’ve given myself 4 days to get to Monza so no hurry! after an hour or so messing about on tiny roads I realise I must make progress so take the E42 to Mons, then a mixture of motorway and A roads past Luxembourg and into Germany, I cannot resist taking the small roads past Remich where I camped with 5 Dutch lads back in 1975. It starts raining again and I find a hotel before water finds it’s way south! The hotel is staffed by a Russian girl and a chap from Croatia, no English is spoken and we probably use my full German vocabulary several times over as I tell them about my travels and experiences (mainly disasters), with a bit of Italian thrown in for good measure, (Croatians sort of understand Italian) (well he nodded at the appropriate times anyway, and that’s good enough for me).

Next morning I set off in the rain for the nearest bike shop, I buy another over suit and put it on in addition to the top quality BMW one that leaks, I zigzag in and out of France heading for Baden Baden, after an hour or so I’m back to square one in the damp department, I think to myself there’s probably places people go and pay good money to have cold water trickled around their private parts but heading for Italy in October is not the right time or places for such sadistic pleasures! I find the famous B500 and head south, on the odd occasion I am above the clouds the road dries out and I have some fun. South of the town in the middle of the Black Forest (begins with F but I have not got time to find how to spell it), the road is dry and the sun is shining, deserted roads and this is what riding an S1000 is all about. Stop overnight beside Lake Titisee, (I camped there in the seventies as well).

Next morning it’s Switzerland and some real mountains, I never buy the motorway pass so I again zigzag my way south, Luzern always makes me feel good as I cross the bridge and look at the old arched one to my right, I cannot find the free road out, so end up heading for Bern, never mind, marvellous roads, take a left and pass Thur and Interlaken, now my first high pass of the trip, the Grimsel at 2164 metres, half way up and I’m in cloud! at the top I’m not sure if it’s dark or just incredibly thick cloud, half a mile down and I’m in brilliant sunshine, I look to the left and I can see the road of the Furkapass winding it’s way, cut into the mountain side, I stop and remember when I rode my 1960 Bonneville along there nearly 40 years ago. A good thing about travelling alone is one can make instant decisions about what to do, how to do it and when to do it, I stop at a junction and I still have not picked a pass to enter Italy, I go for the Simplon, mainly because I’ve never done that one. As I’m getting nearer it’s getting towards the end of the day, (that’s a bit of an understatement, it’s dark and night time is upon me). There’s a little town called Brig which the road to the pass leads out of, the sign for Simplonpass is crossed out, indicating that it’s shut! I nearly take another road signposted Simplon but just in time I realise it’s to a motorway (I have no vignette), I back paddle a few yards and see that the sign is green and not blue for the free roads, it’s difficult to tell in the dark! I explore various options and end up in another village where a young lad is playing with a mobile phone, according to him the only way to Italy is by Motorway, I disbelieve him, he’d got far too many spots, spoke far better English than me and only gave me a fraction of the attention he was giving the space age device he was playing with. On the way I noticed a sign that was not blanked out so take the road heading up a steep incline, I pass no houses or any sign of civilisation so assume I’m on the way to the pass, after several miles I come to where the road is dug up, there’s machinery parked across to block any adventurers making progress, however, there’s a track to the left, an extremely tight hairpin bend on gravel, which tests the steering lock on my ultimate sports bike. I get round no problem, the traction control is working overtime as I’m on loose ground, I have not the slightest idea where I’m heading for, it’s pitch dark, stars in the sky so that means there are no clouds to rain on me! surprisingly I’m not at all cold, I must be approaching 2000 meters above sea level. After a while I reach a ‘T’ junction to a larger road, in my mind I was not at the top of the pass and uphill was to the right, bearing in mind my last turn was to the left, if I had done a loop around the road works I expected to turn left again to carry on the road I was on, amazingly there was some bus timetables on a post, they gave me no clue which way to turn so I went for the uphill option, after a few miles I came upon a sort of half tunnel cut into the mountain side, all lit up, I could see the lights way before miles back. By the time I reach the summit of the pass it’s 11 o’clock, I’ve not even thought about where to spend the night, as I progress down towards Italy over planed tarmac with quite severe ramps, (I don’t want to buckle the wheels on this bike, it’s not a G S!!!) it starts raining again, I look skywards and sure enough the stars have disappeared, even quicker than the fuel when I’m on full chat! It’s far too late to find any accommodation, I’m not at all cold so I could find some shelter and become a true adventurer, it’s not like being in Alaska, there are no bears to eat me! I turn off the main road and consider my options as I amble through a village at about 30 MPH, a car is right on my tail so I wave it past, turns out to be the Caribinerie (last time I encountered them it cost me 138 euros and silent meal service (from the wife)for a couple of days) this time they are not interested in me, they’d probably never seen an S1000 ridden so slow! I pass a bus shelter to my left, perfect I thought, turn around, ride the front wheel under cover and set up camp. I eat the rest of my supplies I’d bought to use up the Swiss francs I’d been ripped of for at a fuel station when paying in Euros, nip round the back for a pee and fold up my lining out of my jacket to make a pillow, I will admit I heard the church bells chime on several of the hours throughout the night but overall it was another adventure in my life, I’m 61 and still like to do crazy things. At about 6. 30 the young girl delivering papers to the houses across the road gave me a rather suspicious look so I thought it’s about time I got back on the road before people start congregating to catch a bus. Afterwards the thought did cross my mind to have left my hat for any odd coins to be deposited in, but I had no dog by my side and the S1000 was a bit of a give away as to my financial status.

To be continued...

 

[bins]

Continued from above... I ride along the side of Lago Maggiore past some really exclusive hotels, not for one moment did I wish I’d spent the night in any of them, I have breakfast (prima colazione) in Como, in view of Lago di Como. I find my way to the Hotel Fossatti just north of Monza where the 11 of us planned to meet. On all of these trips I seem to be the butt of the joke and my latest hair style made sure this was no exception, the next day when taking lunch in St Moritz, (I say lunch, it was dinner in my vocabulary, (breakfast, dinner and tea), but the company I was with over ruled me) we were questioning the waitress about her origins and accent, I asked the question “what are you doing tonight”? Barry said “no chance with your hair”, she said “just keep your hat on”!

Next day we set off for our second hotel about 20 miles north of Florence, the only sensible way (does sensible and me fit in the same story?) to travel in this area of Italy in by Autostrada, so I have to pay a toll (I normally refuse to pay to ride on boring roads) only 8 Euros so not too painful, Neil leads us on a more sensible road to a cafe in the centre of Mantova where the proprietor says I look like Sting from the Police, his sales pitch for drawing in customers is now come and dine with an English pop star. We stop for coffee after a few more miles and only have another 30 to get to our destination, Garth is wobbling about on uneven ground on his VFR so I wait for him, the others turn off to the left and we miss the turn, we keep going straight and after 30 miles realise we have gone wrong, maps are consulted and being real pioneers (‘U’ turns and back tracking are not options we consider) we decide to carry on and come in from the south, after 5 miles it’s raining, another 5 miles and it’s dark, 5 miles from the hotel, for Garth it’s very dark, his headlamp has failed, we crawl in 2 hours after the others with an extra 60 miles on the clock.

We spend the next 3 days riding around Tuscany and eating pasta. Highlight of every stop was the rating of my chances of pulling the waitress.

Saturday morning, over a week after leaving home it’s time to make our way back, I decide to travel alone, I cross the flat land between the Appennino and the Alps/Dolomites without paying any tolls, do a bit of sight seeing (only from the seat of the bike) in Verona, then head north to Rovereto, there’s a road to Schio that was recommended to me years ago, (that’s where I was relieved of the 138 Euros) this time all went without incident, also I was told that there is a point where, on a clear day it is possible to see St Marks square tower, in true adventurer tradition I turned left up a narrow track and found some quite incredible views, alas Venice was not visible although I’m sure I saw Padova. I’m riding a dirt road on a ledge with no barrier to my right, I am quite concerned about meeting a vehicle coming the other way around the blind corners, by luck I come across some lads who have stopped in their 4 wheel drive truck, rather than just ride up what may be a no through road I ask “er, possobili viaggi Schio, del strada?” eventually I get the answer “non problemo” so I carry on and get back on tarmac, even dry tarmac! I head north again and spend the night in between Trento and Bolzano in a tiny village on some minor roads.

Task for the next day was to cross into Austria over the Timmelsjoch, I reached Merano via some beautiful minor roads, they had their first snow of the season the previous night and for the first time after leaving home my hands were cold, I stopped to admire the view of the valley below and had a chat with a German family on holiday, I needed fuel in Merano and whilst filling up a rather posh Italian gentleman with an open face helmet had a flat battery on his V Strom Suzuki, we pushed it down a slope and he blamed the clutch for being too sharp and stopping the engine turning over, I thought better of trying to explain about getting it back onto compression first (no matter how good his English was) he was only half a mile from home so he could sort himself out, even if I’d had no luggage on the back seat I don’t think there would be any way he would climb on the back of my bike! Before I went he asked my route home, I said the Timmelsjoch and he laughed out loud, “no chance with this snow” he said, in jest I said “what about the Stelvio” (knowing full well that was one of the highest), “forget about the high passes” he said even louder, (by now we’ve got the whole area’s attention). He told me to take a route I’d ridden years ago and I knew the highest part was only about 1500 metres, we parted company and when I was out of sight I got the map out, after studying I noticed a pass at 2094 metres called the Jaufen, I took the road towards it and sure enough on the information board it said the high one is closed and my chosen one still open, I was determined not to leave the Alps without reaching serious altitude.

Although I’ve travelled the continent quite extensively, I’d never seen fresh snow on the pine trees at low altitude, leaving San Leonardo on the tiny roads was something very special, it was snow either side all the way up, at the top it was foggy but not exactly in cloud, I had a bowl of soup and got the camera out for the first time on the whole trip, yes you’ve guessed, the battery’s flat, I mooch about outside hoping someone will take pity on me and sure enough, I ask a chap if he could lend me some batteries and full of enthusiasm he offers to take my picture and immediately emails them to me. I do a tour of Vipiteno and cross into Austria parting with 4 Euros 80 for their road tax, the sun is shining and I end the day back in Germany in Kempten.

I leave Kempten at 8 am, do a bit of autobahn and turn left for the black forest, I zigzag about and reach Strasbourg, by now it’s raining hard, the thought of getting a peage ticket and fumbling about with money to pay the tolls on French autoroutes with wet gloves is unthinkable, so I head north and back into Germany and Luxembourg, where it really is raining hard, 40 MPH is all I dare do, it’s dark I’m sodden but amazingly I’m not cold, there’s a serious accident and I filter for miles, I’m not sure if it’s legal or not, I see some others on bikes and they are doing it, anyway what cop is going to ‘do’ a biker when it’s raining this hard? I know of a hotel in Dinant in Belgium and I decide to stop there, however a few miles before the road is dry, the stars have reappeared and I’m still not cold, “I’m going home” I said to myself, 5 miles later the rain caught up with me again and it rained all the way back to Calais, a petrol station cashier took pity on me and gave me a free coffee.

Got on the boat at about 12, spent most of the time drying my gear in front of the hand dryer in the toilet, the slip road up the A2 is shut so never mind I’ll do the M20, it’s shut and I’m diverted along the M26? I have to go to the Caterham turn on the M25 before I can turn round, adds nearly an hour to my time, got home just after 5, 21 hours after leaving Kempten, 850 miles that day, total for the trip 3400.

 

[bananaman]

Man, thats some trip ! Last time i was soaked through was on the way to germany, a week there and all the way back ! Hats off to you.....

 

[MickyC]

Do we get a special prize if we get to the end of the story? Lol. No offence

 

[phil]

Great report Robert, I take my hat off to you for riding up a mountain in the dark not really knowing which way your going!!!
I guess you met up with Neil (Ring) from aeaventures? any pictures?

 

[bins]

That's correct, I was on Neils Scuderia simpleton tour for the first time, we were hoping to get out at Mugello but it did not happen, you'd know several others in the group, I do have a couple of pictures but cannot get them to copy and paste, I'll send them to your email address, perhaps you could post them for me?

 

[phil]

Here ya go,

 

[bananaman]

Thats disgusting! You could've cleaned it lol

 

[bins]

You should have seen it when I got home, spent a good couple of hours on Sunday with hot water, cold water, car shampoo and anything else that may help! may do a last day at Snetterton before the tax runs out (mind you it goes just the same without), then it's coming indoors for some real TLC over the winter, I'll ride my old R1100RS meanwhile.

P.S. or did you mean it's my hair that's disgusting?

 

[bins]

Some of you may remember that a year ago I wrote about a trip to Italy, I did it again this year, similar plans, travel there on my own, meet up with 14 others, ride about and come home on my own. It all started at 6 a.m. on a Thursday, (after finishing work at 9 p.m. on the Wednesday evening and packing a bag), jumped aboard the S1000 and set off for Dover, had a little drizzle half way there but not enough to concern me, booking in at the booth I am told I’ve booked the crossing ‘back to front’ (I’d booked to cross from Calais to Dover), “now what’s this going to cost me” I thought, (on a previous trip I’d turned up early and was charged ?50 to change the time, it’d only cost ?48 for the return ticket!), as luck would have it there was a tunnel train break down, all crossings were disrupted and they changed my ticket for free, only drawback was I could not cross for another 2 hours.
> I p.m. and I’m in France, after studying the map on the boat I decide to do Reims by autoroute and pay the toll, (something I rarely do), the sun is shining, the kilometres are counting down but I’m so tired! I don’t know if it’s the heat or the boredom, I stop in an aire, flake out on the grass with the key to the bike in my hand and sleep for an hour or so. Back in the saddle, after Chalons on Champagne I leave the monotony of dual carriage way and take to the route national roads, I feel the holiday has begun, the S1000 with flat bars is perfectly comfortable at 75 – 80 mph, the wind pressure balances my forward lean and I can sit there all day, although the bit to Bar-le-Duc is mainly straight there’s always something to look at along the way.
> I find a hotel by the station and shower, it’s just about dark and I wander into the town centre to find food, it’s deserted! I really enjoy travelling on my own but entering hotels, eating and walking around towns alone is not much fun, I find a pizzeria, enter and wish the proprietor a “bwonoserra” (well that’s how I pronounce it!), I get “serra” back in an unimpressed fashion and realise that this is going to be a silent wait for tea! I wander to the bridge over the river and eat the very tasty bolognese I chose, tossing a crust into the water now and again to see if the fish would rise to the bait! I had more entertainment from the fish than the Italian who took my order! I wander round the eastern European sector, look in a few empty bars and turn in for the night.
> I declined the offer of breakfast at an extra 8 Euros, (I never normally eat before 10 in the morning) and head south east in quite thick mist, after a couple of hours I find a delightful village on top of a hill and buy a ready made jambon sandwich in real French bread, perfect! A few hours later and I’m at the Swiss boarder, the customs officer greets me, (I’m not sure what language he speaks so I just say “hello”), there are signs in big letters warning about buying a ‘vignette’ I ask to make sure I can travel to Italy without using the motorway and he assures me it’s possible. I really miss not being able to attach a map to the tank bag to read whilst I’m riding, I now have no tank bag, I need glasses to see ahead and different ones to read with so I keep the map under a bungee holding the luggage on the back seat, all very well but with a failing memory by the time I’ve read the map and started the bike I’ve forgotten where I’m heading!
> Approaching Interlaken, (in the heart of the mountains) I look for somewhere to ‘lay my head’ for the night, it all looks extortionately expensive so I take a side street towards the lake, hoping to find a zimmer, a friendly chap with a biker ‘t’ shirt and ‘Iron Maiden’ sticker on the rear of his car beckons me to stop and asks if he can help, he tells me of a place further along where there are rooms, he tells me he likes my bike but he looked more of a Harley type to me! at Matten I’m looking at anything that’s on offer and see ‘Balmers’ it looks inviting so I draw in the yard and walk in the reception, I ask if it’s a hotel and the very friendly receptionist ( with a stud in her tongue) explains it’s a hostel, she shows me the 6 bunk room where I share with a 19 year old from Canada and a 20 year old Korean, 34 Euros including breakfast.
> I cannot speak highly enough of my accommodation for the night, as I mentioned earlier I love travelling on my own, the advantage of a hostel is you are sharing with other adventurers with enthusiasm for life, the fact I was 62, riding a motorcycle and had slightly longer hair than normal must have made me approachable.
> I had retired to my bunk early as the next day some serious altitude was to be reached, while eating breakfast I watched the cctv from the tops of the mountains, we were in mist down below but the receptionist guaranteed me it would be clear over 1000 meters, I ride the Susten pass, the Furka, then find a lower one to the southern side of the St Gothard, I knew from a previous holiday with my parents in the 60s that this was a spectacular pass, now there is a modern road over the top but I was sure the old road was still there, a French couple on an R T were also trying to work out where we could join the old road from the southern end, we ask some Swiss bikers and they point in the general direction of north! (well it was away from the sun), the road leads up to the new one but there is an unmade road the other side, I cannot resist exploring it and it takes me along a bumpy track cut into the mountain side, after a mile or so there is a serious drop over to the right, I have confidence but do not get too close to the edge, amazingly there is an elderly gent sitting on a rock, resting with his walking stick, I ride as far as I can to an abandoned building site, stop to admire the view, do a ‘u’ turn and retrace my wheel tracks but this time away from the periculose edge! I ride to the top of the pass by the new road and then there are 4 road options to choose, (the new road north and south, and the old road north and south, even I can work that one out), I take the old road south and it’s cobble stones all the way, tight hair pin bends with only short straights in between, as it levels out a bit 2 black Ferraris are making quick progress to reach the top, an awesome sight and sound!
> Time is slipping by and I’m booked into a hotel near Monza that night, there is a strip of land like a peninsular into Italy which is still Switzerland, the road signs are in Italian and I realise I’m in the Italian speaking area, I stop for fuel and a very attractive cashier smiles and askes for “saydeechie” francs, goodness knows how she knew I was English, (she could not see my registration plate) but she said “non parlay eengleesee” “ah, non probleemo” I reply “me parlay Italiano perfecto!!!” I tell her about a trip around the coast of Italy I did “quatro anni far” (four years ago), when she spoke I had to say “ralentire” she pronounced it a bit differently and did a very sexy, slow walk, one foot in front of the other, someone else entered the shop, her attention was diverted and she wished me “bwon viaggi”. As I looked at the bike I noticed something was missing, I’d bought some two piece waterproofs to put over the top of my one piece that leaks, I’d had them in a plastic bag under the bungees and they had slipped out, I was 50 miles from the track around the mountain which probably vibrated them out and hoped that a mountain goat makes good use of them.
> I get to the southern tip of Switzerland around night fall, the hotel Fossati in Cannonica near Monza is not easy to find in the day light, so I take the autostrada, then the tangentiale (ring road/bypass which is free) turn north towards Lecco and find said hotel and meet with some of the other members of the party arriving a day early who are either retired or self employed.

 

[bins]

retired or self employed.
> Next day we visit the circuit of Monza, walk up the extreme banking which has been restored and then go for a ride in the mountains. The other members of the tour join us that evening making 15 in total, Monday morning we set off for Imola, our base for 5 nights. We visit Imola and Mugello circuits, find some stunning roads, views and cafes, the hotel proprietor arranges for us to visit a private collection of bike, cars and memorabilia, an example of things on display was a crankcase made to take 2 x 250cc 4 cylinder Honda top halves. to make a 500cc V8, apparently made by Moto Guzzi. A very early square 4 Ariel, a Matchless Silver Hawk and a row of 6 cylinder bikes! The owner, Benito Battilani and his wife were a pleasure beyond description to be in their company. On the way to Imola we had a narrated tour of the Ducati museum, we saw Mike Hailwoods first racing 250 single, then the spare TT winning bike, most important to me was the 750 SS Paul Smart rode at Snetterton in about 1972. The young lady doing our tour was also super friendly, when she spoke she had an infectious accent, the Italians do not pronounce the letter h, so when they speak in English they tend to drop their h, also they tend to pronounce all of the other letters in a word, so when she was talking about a specific machine she would say it like ?theesa bika waas the bika that? and so on, afterwards I told her that her voice was music to our ears! I think she took it as a compliment, she also had a lovely smile.
> All too quickly the time passed and it was time to head north again, I?d decided to spend another night back at the Fossati near Monza, as it was only a short ride I did some sight seeing, I rode into the town centre of Parma and Piacenza, even get off the bike in Parma to inspect the church interior! have a menu del journo in Lodi town square, with an hour or two to spare I head for Bergamo, big modern city but there?s an old part high upon the hills to the north, the view to the south would have been amazing if it was not misty, I find a tiny route northwards to avoid the city centre to the south, as I turn west the clouds are black and the inevitable rain starts to fall, it makes map reading difficult, I take the signs to Milano which take me towards Monza on a road I?m not familiar with, I waste a fair bit of time finding my way.
> After Friday night in Neil and Anns company it?s time to start the journey home for real, there?s only one thing certain about Saturday?s forecast, heavy rain, Neil lends me Ann's water proof jacket and I head north aiming for St Moritz, at least it?s dry when I?m in the tunnels, October rain seems heavier than September rain and Septembers is heavier than Augusts, I miss the straight on smaller road and am heading east towards Sondrio, it seems wrong and next time I fill up I consult the map, I?ve only covered about 10 miles but there?s a high pass into St Moritz from the south if I carry on another 30 miles, not being one to turn around it?s onwards I go, it?s slow progress in heavy rain, (have I mentioned how heavy the rain is?) through small towns and villages, in one of them, (try and picture the scene) there are high buildings to my left, I?m riding on the right hand side of the road which takes a long curve to the left, it?s persisting it down, I notice there are train tracks to my right, in a second or so (I?m probably doing less than 20 mph), I think, there is not enough room for a car to pass me on my left should one come around the bend, should I be riding on the right in between the train tracks? next thing, don?t worry about a car coming, there?s a big red train coming! (trains do look very big when they go past the other way 3 feet from you!!!) 100 yards further there are lights stopping the oncoming traffic, I never saw any pointing my way a quarter mile back.
> My hands and feet are saturated but my body is dry as I turn left for the passo Bernina, after the highest point as I start the decline the wind chill on the northern side is like riding into a freezer, it?s a long way to St Moritz and when I get there I recognise nothing, (it was sunny last time I was there), I find the Julierpass road and press on, there are a few other bikes about and they give a hearty wave as they greet me, (we?re all as crazy as each other), after the summit at 2284 metres the sky is brightening and a few miles later there is a dry line in the road as it starts to warm up. The thought enters my head that it takes a lot longer to dry gloves out than to make them wet! I?m not cold so what does it matter?
> Next task is to refuel and head westwards to spend the night at Balmers hostel, my maps are of Italy and France, the Swiss bits are only where they overlap, it?s very vague around the town of Chur, I need to find the road west, after a bite to eat I head for the valley that looks to go in the general direction of west, I waste an awful lot of fuel and time searching for roads and getting confused with village names that begin with ?t? and sound similar, my map shows the road just south of the town and I just cannot find it, eventually I take a road towards the motorway, (it?s now about 5 p.m.), making sure I don?t leave two way traffic, (I have no vignette), a Swiss lady is cycling with two small children and I ask ?I am trying to find the road to Interlaken? ?Interlaken?? she replies in astonishment, ?that?s in another region and there are 3 high passes to cross? ?you want to get there tonight?? (now, I love Switzerland and the Swiss people, but I must say they don?t have a great sense of adventure), she tells me the road I want is 10 miles back towards the Julierpass and easy to miss, the place names on the signpost are not on my map, the road takes a steep climb up the mountainside so there is no valley to give me a clue. When I find the junction I realise I was there an hour ago, never mind steep hills are not a problem to an S1000rr, you just twist the control on the right 2 more degrees and it?s going skywards! I?m making good progress until I start to climb the second pass, the Oberalp, the black tarmac is wet and shiny, I wave a couple of cars past that I overtook a mile or so back, on the downhill side I pass them as it?s dry road again. At Andermatt it?s right turn then 10 miles and left for the Sustenpass, the opposite direction that I rode it a week previously, on the way to the top it?s almost dark, I see a bike travelling in the downward direction in the bends way up above me, a minute or so later it?s a Goldwing, 2 up and going incredibly fast. On the descent it?s dark, at the various cafes and guesthouses there are many people drinking beer and watching the traffic, it would be very tempting to try and put on a show, at one of the venues on a right hand hairpin I keep my eyes firmly focussed on my chosen line but raise my left hand and wave mid corner!
> I roll into Balmers at about 8 ish, the receptionist welcomes me and allocates me a room with 2 bunks and no room mate, as I push the bike into it?s parking place an Indian chap says ?nice bike? we spend 20 minutes chatting about travelling, Enfields and food, he said his wife finds the European food so bland and uninteresting, it appeared to be quite a problem, I apologise because I?m so tired and leave him to chew on a chilli. In my room I eat the rest of a sandwich, drink some water and think ?sod? the shower tonight, I tuck up under the duvet thinking if I get to sleep this time of night I?ll be awake at 3 until the morning, I awake at 12 then sleep till 7. a good night.
> I leave Switzerland on the road from Neuchatel, La Chaux de Fonds to Maiche, as I climb to the highest part of the road there?s a hotel, shops and massive car park, I look to the left and I feel very privileged as to what I saw, the valley was covered in low cloud but the Alps were clearly visible some 30 or 50 miles away, it seemed they stretched all the way across the horizon, I tried to assess the highest ones which would have been in the Interlaken area and thought a few hours ago I was there in the valleys, I didn?t want to go home! however I followed a very minor route north west through dense forest and beside some beautiful rivers and lakes. The rain starts again and I do a bit of dual carriageway to Belfort, some soggy map reading gets me to Bar le Duc on single roads, rain all the way but I?m not cold and only my hands and feet are wet, most importantly I am still actually enjoying it and certainly not bored. That made 2 days my hair had been inside a crash helmet, I washed it three times before it felt unknotted. If one was to spread a map out and see the distance to Calais, it could be quite daunting, (especially when it?s raining) I never do that until I?m home, I just do one town at a time, step by step, when it was cold at the top of the high passes I thought to myself this is what I do, as long as the bike keeps firing and it?s shiny side up there may be sunshine after the next pass.
>

 

[bins]

> The final stretch of France is all done on the Route National highway, the first part is Champagne country, avoiding Reims via roads I’ve travelled before, it’s perfect weather, I’d had the heating on in the Ibis hotel room all night drying my gloves and boots, this is really enjoyable, all day to do 200 odd miles plus detours, with 100 to go I notice a noise down below, a sort of grinding, rumbling sound, it is quite worrying, the chain has become slack so I stop at a small garage, borrow some spanners and adjust it, the noise is still there, I stop again and check the wheel bearings, cush drive on the rear wheel etc. I was then convinced it was running a gearbox bearing! I dare not go on the AutoRoute even if I wanted to, I was certain it was serious, I just hoped to reach Calais, about 10 miles before I did, the rain started again and the noise stopped, I haven’t used a chain drive bike since 1978, I could never imagine a dry chain could be so bad, the vibration was horrendous as well!
> At the port a chap with a VTR Honda has a puncture, turns out he’s an Italian living in England, he’s on a different boat to me so I advise him to try and find someone with a compressor that plugs into a cigarette lighter, I tell him about my travels in Italian, he’s just returned from visiting his brother in Amsterdam, it’s raining but we are laughing and joking, telling each other about all sorts of things, two people who have just met but are like life time friends, there are rows of cars lined up but none of the inhabitants even nodding to the next car, in the words of one of the guys I spent the previous few days with, “nothing is quite so much fun as motorcycling”
> Got home at 11 p.m. 3160 miles.
>

 

[soofsayer]

Great ride tale Robert... thats a lot of miles!

 

[fatbob]

great report
thanks for taking the time , done that trip myself almost on my RR , we also got feckin soaked and had to turn back down the swiss passes and use the tunnels.

really good write up

 

[phil]

Hey Robert, another good report, thanks mate. It sounds like you will be doing this trip every year now, better buy yourself some new waterproofs.

Have you got any dates for next years BMW club track days?

Phil

 

[mike g]

We do this type of thing in Early september - weather seems to be a bit kinder; it took me 2 years to find my new waterproofs wern't!.

BTW what bars have you fitted?

 

[bins]

Thanks for your comments, I wrote this for the club then copy and paste it here, I wondered if it was too long and boring, I know it's not as interesting as last years.
Mike, the bars are A C Schnitzer from Rossiters of Kings Lynn, you get kit with top yoke, clutch cable, brake line etc. not an easy job to do if you are not confident, next time I would leave the original brake line in place, it is possible to connect brake line and get air out without bleeding! care to be taken when drilling the bars for the switches to get them positioned correctly, more info if needed. Price was around ?600 + VAT a few years ago.
Also I have cut the padding out of the seat, for all day riding I use an air hawk.
Next years track days are 13th July Cadwell, 17th August Snetterton, I'll put them in the other heading soon.