28th June 2012
After a couple of long and busy days working in London, I eventually got home at about 20:00 last night and completed my packing. The plan was to get a good night’s sleep and then set off at about 05:45 today.
All went according to plan until I wake at 04:00 (despite being absolutely knackered when I went to bed at 22:30) and cannot get back to sleep. I give up the idea and get up at 4:30, complete a load of chores that would otherwise have to be done on my return and then get the Adv out of the garage…
For various reasons – mostly connected with my work and social life being pretty chaotic – I have hardly ridden the bike since last year, when a crisis forced me to abandon my Alps trip early. This winter, though, the Adv has had a complete refit. Last weekend I fitted new tyres and did an oil & filter change and we’re both ready for a trip.
Despite my getting up much earlier than planned, I still manage to leave late. This is not the first time this has happened…
There is a light rain falling, but it is so warm already that I keep my waterproofs in the pannier and set off for King’s Lynn, some 25 miles away.
I have new tyres and the road is wet after a few dry days – making it greasy – so I am careful with use of the throttle and when cornering (new tyres have a slippery coating, partly a lubricant to aid removal from the mould on manufacture and partly preservative, which has to be ‘scrubbed off’ before the tyre is able to give its full grip). The Adv is fairly heavily laden, but set up correctly, and the trip to my riding buddy Peter’s house is uneventful. I arrive to find Jake helping him pack…
Peter’s wife Linda is asleep in the bedroom above the garage, so we’re very quiet so as not to disturb her. This works fine until Peter pushes his bike off the stand and drops it…
We quickly have it back upright (kicking myself for not getting a pic) and examine it. Damage seems to be limited to a small dent and mark on the right hand pannier…
We set off into the (now dry) morning. It is already warm and we ride down the A10, joining the M11 at Cambridge. This section of the ride is uneventful. Boring, even.
We stop for fuel just before crossing the Thames at Dartford and meet up briefly with David, who is on his way to a big scooter rally in Picardy.
His bike looks deceivingly old – it’s actually a retro styled 2009 version – although he has an original Lambretta at home. Even he admits that it would be madness to try a long trip on that, though…
Onward!
We eventually reach the Channel Tunnel at about 09:30...
Our train is departing at 10:50, so we stand about in the beautiful sunshine and watch the world go by…
Quite a large proportion of the world deem to be riding old Kawasaki Triples…
It turns out to be a club tour. These bikes were notorious in their day. They were very fast (two-stroke engines and capacities of 250, 350, 500 and 750cc, if I remember correctly), but handled terribly. I can remember a bloke I met back then telling me that if he accelerated hard from 50-80 on the motorway he needed at least two lanes, because the bike would snake so much. Like all bikes with flawed reputations, they have now achieved cult status and it's interesting to see so many in one place.
The smell of two-stroke oil and the zing, dang dang sound of the throttles being blipped takes me back 40yrs – which is how old these bikes are.
Where did the time go?
It’s soon time to board the train. As usual, bikes board last and we are in a compartment with half a dozen other bikes.
We spend the 35 minute crossing chatting and doing stuff like resetting the GPS to read in kilometres (giving us a kph speedo at a glance). We are – rather ambitiously – booked into a hotel in Dijon tonight. This is 400ish miles from Calais. We arrive at 12:20 (clocks went forward an hour when we entered France). Bettie says we’ll be at the hotel at about 18:00. I don’t think so (she has calculated the non-stop ETA).
We get on the dreaded AutoRoute, set the speed at 130kph and head south. The weather is beautiful and I already have all the vents open on my riding gear. I’m wearing sunglasses behind my dark visor and it’s still bright.
We pass the hours of AutoRoute by riding ‘Escort’, a riding technique we both learned in earlier lives as traffic cops. It involves riding in close formation, offset to the right from the leader and keeping your position when the leader overtakes and comes back in. It takes a good deal of concentration to keep up, and – with the aid of my iPod, makes the time pass quicker.
We stop for fuel several times...
The Euro exchange rate being favourable compared with last year, so prices are little different – marginally cheaper perhaps – than the UK.
I am drinking almost continually from my CamelBack and am pretty comfortable despite the heat (around 90° F).
You see some strange sights – helicopter on a trailer…
…I see Peter photographing it at the same time…
We pay the first set of tolls - €21 - and just before arriving at the second set, Peter discovers his Peage ticket has fallen out of the pocket he put it in. We stop at the automatic barrier and Peter takes several minutes trying to explain in French what has happened to the disembodied voice at the end of the intercom.
Eventually we get let off (another €24
) the AutoRoute and carry on our way.
We eventually arrive at Dijon and find the pre-booked B&B hotel – just ahead of a nasty looking thunderstorm.
I like the B&B hotel chain – they always have free Wi-Fi and are clean and well located. Tonight I am lucky and get a disabled-access room…
…which has a vast wet-room shower.
I get de-kitted and stay under the shower for a long time. Dialling the AC to the ‘Pluto’ setting, I upload the few pictures from the day, then join Peter for a meal in the restaurant next door (where we get a 4% discount for staying at the hotel - how did they come up with that number, I wonder
).
Peter has a Hippo Burger…
…and I have a chef’s salad.
We both have a couple of cold beers.
Life is good. The hills to the south are continually lit with flashes of lightning. I have a feeling that’s where we’ll be headed in the morning…
After a couple of long and busy days working in London, I eventually got home at about 20:00 last night and completed my packing. The plan was to get a good night’s sleep and then set off at about 05:45 today.
All went according to plan until I wake at 04:00 (despite being absolutely knackered when I went to bed at 22:30) and cannot get back to sleep. I give up the idea and get up at 4:30, complete a load of chores that would otherwise have to be done on my return and then get the Adv out of the garage…
For various reasons – mostly connected with my work and social life being pretty chaotic – I have hardly ridden the bike since last year, when a crisis forced me to abandon my Alps trip early. This winter, though, the Adv has had a complete refit. Last weekend I fitted new tyres and did an oil & filter change and we’re both ready for a trip.
Despite my getting up much earlier than planned, I still manage to leave late. This is not the first time this has happened…
There is a light rain falling, but it is so warm already that I keep my waterproofs in the pannier and set off for King’s Lynn, some 25 miles away.
I have new tyres and the road is wet after a few dry days – making it greasy – so I am careful with use of the throttle and when cornering (new tyres have a slippery coating, partly a lubricant to aid removal from the mould on manufacture and partly preservative, which has to be ‘scrubbed off’ before the tyre is able to give its full grip). The Adv is fairly heavily laden, but set up correctly, and the trip to my riding buddy Peter’s house is uneventful. I arrive to find Jake helping him pack…
Peter’s wife Linda is asleep in the bedroom above the garage, so we’re very quiet so as not to disturb her. This works fine until Peter pushes his bike off the stand and drops it…
We quickly have it back upright (kicking myself for not getting a pic) and examine it. Damage seems to be limited to a small dent and mark on the right hand pannier…
We set off into the (now dry) morning. It is already warm and we ride down the A10, joining the M11 at Cambridge. This section of the ride is uneventful. Boring, even.
We stop for fuel just before crossing the Thames at Dartford and meet up briefly with David, who is on his way to a big scooter rally in Picardy.
His bike looks deceivingly old – it’s actually a retro styled 2009 version – although he has an original Lambretta at home. Even he admits that it would be madness to try a long trip on that, though…
Onward!
We eventually reach the Channel Tunnel at about 09:30...
Our train is departing at 10:50, so we stand about in the beautiful sunshine and watch the world go by…
Quite a large proportion of the world deem to be riding old Kawasaki Triples…
It turns out to be a club tour. These bikes were notorious in their day. They were very fast (two-stroke engines and capacities of 250, 350, 500 and 750cc, if I remember correctly), but handled terribly. I can remember a bloke I met back then telling me that if he accelerated hard from 50-80 on the motorway he needed at least two lanes, because the bike would snake so much. Like all bikes with flawed reputations, they have now achieved cult status and it's interesting to see so many in one place.
The smell of two-stroke oil and the zing, dang dang sound of the throttles being blipped takes me back 40yrs – which is how old these bikes are.
Where did the time go?
It’s soon time to board the train. As usual, bikes board last and we are in a compartment with half a dozen other bikes.
We spend the 35 minute crossing chatting and doing stuff like resetting the GPS to read in kilometres (giving us a kph speedo at a glance). We are – rather ambitiously – booked into a hotel in Dijon tonight. This is 400ish miles from Calais. We arrive at 12:20 (clocks went forward an hour when we entered France). Bettie says we’ll be at the hotel at about 18:00. I don’t think so (she has calculated the non-stop ETA).
We get on the dreaded AutoRoute, set the speed at 130kph and head south. The weather is beautiful and I already have all the vents open on my riding gear. I’m wearing sunglasses behind my dark visor and it’s still bright.
We pass the hours of AutoRoute by riding ‘Escort’, a riding technique we both learned in earlier lives as traffic cops. It involves riding in close formation, offset to the right from the leader and keeping your position when the leader overtakes and comes back in. It takes a good deal of concentration to keep up, and – with the aid of my iPod, makes the time pass quicker.
We stop for fuel several times...
The Euro exchange rate being favourable compared with last year, so prices are little different – marginally cheaper perhaps – than the UK.
I am drinking almost continually from my CamelBack and am pretty comfortable despite the heat (around 90° F).
You see some strange sights – helicopter on a trailer…
…I see Peter photographing it at the same time…
We pay the first set of tolls - €21 - and just before arriving at the second set, Peter discovers his Peage ticket has fallen out of the pocket he put it in. We stop at the automatic barrier and Peter takes several minutes trying to explain in French what has happened to the disembodied voice at the end of the intercom.
Eventually we get let off (another €24
) the AutoRoute and carry on our way.We eventually arrive at Dijon and find the pre-booked B&B hotel – just ahead of a nasty looking thunderstorm.
I like the B&B hotel chain – they always have free Wi-Fi and are clean and well located. Tonight I am lucky and get a disabled-access room…
…which has a vast wet-room shower.
I get de-kitted and stay under the shower for a long time. Dialling the AC to the ‘Pluto’ setting, I upload the few pictures from the day, then join Peter for a meal in the restaurant next door (where we get a 4% discount for staying at the hotel - how did they come up with that number, I wonder
Peter has a Hippo Burger…
…and I have a chef’s salad.
We both have a couple of cold beers.
Life is good. The hills to the south are continually lit with flashes of lightning. I have a feeling that’s where we’ll be headed in the morning…
– I’ve bought cheap crappy lemonade. 
