Our week away.

[earthmover]

Everyone has a different idea of what makes a holiday. Some like to lie on a beach and do nothing, some enjoy a more active break from the norm.
So it is with bike trips. There are those who can disappear into the distance with a full tank and open options, compared to those who want to know when and where they will be somewhere, and what they will be doing when they get there. Neither way is right for everyone, and both have their merits for their supporters. These are opposite ends of a spectrum between which all journeys will fit. Whichever way, it's a bike trip, and ours was a mix of pre-planned and spontaneous.

Saturday 12th Sept.
Denise was originally supposed to be working, so I had booked a room at the Folkestone Holiday Inn, with the intention of arriving there late in the evening. As she was able to get the day off, we instead left just after lunch for a leisurely ride, on a bright, mild afternoon. The Zumo took us to the door of the Travel Lodge, which I had programmed in days before. After a lively couple of minutes debate, the receptionist and Denise managed to agree on one thing. The guy unloading the bike outside was a pillock.
Arriving shortly at the correct hotel, we settled in for a quick bite to eat and an early night, in anticipation of our "crack of sparrow's fart" start.

Sunday 13th Sept.
A 4.45am alarm would normally be something to curse at, but this one heralded the start(ish) of the holiday. The 6.17 train was to take us to Calais, where we would lose an hour and begin the slog south. Exiting the terminal at 7.52am local time, we hit the E26 in the drizzle and half light, wary of the other sleepy travellers heading the same way. After half an hour, the drizzle ceased, then the clouds gave way to a watery sun as we stopped for breakfast. Coffee and croissant later, the ipod takes the lead and we settle down to a steady 5000rpm cruise, stopping for petrol, coffee, fag and pee breaks whenever the need arose. As the day wore on, the temperature climbed, until the decidedly dodgy gauge on my headstock read 28 degrees! Our goal of Grenoble was going to be easily achieved, so we turned off the autoroute earlier at Bougoin-Jallieu and joined the D1085. A huge open market at Beaucroissant slowed us down for quarter of an hour, before we descended into Grenoble late into the afternoon. We weren't that inspired, so carried on to Vizelle where the Zumo picked out the Chateau de Cornage hotel. Riding into the empty car park, we feared the worst, but the young Dutch manager won us over. Denise was happy with the room, and the bike was locked in the function room as there was no garage.

The rest of the staff (all 3 of them) then joined us for a few beers on the terrace before the chef went in to cook us dinner, and we went up to change. Upon our return, some other guests were already seated for a meal making the place a little livelier. A heavy shower didn't manage to dampen our spirits, as the awning kept our alfresco supper dry, and a log brazier kept us warm.

Mark

 

[earthmover]

Monday 14th Sept.
One of the "must do's" on our list of possibilities for the week was the Gorge du Verdon. With this marked on the map, and plotted on the Zumo, we set off.
A dry, bright start to the day, and I celebrate by turning into a one-way system that doesn't want to let us go. We manage to break free and lope off along the Route Napoleon, enjoying some sweeping bends interspersed with slow traffic. The scenery starts to improve with each mile, and the temperature is climbing again. At Castellane a coffee stop in the square with various other groups of riders heralds spots of rain. The "brief shower" I convince Denise it will be, isn't. Flashes of lightening and torrential rain don't seem the best riding conditions, but as we are laughing at ourselves for being foolish enough to try and negotiate the single track roads and camper vans, we ride out of it.

A beautiful place, with outstanding scenery to meander through. At the lake end of the gorge we stop for a bite to eat, before following the opposite bank all the way back. At one of the lay-bys where we stopped for a photo, a cyclist spotted our UK plate and came over for a chat. He and his wife were having a weeks "holiday" pedalling around the area. Oh to be fit enough to even think about attempting that! His wife was a little way behind, so must have wondered why two people on a motorbike were waving at her as we passed.

As we rejoined the road to Castellene, the tarmac was still wet and it looked as though the clouds were now ahead of us. Sure enough, as we headed south back on the Route Napoleon, the rain started again. By Escragnolles Denise was getting chilly, so we pulled in to add a layer. The rain then got heavier, up to the point where I tucked in behind a coach and let it lead the way. As we descended towards Cannes the weather brightened up again, allowing us to enjoy the fabulous Hotels and Marinas along the coast. We rode a little further to Golfe Juan, looking for slightly cheaper accommodation! A combination of out of date information, and unsuitable looking hotels led to us doing three laps of the village before we found the Hotel Beau Soleil. This was down a side street which led directly to another hotel, which was closed. This gave the impression that it was a dead end, which fooled us for a few minutes. With the bike tucked up in their underground garage, Denise and I showered and changed and headed out for some food. Ironically, the nearest restaurant was in the first hotel we had tried, which was now an apartment block!
Mark

 

[earthmover]

Tuesday 15th Sept.
Following the coast road first through Nice, then Monaco, and into Monte Carlo was a lot slower than first anticipated. It didn't help that the "19th international Yacht Show" was being staged at the marina in Monte Carlo, and some idiot rode a GS into the middle of it!
Whether it was the road closure that I had so blatantly ignored, or just the time of day, but traffic was very busy and we couldn't wait to get out of there. A little farther along the coast we stopped at Villefranche for the slowest coffee of the trip, served by the grumpiest looking waiter. Perhaps having to fleece all the American tourists from the cruise ships had jaded his “joie de vie”?

As we had only covered 20 miles in 2 hours, we joined the high level motorway to knock off some kilometres, crossing the border into Italy, on our way to Genoa. The winds on the viaduct stretches were gusting strongly, and never in the same direction twice, making this an interesting mix of squinting through dark tunnels and being buffeted on high bridges. It got old quite quickly, and we dropped down to Varazze for a bite to eat. In the Cafe Milano we were served by a smiling Italian waiter for whom nothing was too much trouble. Day of contrasts then!
The sky had become overcast and although still warm, looked as though it was going to get wet. Trying to get to the Cinque Terre coast would have to be left for the next trip, and we instead headed inland towards the Lakes. A split second lapse in navigation put us an hour nearer to Como, but an hour further from D'iseo. Decision made, Como it is then.

Having been years ago, in a car, I had always wanted to return on a bike. As we rode along, the thought of perhaps staying two nights on Lake Como and exploring the surroundings came to the fore.
Skirting the west shore upwards from Como town, the roads were wet and the surrounding mountains streaked with tendrils of low cloud, giving an ethereal, almost menacing air to the lake.

Once past the bigger tourist draws of Villa d'Este and George Clooney's house, we started looking for somewhere for the night. At Menaggio, the Hotel du Lac seemed perfect, and after a slight misunderstanding between the manager and a waitress about whether there was a vacancy or not, we were shown to a splendid attic room with a shared terrace. We were so taken with it, and the setting that we immediately booked for two nights.
A stroll along the lakeside to build up the appetite took us to a nearby restaurant which appeared very busy. It was only after we sat down that we realised that there was a Saga coach party staying there. It didn't have quite the ambiance we had been looking for, but the food was very good.

Wednesday 16th Sept.
The morning dawned dull and wet, so we had a lie in! As we wandered down into the bar for breakfast, a couple overheard us talking and asked if the GS in the garage was ours. They had driven here with the intention of taking some samples home from the local vineyards, but were keen to return on two wheels. A pleasant couple of hours spent talking with them and drinking coffee didn't make any difference to the weather sadly. Denise and I took a trip on one of the ferries that criss-cross the lake to while away some more of the day, then had a light lunch.
At 3.00pm, the rain had stopped enough for a bimble on the bike, so we caught the ferry to Varena and rode down the eastern shore towards Mandello del Lario. The Moto Guzzi factory is here, and whereas we didn't expect to have time for a tour, I did at least want to see where it was.

There was a protest rally due on the Friday, against the possible closure of the site. I do hope it's still there when we go next time.
In a shop near the factory, we saw a Guzzi Stelvio. On the lake on the way back to the hotel we saw this. Should we take the hint?

Mark

 

[earthmover]

Thursday 17th Sept.

The weather had bucked up, and the sun was rapidly burning the mist off. We rode to the northern tip of the lake, then followed the road towards Chiavenna The waterfalls tumbling down from the hills at the side reflected the light of the sun as we looked forward to gaining some altitude. Crossing into Switzerland without any fuss or fanfare, I dove into the first petrol station to fill up, to be pleasantly surprised by just how much cheaper fuel was.
Shortly we were on the Maloja pass, and our first hairpins of the day.

The sky was now totally clear, with only the odd wisp of cloud clinging to the tops of the mountains. Truly stunning scenery slid serenely by, along with some of the stillest, clearest lakes. I began to get pangs of withdrawal from my waterskiing days, when we would have carved across such glass. These soon passed when I thought of just how cold this melt water would be!

At St Morritz we pulled in for a coffee, having cruised slowly past the shops on the main street, even though we had no intention of stopping. Caffeine levels restored, the next right put us onto the Bernina pass, where we first raced the train, then a 4x4 who knew where he was going, then on the downhill section, a couple of mountain bikes who didn't! Having squirted past them on a short straight, I really though they were going to pass us back by going off on one of the hairpins. We turned off for Livigno, and back into Italy just behind a coach, so had a slow couple of minutes until there was room to pass. This stretch reminded me very much of the single track roads over Applecross, although with different road signs. The last stretch into Livigno was pretty uninspiring, straight, flat, and with dreary looking buildings lining the road. This soon changed when we turned right onto the Passo di Foscagno, and immediately started to climb. The road surface was fairly poor which gave me plenty to concentrate on. I got my only fright of the trip as we rode through one of the smaller villages. I could see some roadworks way ahead and a queue of vehicles at the traffic lights. There had been nothing in my mirrors for a good while, but as I cruised towards the lights a Range Rover howled past us. I was just about to point out a rock formation to Denise on our left; if I had pointed to it I would have walloped his wing mirror! He turned down a side street and was gone, leaving me humbled.
At the junction with the S38, I was momentarily confused. I had got it into my head that Bormio "town" was at the top of the Stelvio pass, yet the signs in front of me contradicted that belief. So we turned left and headed on up. It was enjoyable for the fact that we were actually on one of the most famous passes in the biking world, but not as much fun as I'd imagined. We coped perfectly well with the hairpins; front wheel hovering slightly as I wound the power on, but there was no real "flow" to the run to the top.

Obligatory photo's at the sign, where we could see that Magnum's group had been before us, then into the restaurant for something to eat. Denise hadn't noticed the cold on the way up, being busy as spotter for me up the steeper hairpins, but now she was frozen and needed to thaw out!

As we descended the other side, a classic car rally was coming up. Some of the bigger cars had to double shunt the bends to get round, and there were puddles of anti-freeze on the road where some of them were getting a little hot under the collar. It made for an interesting trip down, especially as we came across this group rebuilding a stretch of the retaining wall.

Turning left before Sluderno onto the S50 brought us to Glorenza, where we again turned left and onto the S41 and the Ofenpass, and back into Switzerland. This was much more flowing and open, allowing us to get a good rhythm going. Through Zernez and onto the Fluelapass, again a thoroughly enjoyable road, with some outstanding views of the peaks all around us.
We rode through Davos looking at all the hotels, before looping back and stopping at the one we had seen first. We were ready to eat, so wandered down the main street looking for something that took our fancy. The Belvedere Hotel's Trattoria had a wedding on downstairs, but a quiet corner for us. The meal was one of, if not the best of the trip, and I still have some of the sauce on my shirt!
Mark

 

[POG]

Very good so far. Excellent photographs and write up


But...

If you're going to slip things like this in :

Tuesday 15th Sept.

It didn't help that the "19th international Yacht Show" was being staged at the marina in Monte Carlo, and some idiot rode a GS into the middle of it!

You'd better get Denise better trained on the camera because this kind of statement is useless without some photos to back it up

 

[Nobby]

How much were the hotel

 

[earthmover]

Friday 18th Sept.
As I loaded the bike, Denise took some pictures of the small lake nearby, and the carved figures stood in it under a cornflower blue sky.

We then cruised out through Davos and onto the road to Tiefencastel, where a u-turn was required to put us on the S3 to Chur, avoiding the dual carriageway. Just before Chur we turned right onto the S19, and stopped off in Flims for a coffee. The temperature was rising again, and we watched paragliders drifting down into the village as we relaxed on the terrace.

Back on the road again, and just after Ilanz, a group of riders stopped on the other side of the road indicated to slow down. We were stopping for some roadworks anyway, and in the contra flow there was a solitary boot in the middle of the road. This didn’t seem enough to slow down for, or was there more footwear ahead? Just around the next bend, where I would have opened up to pass the motorhome in front, there was a police car stopped with a couple more bikes. Looked like a speed trap, so we kept to the limit for a while. In Disentis/Muster I took a wrong turn onto what looked like an interesting road, but as it was the wrong one, yet another u-turn graced the track log. The Oberalp pass next, an equal mix of sweepers and hairpins, led us into Andermatt for lunch. The only concern was the amount of cow pats on the lower reaches, it would seem that all the farmers were starting to move their cattle down into the valleys before winter. From Andermatt we continued west onto the Furka pass, managing to squeeze past a coach before the first of the hairpins. I could see a group of bikes behind us, and suggested to Denise that if these caught us up, I would be letting them past. Sure enough, the first of them, an 1150 on Swiss plates, overtook us and the two cars in front in one move. Latching onto his tail we had advance warning of the bends, and were rewarded with a swift but smooth run to the viewpoint at the glacier.

Here, Denise bought a couple of souvenirs for her kids, and we took a photo to compare how far back the glacier had retreated since I was last there.
Dropping down the last few bends, and then turning up the Grimsel pass, we came behind a group of riders who had ridden to the front of a queue at some roadworks, then proceeded to annoy the car drivers by dawdling along in front of them. In all the horn blowing and waving that ensued, we slipped past and enjoyed a clear road until halfway down the other side! The mountains here seem to hem you in, and the vastness of the landscape is spectacular. As the roads levelled out, I took another “detour” around Meiringen before finding the correct route, the S11, around the northern shore of the Brienzersee to Interlaken, our destination for the night. The view back over the lake was fantastic, but a little hazy on the photo.

My cousin and his girlfriend have lived here for the last 9 years, and when I told him we were heading his way he insisted that we stay a night with them. The Zumo led us directly to his door, although I was looking on the opposite side of the road when Denise pointed to the van decked out with skydiving adverts, suggesting that we might be in the right place! We spent a relaxed evening with them, before being led to one of Tony’s friend’s house to a party. This was very nice, but by 11.00 Denise and I were flagging. Party animals, us?

Mark

 

[earthmover]

Saturday 19th Sept.
Tony had 6 people eager to jump out of a helicopter at 9.30, so we were all awake in time to have breakfast and load up before he went to work. We followed the northern shore of Thunersee, the other of the two lakes that Interlaken sits between. This is more genteel than the southern motorway route, and has many sleepy hamlets and small marinas. At Thun we joined the S6 to Bern then meandered our way north on the S11. Batterkinden had a certain ring to it, so we stopped for a coffee at a small café. It was a bit like walking into the Slaughtered Lamb though, so we didn’t stay long. As the skies had darkened, I swapped both our visors to clear ones, for the first time of the whole trip. Joining the A1 at Slothurn to put some miles on, then the A2 towards Basel and into France. In the tunnel section I childishly took the revs up to hear the engine note, and got flashed for my indiscretion. Not looking forward to the mail now! A brief shower was all we got from the dark clouds that had looked so threatening though. The border crossing was as uneventful as all the others, and we continued on the motorway to Mulhouse where we turned onto the N66 towards Epinal. This could be quite a frustrating road if you were in a rush, but we weren’t, so it wasn’t. From Epinal the N57 was dual carriageway for the most part, and empty, so we made good time. A brief lunch stop before Nancy, and I switched back to dark visors in honour of the now clear sky and increased warmth. I put in a succession of u-turns as I made an utter horlicks of joining the A31/D400 westbound, mistaking a diversion sign as the route we should take. Past Toul, St Dizier and Chalons-en-Chapagne, we rode up to the door of the Hotel Au Tambour at just after 5.00 pm, with 28 degrees again showing on the dodgy gauge. Thankfully the room had air-con, and showered and changed, we walked in Reims centre looking for a typical French restaurant. Either we took a wrong turn, or Reims is not the best place for French food. We saw lots of kebab shops and plenty of pizza outlets. A Chinese restaurant, of all things, lured us inside, and as it was an all you can eat buffet we left sated. Whether it was the complimentary Saki from the dubious “what the butler saw” glasses that did it, I don’t know, but I was unable to relocate our hotel. As I hadn’t remembered the road name, the maps on the bus stops were no help, but Denise eventually spotted a landmark and we staggered to bed after walking for nearly an hour.

Sunday 20th Sept.
Leaving the hotel in the morning showed us that we had walked in a big circle last night as the roundabout we had stood pondering at was barely 100 yards from the door! Ho hum.
Earplugs in and ipod on, we took the autoroute to Calais, wary of the speed cameras that lie in wait for people rushing for their crossing. Arriving at the terminal at 12.10, we loitered too long in the café and missed our train! Happily the next one was only half an hour later, and we crossed in the company of a V-rod rider who had just come back from Madrid. Who says Harleys can’t tour?
Back on English soil at 1.00pm local time, we began the long slog back north, cursing the traffic that we hadn’t had to cope with for the last week. At just after 5.30 we rolled up my drive, 2591 miles since we left it, on a 1200 that hadn’t missed a beat. The heated vests hadn’t been needed, the fleeces had been worn for about an hour, and the winter gloves were still in the pannier.
Marvellous!

Mark

 

[Big Nick]

Enjoyed that, nice job with the write-up and pics

 

[earthmover]

Sorry about that Pog.
We don't have any photo's, so I will try to elaborate:
As we followed the road towards the marina, I was riding as the locals do. With authority and impunity, pointing the bike wherever I wanted and generally ignoring convention, as they. So when I saw the turn for the quay, I took it. I saw the sign for the Yacht Show, but not the one that said "Route barre". Those familiar with the F1 charade will recognise the chicane around the swimming pool? That is where we were going, but in the opposite direction. The whole quayside was covered by an enormous marquee, and the road we were on narrowed to a single track between said marquee and pedestrian fencing.
"Oops!" I suggested to Denise. "I don't think we should be here!" as I had to slalom between a couple of forklift trucks carrying assorted boating type stuff. I stopped and was about to turn back when an official wagged his finger at me and indicated to carry on. Carefully negotiating power cables strew across the floor, and people carrying more nautical type gear, we eventually reached the other "Route barre" sign. A confused looking bloke opened the barrier to let us out, and we accelerated off up the tunnel, the name of which escapes me.
Mark

 

[Gundog]

Excellent

 

[earthmover]

How much were the hotel

Depends on which hotel.
We paid between 60 euro and 120 euro a night, depending on where we were. At each place there were cheaper, or more expensive options available. If you want to know the exact price of each hotel, I can dig it out for you.
Mark

 

[POG]

Sorry about that Pog.

"Oops!" I suggested to Denise. "I don't think we should be here!

Not to worry, Mark

It would have been a classic photo though

 

[Pumpy]

Very nice narrative and pics, Mark, I thoroughly enjoyed your report.

When is Denise getting her own bike?

 

[Timolgra]

Nice one Mark


...you probably had to be there

 

[Martin S]

Thanks for the write up and photos. Enjoyed reading it.

 

[Hairnet600]

love all that

done the southern germany into austria into italy thing (got lost for stelvio did val gardena instead lol) before but not done the lakes

deffo on the list now

 

[Duchess]

Loved it ... Thanks for sharing Mark.

Whens the next trip?

 

[earthmover]

Loved it ... Thanks for sharing Mark.

Whens the next trip?

Dunno.
But next weekend would be good.
Mark

 

[louisdut]

That looked like a great trip

Louis