Myself and my friend Jon (‘python’ on UKGSer) had been talking about a trip to Europe on the bikes for some time. I had originally planned to go solo but only really because I didn’t know anyone else that was into bikes and could get the green light from work and family.
The summer before, we had taken a short camping trip to Glen Coe staying at the Red Squirrel site, and got very drunk at the Clachaig Inn. I had wondered how Jon would manage to get a tent and sleeping bag on to the back of a CBR600F, but I needn’t have worried. Where there’s a will, there’s a way:
I have this photo saved and it never fails to make me chuckle. Cheers Jon
I still don’t know what else was in that massive bundle of stuff, but I am certain that most of it was not necessary for one night camping in relative civilisation. This was a theme that would follow us both through Europe.
On that short trip we had put together a rough outline for the euro trip which was basically just to get the ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam and then drive down to the Alps via the Black Forest. It was clear that Jon’s wee CBR wasn’t the right tool for the job and I convinced him he needed a GS - not that he needed much convincing. We went home (rather hungover) and ran the idea past our better halves. Surprisingly there was little resistance from either so before they could change their minds, the ferry passage was booked for June 2017.
Jon sold the CBR and got a nice R1200GS (via a short-lived KLE500) and we both worked through filling a ‘kit list’ (which I won’t bore you with here) and before we knew it, the departure date had arrived.
DAY 1 (6th June) - Scotland to Newcastle
Jon arrived at my house in Fife the evening before, after the long trip down from Skye. Typically it was absolutely pissing down, and we packed up the bikes whilst everything got soaked. During a quick stop for a McDonalds breakfast and to fuel up the bikes, I noticed that the aux lights I had installed 2 days before would not turn off, even with the ignition off, and realised that the cheap Chinese switch I had used was full of water and stuck on. It was too wet to mess about with it so it would have to wait until we were somewhere dry.
We headed south as the heavens unleashed their relentless fury upon us.
I had been lead to believe that even the most basic food in Switzerland would cost more than I had budgeted for the whole trip, so we stopped at a Chinese supermarket and I bought 20 packs of various noodles. They took up a huge amount of space in my dry bag, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I carried them through 7 countries and came home with 18 packs. This unnecessary stop for noodles almost cost us our trip.
By this point it had become clear that neither of our ‘waterproof’ gloves were standing up to the deluge. We were in Edinburgh anyway, so dropped in to the Motorrad in Dalkeith to see if they had any decent gloves. Both ended up with a pair of new ‘GS Dry’ and I also bought a pair of GS summer gloves. After a bit of a haggle, we were reluctantly given a 15% discount - result. Well it would have been had the ‘GS Dry’ gloves stayed dry for longer than 20 minutes, which they didn’t.
The rest of the trip down to Newcastle was uneventful, though slowed much by the biblical weather. Hitting a foot deep puddle at 60mph in almost zero visibility was interesting, as was being thrashed by a wall of water as a lorry hit it coming the other way. It looked like we were going to miss the ferry so caution went out the window and we hammered it without stopping again. We made it just as the last bikes were boarding, 5 minutes later and we would have been turned away.
There were a fair few bikes on the ferry and we set about stripping off our sodden gear and lashing the bikes down. Just ahead of us there were a couple of dwarves (or ‘little people’ as the now preferred nomenclature may be) on a specially modified bike and I couldn’t help but admire their ‘fuck it’ spirit to just get on with life. Their luggage was well stickered up and they had obviously spent much time travelling instead of sitting about, bitter for the hand dealt them.
Having now (hopefully) covered my arse from the ire of the PC brigade, here are some photos:
Bikes safely stowed, I eventually managed to get my aux lights to go off by fiddling with the switch. I worried that they would come back on and drain my battery but I didn’t have tools handy to access the PDM60 to disconnect them so for now, I would trust it to luck.
We found our cabin and hung up the worst of our wet gear and got changed.
We both agreed that a drink was badly needed. Jon produced a litre of Morgans and a pitiful amount of coke. It was far too strong but within an hour the litre was gone and we had both become quite drunk. Vague memories of an expensive (and shit) steak dinner are floating about my head but very little else before waking up, rough as a bears arse, about to dock in Holland. Jon had become violently seasick the night before and been confined to the cabin’s toilet floor. The less said about the outward crossing the better, I think.
TBC
The summer before, we had taken a short camping trip to Glen Coe staying at the Red Squirrel site, and got very drunk at the Clachaig Inn. I had wondered how Jon would manage to get a tent and sleeping bag on to the back of a CBR600F, but I needn’t have worried. Where there’s a will, there’s a way:
I have this photo saved and it never fails to make me chuckle. Cheers Jon
I still don’t know what else was in that massive bundle of stuff, but I am certain that most of it was not necessary for one night camping in relative civilisation. This was a theme that would follow us both through Europe.
On that short trip we had put together a rough outline for the euro trip which was basically just to get the ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam and then drive down to the Alps via the Black Forest. It was clear that Jon’s wee CBR wasn’t the right tool for the job and I convinced him he needed a GS - not that he needed much convincing. We went home (rather hungover) and ran the idea past our better halves. Surprisingly there was little resistance from either so before they could change their minds, the ferry passage was booked for June 2017.
Jon sold the CBR and got a nice R1200GS (via a short-lived KLE500) and we both worked through filling a ‘kit list’ (which I won’t bore you with here) and before we knew it, the departure date had arrived.
DAY 1 (6th June) - Scotland to Newcastle
Jon arrived at my house in Fife the evening before, after the long trip down from Skye. Typically it was absolutely pissing down, and we packed up the bikes whilst everything got soaked. During a quick stop for a McDonalds breakfast and to fuel up the bikes, I noticed that the aux lights I had installed 2 days before would not turn off, even with the ignition off, and realised that the cheap Chinese switch I had used was full of water and stuck on. It was too wet to mess about with it so it would have to wait until we were somewhere dry.
We headed south as the heavens unleashed their relentless fury upon us.
I had been lead to believe that even the most basic food in Switzerland would cost more than I had budgeted for the whole trip, so we stopped at a Chinese supermarket and I bought 20 packs of various noodles. They took up a huge amount of space in my dry bag, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I carried them through 7 countries and came home with 18 packs. This unnecessary stop for noodles almost cost us our trip.
By this point it had become clear that neither of our ‘waterproof’ gloves were standing up to the deluge. We were in Edinburgh anyway, so dropped in to the Motorrad in Dalkeith to see if they had any decent gloves. Both ended up with a pair of new ‘GS Dry’ and I also bought a pair of GS summer gloves. After a bit of a haggle, we were reluctantly given a 15% discount - result. Well it would have been had the ‘GS Dry’ gloves stayed dry for longer than 20 minutes, which they didn’t.
The rest of the trip down to Newcastle was uneventful, though slowed much by the biblical weather. Hitting a foot deep puddle at 60mph in almost zero visibility was interesting, as was being thrashed by a wall of water as a lorry hit it coming the other way. It looked like we were going to miss the ferry so caution went out the window and we hammered it without stopping again. We made it just as the last bikes were boarding, 5 minutes later and we would have been turned away.
There were a fair few bikes on the ferry and we set about stripping off our sodden gear and lashing the bikes down. Just ahead of us there were a couple of dwarves (or ‘little people’ as the now preferred nomenclature may be) on a specially modified bike and I couldn’t help but admire their ‘fuck it’ spirit to just get on with life. Their luggage was well stickered up and they had obviously spent much time travelling instead of sitting about, bitter for the hand dealt them.
Having now (hopefully) covered my arse from the ire of the PC brigade, here are some photos:
Bikes safely stowed, I eventually managed to get my aux lights to go off by fiddling with the switch. I worried that they would come back on and drain my battery but I didn’t have tools handy to access the PDM60 to disconnect them so for now, I would trust it to luck.
We found our cabin and hung up the worst of our wet gear and got changed.
We both agreed that a drink was badly needed. Jon produced a litre of Morgans and a pitiful amount of coke. It was far too strong but within an hour the litre was gone and we had both become quite drunk. Vague memories of an expensive (and shit) steak dinner are floating about my head but very little else before waking up, rough as a bears arse, about to dock in Holland. Jon had become violently seasick the night before and been confined to the cabin’s toilet floor. The less said about the outward crossing the better, I think.
TBC