The tractor lives! Electrical problem was down to a poorly alternator belt. It was replaced today and all appears fine. So far...
Friday 30 July 2010
Monday 26 July 2010
Day 22 Charleville-Mezieres to Calais to Folkestone to home
This mornings shower was definitely more refreshing than hot. At least they're free.
My neighbour John had told me about a great little patisserie 5 minutes walk away. Went to investigate. There's a gate at the back of the site that opens onto a path by the river. Walk by the river for few hundred yards then over a footbridge and you're in the town. Picked up a couple of fresh almond pastries. Very tasty, and a pleasant little walk to get them.
Packed everything up for one last time then headed towards Calais. Intended to stick to the departmental roads rather than autoroute and headed back on a similar route to the one I took down here. If the weather turned or I needed to make up some time then I'd be following the same line as the autoroutes so could quickly and easily reroute. I could probably do the same journey on péage in half the time, but time was on my side so I decided to explore.
The general route was Charleville-Mezieres to Cambrai to Arras to Bethune to Calais. Fine those towns on a map and join up the D roads. That's my route.
The route was quite chilled. Lots of stuff to investigate given more time. Understandably, given the area, there are lots of war cemeteries and museums. I also passed a roundabout with a statue of the Eiffel Tower in the middle. Pretty sure I passed the Statue of Liberty's torch and hand at one point. Both obviously slightly smaller versions of the originals.
Fancied grabbing a quick set menu or Routier stop before boarding the ferry but I never took time out for it.
Quite chuffed that I successfully translated a French roadwork sign. One of the roads was closed but my sleuth-like translation skills determined that only for certain times and days. Looked like I'd be OK so stuck with it.
Arrived at Calais and managed to bag a slightly earlier crossing. At least I thought I did until the curse of Catherine struck once again. I was just about to roll down the ramp to the platform when a Eurotunnel van drove up and blocked the path. There was problems with our train and we got shifted to another. At least they're regular. Everyone just rolled down the next ramp to another waiting train. Minimal delay.
Rode off the train back in Folkestone and began the long trek home. All 270 miles of it.
All was going swimingly until about 100 miles from home when the bike gave up the ghost. First the battery symbol appeared on the trip computer. This is usually pretty serious, especially when the red warning light illuminates. Which it did.
I was on a busy stretch of the A1 so wasn't gonna pull over if I could help it. All ran fine for the next few miles when the dash started playing up. First it started flickering on and off before dying completely. All dashboard lights went out, the speedo needle dropped back to rest position and the tacho needle stuck at whatever position it was in when the dash died.
Again, the bike continued on so I didn't pull over.
Eventually the engine died. Like it or not, I was pulling over. Tried the usual remedies of swearing and hitting it, but the bike refused to start. Eventually called my insurance company for breakdown recovery. Good old Auntie Carole, she sent out SOS Motorcycle Recovery Services. They only do bikes so you get a van - not a flatback or car transporter. Took a while to arrive but I had all my camping kit with me. I had enough water, teabags and UHT milksticks with me to keep me going for a few hours so the stove came out.
I stuck my helmet by the roadside a good stretch behind the bike with a flashing warning light gaffa taped to it. I've always considered helmet behind bike was the international sign for 'bike goosed', but you rarely see it.
The recovery bloke who arrived was brilliant. The bike would fire up with a booster attached to the battery but it wasn't gonna get me home. It was carefully loaded into the back of the van and I was delivered to my doorstep.
Not the ideal way to end the trip, but I was just relieved that it happened when it did and not at the beginning of the trip or when I was abroad.
Casualties this year have been one pair of tyres, one zip (damn you Dainese and your cheap nasty zips), one visor bolt from my helmet, one headlamp bulb, one litre of oil, half a brake pedal and whetever comes from the diagnosis of my dead bike.
Absolutely all of our kit got used, except the stuff you always hope not to to use (first aid kit and tools mainly)
If I'm honest, organising flights for my co-pilots was a right pain in the backside, especially when you want to travel with no set agenda. It was definitely worth it though and they were both great company
...except Sam
...oh, and Catherine
Looping back a couple of times also meant repeating some roads, but there was nothing repeated that wasn't enjoyable.
326+106 miles
Trip total 4255 miles, plus 106 miles in the back of a recovery van!
Exchange rates were €1.15/£, 1.6CHF/£, €1.3/CHF
1l of 95 unleaded was around €1.37 in Germany/Italy/France/Belgium, €1.20 in Austria/Luxembourg, 1.70CHF in Switzerland (around €1.30) and £1.15 back home.
My neighbour John had told me about a great little patisserie 5 minutes walk away. Went to investigate. There's a gate at the back of the site that opens onto a path by the river. Walk by the river for few hundred yards then over a footbridge and you're in the town. Picked up a couple of fresh almond pastries. Very tasty, and a pleasant little walk to get them.
Packed everything up for one last time then headed towards Calais. Intended to stick to the departmental roads rather than autoroute and headed back on a similar route to the one I took down here. If the weather turned or I needed to make up some time then I'd be following the same line as the autoroutes so could quickly and easily reroute. I could probably do the same journey on péage in half the time, but time was on my side so I decided to explore.
The general route was Charleville-Mezieres to Cambrai to Arras to Bethune to Calais. Fine those towns on a map and join up the D roads. That's my route.
The route was quite chilled. Lots of stuff to investigate given more time. Understandably, given the area, there are lots of war cemeteries and museums. I also passed a roundabout with a statue of the Eiffel Tower in the middle. Pretty sure I passed the Statue of Liberty's torch and hand at one point. Both obviously slightly smaller versions of the originals.
Fancied grabbing a quick set menu or Routier stop before boarding the ferry but I never took time out for it.
Quite chuffed that I successfully translated a French roadwork sign. One of the roads was closed but my sleuth-like translation skills determined that only for certain times and days. Looked like I'd be OK so stuck with it.
Arrived at Calais and managed to bag a slightly earlier crossing. At least I thought I did until the curse of Catherine struck once again. I was just about to roll down the ramp to the platform when a Eurotunnel van drove up and blocked the path. There was problems with our train and we got shifted to another. At least they're regular. Everyone just rolled down the next ramp to another waiting train. Minimal delay.
Rode off the train back in Folkestone and began the long trek home. All 270 miles of it.
All was going swimingly until about 100 miles from home when the bike gave up the ghost. First the battery symbol appeared on the trip computer. This is usually pretty serious, especially when the red warning light illuminates. Which it did.
I was on a busy stretch of the A1 so wasn't gonna pull over if I could help it. All ran fine for the next few miles when the dash started playing up. First it started flickering on and off before dying completely. All dashboard lights went out, the speedo needle dropped back to rest position and the tacho needle stuck at whatever position it was in when the dash died.
Again, the bike continued on so I didn't pull over.
Eventually the engine died. Like it or not, I was pulling over. Tried the usual remedies of swearing and hitting it, but the bike refused to start. Eventually called my insurance company for breakdown recovery. Good old Auntie Carole, she sent out SOS Motorcycle Recovery Services. They only do bikes so you get a van - not a flatback or car transporter. Took a while to arrive but I had all my camping kit with me. I had enough water, teabags and UHT milksticks with me to keep me going for a few hours so the stove came out.
I stuck my helmet by the roadside a good stretch behind the bike with a flashing warning light gaffa taped to it. I've always considered helmet behind bike was the international sign for 'bike goosed', but you rarely see it.
The recovery bloke who arrived was brilliant. The bike would fire up with a booster attached to the battery but it wasn't gonna get me home. It was carefully loaded into the back of the van and I was delivered to my doorstep.
Not the ideal way to end the trip, but I was just relieved that it happened when it did and not at the beginning of the trip or when I was abroad.
Casualties this year have been one pair of tyres, one zip (damn you Dainese and your cheap nasty zips), one visor bolt from my helmet, one headlamp bulb, one litre of oil, half a brake pedal and whetever comes from the diagnosis of my dead bike.
Absolutely all of our kit got used, except the stuff you always hope not to to use (first aid kit and tools mainly)
If I'm honest, organising flights for my co-pilots was a right pain in the backside, especially when you want to travel with no set agenda. It was definitely worth it though and they were both great company
...except Sam
...oh, and Catherine
Looping back a couple of times also meant repeating some roads, but there was nothing repeated that wasn't enjoyable.
Trip total 4255 miles, plus 106 miles in the back of a recovery van!
Exchange rates were €1.15/£, 1.6CHF/£, €1.3/CHF
1l of 95 unleaded was around €1.37 in Germany/Italy/France/Belgium, €1.20 in Austria/Luxembourg, 1.70CHF in Switzerland (around €1.30) and £1.15 back home.
Day 21 Trechtingshausen to Charleville-Mezieres
Rained again overnight but it was lovely by morning.
A Dutch chap walked over to offer me a free table but I really don't think the poor bike could take it! They were leaving too and just wanted it to go to a good home.
Set off and rode north (Catherine, that means UP) along the west (LEFT) bank of the Rhine up to Koblenz. I think it's the B9. It's OK but not as fast or pretty as the Mosel. In Koblenz I picked up the B49 west along the Mosel. We did this last year and it's every bit as good as I remember it. Beats the Rhine hands down. After Cochem is where it gets proper interesting. Careful with the road numbers though otherwise you'll get diverted onto the main roads - it's the 49 and 53. Just stick to the river and you'll be fine.
There is a freight train line running along the northern side of the lake but it eventually peels off north. I passed plenty of nice looking quiet campsites.
Lots of wine cellars and wine tasting on offer. Some free, some chargeable. I imagine the chargeable ones are unbiased whereas the free ones only offer wines from their own vinyard. Could be wrong though and I didn't stick around to test the theory.
At Wasserbillig, just over the border into Luxembourg, I took the N10 north to Diekirch. Fuel is cheap in Luxembourg, so watch out for diesel spills from people overfilling. There was a massive trail of it along my path on the (wet) N10 so extra care required. It's a good road but it's spoiled, from a biking point of view, by the large number of towns and 50km limits. I got the impression they're big against speeding here. Every 50km limit had big flashing speed signs. Didn't see any coppers or speed traps though. I always try to stick to marked limits in build up areas anyway.
The N15 between Ettelbruck and Bastogne was next and is a far nicer road. Again, it was wet but starting to dry. There were some nice sweeping sections where you could have some proper fun. I passed a Belgian car that had lost it in the wet on one corner but everyone appeared fine. Fairly low speed I think. It really wasn't a good place to stop and offer assistance so I moved on.
Over the border into Belgium, the N4 is a fast A road. A good alternative to motorways. It's marked up in green on the Michelin map, but I don't think Michelin are consistent with their gradings. You wouldn't take a detour for the scenery, but it certainly beats the M1.
I came off the N4 onto the N97 west. Picked up a really short section of motorway and headed for Dinant. I wanted to be in France for my last night of camping and last day of riding. Noticed a great looking section on the map that would take me south over the border. All green and twisty and it looked like it could be worth exploring.
The route ran south of Dinant to Givet, then Fumay, then the D1 from Revin through Montherme to Charleville-Mezieres. Not the most direct route but pick up a Michelin map and it jumps out at you. Don't expect satnav to pick up the pretty route either, use a map!
As I rode along the motorway south of Dinant, the view of a gorge just suddenly opened up. It was breathtaking. I was on a bridge over the gorge and realised I'd missed a trick by not turning down into Dinant. From Dinant you can follow the Meuse river south along the valley all the way to Charleville-Mezieres. I took the next exit for Hastiere but you should do as I say and not as I do. Take the road down into Dinant and take the road hugging the river all the way south. I picked up this road after a couple of miles and it's amazing. Even better, stick on the N4 for a little longer into Namur and try the N92 south to Dinant. Next time I'm in the area I'm gonna give that a shot.
In Bogny-sur-Meuse there is a fantastic metalwork sculpture of Gene Simmons, complete with guitar, facing out over the river. No idea what the connection there is but impressive all the same. I'm sure that I also saw a municipal campsite in the town which might be useful for future reference.
Pulled into Charleville-Mezieres about 8.30pm. Found a great campsite. Thankfully it was in satnav. If it wasn't then I probably wouldn't have found it. There was one small sign for it but by the time you'd found the sign you were almost there anyway. Bit of a detour required through town because of road closures for a pushbike race. Thought it would be expensive. The reception area and offices were really plush. Turned out to be a municipal, even though it didn't say so. Got allocated a huge pitch and got change from €8. Welcome back to France!
My neighbour was an English chap called John. Lives in France though and trying out a campervan for the first time. He's really into his bikes but not had one for a while because his wife thinks they're dangerous so he eventually gave them up. They've been here all week so filled me in on the useful local info.
I'd had a great day of riding. Put in plenty of hours and racked up plenty of miles today. I'd like to investigate the twisties further up towards Spa in Belgium but that will have to wait for another time. I'm pretty chuffed that I've got another nice route highlighted on the map.
324 miles
A Dutch chap walked over to offer me a free table but I really don't think the poor bike could take it! They were leaving too and just wanted it to go to a good home.
Set off and rode north (Catherine, that means UP) along the west (LEFT) bank of the Rhine up to Koblenz. I think it's the B9. It's OK but not as fast or pretty as the Mosel. In Koblenz I picked up the B49 west along the Mosel. We did this last year and it's every bit as good as I remember it. Beats the Rhine hands down. After Cochem is where it gets proper interesting. Careful with the road numbers though otherwise you'll get diverted onto the main roads - it's the 49 and 53. Just stick to the river and you'll be fine.
There is a freight train line running along the northern side of the lake but it eventually peels off north. I passed plenty of nice looking quiet campsites.
Lots of wine cellars and wine tasting on offer. Some free, some chargeable. I imagine the chargeable ones are unbiased whereas the free ones only offer wines from their own vinyard. Could be wrong though and I didn't stick around to test the theory.
At Wasserbillig, just over the border into Luxembourg, I took the N10 north to Diekirch. Fuel is cheap in Luxembourg, so watch out for diesel spills from people overfilling. There was a massive trail of it along my path on the (wet) N10 so extra care required. It's a good road but it's spoiled, from a biking point of view, by the large number of towns and 50km limits. I got the impression they're big against speeding here. Every 50km limit had big flashing speed signs. Didn't see any coppers or speed traps though. I always try to stick to marked limits in build up areas anyway.
The N15 between Ettelbruck and Bastogne was next and is a far nicer road. Again, it was wet but starting to dry. There were some nice sweeping sections where you could have some proper fun. I passed a Belgian car that had lost it in the wet on one corner but everyone appeared fine. Fairly low speed I think. It really wasn't a good place to stop and offer assistance so I moved on.
Over the border into Belgium, the N4 is a fast A road. A good alternative to motorways. It's marked up in green on the Michelin map, but I don't think Michelin are consistent with their gradings. You wouldn't take a detour for the scenery, but it certainly beats the M1.
I came off the N4 onto the N97 west. Picked up a really short section of motorway and headed for Dinant. I wanted to be in France for my last night of camping and last day of riding. Noticed a great looking section on the map that would take me south over the border. All green and twisty and it looked like it could be worth exploring.
The route ran south of Dinant to Givet, then Fumay, then the D1 from Revin through Montherme to Charleville-Mezieres. Not the most direct route but pick up a Michelin map and it jumps out at you. Don't expect satnav to pick up the pretty route either, use a map!
As I rode along the motorway south of Dinant, the view of a gorge just suddenly opened up. It was breathtaking. I was on a bridge over the gorge and realised I'd missed a trick by not turning down into Dinant. From Dinant you can follow the Meuse river south along the valley all the way to Charleville-Mezieres. I took the next exit for Hastiere but you should do as I say and not as I do. Take the road down into Dinant and take the road hugging the river all the way south. I picked up this road after a couple of miles and it's amazing. Even better, stick on the N4 for a little longer into Namur and try the N92 south to Dinant. Next time I'm in the area I'm gonna give that a shot.
In Bogny-sur-Meuse there is a fantastic metalwork sculpture of Gene Simmons, complete with guitar, facing out over the river. No idea what the connection there is but impressive all the same. I'm sure that I also saw a municipal campsite in the town which might be useful for future reference.
Pulled into Charleville-Mezieres about 8.30pm. Found a great campsite. Thankfully it was in satnav. If it wasn't then I probably wouldn't have found it. There was one small sign for it but by the time you'd found the sign you were almost there anyway. Bit of a detour required through town because of road closures for a pushbike race. Thought it would be expensive. The reception area and offices were really plush. Turned out to be a municipal, even though it didn't say so. Got allocated a huge pitch and got change from €8. Welcome back to France!
My neighbour was an English chap called John. Lives in France though and trying out a campervan for the first time. He's really into his bikes but not had one for a while because his wife thinks they're dangerous so he eventually gave them up. They've been here all week so filled me in on the useful local info.
I'd had a great day of riding. Put in plenty of hours and racked up plenty of miles today. I'd like to investigate the twisties further up towards Spa in Belgium but that will have to wait for another time. I'm pretty chuffed that I've got another nice route highlighted on the map.
324 miles
Friday 23 July 2010
Day 20 Baden-Baden to Trechtingshausen
The shower was good. Think of the campsite as €12.50 with a free 6 minute shower rather than €12 with chargeable showers and it's spot on. I'd definitely stay here again. Adam camping plaza at Oberbruch. The ladies on reception speak good English and are really helpful. There's a good sized and well stocked shop that's cheap enough. They'll even sell you a tent for 30 quid. Useful for people like Catherine who are likely to forget such essentials.
Heavy rain continued all morning.
I think Catherine has jinxed this for me. As soon as she leaves I nearly get run over, then barely survive a heatwave and now torrential rain. Cheers sis, love you too.
Had to sit and wait for the rain to ease up. The ladies in reception were in no rush for me to leave. Not because of my endless charm and wit I have to add, they were just laid back about the whole thing. They even looked into the weather forecast for me.
Wandered over to the shop to grab some bread and cheese then sat under the tarp with a sandwich and watched the rain. The bike was packed and ready to go. I just needed to pack up the shelter, stick it in the dry sack and I'd be away.
A German chap called Ronnie sparked up a conversation. He was sheltering under a nearby tree with his wife having a crafty tab while their kid was asleep in the campervan. Invited them over to keep dry. We all huddled under the tarp and got talking. He's a biker too. Rides an old foxeye Fireblade. Loves it, it's his pride and joy. Tours a lot with his dad on bikes but now they're just returning from a family holiday in Spain in the camper. Gave me some pointers to good German biking roads. Also said avoid northern Germany up towards Scandinavia. There's a lot of clashes between biker gangs and police so there's zero tolerance to bikers up there.
He told me a story about Austria that launched me into yet another huge rant about the place. He got pulled for speeding in Austria once. The coppers looked over his bike and he has a full Akropovic exhaust. So he also got fined for not having a baffle. Understandable so far, you'd probably get similar treatment from a British copper. Same for his doctored number plate.
They then whipped out an emissions tester! He's got a full system so no cat. Again that's a chargeable offence in Austria so they started totting them up.
Now the bit that really made my blood boil was the fact that his back tyre was down to the wire but that wasn't classed as an offence.
He got an on the spot fine for the daft stuff but the dangerous defect was completely ignored. I really can't work Austria out.
On the spot fines in Europe are literally on the spot. You pay the copper. If you can't pay then they'll very kindly take you to a cashpoint so you can withdraw the cash. Except in Italy. If you can't pay there then they just take your vehicle away and crush it.
His wife kept popping back to brew fresh coffee and it turned into a very pleasant afternoon, despite the weathers best attempts to spoil it. If I didn't have a return crossing to make then I'd have honestly got the tent back out and stayed for another night.
We got the maps and highlighter out and discussed places and roads. Given more time I said I wanted to ride back up the Rhine. They warned me that the Rhine is mosquito territory. But not the Mosel for some reason, even though the two meet. He then disappeared and returned with a couple of insect repellent sprays. They'd picked them up in Hungary and it's what the anglers out there use. Supposed to be amazing stuff and they gave them to me for the last leg of my trip. Ronnie, like me, gets devoured by mosquitos. His mrs, like Catherine and Sam, is usually left well alone. He swears that this stuff works wonders. Gotta be better than the spray I've got which just seems to attract them. It was probably from a joke shop. Very kind of them and I'll definitely make good use of it.
The whole afternoon summed up what I love about camping abroad with the bike. You're never alone. There's always someone nearby to talk to or help you out. With no plans you're free to move where you want, when you want. There's very little discrimination and language barriers disappear. If you stayed in hotels then you would just keep yourself to yourself. Where's the fun in that?
The rain started to ease off so checked the time and it was 4.30pm. We'd been sat talking all afternoon. Got my stuff together and hit the road just after 5. Try doing the same at most other campsites and you'd get stung for another night.
Despite the wet roads, I'd rather put a couple of hours in today than have a completely mad one tomorrow.
The little ferry over the Rhine that we took last year was only a few km down the road. Same procedure as before. Roll on, roll off and free of charge. Rolled off into France.
I like France. I find it quite easy to get by there. Not exactly my second language but I'm less crap at it than all the other ones. I can hold a basic conversation in French.
To the uninitiated though, German is closer to English than French. A lot of words can be worked out if you don't know them. Catherine also raised a valid point. We're brought up to think of the Germans as dull and boring. In actual fact they're a bit bonkers. They wear lederhosen and consume huge quantities of beer and sausage and generally enjoy a good time.
You shouldn't be fazed by foreign languages though. If you walk into a bakery or petrol station or campsite then there's only a limited number of things you'd want to buy. They obviously want to sell you something and if all else fails just point.
Once I'd crossed the Rhine into France I headed north to Wissembourg. I think it was the D34 but my map's not too clear. Lovely little road. Proper rural affair. Passed through a couple of towns that obviously weren't used to seeing tourists. Lots of locals stopping and staring, but all smiling and nodding. There was a section of singletrack through maize fields that was constructed from huge pre-fabricated concrete slabs. There were also fields full of upturned telegraph poles with pointy ends. Wire was strung high between the poles and something was growing upright between the wires in tall straight lines. Maybe I'm just being daft but not seen anything like it before. Took a quick photo anyway. I assume they're vineyards. Answers on a postcard please.
From Wissembourg I took the B48 to Kaiserslautern. The road was starting to dry and it was amazing. Reminded me of the last section of the Route des Grande Alps, south of Thonon. Except it was empty rather than full of Swiss drivers. It wound through trees for mile after mile. Jon and Catherine should be able to picture it.
Speaking of Jon I should say a quick hi and ta. If you ever need weather forecasts or emergency digs or historical research while you're touring abroad then contact him at www.cycle-street.co.uk. When he's not on International Rescue duties for me, he somehow finds time to run a very nice pushbike shop in York.
Called into Kaiserslautern for fuel then carried on north to Bingen on the southern bank of the Rhine. The B48 carries on all the way up to Bingen and I'd recommend it. My satnav didn't and kept trying to throw me off course. It caught me out a few times but I got the gist.
Looking at my map I realised I'm starting to join up a non-stop brilliant route from Luxembourg to Freudenstadt in the Black Forest. It takes in the Eifel mountains, the Mosel and the Rhine, a cool little ferry crossing to a great campsite then the best part of the Black Forest.
Further west it heads back into France on amazing roads. If the weather holds for tomorrow then I'm pretty excited about road testing it and doing some more exploring.
I've got some great options from here too. If the weather's bad then I can take the autoroute home. I've also got the Mosel nearby to the west and Nurbergring nearby to the north. What more could you wish for?
Checked into the first campsite on the Rhine. Time was pressing on due to my late start so I didn't mess about.
It's pretty poor. It also disproves my long held theory that 'if a campsite is full of Dutch then it's gonna be good'. My theory that 'if you need any help when you're camping then the Dutch will always step in' still stands. Especially with a hammer. It was proved again tonight.
The campsite is really basic and not cheap. €15 for a solo biker and €1 for showers is quite frankly outrageous at this kind of place. There's a complete free for all fight for space but an old German boy sorted me out with a nice corner plot.
The woman on reception didn't speak a word of English so I called on Catherines German lessons. I even used Geoffnet in conversation which I was genuinely quite chuffed about.
Although Catherine, it's not pronounced 'geoff-net' you silly sausage.
The woman behind the bar started playing those crazy German tricks on me. Pretending she didn't speak a word of English then responding to my attempts at German in perfect English.
The toilets and showers were poor. There's a busy freight train line right next to the site but I think this runs both sides of the Rhine right up to Koblenz so can't be avoided.
The rumour about mossies is also true. Thankfully so is the guarantee for my new mossie spray. Worked a treat.
Those huge barges that we saw in Koblenz last year run all through the night. At full steam ahead their diesel engines aren't quiet.
The campsite does provide toilet roll but it's padlocked to a pole outside the toilet block! Never seen that before.
I'll avoid this one in future. Marienort camping plaza in Trechtingshausen.
All of the Dutch campers were really friendly though. Had a steady stream of them coming over to chat. Most were just passing through on their way home.
Had a good old chat to a Dutch lad called Tim. Him and his old man are into their bikes. They confirmed the fact that you should give any Belgian bike with a number plate starting with W a wide berth. I'd been told this a few days back at Lake Konstanz but didn't know what to make of it. In Belgium, number plates are assigned to drivers not vehicles. You take your registration with you when you change vehicles. All motorbike registrations used to start with an M. But they ran out of numbers so flipped the M and now all recently issued numbers start with a W. If you see a Belgian W plate then it's a relatively new rider.
All in all that turned into a really pleasant day. Got some great riding in and the weather stayed dry while I was out. Fingers crossed it looks promising for tomorrow too.
128 miles
Heavy rain continued all morning.
I think Catherine has jinxed this for me. As soon as she leaves I nearly get run over, then barely survive a heatwave and now torrential rain. Cheers sis, love you too.
Had to sit and wait for the rain to ease up. The ladies in reception were in no rush for me to leave. Not because of my endless charm and wit I have to add, they were just laid back about the whole thing. They even looked into the weather forecast for me.
Wandered over to the shop to grab some bread and cheese then sat under the tarp with a sandwich and watched the rain. The bike was packed and ready to go. I just needed to pack up the shelter, stick it in the dry sack and I'd be away.
A German chap called Ronnie sparked up a conversation. He was sheltering under a nearby tree with his wife having a crafty tab while their kid was asleep in the campervan. Invited them over to keep dry. We all huddled under the tarp and got talking. He's a biker too. Rides an old foxeye Fireblade. Loves it, it's his pride and joy. Tours a lot with his dad on bikes but now they're just returning from a family holiday in Spain in the camper. Gave me some pointers to good German biking roads. Also said avoid northern Germany up towards Scandinavia. There's a lot of clashes between biker gangs and police so there's zero tolerance to bikers up there.
He told me a story about Austria that launched me into yet another huge rant about the place. He got pulled for speeding in Austria once. The coppers looked over his bike and he has a full Akropovic exhaust. So he also got fined for not having a baffle. Understandable so far, you'd probably get similar treatment from a British copper. Same for his doctored number plate.
They then whipped out an emissions tester! He's got a full system so no cat. Again that's a chargeable offence in Austria so they started totting them up.
Now the bit that really made my blood boil was the fact that his back tyre was down to the wire but that wasn't classed as an offence.
He got an on the spot fine for the daft stuff but the dangerous defect was completely ignored. I really can't work Austria out.
On the spot fines in Europe are literally on the spot. You pay the copper. If you can't pay then they'll very kindly take you to a cashpoint so you can withdraw the cash. Except in Italy. If you can't pay there then they just take your vehicle away and crush it.
His wife kept popping back to brew fresh coffee and it turned into a very pleasant afternoon, despite the weathers best attempts to spoil it. If I didn't have a return crossing to make then I'd have honestly got the tent back out and stayed for another night.
We got the maps and highlighter out and discussed places and roads. Given more time I said I wanted to ride back up the Rhine. They warned me that the Rhine is mosquito territory. But not the Mosel for some reason, even though the two meet. He then disappeared and returned with a couple of insect repellent sprays. They'd picked them up in Hungary and it's what the anglers out there use. Supposed to be amazing stuff and they gave them to me for the last leg of my trip. Ronnie, like me, gets devoured by mosquitos. His mrs, like Catherine and Sam, is usually left well alone. He swears that this stuff works wonders. Gotta be better than the spray I've got which just seems to attract them. It was probably from a joke shop. Very kind of them and I'll definitely make good use of it.
The whole afternoon summed up what I love about camping abroad with the bike. You're never alone. There's always someone nearby to talk to or help you out. With no plans you're free to move where you want, when you want. There's very little discrimination and language barriers disappear. If you stayed in hotels then you would just keep yourself to yourself. Where's the fun in that?
The rain started to ease off so checked the time and it was 4.30pm. We'd been sat talking all afternoon. Got my stuff together and hit the road just after 5. Try doing the same at most other campsites and you'd get stung for another night.
Despite the wet roads, I'd rather put a couple of hours in today than have a completely mad one tomorrow.
The little ferry over the Rhine that we took last year was only a few km down the road. Same procedure as before. Roll on, roll off and free of charge. Rolled off into France.
I like France. I find it quite easy to get by there. Not exactly my second language but I'm less crap at it than all the other ones. I can hold a basic conversation in French.
To the uninitiated though, German is closer to English than French. A lot of words can be worked out if you don't know them. Catherine also raised a valid point. We're brought up to think of the Germans as dull and boring. In actual fact they're a bit bonkers. They wear lederhosen and consume huge quantities of beer and sausage and generally enjoy a good time.
You shouldn't be fazed by foreign languages though. If you walk into a bakery or petrol station or campsite then there's only a limited number of things you'd want to buy. They obviously want to sell you something and if all else fails just point.
Once I'd crossed the Rhine into France I headed north to Wissembourg. I think it was the D34 but my map's not too clear. Lovely little road. Proper rural affair. Passed through a couple of towns that obviously weren't used to seeing tourists. Lots of locals stopping and staring, but all smiling and nodding. There was a section of singletrack through maize fields that was constructed from huge pre-fabricated concrete slabs. There were also fields full of upturned telegraph poles with pointy ends. Wire was strung high between the poles and something was growing upright between the wires in tall straight lines. Maybe I'm just being daft but not seen anything like it before. Took a quick photo anyway. I assume they're vineyards. Answers on a postcard please.
From Wissembourg I took the B48 to Kaiserslautern. The road was starting to dry and it was amazing. Reminded me of the last section of the Route des Grande Alps, south of Thonon. Except it was empty rather than full of Swiss drivers. It wound through trees for mile after mile. Jon and Catherine should be able to picture it.
Speaking of Jon I should say a quick hi and ta. If you ever need weather forecasts or emergency digs or historical research while you're touring abroad then contact him at www.cycle-street.co.uk. When he's not on International Rescue duties for me, he somehow finds time to run a very nice pushbike shop in York.
Called into Kaiserslautern for fuel then carried on north to Bingen on the southern bank of the Rhine. The B48 carries on all the way up to Bingen and I'd recommend it. My satnav didn't and kept trying to throw me off course. It caught me out a few times but I got the gist.
Looking at my map I realised I'm starting to join up a non-stop brilliant route from Luxembourg to Freudenstadt in the Black Forest. It takes in the Eifel mountains, the Mosel and the Rhine, a cool little ferry crossing to a great campsite then the best part of the Black Forest.
Further west it heads back into France on amazing roads. If the weather holds for tomorrow then I'm pretty excited about road testing it and doing some more exploring.
I've got some great options from here too. If the weather's bad then I can take the autoroute home. I've also got the Mosel nearby to the west and Nurbergring nearby to the north. What more could you wish for?
Checked into the first campsite on the Rhine. Time was pressing on due to my late start so I didn't mess about.
It's pretty poor. It also disproves my long held theory that 'if a campsite is full of Dutch then it's gonna be good'. My theory that 'if you need any help when you're camping then the Dutch will always step in' still stands. Especially with a hammer. It was proved again tonight.
The campsite is really basic and not cheap. €15 for a solo biker and €1 for showers is quite frankly outrageous at this kind of place. There's a complete free for all fight for space but an old German boy sorted me out with a nice corner plot.
The woman on reception didn't speak a word of English so I called on Catherines German lessons. I even used Geoffnet in conversation which I was genuinely quite chuffed about.
Although Catherine, it's not pronounced 'geoff-net' you silly sausage.
The woman behind the bar started playing those crazy German tricks on me. Pretending she didn't speak a word of English then responding to my attempts at German in perfect English.
The toilets and showers were poor. There's a busy freight train line right next to the site but I think this runs both sides of the Rhine right up to Koblenz so can't be avoided.
The rumour about mossies is also true. Thankfully so is the guarantee for my new mossie spray. Worked a treat.
Those huge barges that we saw in Koblenz last year run all through the night. At full steam ahead their diesel engines aren't quiet.
The campsite does provide toilet roll but it's padlocked to a pole outside the toilet block! Never seen that before.
I'll avoid this one in future. Marienort camping plaza in Trechtingshausen.
All of the Dutch campers were really friendly though. Had a steady stream of them coming over to chat. Most were just passing through on their way home.
Had a good old chat to a Dutch lad called Tim. Him and his old man are into their bikes. They confirmed the fact that you should give any Belgian bike with a number plate starting with W a wide berth. I'd been told this a few days back at Lake Konstanz but didn't know what to make of it. In Belgium, number plates are assigned to drivers not vehicles. You take your registration with you when you change vehicles. All motorbike registrations used to start with an M. But they ran out of numbers so flipped the M and now all recently issued numbers start with a W. If you see a Belgian W plate then it's a relatively new rider.
All in all that turned into a really pleasant day. Got some great riding in and the weather stayed dry while I was out. Fingers crossed it looks promising for tomorrow too.
128 miles
Thursday 22 July 2010
Day 19 Lake Constance to Baden-Baden
Took a little detour first thing this morning to return the wallet I found last night. The guy was at work but his wife was home. She was chuffed to bits. She didn't speak English so I don't know exactly what she said. It certainly wasn't 'hey waiter' or 'I'm horny'. Yeah, thanks Catherine.
Watch out for the railway crossings in Germany. In Austria you get 15 minutes warning. In Germany you get about 15 seconds. Very efficient and a far better system.
Had a cracking headache all morning. I genuinely think it's from bites. I'm covered in them, especially on my head and neck. Must be some kinda uber toxin in these bad boys. Taken pain killers but it won't shift.
Picked up the B500 into the Black Forest at Titisee, after a few short detours due to roadworks. Stopped for lunch in Titisee first. I'd picked up some bread and cheese at the first shop I'd seen after leaving the campsite. Sat under a tree and chilled for an hour. Texted Catherine to wind her up but she's ignoring all my 'wish you were here' and 'how's work?' messages.
Nearly got knocked off in Titisee. Some daydreaming woman came straight out of a junction on my left and took my path. I had a proper close one. Should of punched her wing mirror off but was far too busy struggling to keep half a ton of bike upright and avoiding a raised kerb.
We had been warned of a heatwave in the Black Forest. There certainly is. It hit 38 degrees in some places which wasn't pleasant. I don't care what people say about 'it's a different kind of heat abroad'. No it isn't. It's just as unbearable. Especially when you're wearing full leathers.
I started losing the plot north of Triberg. South of Triberg and north west of Freudenstadt are where this road is interesting. Pick up a Michelin map and it's the two sections of the B500 in yellow. The section between Freudenstadt and Baden-Baden is the jewel in the crown. That's the world famous Black Forest High Road.
The section between Triberg and Freudenstadt is not so good. It can be congested and it's well used by HGVs. I got stuck in a long queue of traffic for a while. It didn't matter how many I picked off, there was always another slow driver in front. Put yourself in the same situation in 38 degree heat and you'll understand. You start drifting off. Not in a sleepy way but you just start losing track. The only water I had was hot by now and there was nowhere to get a cold refill. I was on a clearway and the few places available to stop had no shade. I took a wrong turn where the road forked and didn't realise for a couple of miles. I pulled over and had a monumental swearing fit. It was a proper Basil Fawlty tree branch moment. It was obscene and it went on for ages. Just ask Sam or Catherine about my colourful language when I'm hot and flustered and they'll explain everything.
Now I thought I was alone but as I looked over my shoulder before turning the bike round I clocked an old boy sat eating his lunch at the other side of the road. He was sat cool as a cucumber with his lunch on his lap and his moped and helmet beside his seat. He looked completely bemused. I'd guess more scared than offended.
That kinda made me smile again but I felt a bit naughty.
Beyond Freudenstadt it all became worth it. The road is legendary. I was gonna stop at a campsite south of Baden-Baden but it was only 5.30pm and I was enjoying it too much to stop. Catherine, the campsite was right near that downhill sled ride we did last year.
Carried on and headed for a campsite at a place called Oberbruch. Stopped at a shop a few km before the site to pick up a cold drink and some cold beers. Was in the shop for a couple of minutes and when I walked out again there was torrential rain. In a few minutes it had gone from blazing sunshine to a torrential downpour. Sat it out and a few minutes later it passed.
The campsite is nice. There's a good size pleasure lake but no mosquitos. The lake has a water slide and fountains and was full of people.
You can pitch up anywhere within the allocated tent area. I chose a nice spot overlooking the lake next to a Dutch lad called Arnold and his girlfriend. They sat watching me unpack everything from the panniers while they ate their tea. They said they were expecting a tiny tent but were in complete awe at the tent and huge shelter. Even more shocked when I told them there's a second tent and full compliment of camping kit somewhere in my luggage.
Got chatting over a beer. I told them to sort out their national identity. There's no need for Holland and Netherlands and Dutch. Just choose one and have done with it. I was already aware that Holland isn't the same as the Netherlands. That definitely scored me some points with them. Foolishly I wasn't actually aware that Nederland means low land. And we call it the Netherlands because we can't pronounce the real name correctly. Also didn't know that they're approaching disaster point with salination of the land. They're well practised in controlling the flooding by building dams and flood defences. The real problem is that the salt water table is rising and when it reaches the surface no crops will grow.
Arnold lives in a town that's more than 5m below sea level. That's also concerning.
The flooding comes from Germany as the rivers, particularly the Rhine, breaks over NL and out to the sea. There's a joint effort between the two countries to resolve the problems.
Speaking of flooding, the campsite nearly did. Overnight the heavens opened. I really wasn't expecting it so built the basha for headroom rather than wet weather performance. Sounds a bit sad but believe me there's a huge difference. The tarp filled with water and eventually collapsed on my tent. Very amusing. I was out in the pouring rain wearing just my pants and a headtorch at about 2 in the morning trying to fix everything up.
The only downside to the campsite, apart from 50c for a shower, is the fact that vehicles aren't allowed by the tents. Amusingly I was told to park mine, not by the other bikes near reception, but next to the campervans. I could of been offended but found it really funny. It was perfect though because I could see it from my pitch. Even more amusing though was the Harley Davison that was parked by the sites resident tractor. I kid you not. I'll try to grab a picture before leaving just to silence any doubters.
196 miles
Watch out for the railway crossings in Germany. In Austria you get 15 minutes warning. In Germany you get about 15 seconds. Very efficient and a far better system.
Had a cracking headache all morning. I genuinely think it's from bites. I'm covered in them, especially on my head and neck. Must be some kinda uber toxin in these bad boys. Taken pain killers but it won't shift.
Picked up the B500 into the Black Forest at Titisee, after a few short detours due to roadworks. Stopped for lunch in Titisee first. I'd picked up some bread and cheese at the first shop I'd seen after leaving the campsite. Sat under a tree and chilled for an hour. Texted Catherine to wind her up but she's ignoring all my 'wish you were here' and 'how's work?' messages.
Nearly got knocked off in Titisee. Some daydreaming woman came straight out of a junction on my left and took my path. I had a proper close one. Should of punched her wing mirror off but was far too busy struggling to keep half a ton of bike upright and avoiding a raised kerb.
We had been warned of a heatwave in the Black Forest. There certainly is. It hit 38 degrees in some places which wasn't pleasant. I don't care what people say about 'it's a different kind of heat abroad'. No it isn't. It's just as unbearable. Especially when you're wearing full leathers.
I started losing the plot north of Triberg. South of Triberg and north west of Freudenstadt are where this road is interesting. Pick up a Michelin map and it's the two sections of the B500 in yellow. The section between Freudenstadt and Baden-Baden is the jewel in the crown. That's the world famous Black Forest High Road.
The section between Triberg and Freudenstadt is not so good. It can be congested and it's well used by HGVs. I got stuck in a long queue of traffic for a while. It didn't matter how many I picked off, there was always another slow driver in front. Put yourself in the same situation in 38 degree heat and you'll understand. You start drifting off. Not in a sleepy way but you just start losing track. The only water I had was hot by now and there was nowhere to get a cold refill. I was on a clearway and the few places available to stop had no shade. I took a wrong turn where the road forked and didn't realise for a couple of miles. I pulled over and had a monumental swearing fit. It was a proper Basil Fawlty tree branch moment. It was obscene and it went on for ages. Just ask Sam or Catherine about my colourful language when I'm hot and flustered and they'll explain everything.
Now I thought I was alone but as I looked over my shoulder before turning the bike round I clocked an old boy sat eating his lunch at the other side of the road. He was sat cool as a cucumber with his lunch on his lap and his moped and helmet beside his seat. He looked completely bemused. I'd guess more scared than offended.
That kinda made me smile again but I felt a bit naughty.
Beyond Freudenstadt it all became worth it. The road is legendary. I was gonna stop at a campsite south of Baden-Baden but it was only 5.30pm and I was enjoying it too much to stop. Catherine, the campsite was right near that downhill sled ride we did last year.
Carried on and headed for a campsite at a place called Oberbruch. Stopped at a shop a few km before the site to pick up a cold drink and some cold beers. Was in the shop for a couple of minutes and when I walked out again there was torrential rain. In a few minutes it had gone from blazing sunshine to a torrential downpour. Sat it out and a few minutes later it passed.
The campsite is nice. There's a good size pleasure lake but no mosquitos. The lake has a water slide and fountains and was full of people.
You can pitch up anywhere within the allocated tent area. I chose a nice spot overlooking the lake next to a Dutch lad called Arnold and his girlfriend. They sat watching me unpack everything from the panniers while they ate their tea. They said they were expecting a tiny tent but were in complete awe at the tent and huge shelter. Even more shocked when I told them there's a second tent and full compliment of camping kit somewhere in my luggage.
Got chatting over a beer. I told them to sort out their national identity. There's no need for Holland and Netherlands and Dutch. Just choose one and have done with it. I was already aware that Holland isn't the same as the Netherlands. That definitely scored me some points with them. Foolishly I wasn't actually aware that Nederland means low land. And we call it the Netherlands because we can't pronounce the real name correctly. Also didn't know that they're approaching disaster point with salination of the land. They're well practised in controlling the flooding by building dams and flood defences. The real problem is that the salt water table is rising and when it reaches the surface no crops will grow.
Arnold lives in a town that's more than 5m below sea level. That's also concerning.
The flooding comes from Germany as the rivers, particularly the Rhine, breaks over NL and out to the sea. There's a joint effort between the two countries to resolve the problems.
Speaking of flooding, the campsite nearly did. Overnight the heavens opened. I really wasn't expecting it so built the basha for headroom rather than wet weather performance. Sounds a bit sad but believe me there's a huge difference. The tarp filled with water and eventually collapsed on my tent. Very amusing. I was out in the pouring rain wearing just my pants and a headtorch at about 2 in the morning trying to fix everything up.
The only downside to the campsite, apart from 50c for a shower, is the fact that vehicles aren't allowed by the tents. Amusingly I was told to park mine, not by the other bikes near reception, but next to the campervans. I could of been offended but found it really funny. It was perfect though because I could see it from my pitch. Even more amusing though was the Harley Davison that was parked by the sites resident tractor. I kid you not. I'll try to grab a picture before leaving just to silence any doubters.
196 miles
Day 18 Munich to Lake Constance
Catherines last day today. But don't constantly remind her otherwise she snaps at you. Just wanted to make sure she knew that she's back at work tomorrow while I've got almost another week out here. Pah, women eh?
Next year she's definitely coming out for longer and definitely wants to bring her own bike.
Packed up the kit and spent the day in Munich. It's great. Nearly every other building is amazing. It's full of really pretty ladies too. They cycle around the city looking all dainty and lovely. Not flustered and sweaty. It's the same in Salzburg actually but I'm not in a rush to ever go back there.
Dumped the bike on pavement by an entrance to the main square. Was slightly concerned because, despite been a bit naughty, it was also fully loaded up and the dry sack was only secured with a few bungie cords. It was all cool though when we eventually got back to it. Just try doing that in a major British city.
Had a bit of a wander around then went back to the Hofbrauhaus for lunch. Sat outside in the courtyard beer garden, which was nice. I had a selection of relatively normal looking sausages. Catherine had a couple of boiled white sausages. They looked dreadful but tasted amazing. Definitely recommended. We always drop a tip over here, but if the waiter is slow and cranky and forgets Catherines last beer then he aint getting anything. I don't care how busy he is.
Passed a shop selling t-shirts and can confirm our recently discovered fact that Munich is also known as minger. Although it's spelled Minga.
One final beer in the town hall courtyard then we waved goodbye to Munich. Hopefully not for the last time. Anyone fancy Oktoberfest?
As we left for the airport, Catherine gave me a quick last minute German lesson. I'm not entirely convinced. To get a waiters attention she reckons it's 'here rover'. She also explained the pitfalls of hot and cold. Apparently she told the examiner in her GCSE German exam that she was horny, when she meant warm.
Bit of a panic at the airport. Don't want to suggest that Catherine's disorganised, but perhaps confirming the terminal number and check-in gate when booking a flight could go on her 'good ideas for next time' list. It would help prevent a mad rush on the actual day, after guessing the wrong terminal number and having to ride around the airport at breakneck speed.
With Catherine safely loaded on her flight, I headed down to Lake Constance. I fancy riding back home through the Black Forest. Took the autobahn down to the Austrian border at the eastern end of the lake. Popped over into Austria for a tank of fuel. The one good thing I can say about Austria is the fuel is cheap. When your bike takes 33l it's worth a 2 minute detour.
Filled up and rode west across the top of the lake.
Thought I was going mad when I clocked a brief glimpse of a zeppelin high over the lake. I lost sight of it instantly because i was riding into a low sun and couldn't find it again. Took me a while to remember that there is a zeppelin museum on the lake.
Dropped into a quirky little town in a failed attempt to find a shop. I think it was Uberlingen. It was a bit like a model village. Lots of old brightly painted buildings. There was a big church with droopy clock faces. There was a coach load of tourists walking around so must be a bit of a tourist attraction.
Found a wallet in the road as I went down the B34 west of the lake. A fellow biker - there was his driving licence and registration documents inside. The guy lives local so I'll drop it off for him. But he'll have to wait until tomorrow because it's late and I need to find a campsite.
Found a site called Camping Wahlweir. Nice little place. Run by a friendly guy who speaks good English. Free hot showers, €10.50 for the night and €2 a pop for big bottles of beer. Of which I had many.
The chap showed me to my place and gave me a big pitch in the shade. When we got back to the bike there was a Belgian lad called Paul, although spelt Pol I think, looking over it. Another biker, also on a BMW. He was here with his girlfriend. Really nice guy. We all sat on the terrace drinking until it got dark. Everything went on tick, I just settled up for my beers and camping in the morning.
As the sun started setting, I went down to pitch my tent. They came down and we sat our drinking and talking. He was telling me about the new WW1 trenches that are still been unearthed around Belgium. They also said the zeppelin factory is pretty poor and not worth a visit. He told me about a hostel on the Mosel that's run by some Dutch bikers. Bikers stay free and the first beer is on the house. He gave me details so I'll definitely check it out when I get back.
I thought camping a few km west of the lake would save me from mossies. I was wrong. They ate me alive again.
214 miles
Next year she's definitely coming out for longer and definitely wants to bring her own bike.
Packed up the kit and spent the day in Munich. It's great. Nearly every other building is amazing. It's full of really pretty ladies too. They cycle around the city looking all dainty and lovely. Not flustered and sweaty. It's the same in Salzburg actually but I'm not in a rush to ever go back there.
Dumped the bike on pavement by an entrance to the main square. Was slightly concerned because, despite been a bit naughty, it was also fully loaded up and the dry sack was only secured with a few bungie cords. It was all cool though when we eventually got back to it. Just try doing that in a major British city.
Had a bit of a wander around then went back to the Hofbrauhaus for lunch. Sat outside in the courtyard beer garden, which was nice. I had a selection of relatively normal looking sausages. Catherine had a couple of boiled white sausages. They looked dreadful but tasted amazing. Definitely recommended. We always drop a tip over here, but if the waiter is slow and cranky and forgets Catherines last beer then he aint getting anything. I don't care how busy he is.
Passed a shop selling t-shirts and can confirm our recently discovered fact that Munich is also known as minger. Although it's spelled Minga.
One final beer in the town hall courtyard then we waved goodbye to Munich. Hopefully not for the last time. Anyone fancy Oktoberfest?
As we left for the airport, Catherine gave me a quick last minute German lesson. I'm not entirely convinced. To get a waiters attention she reckons it's 'here rover'. She also explained the pitfalls of hot and cold. Apparently she told the examiner in her GCSE German exam that she was horny, when she meant warm.
Bit of a panic at the airport. Don't want to suggest that Catherine's disorganised, but perhaps confirming the terminal number and check-in gate when booking a flight could go on her 'good ideas for next time' list. It would help prevent a mad rush on the actual day, after guessing the wrong terminal number and having to ride around the airport at breakneck speed.
With Catherine safely loaded on her flight, I headed down to Lake Constance. I fancy riding back home through the Black Forest. Took the autobahn down to the Austrian border at the eastern end of the lake. Popped over into Austria for a tank of fuel. The one good thing I can say about Austria is the fuel is cheap. When your bike takes 33l it's worth a 2 minute detour.
Filled up and rode west across the top of the lake.
Thought I was going mad when I clocked a brief glimpse of a zeppelin high over the lake. I lost sight of it instantly because i was riding into a low sun and couldn't find it again. Took me a while to remember that there is a zeppelin museum on the lake.
Dropped into a quirky little town in a failed attempt to find a shop. I think it was Uberlingen. It was a bit like a model village. Lots of old brightly painted buildings. There was a big church with droopy clock faces. There was a coach load of tourists walking around so must be a bit of a tourist attraction.
Found a wallet in the road as I went down the B34 west of the lake. A fellow biker - there was his driving licence and registration documents inside. The guy lives local so I'll drop it off for him. But he'll have to wait until tomorrow because it's late and I need to find a campsite.
Found a site called Camping Wahlweir. Nice little place. Run by a friendly guy who speaks good English. Free hot showers, €10.50 for the night and €2 a pop for big bottles of beer. Of which I had many.
The chap showed me to my place and gave me a big pitch in the shade. When we got back to the bike there was a Belgian lad called Paul, although spelt Pol I think, looking over it. Another biker, also on a BMW. He was here with his girlfriend. Really nice guy. We all sat on the terrace drinking until it got dark. Everything went on tick, I just settled up for my beers and camping in the morning.
As the sun started setting, I went down to pitch my tent. They came down and we sat our drinking and talking. He was telling me about the new WW1 trenches that are still been unearthed around Belgium. They also said the zeppelin factory is pretty poor and not worth a visit. He told me about a hostel on the Mosel that's run by some Dutch bikers. Bikers stay free and the first beer is on the house. He gave me details so I'll definitely check it out when I get back.
I thought camping a few km west of the lake would save me from mossies. I was wrong. They ate me alive again.
214 miles
Wednesday 21 July 2010
Day 17 Weissach to Munich
Last nights plan of camping next to the young ladies in the top field backfired slightly. Their boy racer mates turned up at 6am the next morning and started wheel spinning their Vauxhall Corsas across the field and playing crap pop music.
Campsite was cheap enough. About €18.
Rode north alongside the lake. Traffic was awful. Turned off east and picked up the B307 to Oberaudorf on the Germany Austria border. Until we'd cleared Schliersee, traffic was painful. Non stop Austrians and roadworks and traffic lights. The lights at the roadworks were insane. Must of been waiting 15 minutes for a green. It was the same when we had to cross a railway line. We waited about 15 minutes and then a tiny local train rolled past. Those guys need a boot up the backside. The swearbox was overflowing.
There was a sneaky speed camera van in a layby but forward facing so no concern. The camera was poking out of a flap in the roof. Cheeky buggers. Clear of Schliersee everything opened up nicely and traffic started flowing again. The roads were brilliant.
Continued east along border to Berchtesgaden and Obersalzberg to visit the Eagles Nest. Or Hitlers hidey hole as Catherine calls it. It was actually his tea room. Probably not as expensive as Bettys but it couldn't of been far off. Very plush. You have to take a bus ride from the car park up to the entrance. To access the house you walk through a long tunnel in the mountain to a brass elevator which then takes you way up to the house. The same way the big man and everyone else had to get up. Views of the Alps from the nest are apparently unrivalled. We'll take their word for it. When we visited there was low cloud and mist. Visibility was probably about 50 feet. The trip was a nice little detour though and definitely worth doing.
We left the hidey hole and popped into Salzburg, about 20 minutes up the road. Catherine had visions of splashing in fountains and skipping through green meadows. What you actually get is a big congested city full of tourists and Austrian drivers. Salzburg itself is lovely though. There's some pretty impressing buildings and monuments.
The most impressive thing we saw was definitely the cute lass in see-through leggings getting all flustered with a flat tyre on her Passat. She pulled up right in front of us while we were sat on the bike planning our next move. Normally I'd have been happy to help but time was really pressing on.
The other slightly mad thing around these parts is the traffic lights. Pedestrians and cyclists press the button to make the man go green but everyone gets the green light at the same time - traffic, pedestrians and cycles. You'll be turning right at some lights and a cyclist will shoot across your path, and they've got right of way. I really didn't get that. Either sort it out or do away with it.
We took the autobahn and went to Munich. Thoughts of huge beers and bratwurst were very tempting.
The autobahn is fantastic. It's free, although Vicky and Mikey say they're trying to push through a change over to tolls. I hope they don't. Speed limits are advisory rather than compulsory. No matter how fast you go, there will always be somebody going faster. If there's someone ahead going slower than you in the outside lane then you flash your lights as you approach them. Not aggressively. Just to signal that you're approaching and you want to get past. Nobody takes offence and the system works. If they don't move then tailgating and more flashing is the done thing.
The autobahn shreds your tyres though. An hours riding in a straight line at high speed, fully loaded, really took its toll.
Took the closest site to town centre which was still several km out. Bit of a back packers retreat. Full of them. Most with guitars. The chap on reception said the bus ran until about 10pm but it didn't turn up for us. We were gonna get the late bus in then grab a taxi back out. We fancied a bit of a blow out for Catherines last night. When the bus failed to arrive and the beer garden down the road had stopped serving food I offered to ride us into town. Catherine didn't try to talk me out me it. We headed straight for the Hofbrauhaus - the world famous beer hall. It was mint. A huge elaborately decorated hall full of beer and food and lederhosen and umpa lumpa bands and women in traditional costume. Beer came in steins - big sturdy 1l glasses, built to take a good slamming on the tables in time to the music. Food was pig and pretzels. Catherine had a couple of local speciality bratwurst with sourkrout. I had a traditional Bavarian favourite - schweinshaxn. It's pigs knuckle. And it's delicious. I was riding so didn't have any beer. Catherine said it was awful anyway and I wouldn't have enjoyed it. To be honest, she really wasn't that convincing.
They stopped serving at 11.30 so we headed back. Stopped at a little kiosk by a bridge to pick up some cold beers for a nightcap. The kiosks are dotted all over town and are really popular after hours. Useful because they open late and aren't stupidly priced. Cold bottles of beer were €1.70 a pop and worth every penny.
215 miles
Campsite was cheap enough. About €18.
Rode north alongside the lake. Traffic was awful. Turned off east and picked up the B307 to Oberaudorf on the Germany Austria border. Until we'd cleared Schliersee, traffic was painful. Non stop Austrians and roadworks and traffic lights. The lights at the roadworks were insane. Must of been waiting 15 minutes for a green. It was the same when we had to cross a railway line. We waited about 15 minutes and then a tiny local train rolled past. Those guys need a boot up the backside. The swearbox was overflowing.
There was a sneaky speed camera van in a layby but forward facing so no concern. The camera was poking out of a flap in the roof. Cheeky buggers. Clear of Schliersee everything opened up nicely and traffic started flowing again. The roads were brilliant.
Continued east along border to Berchtesgaden and Obersalzberg to visit the Eagles Nest. Or Hitlers hidey hole as Catherine calls it. It was actually his tea room. Probably not as expensive as Bettys but it couldn't of been far off. Very plush. You have to take a bus ride from the car park up to the entrance. To access the house you walk through a long tunnel in the mountain to a brass elevator which then takes you way up to the house. The same way the big man and everyone else had to get up. Views of the Alps from the nest are apparently unrivalled. We'll take their word for it. When we visited there was low cloud and mist. Visibility was probably about 50 feet. The trip was a nice little detour though and definitely worth doing.
We left the hidey hole and popped into Salzburg, about 20 minutes up the road. Catherine had visions of splashing in fountains and skipping through green meadows. What you actually get is a big congested city full of tourists and Austrian drivers. Salzburg itself is lovely though. There's some pretty impressing buildings and monuments.
The most impressive thing we saw was definitely the cute lass in see-through leggings getting all flustered with a flat tyre on her Passat. She pulled up right in front of us while we were sat on the bike planning our next move. Normally I'd have been happy to help but time was really pressing on.
The other slightly mad thing around these parts is the traffic lights. Pedestrians and cyclists press the button to make the man go green but everyone gets the green light at the same time - traffic, pedestrians and cycles. You'll be turning right at some lights and a cyclist will shoot across your path, and they've got right of way. I really didn't get that. Either sort it out or do away with it.
We took the autobahn and went to Munich. Thoughts of huge beers and bratwurst were very tempting.
The autobahn is fantastic. It's free, although Vicky and Mikey say they're trying to push through a change over to tolls. I hope they don't. Speed limits are advisory rather than compulsory. No matter how fast you go, there will always be somebody going faster. If there's someone ahead going slower than you in the outside lane then you flash your lights as you approach them. Not aggressively. Just to signal that you're approaching and you want to get past. Nobody takes offence and the system works. If they don't move then tailgating and more flashing is the done thing.
The autobahn shreds your tyres though. An hours riding in a straight line at high speed, fully loaded, really took its toll.
Took the closest site to town centre which was still several km out. Bit of a back packers retreat. Full of them. Most with guitars. The chap on reception said the bus ran until about 10pm but it didn't turn up for us. We were gonna get the late bus in then grab a taxi back out. We fancied a bit of a blow out for Catherines last night. When the bus failed to arrive and the beer garden down the road had stopped serving food I offered to ride us into town. Catherine didn't try to talk me out me it. We headed straight for the Hofbrauhaus - the world famous beer hall. It was mint. A huge elaborately decorated hall full of beer and food and lederhosen and umpa lumpa bands and women in traditional costume. Beer came in steins - big sturdy 1l glasses, built to take a good slamming on the tables in time to the music. Food was pig and pretzels. Catherine had a couple of local speciality bratwurst with sourkrout. I had a traditional Bavarian favourite - schweinshaxn. It's pigs knuckle. And it's delicious. I was riding so didn't have any beer. Catherine said it was awful anyway and I wouldn't have enjoyed it. To be honest, she really wasn't that convincing.
They stopped serving at 11.30 so we headed back. Stopped at a little kiosk by a bridge to pick up some cold beers for a nightcap. The kiosks are dotted all over town and are really popular after hours. Useful because they open late and aren't stupidly priced. Cold bottles of beer were €1.70 a pop and worth every penny.
215 miles
Monday 19 July 2010
Day 16 Laces/Latsch to Weissach
We passed a huge bike meet in Merano this morning. Hundreds of them. Must be a Sunday thing. We didn't pass Catherine's vinyard though so she'll have to keep searching.
Took the S44 north of Merano then crossed into Austria over the Passo del Rombo, aka Timmelsjoch. There's some amazing views from up there. It's way up in the clouds. Temperate dropped down to 6 degrees so heated grips got an airing for first time this trip. It's also a private toll road so we got stung for €12.
Quite a few of the passes in Austria are private toll roads. And all the autoroutes require a vignette. You can buy short term vignettes and I believe they're cheaper for bikes than cars. The toll booths are marked on the Michelin map with black bars across the road so identifying toll roads is quite easy. Any road that requires a vignette has a huge picture of a red vignette on the road sign so no excuses for accidentally finding yourself on one.
Coming down from the pass another biker that was parked up frantically flapped about and told us to slow down. Further down the road a copper was giving speeding tickets out to bikers.
We returned the favour and pulled over to warn a huge group of British bikers. The chap at the front had no idea where he was or where he was going. Didn't seem particularly bothered by the speed trap or grateful for the heads up.
There's a bit of a nanny state attitude to speeds in Austria. The speed limit tends to drop to a marked compulsory lower limit every time a side road joins a main road. It's really frustrating. Every Austrian driver sticks rigidly to the speed limits or just ambles along at a ridiculously slow speed.
From Oetz we took the back roads past Innsbruck and picked up the E533 north into Germany. Close to the border on the B11 there's a little town called Wallgau. Every single building is painted really ornately. It's a bit much and very surreal, but quite pretty. Wallgau was also the first in a long line of towns and villages that we passed through that had a massively tall upright tree trunk in the centre. And I mean really huge. Every branch, apart from maybe a few at the top, had been sawn off. On top there would be either a few neatly trimmed branches, in a Christmas tree style, or a cockeral. The top third would be decorated with ribbons or something.
We passed Lakes Walchensee and Kochelsee. The Kesselberg road between the two lakes is a famous biking road. It a short section of nice scenic twisty road. On weekends it apparently closes to bikes southbound but northbound is ok. We didn't actually notice any such restrictions so maybe we've been misinformed. We were heading north so it wouldn't have affected us anyway. We were also warned that the speed limits are well policed.
From Bichl we rode east to Bad Tolz then headed south on the B13 to Achenpass. We'd definitely saved the best until last. Achenpass is on the German Austrian border. It's actually back in Austria but it's so close you wouldn't realise. The B13 down to Austria is amazing and we luckily caught it at a quiet time of day. We were still in Austrian riding mode. Making good progress but constantly wary of speed traps. Especially as it was a weekend and these roads are biker magnets.
A German rider on a sportsbike went caning past us. No idea what speed but our bike shook. He gave us a huge cheery wave as he passed. Assumed that he had a bit of local knowledge and knew the roads were good to go so we were massively relieved to pick up the pace again.
The pass itself isn't particularly high but the road is lovely. As soon as we'd cleared the pass we headed north back into Germany on the B307. Again the road was amazing.
We planned to stop at 7.30 and right on queue we found a campsite near lake Tegernsee.
It's a nice site. The ground is soft grass which makes a refreshing change after camping in the mountains for the last week or so. Pitching the tents took no time at all.
Went to the bar and found refreshment in the form of Hopf white beer. Huge glasses of the stuff. Catherine tried her best to communicate with the barman, who said he didn't speak a word of English but at the end of the night had a long conversation with us in perfect fluent English. Her failed attempts were blamed on the fact that 'they speak a different type of German near the borders'. Whatever.
She also got mistaken for a waitress when another punter started complaining to her about the wait for food. You should of seen her struggles with GCSE German to get out of that one.
The barman also told us that the Austrian word for Munich is 'Minger'. He had no idea why we found this so funny. Not so fluent after all I guess.
179 miles
Took the S44 north of Merano then crossed into Austria over the Passo del Rombo, aka Timmelsjoch. There's some amazing views from up there. It's way up in the clouds. Temperate dropped down to 6 degrees so heated grips got an airing for first time this trip. It's also a private toll road so we got stung for €12.
Quite a few of the passes in Austria are private toll roads. And all the autoroutes require a vignette. You can buy short term vignettes and I believe they're cheaper for bikes than cars. The toll booths are marked on the Michelin map with black bars across the road so identifying toll roads is quite easy. Any road that requires a vignette has a huge picture of a red vignette on the road sign so no excuses for accidentally finding yourself on one.
Coming down from the pass another biker that was parked up frantically flapped about and told us to slow down. Further down the road a copper was giving speeding tickets out to bikers.
We returned the favour and pulled over to warn a huge group of British bikers. The chap at the front had no idea where he was or where he was going. Didn't seem particularly bothered by the speed trap or grateful for the heads up.
There's a bit of a nanny state attitude to speeds in Austria. The speed limit tends to drop to a marked compulsory lower limit every time a side road joins a main road. It's really frustrating. Every Austrian driver sticks rigidly to the speed limits or just ambles along at a ridiculously slow speed.
From Oetz we took the back roads past Innsbruck and picked up the E533 north into Germany. Close to the border on the B11 there's a little town called Wallgau. Every single building is painted really ornately. It's a bit much and very surreal, but quite pretty. Wallgau was also the first in a long line of towns and villages that we passed through that had a massively tall upright tree trunk in the centre. And I mean really huge. Every branch, apart from maybe a few at the top, had been sawn off. On top there would be either a few neatly trimmed branches, in a Christmas tree style, or a cockeral. The top third would be decorated with ribbons or something.
We passed Lakes Walchensee and Kochelsee. The Kesselberg road between the two lakes is a famous biking road. It a short section of nice scenic twisty road. On weekends it apparently closes to bikes southbound but northbound is ok. We didn't actually notice any such restrictions so maybe we've been misinformed. We were heading north so it wouldn't have affected us anyway. We were also warned that the speed limits are well policed.
From Bichl we rode east to Bad Tolz then headed south on the B13 to Achenpass. We'd definitely saved the best until last. Achenpass is on the German Austrian border. It's actually back in Austria but it's so close you wouldn't realise. The B13 down to Austria is amazing and we luckily caught it at a quiet time of day. We were still in Austrian riding mode. Making good progress but constantly wary of speed traps. Especially as it was a weekend and these roads are biker magnets.
A German rider on a sportsbike went caning past us. No idea what speed but our bike shook. He gave us a huge cheery wave as he passed. Assumed that he had a bit of local knowledge and knew the roads were good to go so we were massively relieved to pick up the pace again.
The pass itself isn't particularly high but the road is lovely. As soon as we'd cleared the pass we headed north back into Germany on the B307. Again the road was amazing.
We planned to stop at 7.30 and right on queue we found a campsite near lake Tegernsee.
It's a nice site. The ground is soft grass which makes a refreshing change after camping in the mountains for the last week or so. Pitching the tents took no time at all.
Went to the bar and found refreshment in the form of Hopf white beer. Huge glasses of the stuff. Catherine tried her best to communicate with the barman, who said he didn't speak a word of English but at the end of the night had a long conversation with us in perfect fluent English. Her failed attempts were blamed on the fact that 'they speak a different type of German near the borders'. Whatever.
She also got mistaken for a waitress when another punter started complaining to her about the wait for food. You should of seen her struggles with GCSE German to get out of that one.
The barman also told us that the Austrian word for Munich is 'Minger'. He had no idea why we found this so funny. Not so fluent after all I guess.
179 miles
Sunday 18 July 2010
Day 15 Lake Como to Laces/Latsch
Quick swim in the lake after breakfast. There was an army of swans guarding the lakeside but I soon showed them who's boss.
Rode back up towards St Moritz for some more fun in Switzerland. Stopped at a little gelateria for ice cream in Chiavenna before continuing east. Very nice it was too.
Grabbed some bread and cheese in St Moritz. The bread came from a little bakery and cost a small fortune. The cheese came from the Coop and was much more reasonable.
Stopped east of St Moritz, where the road forks, for a quick picnic and to spread the maps out. Considered our options, of which there were several. Decided to pop up into Austria then straight back down into Italy. All the time we're kinda heading east. I've never ridden the road north east of Susch before but it looked interesting.
Riding away from St Moritz my eagle-eyed navigator spotted the hotel where we stopped for coffee last year after seeing that chap get killed on the Julierpass. Pulled in for a coffee and it's still excellent. The waitress was lovely too. Really friendly Swiss lass and quite stunning. The hotel is called Hotel Post, in the town of Brail. I didn't get the name of the waitress.
Filled up with cheap fuel in Martina before crossing the border from Switzerland into Austria. Just as we did the heavens opened so we took shelter in the petrol station. It soon passed.
Rode up a tiny pass in Austria. Called the Norbert Pass or something. It's so small it's not even named on the map. 11 corners to the top then straight down the other side and into Italy onto the S40.
Passed Lake Reschen (Lago di Resia) - a flooded valley in Italy. The entire valley was flooded by building dams for hydro electric power back in the 40s. The church steeple is the only remnant of one of several flooded towns. It sticks high out of the water close to the roadside.
Around Malles we picked up the S38 east. The road is lined with apple orchards. There's loads of them.
Struggled to find anywhere still open to buy groceries. There were loads on the S40 south from Austria but as soon as we picked up the S38 east to Bolzano there was nothing. We eventually found a little local market shop and bar in Laces where we picked up cold beers and some salami. Treated Catherine to some apple struddle from the deli too. Poor lass hasn't had any all holiday. No white wine in the chiller so chose a bottle of red off the shelf.
The shop was about half a km away from a campsite, which the chaps in the bar said was very good. Checked in and it better be good for the price. €27! We soon realised why. The campsite is behind a posh hotel. It's run by the hotel and it shares facilities. The toilet block is the poshest one I've ever seen. Proper hotel quality facilities. We were given a keypass for access through the electric security gates and into the toilet and shower block. There's electric sliding glass doors into the toilet block. Very Star Trek. They even make that whooshing noise when they open and close.
There was a huge lightning storm over Bolzano. The sky was constantly lit by lightning. Everyone was sat out photographing and filming it. Took a walk past them all on way to loo. I've not been in that many photos since Verona. Rather worryingly we're camped near a cable car station and the steel cables run directly over our tent.
I put the tents up while Catherine cooked tea and broke the stove. A Dutch couple came over to offer me a mallet. Apparently it was hammering the tent pegs in and not for teaching Catherine a lesson for breaking the stove. I definitely needed it - the ground was rockhard.
Popped open the red. Catherine had a taster and surprisingly thought it was really nice. Even though she definitely doesn't like red wine. Apparently the only red she's ever enjoyed was a 25 year old bottle that dad kept from the shop and dusted off for her graduation. It was the last one in existence and really quite special. I had to take her word on that because I can't remember getting an invite to this special occasion.
Not that I'm bitter. Anyway I took a quick trip back to the shop for a second bottle. If we didn't drink it then we could take it with us tomorrow.
It didn't last long.
The vinyard is just down the road from here in Bolzano. We'll keep an eye out tomorrow and pop in if we pass it. Catherine is keen to sample all their other offerings. I'll be driving so once again I'll have to take her word for it.
139 miles
Rode back up towards St Moritz for some more fun in Switzerland. Stopped at a little gelateria for ice cream in Chiavenna before continuing east. Very nice it was too.
Grabbed some bread and cheese in St Moritz. The bread came from a little bakery and cost a small fortune. The cheese came from the Coop and was much more reasonable.
Stopped east of St Moritz, where the road forks, for a quick picnic and to spread the maps out. Considered our options, of which there were several. Decided to pop up into Austria then straight back down into Italy. All the time we're kinda heading east. I've never ridden the road north east of Susch before but it looked interesting.
Riding away from St Moritz my eagle-eyed navigator spotted the hotel where we stopped for coffee last year after seeing that chap get killed on the Julierpass. Pulled in for a coffee and it's still excellent. The waitress was lovely too. Really friendly Swiss lass and quite stunning. The hotel is called Hotel Post, in the town of Brail. I didn't get the name of the waitress.
Filled up with cheap fuel in Martina before crossing the border from Switzerland into Austria. Just as we did the heavens opened so we took shelter in the petrol station. It soon passed.
Rode up a tiny pass in Austria. Called the Norbert Pass or something. It's so small it's not even named on the map. 11 corners to the top then straight down the other side and into Italy onto the S40.
Passed Lake Reschen (Lago di Resia) - a flooded valley in Italy. The entire valley was flooded by building dams for hydro electric power back in the 40s. The church steeple is the only remnant of one of several flooded towns. It sticks high out of the water close to the roadside.
Around Malles we picked up the S38 east. The road is lined with apple orchards. There's loads of them.
Struggled to find anywhere still open to buy groceries. There were loads on the S40 south from Austria but as soon as we picked up the S38 east to Bolzano there was nothing. We eventually found a little local market shop and bar in Laces where we picked up cold beers and some salami. Treated Catherine to some apple struddle from the deli too. Poor lass hasn't had any all holiday. No white wine in the chiller so chose a bottle of red off the shelf.
The shop was about half a km away from a campsite, which the chaps in the bar said was very good. Checked in and it better be good for the price. €27! We soon realised why. The campsite is behind a posh hotel. It's run by the hotel and it shares facilities. The toilet block is the poshest one I've ever seen. Proper hotel quality facilities. We were given a keypass for access through the electric security gates and into the toilet and shower block. There's electric sliding glass doors into the toilet block. Very Star Trek. They even make that whooshing noise when they open and close.
There was a huge lightning storm over Bolzano. The sky was constantly lit by lightning. Everyone was sat out photographing and filming it. Took a walk past them all on way to loo. I've not been in that many photos since Verona. Rather worryingly we're camped near a cable car station and the steel cables run directly over our tent.
I put the tents up while Catherine cooked tea and broke the stove. A Dutch couple came over to offer me a mallet. Apparently it was hammering the tent pegs in and not for teaching Catherine a lesson for breaking the stove. I definitely needed it - the ground was rockhard.
Popped open the red. Catherine had a taster and surprisingly thought it was really nice. Even though she definitely doesn't like red wine. Apparently the only red she's ever enjoyed was a 25 year old bottle that dad kept from the shop and dusted off for her graduation. It was the last one in existence and really quite special. I had to take her word on that because I can't remember getting an invite to this special occasion.
Not that I'm bitter. Anyway I took a quick trip back to the shop for a second bottle. If we didn't drink it then we could take it with us tomorrow.
It didn't last long.
The vinyard is just down the road from here in Bolzano. We'll keep an eye out tomorrow and pop in if we pass it. Catherine is keen to sample all their other offerings. I'll be driving so once again I'll have to take her word for it.
139 miles
Saturday 17 July 2010
Beetle update
Turns out that was a stag beetle that attacked Catherine in Edolo. We thought the old Italian lass was going on about hair. We've now worked out that she meant antlers. The Italian or German for antlers or deer or stag sounds like hair. Or something like that.
Day 14 Edolo to Lake Como
Away for 11ish and west over Aprica Pass. Turned north east on the S38 - the only road I've never tried to Bormio. It doesn't look particularly interesting on the Michelin map but it turned out to be great. There's a constant run of big sweeping bridges followed by tunnels. I love these type of roads - they're like video games. But obviously you only get one life. There was an Italian chap in an A6 obviously enjoying the road too. He was absolutely hoofing it. It was the first proper committed Italian driving we've seen. Everyone else has been a bit lame so far.
We also passed a chap on a pushrod in full lycra. Catherine was delighted to report that he wasn't wearing any pants.
Obligatory coffee in Bormio then up the Stelvio Pass for an obligatory bratwurst. Very touristy but it's gotta be done.
Looped back onto the S41 into Switzerland. Up to Zernez, down to St Moritz then up the Julierpass. The south side was good but the north side was being resurfaced so some parts were a little bit tricky.
From Thusis we picked up the E13 south. It's an amazing little road that winds up and down around the motorway. They both follow a similar path down a huge rocky gorge but the E13 hugs the rockface rather than straight-lining it.
The gorge has dams, waterfalls, mountain rivers and rock pools. All quite pretty.
Go really careful though. There's a few points where they try to force you onto the motorway and you've got to stay really sharp to follow the E road. Even with satnav there were a few moments. Just before the town of Splugen the road goes singletrack and then onto cobbles. Without satnav we'd probably have turned around assuming we'd taken a wrong turn.
We subsequently found out from Mikey that the Swiss are clamping down on motorway abuse and there's cameras in the tunnels and choke points by the exits. The fine for using motorways without a vignette is now 3 or 4 hundred Euros. It used to be 100.
The Splugen Pass over from Switzerland into Italy is really tight, especially at the Italian side. The hairpins are narrow and there's sections where they're in close succession. We hit it at a quiet time but buses do use this road which must make for some interesting situations. The only other traffic to note was two Austrian lads on KTM supermotos who were attacking each corner with proper foot out action. Very entertaining.
From Chiavenna we rode south to our little campsite on Lake Como. Vicky and co were still there and delighted to see us again. Rode straight over to say hi then once Catherine and Vicky had put each other down, Catherine went to reception to check us in. The chap needed the bike reg and obviously Catherine didn't know it so he came out to take it. He started having a bit of a go because we hadn't stopped at the stop sign in front of reception. They took a wander across the campsite to find the bike. As soon as he saw it was me again, his mood completely changed and he came over to shake my hand and welcome me back. Gave us a huge spot near Vickys place.
We sat with Vicky and co drinking beer all night. Popped out to get some takeout pizzas from the restaurant over the road. The Italian lass in the pizza place only spoke Italian but the menu was in German which was quite amusing. Catherine read from the menu in perfect German and the lass didn't have a clue what she wanted. Pointing a finger at the menu saved the day.
I also had an amusing run in with the old dear on the campsite. It's a family business. Nice German chap plus his wife and her parents. He's the happy one of the bunch. His mother in law was locking up the showers for the night. Asked me something in German which I didn't understand. Told her I was English. She then repeated the question slowly and loudly, in German. Thought it was just us Brits who resorted to those tactics!
Thunder and lightning over night but clear in the morning. Catherine woke me up to ask for the bike key so she could open the panniers. I asked if she fancied a walk down to the shops and she replied that she'd already been! Up with the milk and she got to the shop before it even opened. Came back with breakfast provisions and got the stove on for a brew. Unbelievable I know but she says if I don't put it in the blog then she's gonna write it up herself!
230 miles
We also passed a chap on a pushrod in full lycra. Catherine was delighted to report that he wasn't wearing any pants.
Obligatory coffee in Bormio then up the Stelvio Pass for an obligatory bratwurst. Very touristy but it's gotta be done.
Looped back onto the S41 into Switzerland. Up to Zernez, down to St Moritz then up the Julierpass. The south side was good but the north side was being resurfaced so some parts were a little bit tricky.
From Thusis we picked up the E13 south. It's an amazing little road that winds up and down around the motorway. They both follow a similar path down a huge rocky gorge but the E13 hugs the rockface rather than straight-lining it.
The gorge has dams, waterfalls, mountain rivers and rock pools. All quite pretty.
Go really careful though. There's a few points where they try to force you onto the motorway and you've got to stay really sharp to follow the E road. Even with satnav there were a few moments. Just before the town of Splugen the road goes singletrack and then onto cobbles. Without satnav we'd probably have turned around assuming we'd taken a wrong turn.
We subsequently found out from Mikey that the Swiss are clamping down on motorway abuse and there's cameras in the tunnels and choke points by the exits. The fine for using motorways without a vignette is now 3 or 4 hundred Euros. It used to be 100.
The Splugen Pass over from Switzerland into Italy is really tight, especially at the Italian side. The hairpins are narrow and there's sections where they're in close succession. We hit it at a quiet time but buses do use this road which must make for some interesting situations. The only other traffic to note was two Austrian lads on KTM supermotos who were attacking each corner with proper foot out action. Very entertaining.
From Chiavenna we rode south to our little campsite on Lake Como. Vicky and co were still there and delighted to see us again. Rode straight over to say hi then once Catherine and Vicky had put each other down, Catherine went to reception to check us in. The chap needed the bike reg and obviously Catherine didn't know it so he came out to take it. He started having a bit of a go because we hadn't stopped at the stop sign in front of reception. They took a wander across the campsite to find the bike. As soon as he saw it was me again, his mood completely changed and he came over to shake my hand and welcome me back. Gave us a huge spot near Vickys place.
We sat with Vicky and co drinking beer all night. Popped out to get some takeout pizzas from the restaurant over the road. The Italian lass in the pizza place only spoke Italian but the menu was in German which was quite amusing. Catherine read from the menu in perfect German and the lass didn't have a clue what she wanted. Pointing a finger at the menu saved the day.
I also had an amusing run in with the old dear on the campsite. It's a family business. Nice German chap plus his wife and her parents. He's the happy one of the bunch. His mother in law was locking up the showers for the night. Asked me something in German which I didn't understand. Told her I was English. She then repeated the question slowly and loudly, in German. Thought it was just us Brits who resorted to those tactics!
Thunder and lightning over night but clear in the morning. Catherine woke me up to ask for the bike key so she could open the panniers. I asked if she fancied a walk down to the shops and she replied that she'd already been! Up with the milk and she got to the shop before it even opened. Came back with breakfast provisions and got the stove on for a brew. Unbelievable I know but she says if I don't put it in the blog then she's gonna write it up herself!
230 miles
Friday 16 July 2010
Day 13 Lake Garda to Edolo
Didn't wanna rush off today but we did fancy moving on. Checked with Francesca that we're ok leaving later in the day. She said it's no problem at all. As long as we pay before lunchtime we can stay until 1 or 2pm if we like. The office closes at 12 while they grab lunch.
Paid straight away to get it cleared. Instead of €48.50, we got a discount as promised and paid just €35 for the two nights. 15 for my first night and 20 for the second with Catherine. The chap that sorted it all out for us talked about the UK. He'd visited Scotland two years ago. Said it never stopped raining but he loves his whiskey so thoroughly enjoyed it. Next time I come I'll have to smuggle a miniature over for him.
Breakfast down by the lake then lounged about for a few hours. Eventually left about 3.30pm. Catherine wanted a blast through the Bond tunnels so we rode round to Limone then back to Riva del Garda for ice cream.
Catherine now informs me that we're stopping at every opportunity to sample Italian ice cream. She's got a point, it is pretty damn good.
Took the S45b north from Riva to Trento. Great road but was better the other day when it was quieter and cooler. It's hitting 38 degrees this afternoon which is pretty intense.
The short section of the S12 between Trento and the S43 is dull and tedious but the S43 to Cles is much more like it. The Italian chap who recommended this road wasn't wrong. The traffic can be a pain but get past it and the road's lovely. There was a lot of slow site traffic for construction work though. Stopped near Cles for quick picnic. There's an enormous dam on this road. We found a picnic spot overlooking the river below.
After Cles the road is awesome. All the way up to and over Passo del Tonale is faultless. The pass is quite low but the views are still great. More importantly though, the roads and corners are fast and smooth.
Dropped down into Edolo and took the first campsite west of the town. Nice little spot. Pretty basic but the people are nice and at e18 it worked out cheaper than the one down the road at Aprica. The plots are bigger too.
It was also much cooler than Garda, although by 8am the next day it was up past 30 degrees again. The guy asked whether we wanted a spot in the morning sun or the shade. We didn't need to know any Italian to communicate our preference. He saw the look on our faces and gave us a nice spot in the shade. Allegedly, although by 7am the sun had completely cleared the mountains so it didn't really make any difference.
After pitching up we went over to the bar. Not cheap at €2 for small tins of Italian pils, but they were showing old reruns of The Dukes of Hazzard, dubbed in Italian, which was quite amusing. We sat outside instead and looked over the maps. Catherine definitely wants to do the Stelvio Pass again which I'm more than happy with. It's just up the road from here so we can tick that off tomorrow.
Amusingly, for everyone else in the bar, Catherine then got attacked by the biggest beetle I've ever seen in my life. When I say attacked, I mean it walked on her foot. She screamed and kicked it off. It landed about a foot away then sat staring her out with it's huge pincers open in attack mode. It was genuinely quite intimidating. Some old Italian boy came over and told her it's harmless. Apparently they live in the greenery, like where we're pitched, but do fly around although the worst they'll do is give you a nasty nip. Bloody thing looks like it would have your arm off. We thought he was gonna gently pick it up, to demonstrate a point, but instead he gave it a huge boot. It shot off the balcony directly towards a family sat below eating their tea.
To calm her down, I treated Catherine to that complimentary bottle of wine that Luca gave us the other day. It was probably slightly warmer than recommended but the chap behind the bar lent us a huge ice pack. We dropped it in the top box, filled it with water and made an improvised wine bucket. Still didn't do much for the wine. It was OK though. White sparkling wine, but certainly not too sweet.
Just as we started cooking tea, all the campsite lights went out. It was about 11.30pm. There is no ambient light around here so the sky was crystal clear. Not a cloud up there which made it quite a spectacle.
All was good. At least until morning when Catherine got attacked by another of those damn beetles over breakfast. Oh, how she laughed!
131 miles
Paid straight away to get it cleared. Instead of €48.50, we got a discount as promised and paid just €35 for the two nights. 15 for my first night and 20 for the second with Catherine. The chap that sorted it all out for us talked about the UK. He'd visited Scotland two years ago. Said it never stopped raining but he loves his whiskey so thoroughly enjoyed it. Next time I come I'll have to smuggle a miniature over for him.
Breakfast down by the lake then lounged about for a few hours. Eventually left about 3.30pm. Catherine wanted a blast through the Bond tunnels so we rode round to Limone then back to Riva del Garda for ice cream.
Catherine now informs me that we're stopping at every opportunity to sample Italian ice cream. She's got a point, it is pretty damn good.
Took the S45b north from Riva to Trento. Great road but was better the other day when it was quieter and cooler. It's hitting 38 degrees this afternoon which is pretty intense.
The short section of the S12 between Trento and the S43 is dull and tedious but the S43 to Cles is much more like it. The Italian chap who recommended this road wasn't wrong. The traffic can be a pain but get past it and the road's lovely. There was a lot of slow site traffic for construction work though. Stopped near Cles for quick picnic. There's an enormous dam on this road. We found a picnic spot overlooking the river below.
After Cles the road is awesome. All the way up to and over Passo del Tonale is faultless. The pass is quite low but the views are still great. More importantly though, the roads and corners are fast and smooth.
Dropped down into Edolo and took the first campsite west of the town. Nice little spot. Pretty basic but the people are nice and at e18 it worked out cheaper than the one down the road at Aprica. The plots are bigger too.
It was also much cooler than Garda, although by 8am the next day it was up past 30 degrees again. The guy asked whether we wanted a spot in the morning sun or the shade. We didn't need to know any Italian to communicate our preference. He saw the look on our faces and gave us a nice spot in the shade. Allegedly, although by 7am the sun had completely cleared the mountains so it didn't really make any difference.
After pitching up we went over to the bar. Not cheap at €2 for small tins of Italian pils, but they were showing old reruns of The Dukes of Hazzard, dubbed in Italian, which was quite amusing. We sat outside instead and looked over the maps. Catherine definitely wants to do the Stelvio Pass again which I'm more than happy with. It's just up the road from here so we can tick that off tomorrow.
Amusingly, for everyone else in the bar, Catherine then got attacked by the biggest beetle I've ever seen in my life. When I say attacked, I mean it walked on her foot. She screamed and kicked it off. It landed about a foot away then sat staring her out with it's huge pincers open in attack mode. It was genuinely quite intimidating. Some old Italian boy came over and told her it's harmless. Apparently they live in the greenery, like where we're pitched, but do fly around although the worst they'll do is give you a nasty nip. Bloody thing looks like it would have your arm off. We thought he was gonna gently pick it up, to demonstrate a point, but instead he gave it a huge boot. It shot off the balcony directly towards a family sat below eating their tea.
To calm her down, I treated Catherine to that complimentary bottle of wine that Luca gave us the other day. It was probably slightly warmer than recommended but the chap behind the bar lent us a huge ice pack. We dropped it in the top box, filled it with water and made an improvised wine bucket. Still didn't do much for the wine. It was OK though. White sparkling wine, but certainly not too sweet.
Just as we started cooking tea, all the campsite lights went out. It was about 11.30pm. There is no ambient light around here so the sky was crystal clear. Not a cloud up there which made it quite a spectacle.
All was good. At least until morning when Catherine got attacked by another of those damn beetles over breakfast. Oh, how she laughed!
131 miles
Thursday 15 July 2010
Day 12 Lake Garda
Catherine landed in Verona. I rode down to the airport on the old road, the S12, to pick her up. It runs parallel to the motorway and apart from a couple of towns it really isn't much slower. It's a nice windy scenic road, and much quieter than the motorway. It's also free.
I had to wind it on a bit though. For some reason, me and the old Danish boy in the nearby pitch agreed the night before that it would take about 20 mins. Beer was involved. I gave it just shy of 30 before setting off. Satnav sparked up and told me it was a 72 minute journey.
I managed to shave a good 10 minutes off that time but was still late. I also flew through a speed trap but thankfully the two coppers just nodded and smiled at me. One raised his SMG, but it was more of a wave than taking aim. I hope.
We popped into Verona for a few hours. Took a wander about to do some touristy things. Went for a peek at Juliets house and then Romeos house. Somehow managed to join onto a French college trip which was quite pleasant until Catherine dragged me away.
Stopped for coffee and ice cream in a little back street cafe. Chilled for a while before heading back to base at Lake Garda. As lovely as Verona is, it's also 36 degrees and full of dithering tourists.
Catherine was introduced to Francesca, the nice lass who runs this site. Francesca had given me a hard time the previous night and insisted that I make the pitch up nicely for my sisters arrival. She'd offered me a table and chairs so Catherine would be comfortable. I told her Catherine's a tough old sod and she'd be happy roughing it. That didn't go down particularly well. Catherine wasn't too chuffed either when Francesca grassed me up as soon as they met.
To be honest, I thought I'd done wonders with the place. The site was heaving when I checked in so only had a choice of three pitches. One was huge but at the top of the hill and a long walk from the lake. Another was near the lake but campers at other pitches would have to drive or walk past ours for access to their own. The final option also sounded a bit poor - it was by the emergency refuge and surfboard store. Went for a quick look at all options and realised the refuge was absolutely perfect.
It's on it's own so nobody else has to walk through or past it. It's the nearest pitch to the lake. There's space for the bike. It's surrounded by railings and trees so securing tents and basha and washing lines was dead easy. I could also hang my new addition to the camping kit, the travel hammock, between the olive tree and the iron steps. It's the only pitch on this site that's hammock friendly. Residents at all neighbouring pitches were obviously both impressed and envious. Catherine immediately sank into the hammock and got into bone idle holiday mode.
The pitch was also a bit cheaper because it's not really a full sized plot. Bonus!
Popped into town for bbq provisions then back to the lake for a leisurely evening of BBQ and beers by the lake. Perfect.
117 miles
I had to wind it on a bit though. For some reason, me and the old Danish boy in the nearby pitch agreed the night before that it would take about 20 mins. Beer was involved. I gave it just shy of 30 before setting off. Satnav sparked up and told me it was a 72 minute journey.
I managed to shave a good 10 minutes off that time but was still late. I also flew through a speed trap but thankfully the two coppers just nodded and smiled at me. One raised his SMG, but it was more of a wave than taking aim. I hope.
We popped into Verona for a few hours. Took a wander about to do some touristy things. Went for a peek at Juliets house and then Romeos house. Somehow managed to join onto a French college trip which was quite pleasant until Catherine dragged me away.
Stopped for coffee and ice cream in a little back street cafe. Chilled for a while before heading back to base at Lake Garda. As lovely as Verona is, it's also 36 degrees and full of dithering tourists.
Catherine was introduced to Francesca, the nice lass who runs this site. Francesca had given me a hard time the previous night and insisted that I make the pitch up nicely for my sisters arrival. She'd offered me a table and chairs so Catherine would be comfortable. I told her Catherine's a tough old sod and she'd be happy roughing it. That didn't go down particularly well. Catherine wasn't too chuffed either when Francesca grassed me up as soon as they met.
To be honest, I thought I'd done wonders with the place. The site was heaving when I checked in so only had a choice of three pitches. One was huge but at the top of the hill and a long walk from the lake. Another was near the lake but campers at other pitches would have to drive or walk past ours for access to their own. The final option also sounded a bit poor - it was by the emergency refuge and surfboard store. Went for a quick look at all options and realised the refuge was absolutely perfect.
It's on it's own so nobody else has to walk through or past it. It's the nearest pitch to the lake. There's space for the bike. It's surrounded by railings and trees so securing tents and basha and washing lines was dead easy. I could also hang my new addition to the camping kit, the travel hammock, between the olive tree and the iron steps. It's the only pitch on this site that's hammock friendly. Residents at all neighbouring pitches were obviously both impressed and envious. Catherine immediately sank into the hammock and got into bone idle holiday mode.
The pitch was also a bit cheaper because it's not really a full sized plot. Bonus!
Popped into town for bbq provisions then back to the lake for a leisurely evening of BBQ and beers by the lake. Perfect.
117 miles
Tuesday 13 July 2010
Day 11 Dolomites to Lake Garda
Catherine lands in Verona tomorrow morning so like it or not I'm moving on. It's not a problem - two or three days is plenty to explore the Dolomites. Even if one of those days is more or less rained off. Camping came out at €16.50 a night for one person and bike.
Got chatting to the Italian lass behind reception as I checked out. Asked her how Canazei is actually pronounced. Not exactly a killer line but it broke the ice and I genuinely wanted to know. Assumed it was some big secret. I thought she kept telling me she 'cannot say'. Turns out it's pronounced 'cannat say ee'. She sounded pretty damn sultry though when I thought she was playing hard to get. Decided I'm gonna brush up on my Italian from now on.
Don't want a massive trip to the airport in morning so planned on camping just north of Verona on the green scenic bit of the map. Looks relatively high compared to Verona, which isn't far off sea level. Higher usually means cooler.
Wanted one last play in the Dolomites so rode the Passo di Fedaia. Again. Say what you like but I really aint tired of this road yet. It's amazing. From Caprile I took the R203 south to Agordo. Rode it last year with Catherine and it's superb.
Not ridden the P347 though from Agordo. Looks quite interesting on the map so thought I'd explore.
It was amazing. Pretty quiet and desolate but I passed a bus at one point so obviously there's life around here. Passo di Cereda at the western end was an undiscovered gem. Went through a town just before the pass that looked quite interesting if you ever fancied a pit stop. There's also a nice looking campsite at Tonadico. Big old place with a swimming pool and restaurant. Marked it on the map.
Turned north at Fiera di Primiero. Wrong direction but it's my holiday so bollocks to it. Again, only because the road looked nice on the map. Which it was. Passo di Rolle was probably the best bit of the day so far, and the bar had already been raised pretty high. There's some pretty amazing views from the top if you're into your geology. Sadly enough that kinda thing fascinates me. On a strictly amateur level obviously. There's plenty of pretty cows with bells for the rest of you.
Near Cavalese I took the little yellow twisty road south to Trento. Obviously it's not really yellow but that's what it is on my map and the road number isn't marked. Immediately recognised it as one that me and Jon did a few years ago. We were trying to sort out a balance problem with the front wheel on my trumpet and some old boy around here directed us down this way to Trento. The road is still superb although one or two corners had been scarified. Presumably ready for resurfacing. There's absolutely no feedback on that kinda surface so it's a bit unnerving. The rest was perfect though and all very scenic.
Just before Trento, in a little town called Lona, I called into what must be the worlds friendliest Coop. It was like a supermarket courtesy of Carlsberg. The lass on the till walked up to the automatic doors, from the inside, to invite me in and say ciao. The grocer chap came up to the cheese counter to sort me out with some cheese. Couldn't make sense of any of it so I gestured that he should serve the next guy while I decided. Neither of them would hear any of it and he recommended some nice local cheese and bread. Both turned out to be excellent. When I got back to the till, I thought the young lass had won the lottery, she was so happy. Made me feel all warm and snuggly inside. Good on 'em.
I then had a moment of clarity. Why ride south to Verona when Garda is so close? I could pitch up at our campsite in Malcesine for a couple of nights and not have to pack up in the morning. Sorted.
From Trento I took the S45b to Garda, as recommended by our new biker friend at Bergamo the other day. He's not wrong - it's great. It winds through vinyards and mountains down to the lake. Recommended.
Checked into campsite. Confirmed pronunciation, as per my new Italian resolution. 'mal chay say nay'.
Sparked up a BBQ by the lake, after a good old chinwag with a Danish bloke in a nearby pitch.
Sam, it was the old boy with the blue Morgan who was there last week.
Turns out he's a bit of a biker too. Saw me necking a Tuborg, a Danish brew, and assumed I was Danish. Obviously I'm not but I'll gladly speak bollocks in any language. Although English is the only one that people tend to understand me in. And even that can be a bit hit and miss.
Just as everything seemed perfect, Catherine rang to say she was struggling to sort out the advanced passenger info for her flight. The info that I told her to sort out urgently last week. Needs sorting 24 hours before departure otherwise no flight. And her flight is about 12 hours away.
I really aint fussed. I've just had a day of nothing but perfect roads and happy times. And to top it all off, a group of German girls have just come down to the lake in bikinis for a game of water polo. Heaven!
151 miles
Got chatting to the Italian lass behind reception as I checked out. Asked her how Canazei is actually pronounced. Not exactly a killer line but it broke the ice and I genuinely wanted to know. Assumed it was some big secret. I thought she kept telling me she 'cannot say'. Turns out it's pronounced 'cannat say ee'. She sounded pretty damn sultry though when I thought she was playing hard to get. Decided I'm gonna brush up on my Italian from now on.
Don't want a massive trip to the airport in morning so planned on camping just north of Verona on the green scenic bit of the map. Looks relatively high compared to Verona, which isn't far off sea level. Higher usually means cooler.
Wanted one last play in the Dolomites so rode the Passo di Fedaia. Again. Say what you like but I really aint tired of this road yet. It's amazing. From Caprile I took the R203 south to Agordo. Rode it last year with Catherine and it's superb.
Not ridden the P347 though from Agordo. Looks quite interesting on the map so thought I'd explore.
It was amazing. Pretty quiet and desolate but I passed a bus at one point so obviously there's life around here. Passo di Cereda at the western end was an undiscovered gem. Went through a town just before the pass that looked quite interesting if you ever fancied a pit stop. There's also a nice looking campsite at Tonadico. Big old place with a swimming pool and restaurant. Marked it on the map.
Turned north at Fiera di Primiero. Wrong direction but it's my holiday so bollocks to it. Again, only because the road looked nice on the map. Which it was. Passo di Rolle was probably the best bit of the day so far, and the bar had already been raised pretty high. There's some pretty amazing views from the top if you're into your geology. Sadly enough that kinda thing fascinates me. On a strictly amateur level obviously. There's plenty of pretty cows with bells for the rest of you.
Near Cavalese I took the little yellow twisty road south to Trento. Obviously it's not really yellow but that's what it is on my map and the road number isn't marked. Immediately recognised it as one that me and Jon did a few years ago. We were trying to sort out a balance problem with the front wheel on my trumpet and some old boy around here directed us down this way to Trento. The road is still superb although one or two corners had been scarified. Presumably ready for resurfacing. There's absolutely no feedback on that kinda surface so it's a bit unnerving. The rest was perfect though and all very scenic.
Just before Trento, in a little town called Lona, I called into what must be the worlds friendliest Coop. It was like a supermarket courtesy of Carlsberg. The lass on the till walked up to the automatic doors, from the inside, to invite me in and say ciao. The grocer chap came up to the cheese counter to sort me out with some cheese. Couldn't make sense of any of it so I gestured that he should serve the next guy while I decided. Neither of them would hear any of it and he recommended some nice local cheese and bread. Both turned out to be excellent. When I got back to the till, I thought the young lass had won the lottery, she was so happy. Made me feel all warm and snuggly inside. Good on 'em.
I then had a moment of clarity. Why ride south to Verona when Garda is so close? I could pitch up at our campsite in Malcesine for a couple of nights and not have to pack up in the morning. Sorted.
From Trento I took the S45b to Garda, as recommended by our new biker friend at Bergamo the other day. He's not wrong - it's great. It winds through vinyards and mountains down to the lake. Recommended.
Checked into campsite. Confirmed pronunciation, as per my new Italian resolution. 'mal chay say nay'.
Sparked up a BBQ by the lake, after a good old chinwag with a Danish bloke in a nearby pitch.
Sam, it was the old boy with the blue Morgan who was there last week.
Turns out he's a bit of a biker too. Saw me necking a Tuborg, a Danish brew, and assumed I was Danish. Obviously I'm not but I'll gladly speak bollocks in any language. Although English is the only one that people tend to understand me in. And even that can be a bit hit and miss.
Just as everything seemed perfect, Catherine rang to say she was struggling to sort out the advanced passenger info for her flight. The info that I told her to sort out urgently last week. Needs sorting 24 hours before departure otherwise no flight. And her flight is about 12 hours away.
I really aint fussed. I've just had a day of nothing but perfect roads and happy times. And to top it all off, a group of German girls have just come down to the lake in bikinis for a game of water polo. Heaven!
151 miles
Day 10 Dolomites
Turns out Canazei isn't always a complete box of frogs. I just happened to catch the last night of the Dolomite festival, which was a bit bonkers. So if you do visit but don't get offered a miniature farm animal ride or see an umpa lumpa band playing the birdy song, you know why.
The stuffed animal display of carnage looks permanent though so fill yer boots.
Weather looked much better today. Certainly over Canazei. After breakfast, and a quick chat to the old Italian gent who takes his dog Lacky for a few laps of the site every morning on his little disability scooter, I headed out for the hills.
I rode Marmalada west to east for a change. There's a dam near the Fedaia pass which you can ride over. There's a couple of restaurants at the other side, one of which also houses a small bookshop and war museum. This area saw some pretty intense action in WW1. Entry to what must be the worlds smallest museum was €8 so I passed.
From Caprile I crossed Passo di Giau into Cortina. All pretty damn good so far.
North of Cortina the skies were black with huge forks lightning in the distance. It looked biblical. Figured I'd come this far I might as well risk it. I was keen to check out the roads north of Cortina and if I got a little wet then at least it was blazing back at base and I'd soon dry out.
Over Passo di Tre Croci all was good. As soon as I picked up the S51 though, the bad weather caught me. It pretty much stayed with me until Innichen, a few miles from the Austrian border. Considered crossing over for a quick coffee but knew it wouldn't beat any coffee in Italy so took the S52 south east. The weather cleared and the road opened up. There's a few sections reminiscent of the good roads in northern Spain. Fast sweeping highway. The Austrian influence is really obvious around these parts, especially in the bars and restaurants.
Looking back I could see the bad weather behind me. It was an epic sight, especially with the huge mountains and lightning.
As I descended into Auronzo di Cadore, from Passo del Zovo, I needed a coffee. There was a hotel and restaurant on the right, first one as you come into the town. The receipt says Albergo Elina so assume that's what it's called.
Looked pretty unassuming so didn't expect anything fancy. It was empty apart from an old couple playing cards at one of the tables.
Dear lord, I've found coffee nirvana! Definitely the best coffee I've ever had in my life. The old lady presented me with an absolutely perfect doppio espresso.
I like a coffee to kick me in the nuts. A double espresso should be a double size espresso, not gone in one hit. It should be so bitter that it shocks. It should have a silky smooth crema that covers the liquid right to the end.
This one ticked all the right boxes. It looked chocolatey and it was absolutely magical. It was also €1.80 which meant I could drop a couple of golden nuggets and the change covered the tip, rather than having to dig around for loose shrapnel.
Thoroughly satisfied I left town. There's a hydro electric dam on the way out of town, at one end of Lago di Santa Caterina. There's a couple of huge stone lions guarding the walkway over the dam. Very imposing and very impressive.
Took the S51b south to Pieve di Cadore then the S51 back to Cortina. The bad weather closed in again but nothing too bad. There was a huge diesel spill on one bend but thankfully managed to avoid it and it was a one off incident.
The entire loop was superb. Very entertaining and one to mark on the map.
Quick stop for provisions in Cortina then main road back to Canazai. Although it's not actually a main road as you'd picture one. Still got a couple of great passes and some monstrous climbs and descents. It is known as the main Dolomite highway though.
Back at the campsite I had some new neighbours. Gordon and Lucy, a British couple over to do some climbing. Really, really nice couple. We sat together under my basha drinking wine and Gordons stash of Old Speckled Hen all night. The bread and cheese came out after tea and we had a showdown of local cheeses. The one I picked up in Cortina with the black wax rind definitely came out on top. No idea what it's called but it was great. Something Nero, funnily enough.
Gordon said there's a great campsite up near Drei Zinnen if I ever fancy camping up there. It's not particularly good in terms of facilities but the views are second to none and it's by an amazing lake, Misurina. They also sell excellent local wine for peanuts.
We spoke about Venice. They said it's the done thing in Venice to take an empty jug or coke bottle to one of the back street wine vendors and they'll fill it up with top notch wine. Again, it costs next to nothing. The locals do it so don't feel cheap.
A great piece of advice, one I wish I'd know years ago, then followed. When paying a bill in Germany, 'danke' means keep the change. If you want your change back then use 'bitte' instead.
He then told me of a campsite on the outskirts of Venice with water taxi links right into the city. Bit of a back packers paradise so he warned me that it's full of 18 year old Aussies. They pile into the campsite bar every night, where they serve huge quantities of great beer, and those naughty young ladies get free shots for flashing their pert breasts.
Sounds awful, but I definitely feel a change of plan coming on!
155 miles
The stuffed animal display of carnage looks permanent though so fill yer boots.
Weather looked much better today. Certainly over Canazei. After breakfast, and a quick chat to the old Italian gent who takes his dog Lacky for a few laps of the site every morning on his little disability scooter, I headed out for the hills.
I rode Marmalada west to east for a change. There's a dam near the Fedaia pass which you can ride over. There's a couple of restaurants at the other side, one of which also houses a small bookshop and war museum. This area saw some pretty intense action in WW1. Entry to what must be the worlds smallest museum was €8 so I passed.
From Caprile I crossed Passo di Giau into Cortina. All pretty damn good so far.
North of Cortina the skies were black with huge forks lightning in the distance. It looked biblical. Figured I'd come this far I might as well risk it. I was keen to check out the roads north of Cortina and if I got a little wet then at least it was blazing back at base and I'd soon dry out.
Over Passo di Tre Croci all was good. As soon as I picked up the S51 though, the bad weather caught me. It pretty much stayed with me until Innichen, a few miles from the Austrian border. Considered crossing over for a quick coffee but knew it wouldn't beat any coffee in Italy so took the S52 south east. The weather cleared and the road opened up. There's a few sections reminiscent of the good roads in northern Spain. Fast sweeping highway. The Austrian influence is really obvious around these parts, especially in the bars and restaurants.
Looking back I could see the bad weather behind me. It was an epic sight, especially with the huge mountains and lightning.
As I descended into Auronzo di Cadore, from Passo del Zovo, I needed a coffee. There was a hotel and restaurant on the right, first one as you come into the town. The receipt says Albergo Elina so assume that's what it's called.
Looked pretty unassuming so didn't expect anything fancy. It was empty apart from an old couple playing cards at one of the tables.
Dear lord, I've found coffee nirvana! Definitely the best coffee I've ever had in my life. The old lady presented me with an absolutely perfect doppio espresso.
I like a coffee to kick me in the nuts. A double espresso should be a double size espresso, not gone in one hit. It should be so bitter that it shocks. It should have a silky smooth crema that covers the liquid right to the end.
This one ticked all the right boxes. It looked chocolatey and it was absolutely magical. It was also €1.80 which meant I could drop a couple of golden nuggets and the change covered the tip, rather than having to dig around for loose shrapnel.
Thoroughly satisfied I left town. There's a hydro electric dam on the way out of town, at one end of Lago di Santa Caterina. There's a couple of huge stone lions guarding the walkway over the dam. Very imposing and very impressive.
Took the S51b south to Pieve di Cadore then the S51 back to Cortina. The bad weather closed in again but nothing too bad. There was a huge diesel spill on one bend but thankfully managed to avoid it and it was a one off incident.
The entire loop was superb. Very entertaining and one to mark on the map.
Quick stop for provisions in Cortina then main road back to Canazai. Although it's not actually a main road as you'd picture one. Still got a couple of great passes and some monstrous climbs and descents. It is known as the main Dolomite highway though.
Back at the campsite I had some new neighbours. Gordon and Lucy, a British couple over to do some climbing. Really, really nice couple. We sat together under my basha drinking wine and Gordons stash of Old Speckled Hen all night. The bread and cheese came out after tea and we had a showdown of local cheeses. The one I picked up in Cortina with the black wax rind definitely came out on top. No idea what it's called but it was great. Something Nero, funnily enough.
Gordon said there's a great campsite up near Drei Zinnen if I ever fancy camping up there. It's not particularly good in terms of facilities but the views are second to none and it's by an amazing lake, Misurina. They also sell excellent local wine for peanuts.
We spoke about Venice. They said it's the done thing in Venice to take an empty jug or coke bottle to one of the back street wine vendors and they'll fill it up with top notch wine. Again, it costs next to nothing. The locals do it so don't feel cheap.
A great piece of advice, one I wish I'd know years ago, then followed. When paying a bill in Germany, 'danke' means keep the change. If you want your change back then use 'bitte' instead.
He then told me of a campsite on the outskirts of Venice with water taxi links right into the city. Bit of a back packers paradise so he warned me that it's full of 18 year old Aussies. They pile into the campsite bar every night, where they serve huge quantities of great beer, and those naughty young ladies get free shots for flashing their pert breasts.
Sounds awful, but I definitely feel a change of plan coming on!
155 miles
Monday 12 July 2010
Nuddy pics
Thanks for all your feedback guys. In response to all the requests for photos of the 'scenery' around Lake Garda, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Blame my copilot and navigator*. The one who kept slapping me and shouting 'KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD'!
* Calling Sam my navigator is probably stretching the truth a little too far. How am I supposed to follow instructions like 'it's at 12 o'clock, if 12 o'clock was that way' and 'it's straight in front of me' when both directions could mean any God given direction. If this were Topgun I'm afraid my wingman was more 'Goosed' than 'Goose'.
* Calling Sam my navigator is probably stretching the truth a little too far. How am I supposed to follow instructions like 'it's at 12 o'clock, if 12 o'clock was that way' and 'it's straight in front of me' when both directions could mean any God given direction. If this were Topgun I'm afraid my wingman was more 'Goosed' than 'Goose'.
Sunday 11 July 2010
Day 9 Dolomites
Walked into town first thing to get my bearings. Picked up food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Grabbed what should be a nice bottle of local red too. Tried to find someone selling big bags of ice, like they do in Tesco, so I could chill yesterdays complimentary bottle of white. No joy but I can ask at reception later.
The Coop in town has the worlds smallest shopping trolleys. They're about knee height and honestly smaller than the hand baskets. At first I thought they were kiddies trolleys but they're definitely the full monty. Grown adults push them around completely oblivious to how ridiculous they look.
All of the 'fresh' bread in the coop has a best before date of 2 months away. Thankfully there's a lovely little bakery across the road.
Moved tent while kettle was brewing and then was away for the big mountains and twisties by lunchtime. Very excited about the Dolomites. They're definitely some of the best roads I've ever ridden and I can't think of many other places where I'd rather wake up on a Sunday morning.
Noticed the roads to the east of Drei Zinnen look particularly tasty on the map so thought I'd give them a shot. Reckoned on a big loop around the far side of Cortina. Headed out over the Sella pass but as I approached the Gardena pass the sky turned black. Cars coming towards me had wipers and lights on.
Pressed on regardless but there was thunder and lightning over towards Cortina. Figured that a black Alfa coming towards me beeping, flashing and frantically telling me to turn back was probably as good a sign as any so I dropped south after the Valparola pass towards Andraz. I could then take a short fast road back to base or press on to Marmolada if it cleared.
Stopped for a quick coffee and all looked fine towards Canazei so I headed down to Marmolada and the Fedaia pass. That's when the rain caught up with me. Nothing disastrous but enough to take the shine off the ride. These aren't the kind of roads you wanna ride in the wet. There was even one hairpin so tight that satnav didn't think it was possible in one swing. It told me to go straight on down a dirt track, do a U-turn then come back onto the corner!
Back at base all was clear. They'd had rain but it had definitely cleared. The remaining mist was rising quickly. Small consolation but the Dolomites look spectacular with the mist rising off them. Figured that I'd done enough for today so kettle on and quick snack then shower and into town to watch the footy.
World cup final. Assumed there'd be loads of bars showing it. I was wrong. One makeshift outdoor bar had a small tv in the corner. You could hardly see the picture and you sure as hell couldn't hear the sound. It was drowned out by the battle of the bands. Big bands that is. There were two battling for supremacy. For my money, the Larry Franco Swingtet had it in the bag. Their rendition of Mac the Knife in Italian had the entire crowd up on their prosthetic knees.
The night carried on getting stranger. I walked past an outdoor display of stuffed animals. A bit like the one they used to have in the visitor centre at Dalby Forest. Except there were no flashy lights on this one. And each animal was either eating, or being eaten by, another of the animals. The doves were having a particularly hard time. One was been carried off by a stoat and another was getting shredded by an evil looking owl. Probably some strange peace statement but it completely eluded me. Other notable highlights included a fox eating a squirrel, a lame deer and a particularly angry looking marmot.
At the top of the street was a selection of miniature animals. Live ones this time. Goats, horses, donkeys etc etc. The town planners obviously hadn't thought it through properly. There were a load of live farm animals penned up at the top of a busy pedestrian street. A steady stream of animal effluent was running down the street. Most of it under the food stalls.
Miniature horse and donkey rides were available. My Italian is obviously not as good as I thought because for the life of me I couldn't get them to let me have a go.
Sam, you definitely left one day too soon!
61 miles
The Coop in town has the worlds smallest shopping trolleys. They're about knee height and honestly smaller than the hand baskets. At first I thought they were kiddies trolleys but they're definitely the full monty. Grown adults push them around completely oblivious to how ridiculous they look.
All of the 'fresh' bread in the coop has a best before date of 2 months away. Thankfully there's a lovely little bakery across the road.
Moved tent while kettle was brewing and then was away for the big mountains and twisties by lunchtime. Very excited about the Dolomites. They're definitely some of the best roads I've ever ridden and I can't think of many other places where I'd rather wake up on a Sunday morning.
Noticed the roads to the east of Drei Zinnen look particularly tasty on the map so thought I'd give them a shot. Reckoned on a big loop around the far side of Cortina. Headed out over the Sella pass but as I approached the Gardena pass the sky turned black. Cars coming towards me had wipers and lights on.
Pressed on regardless but there was thunder and lightning over towards Cortina. Figured that a black Alfa coming towards me beeping, flashing and frantically telling me to turn back was probably as good a sign as any so I dropped south after the Valparola pass towards Andraz. I could then take a short fast road back to base or press on to Marmolada if it cleared.
Stopped for a quick coffee and all looked fine towards Canazei so I headed down to Marmolada and the Fedaia pass. That's when the rain caught up with me. Nothing disastrous but enough to take the shine off the ride. These aren't the kind of roads you wanna ride in the wet. There was even one hairpin so tight that satnav didn't think it was possible in one swing. It told me to go straight on down a dirt track, do a U-turn then come back onto the corner!
Back at base all was clear. They'd had rain but it had definitely cleared. The remaining mist was rising quickly. Small consolation but the Dolomites look spectacular with the mist rising off them. Figured that I'd done enough for today so kettle on and quick snack then shower and into town to watch the footy.
World cup final. Assumed there'd be loads of bars showing it. I was wrong. One makeshift outdoor bar had a small tv in the corner. You could hardly see the picture and you sure as hell couldn't hear the sound. It was drowned out by the battle of the bands. Big bands that is. There were two battling for supremacy. For my money, the Larry Franco Swingtet had it in the bag. Their rendition of Mac the Knife in Italian had the entire crowd up on their prosthetic knees.
The night carried on getting stranger. I walked past an outdoor display of stuffed animals. A bit like the one they used to have in the visitor centre at Dalby Forest. Except there were no flashy lights on this one. And each animal was either eating, or being eaten by, another of the animals. The doves were having a particularly hard time. One was been carried off by a stoat and another was getting shredded by an evil looking owl. Probably some strange peace statement but it completely eluded me. Other notable highlights included a fox eating a squirrel, a lame deer and a particularly angry looking marmot.
At the top of the street was a selection of miniature animals. Live ones this time. Goats, horses, donkeys etc etc. The town planners obviously hadn't thought it through properly. There were a load of live farm animals penned up at the top of a busy pedestrian street. A steady stream of animal effluent was running down the street. Most of it under the food stalls.
Miniature horse and donkey rides were available. My Italian is obviously not as good as I thought because for the life of me I couldn't get them to let me have a go.
Sam, you definitely left one day too soon!
61 miles
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