Day 13 - Home

TBC...


44 miles
2,319 miles in total


Exchange rate €1.12/£

Fuel
€1.62 Belgium
€1.32 Luxembourg
€1.55 France and Germany
€1.75 Italy
1.75CHF Switzerland
£1.31 back home

Day 12 - Thionville to Zebrugge

Took a stroll across the park into town this morning. There's a boulangerie and patisserie called something like, but not exactly, patisserie valerie. Even the sign writing is almost identical to the overpriced cake shop back home.

The pain au chocolate was very poor. I grabbed two, plus a tiny raisin loaf to burn my remaining shrapnel.

The stove thankfully had enough juice for a couple of rounds of tea and coffee. I drank a constant stream of caffeine while packing away the camping gear for the final time.

One of the chaps in a nearby motorhome looked approvingly over my pitch and commented on how much stuff you can get on a bike. I'm not sure it's designed to carry so much but everyone overloads their touring bikes and the big tractor never complains. It actually behaves better when it's loaded.

I gave it a quick splash of juice then hit the road. The bike reckoned it had less than 10 miles left in the tank. I stuck a tenner in to guarantee i could clear Luxembourg. I stopped at the last motorway services before leaving Luxembourg and brimmed it. It's far cheaper over there and 33 litres makes a noticeable difference.

Stopped again near Brussels to stretch my legs. Polished off the second pain au chocolate and the raisin bread, which I'm pleased to report was delicious. The fruit had started to melt in the heat and it was a big sticky sweet mess.

Got chatting to a Belgian chap on a KTM Adventure who was stood nearby having a tab. He's just been down to Slovenia but ridden some of the same Italian passes as me. We talked about the Stelvio and the Gavia. He's had a few near death moments on the Gavia too, but with hindsight we could laugh about it. He reckons the Stelvio is better from north to south. I've always ridden it the other way but can definitely see his point.

His bike looked good. He said you need to adjust your riding style before you can master them. Even the tractor, for all its quirks, is fairly conventional by comparison. He said if you throw yourself into the KTM without taking time to learn how it behaves then you'll be off at the first roundabout. He said the new model is too conventional so he hopes they'll still run the old one alongside it.

I do love the agricultural looks and the huge tank on the GS though.

In Belgium, he said 'chicken bands' are called 'shame strips'. We nodded approvingly at each others back tyres then departed.

There's roadworks in Belgium and a big nasty contraflow. After a few hundred miles of motorway it was nice to play between the traffic and enjoy a bit of filtering. Most vehicles move aside. You can slalom around the rest. It was nice to start clicking through the gears again after so long sat in top.

Stopped off in Brugge. I was early for the ferry and thought I'd rather people watch in Brugge than the ferry terminal. It's a beautiful place full of beautiful ladies.

A French lass came over to 'chat about the bike'. She asked if i spoke French. I said a little, but it quickly became obvious that i speak less French than i thought. I think i got away with it though.

Made it to the ferry in good time this year, without any younger siblings around to hold up proceedings. Gave the bike and the satnav a little pat to thank them as i approached the ferry. The satnav had a bit of a hissy fit around Annecy, but it's done good. The bike has soldiered on regardless. I've seen everything from 1.5 degrees to 36 degrees on the dash and ridden through hail and torrential rain. The bike's coped far better with the extremes than i have. The tyres took a complete hammering and constantly surprised me with the weight they've carried and the abuse they've endured.

Once passport control was cleared, all bikes were directed up the ramps rather than the bulkhead. I prefer the ramps. It's like having a little play in a skills area before you park up.

Handed a ratchet strap and the guy offered to help. P&O defo starting to get their act together. It's about bloody time.

Apparently tonights kids show is called either 'elves kitchen' or 'elves bitches'. I was in the shower so didn't quite hear the tannoy announcement. The second one definitely sounds more entertaining though.


236 miles

Day 11 - Melisey to Thionville

I feared the worst when i saw an abundance of dogs, cockerels and geese at last nights campsite. I shouldn't have worried. There's no dog eggs anywhere so  everyone obviously picks up afterwards. I think they probably walk them to the farmers field next door to bother the goats instead. The cockerels are either polite or retarded. I was awake long before them. They didn't start doing their crazy thing until late morning.

Clear sky last night so it came in cold but thankfully it stayed clear this morning. All i could see was one cheeky cloud against an ocean of blue sky, but it looked completely harmless. Awesome star gazing last night too - it was satellite central overhead.

Had a couple of good options today. Ride north through the French Rhine region was the obvious choice. Autoroute through Epinal and Nancy to Metz was the wet weather choice, but thankfully not needed. It's a big ask, but i could also cross the border into Germany and pick up the D500 black forest road. In fact, i could cross near Mulhouse and ride through Todtmoos for a slice of black forest gateau perfection.

If my dear kid sis was here this year then i wouldn't even need to ask. She'd be completely unfazed by the long day required in the saddle. As long as she was regularly refueled with BFG, currywurst and spetzl then there would only be one viable route home. Of course the plan would fall apart at the first mention of the necessary early start. Imagine a climber refusing to leave the hut at 1am for the final ascent because "it's silly", and they need yet another coffee, and they've lost their makeup. As they were getting emergency airlifted off the mountain later that day they'd be saying things like "you worry too much" and "it'll be right". Yeah, that's Catherine.

I decided to stay in France for a play in the big green bit on my Michelin map. I was straight on the D486 heading north to Le Thillot. I've ridden it before but forgotten how amazing it is. I wish i had a helmet cam so i could play back roads like this in moments of dullness back home. This and the route across Switzerland through St Moritz would be top of my playlist. And everything around Andermatt. And the northern bit of the D500 black forest road. And the southern bit of the D500. Oh, you get the idea...

On some stretches of the D486 you could see straight through about half a dozen cambered bends. There was no obvious reason for the engineers to build it so twisty, except to make it biking perfection.

Carried on playing until i picked up the N59 to St-Die-des-Vosages. It's a great stretch of National but i felt like i was skipping some better stuff so pulled off on the D424 through Senones.

Stopped shortly afterwards at a little roadside restaurant in one of the towns. There were a few locals eating, both inside and outsite, so figured it would be ok. Dumped the bike on the pavement and grabbed a table inside. It was sunny out but the road is used by a lot of HGVs, particularly logging waggons, so i went for the quiet option.

For €10 i could have 4 courses. Today it was a huge platter of Billie Bear ham, or charcutterie as the French insist on calling it, then lasagne, then a cheeseboard and finally a dessert. This was accompanied by an endless supply of bread.

A midday feast of fat and salt. Perfect. I actually had to skip the cheeseboard for fear of dying, but it was a perfectly acceptable feast for €10. Plus €1 for a decidedly average shot of espresso, which wasn't so acceptable.

I tend to avoid bacon and sausage back home. Good stuff is nice, but living in hotels doesn't often present you with the finest processed pork. My body is therefore in complete shock this week.

From Schirmeck, i picked up the D44 to Sarrebourg. It's recently been resurfaced so not ideal. There was grit flying everywhere. Somehow i got hit in the visor a few times by flying grit, even though i was the only vehicle on the road.  When i stopped at Sarrebourg, i was picking grit off the panniers and dry sack.

I'd had my fun so got down to business. Tomorrow i need to catch the ferry. The usual choice is Metz for the final night. It's then a dull but fast run all the way to the Zebrugge. If you make good progress, which you normally can on a bike, then you can kill some time in Brugge. However the campsite in Metz isn't perfect. It was a minefield of dog eggs last time we stayed. Me and Deano have used the Formule 1 in Metz for cheap digs in wet weather, but today is glorious sunshine.

Had a fiddle with satnav and noticed a municipal site in the centre of Thionville, the last major French town before the Luxembourg border. It's north of Metz on the A31, which is the road i need to get me home.

Rode the D955 from Sarrebourg to Metz. It's an uneventful dull road but it's fast and certainly not motorway dull. The heat was building though and it was up in the high 20s. There was one stretch where you could see miles of tarmac in a perfectly straight line ahead of you. I started to clock the distance to break the tedium but by the time I eventually reached a bend, I'd completely forgotten what i was doing.

Arrived in Thionville and really can't fault the site. The bloke manning the reception hut was just covering while the woman had popped out so he couldn't sign me in. He did however offer me a glass of cold water or a quick coffee as i peeled off my hot leathers and stood in front of him exhausted and drained.

The lady returned and we had a nice chat in my somewhat broken French. It's a small site in the centre of town. It's on the banks of the Moselle, as is Metz a little further downstream. There's a lovely little park next to the site. You can walk across it into town for provisions. There's a few squares with plenty of outdoor cafe culture in town. In the morning, it's a short walk to the boulangerie for pastries and bread.

I didn't get all of this in French by the way - i took a stroll into town for some cold beers!

I was given a town map and a proper introduction to the site though, which is surprisingly rare. At €7 it was a veritable bargain.

All pitches are sectioned off and you're allocated one when you check in. There aren't many though and people were getting turned away later in the day. I arrived early (for me). I think it was about 6pm, and there were just a few pitches left.

I pulled the bike onto my pitch and got chatting to a couple from Doncaster sat outside a nearby caravan. The bloke disappeared briefly then returned with a cold stubby to welcome me to Thionville. A true gentleman!

Noticed that the Best Western in town was running cocktail happy hour and had an abundance of foie gras on the menu. Just mentioning it for any unethical booze hounds that are listening in. Yes - you know who you are!

Grabbed a much needed shower. The sanitary block looks a bit cold war, with it's big steel doors, metal bars and overhead pipes, but it's perfectly functional. Once hot water reached the shower it was fine and i had a right good hose down. No masonic handshake required tonight, although worryingly you tug what looks like an overhead cistern pull chain to get a dose of water.

Found the mix of curry spices at the bottom of one pannier. I packed a choice selection in a small waterproof container. I'm burning up leftover provisions on the final night so knocked up a very agreeable veg curry. My only concern is the lack of fuel in the stove after simmering the last few meals for so long. The fuel bottle is dry and the bike's running on fumes so i can't syphon anything from the tank. There might be a coffee disaster in the morning, which doesn't bode well.

It's a relatively early night for me. Just chilling to the sounds of northern French radio and polishing off a half bottle of red i picked up during the week. French radio is normally rock and/or dance music. Tonight I've got the finest 80s pop, as chosen by the French. I reckon they've got Now That's What I Call Music, circa Volumes 1 - 5, on random play. They've just played 'Sign of the Times'. I mean, who the hell sang that? 5 Star or The Bell Stars i think. If you had a 30+ year back catalogue of music at your disposal, who on earth would play 'Sign of the Times'?!?


191 miles

Day 10 - Taninges to Melisey

Pleased to report that the weather was much better this morning. Despite torrential rain overnight, the tent and basha was almost dry. All my kit was still wet but i threw it over the bike to dry in the morning sun. The mountains to the north were still covered in low cloud, but it was starting to lift.

After another awesome shower i popped to reception to settle up. The young lass was manning it this morning. I'm normally pretty good but i really struggled to place her accent. Turns out she's French but just come back from uni in Aberdeen, where she's doing an English degree and picking up English from the Scots and American films. If you wanna pick up proper English, what better source than the two nations who don't speak it? She's got a complete car crash of an accent! Nice lass though and in fairness her English was excellent. Everyone on site is lovely. I did the rounds of wishing everyone good morning. It was like breakfast in the Walton household.

Another lunchtime kick off. The weather was looking good until i rode up into Les Gets, where it started raining. Rather than stop, i thought I'd just curse my way through it. So i swore heavily until the road out of Morzine, which is where my potty mouth prayers were miraculously answered.

All of a sudden i came from wet misery into dry roads, warm tyres and light traffic.

If you've got satnav, pick up the D902 north from Cluses and punch in Thonon-les-Bains as your destination. You're now on the final stretch of the Routes des Grande Alps. I think it's one of the finest roads in the world. As satnav ticks down to 22km remaining, you'll ride through a short tunnel. Like Jamie and his magic torch you'll come out of the tunnel into a dream world of biking heaven. You're in a deep narrow gorge following a river. The road is surfaced with tyre shredding sparkly tarmac with bags of grip. There was roadworks today in a few places but every set of temporary lights had countdown displays. If you joined a row of queuing traffic then time your right hand appropriately and cane it past everything into the roadworks as the lights change.

There's a campsite at the 16km mark. Convenient, but I'm always gonna use Taninges in the future. When you hit the moment of magic, your engine and tyres will be warm and you've hopefully got your eye in.

From the shores of Lake Geneva at Thonon, i had to clear Geneva itself. Hate is a strong word that i rarely use, but my frustration with that place runs deep. I always aim for Gex. It's just over the border and signposted from the centre of Geneva. It's a short run through Switzerland but it's a complete minefield.

I came up behind a van waiting to turn left. Thankfully he'd pulled over to the centre line so i could squeeze past and leave the following cars queuing. If he hadn't then I'd have gone off road rather than sit stationary.

The closest i came to kill or be killed was when a lass in a mini cooper pulled out on me at a roundabout. I'd done all i could to protect myself against Swiss drivers. I had dipped beam, spotlights and my fluorescent disco vest on, but she pulled out straight in front of me. I was gonna punch her mirror off, the acceptable face of retribution for such moves back home, but figured I'd be brought to justice by some retarded Swiss law and never see the light of day again.

I overtook her and filtered past everything i could as i rode into Geneva. I'm not sure if filtering is illegal in Switzerland, like Germany, but i really couldn't care less. It's survival of the fittest.

There's loads of traffic lights and pedestrian crossings on the main drag into Geneva. I pulled up to a zebra crossing just after the fountain to let some kids cross. Watching my mirrors, i saw them quickly fill with the same damn Swiss plates that had nearly killed me a mile or two earlier. She ground to a halt, which was lucky because I'd have somehow been found at fault by insane Swiss insurance laws. I don't know how close it was in the end, but i was milliseconds away from dumping the clutch to save us both.

I eventually managed to clear Geneva with everything intact and landed in Gex. As i rode towards Gex, i could see the clouds rolling over the edge of the mountains from the Jura to the north. The road north out of Gex is an entertaining hairpin climb. I rode north to St-Laurent-en-Grandvaux then detoured NW to Doucier. We met the tigers in Doucier last year and i remember the roads fondly.

From Doucier i headed NE to return to the original route at Champagnole, then picked up the D467 to Salins-les-Bains.

Just before Salins-les-Bains i stopped at a little auberge for food. The restaurant was empty but the woman came from the kitchen to greet me. She didn't speak English, but i knew enough to hold a meaningful food-related conversation. I could have polished off a full menu de jour but it was too late for such treats. She said that she could do me a nice plate of charcuterie with salad. I was grateful for anything so gladly accepted. She went to the kitchen and returned with a basket of bread, a big plate of cured meats, a well dressed salad and a huge slice of terrine. It was excellent and just what i needed. I washed it down with a coffee and happily paid €9.

Continued north to Besancon, then Vesoul, then Lure. Satnav flagged up a campsite in Lure and it fit in nicely with my timing. I recognised Lure from a previous trip. It's not the prettiest of towns but i needed to find a site before it got too late.

Pulled into an intermarche for a few things then down to the campsite. I was greeted by a derelict site, a huge barrier and a sign saying it's now permanently closed.

A quick plan B was needed. The site at Melisey looked like a good option. It's certainly in the right direction so I'd be driving past it anyway.

It was only a short ride away. The site is shockingly basic. It's a small step above wild camping. The bar is a converted caravan and all the facilities are in a portacabin. On the plus side though, the people are friendly. And it only cost a fiver.

I had a guided tour of the facilities by a lovely old dear who was washing her dishes. There's a secret masonic handshake required for hot showers. Don't tell the brotherhood that I've let on, but you turn the shower on and off 4 times to get the boiler pumping. I thought such moves were the reserve of IT.

My tube of Dr Beckman travel wash burst at some point today so everything in one one of the panniers is covered in foam. The panniers now smell of sugary drink, stale milk, dirty laundry and travel wash.

I thought my waterproof Kriega bumbag had sprung a leak too but it looks like a pack of handwipes has just been squeezed dry.

At least I'm on the home run. I love my jollied but my own bed, shower and washing machine has never looked so good.


218 miles

Day 9 - Chamonix to Taninges

I should have stayed in bed today!

Was seriously contemplating staying at Chamonix another night. Time is on my side. I could have played around the French Alps if the weather was good then returned to a great campsite and not had the hassle of packing up this morning and pitching again tonight. For some reason i convinced myself to move on. Hindsight is indeed a wonderful thing.

I left around midday, after a wander to the nearby bakery for a couple of delicious pain au chocolate. The sky had just about cleared by late morning.

Decided to pick up the Route des Grande Alps and head south for a play. The National road out of Chamonix is pretty good. You descend along good fast tarmac. It's a National, but nigh on autoroute. And i mean that special French twisty autoroute which puts a smile on your face.

The first decent corner catches you by surprise. Judging by the stench of burning brakes around the corner, i wasn't the only one. In Spain, this corner would have huge flashing chevrons. No such warning here.

The road is used by HGVs crossing the border but it's dual carriageway so you can easily hoof past them.

I rode to Flumet and picked up the Route des Grande Alps south. Stopped in Beaufort for cheese (Beaufort, obviously) and bread. Had a quick nibble then packed it away for later, along with the tarte au noix i picked up from the patisserie.

Passed 3 bikes coming the opposite way at Cormet de Roselend and caught their British plates in my mirrors. Stamped on the brakes, spun round and pulled alongside for a quick chat. They were all wearing wet waterproofs, so i didn't really need to ask, but i did anyway. They were riding north along Route des Grande Alps to catch the Rotterdam ferry on Saturday night. They were riding from crap weather  in the south and hoping to find better weather to the north. I was disappointed but not surprised to hear it. They were similarly disheartened when i told them about the weather to the north. We all agreed that it's not just the wet, it's the fact it's been so damn cold.

I rode to Bourg-St-Maurice then left the route and headed SW to Moutiers. The road is brilliant. It's not particularly scenic, but the tarmac is great. Everything to this point along the RDGA had been patchy tarmac, overbanding and gravel. It's like Italian workmen had been hired to repair the roads.

From Moutiers i headed NW to Albertville then north to Ugine. I can't remember exactly when the heavy rain started but the mist and low cloud never left. The road was good but the weather spoiled my run. Whatever scenery there is around here was well hidden by fog.

By Ugine i was cold, wet and tired. My neck ached and most attempts to blip the throttle were ham fisted. At first i though the throttle was sticking when i was braking but realised my cold hand wasn't fully releasing the grip. I desperately needed a break. There's a car park in Ugine, just before the road splits (right to Flumet, left to Annecy). I pulled over for a quick leak but decided to press on to Annecy. Never been before and it was only half an hour away. Plus the sky towards Flumet didn't look any better than earlier.

Lake Annecy is gorgeous. I can see why people holiday there. Unfortunately, much like Lake Garda, driving around it is a nightmare. Traffic is stop start all the way. Most of the lake has a sectioned off foot and cycle path, so you can't pull the bike up to the lakeside. You can park in Annecy, but you then have to leave the bike to get to the lakeside or the town squares. I'm sure it's great if you live there or you're there on your jollies, but it's a pain when your passing through.

I kept rolling to Menthon-St-Bernard on the eastern side of the lake. Even though traffic crawls along at a snails pace, some idiot decided that the road should have *huge* speed bumps. They should have poured the tarmac into the pot holes instead, because they were appalling. It takes effort to keep the bike upright when it's fully loaded and you're slipping the clutch to ride so slow. Satnav then packed up and i did a couple of very shaky two handed factory resets on the move. This was all draining my last reserves and i needed all the energy i could muster to hurl obscenities at satnav and every other driver on the road.

I rode away from the lake and aimed towards La Clusaz. Came across a layby overlooking the lake and a huge chateau. Actually, it's more like a castle.

I finally managed to eat my packup. It was good, but an hour or so too late. Just as i finished packing up the heavens opened. I had no shelter and i was already too wet to worry about waterproofs. I pushed on then stopped at the first shop i came across - an intermarche supermarket. I did a leisurely but frustrating shop and by the time I'd finished, so had the rain.

The patchy road down into Cluses was the final straw. At one point i pulled over to check if the back tyre had a puncture because the bike was weaving around badly. It looked fine and once the mist cleared, the late sun gave away the rainbow markings of diesel. There was a huge stream of it running down the road. Enough was enough so i looking for digs. I wanted to be out of town. If it's still raining tomorrow then i don't wanna be mixing it up with commuter traffic. I'm close to Geneva and there's plenty of Swiss drivers around here.

Asked satnav to find me a campsite and it pulled a blinder. Just out of Cluses, in Taninges, there's a municipal campsite. You wouldn't chance across it. Most French campsites are well signposted at roundabouts but this one isn't. The only clue is a small blue sign about half a click away with a picture of a campervan on it.

It had just gone 8pm and the barrier was down but i squeezed through the pedestrian entrance and pulled up by reception. It had closed an hour earlier but a couple of French campers were playing chess while cooking tea by the entrance. They gave me the basics. I didn't bother looking around, i just dumped the bike at the first available pitch and set the tent up and basha up. The rain had stopped but i knew it would start again soon.

Plenty of French campers walked past and said hello. One guy came over, i assumed to chat, but he actually worked here. An ex-pat called John, i think. He opened up the reception office and asked for a few details. I'd happily pay now but he wasn't supposed to be working tonight so asked me to settle up in the morning. It's only €10, which is the cheapest one so far this year.  Most have been a fairly consistent €15, give or take a few quid.

Lots of people came over to chat to John as he finished dealing with me. I commented how friendly it seems and he agreed. He says about 80% of punters are regulars and it's a good crowd. I'll defo mark this one on the map. The pitches are massive, the showers can strip skin and, importantly, it's at the start of the fantastic northern stretch of the RDGA. Tomorrow, I'll wait for the rain to (hopefully) stop, then blast north to Thonon-les-Bains once the road has dried. If it doesn't then i might stick around. I'm certainly not riding Geneva in the rain.

Hopefully my tent will survive the night. The rain started beating down on it and the ground is really soft. There's a few things drying under the basha, which add extra weight.

I'd love some sun to dry everything out. My leathers and tent smell like wet dog. My boots smell like a sweet combination of wet dog plus my feet. The inside of my panniers are collecting water. I've had a caprisun and a milk sachet burst in the last couple of days, which isn't particularly pleasant. Everything in one of the click boxes smells like sour milk and the contents of the top box are sticky from the burst drink. I've gone through lots of ear plugs today because once you handle them with wet hands, they don't roll up so you can't get them in your ears.

I'm hoping for better weather to the north for the final few days. If you know otherwise then don't upset me, just keep it to yourself.


184 miles

Day 8 - Lake Como to Chamonix

Temperature was off the scale last night. Stepping into a cow skin this morning in the mid 30s didn't really appeal, but needs must. Loaded everything except the basha, which was fashioned over the tent as a rather effective sun screen. However, even in the shade it was unpleasant. At least i could top up my ridiculous t-shirt tan.

Rode down Como then across the tops of Lake Lugano and Lake Maggiore.

Lugano puts you back into Switzerland and vignette territory. Some autoroutes are vignette exempt, but they don't make the system completely fool proof.

I fancied a quick pitstop before leaving Italy this morning. There's a little bar on the northern banks of Lugano that I've used before and i remember great things about their coffee and croissants. The road divides the bar and the terrace so you can sit on the terrace overlooking the lake and the waitress pops back and forth over the road. Its easy to miss though, which i managed to do. For future reference it's in a little village just before the border. There's a row of parking on the left under the trees then a little partitioned terrace. Next time, I'll defo get it.

Crossed over into Switzerland and decided to ride through Lugano rather than skirt around it. It's rather nice. My defining memory will always be the stunning, statuesque Swiss barmaid who was walking along the pavement carrying a beer keg. A magnificent sight.

I wasn't particularly desperate to stop and certainly didn't want to pick up any more Swiss shrapnel. I paid 4chf for a mediocre espresso in Switzerland earlier in the week. That's gotta be at least €3. I've not paid more than €1.20 in Italy and every one has been coffee perfection.

Rode south along the west bank of Maggiore, all the way to Verbania. Last time we turned off at Cannobio but i remember the road well and wouldn't want to repeat it. Besides, the road south of Cannobio to Verbania must be one of the nicest stretches of Maggiore so it's worth riding.

All of the lakes are beautiful but there's no point hurrying. I was stuck behind an HGV and there was a couple of times he went head to head with other HGVs travelling the opposite way. Each time, one of them had to reverse and clear some road. I finally managed to squeeze past in one of the towns but the opportunity was a long time coming.

By Cannobio you're back into Italy. I'd stopped there a year or two back with Catherine for a quick coffee. I rode past the same bar today but didn't want the queue of traffic catching back up with me so pressed on to Verbania, on the western bank of Maggiore.

The road is lined with dedicated bike parking and there's plenty of restaurants to choose from. I picked one away from the road that had a few locals passing the time of day. Quick shot of coffee and a panini to keep me going then back into Switzerland over the Simplonpass.

The road to the border is nothing special. Once upon a time, Simplonpass was worth the trip. This year it's solid roadworks. In fact, my entire run across Switzerland this afternoon was spoiled by roadworks. I know they have a short season for road repairs, and they like to do a proper job, but it was ridiculous. I don't think i could travel more than 10 miles today in Switzerland without getting held up at another set of roadworks. Unfortunately there's no decent alternative to clear the lakes. You have to put up with either the intense heat of northern Italy, or Switzerland.

I really wanted to pop down to Zermatt this year to see the Matterhorn. Time was against me so i gave it a miss. I don't want to camp in Switzerland tonight so I'm aiming for the French alps. A direct run would land me there about 7.30. Add in the Matterhorn and it would be closer to 8.30, so I'd be pitching in the last moments of daylight. I need to pick up some provisions too before i stop for the night.

I wasn't expecting the run across Switzerland to take so long. The only fruity bit is the climb to Col de la Forclaz, after Martigny. Stopped for fuel and provisions before leaving Martigny then rode through an unmanned border crossing and dropped down into Chamonix. The roads on the French side were pretty poor but you could still push it. The weather didn't look too clever either, but it held.

The roads in Chamonix are awful. It hit a couple of big potholes and when i stopped my fuel bottle was hanging off the back of the bike, even though it was secured with two straps. I'm gonna cable tie it before setting off tomorrow.

Found the same campsite as last time and the same feisty lady was manning reception. She's a delight. She never pulled me up on my shocking French this time but when i told her the reception office has moved since the last time i visited, she said it moved 3 years ago and was obviously put out that I've been away for so long. I think she's missed me.

There's a few Brits here. I've not seen any British plates for ages but passed a few camper vans today near the Simplonpass. Pitched up near a couple of British bikers. They came over at a similar time to me and hit the same crappy weather. They ended up at Lake Bled in Slovenia. Weather bad, country beautiful. I'll have to investigate further.

We swapped details of good campsites around Europe. They recommended an excellent one in Wolf on the Mosel, which I'll definitely check out. They say there's a restaurant nearby called Marikas Kitchen. They were told about it by another biker who said it serves the best steaks in the world. They're pleased to confirm he wasn't lying.


222 miles

Day 7 - Lake Garda to Lake Como

It's been pretty much the perfect day today.

Took breakfast down to the lake. Tried to eat but was distracted by 3 cute Italian ladies who were sunbathing in their smalls and rubbing suntan lotion all over each other.

Settled up with Francesca's dad. He's the whisky aficionado so nice little chat with him before saying our farewells and hitting the road around lunchtime.

Pulled over in Riva del Garda for one final hit of ice cream awesomeness. The waitress recognised me from yesterday and recommended the 'surfer'. It's the amarena with chocolate chips. I took one scoop of each, both of which were excellent, then retraced yesterday route back north.

One small correction to yesterdays post, which I'll make when i get home, but add Passo Durone via Cavrasto to the route rather than the S237. I'd have probably ignored it and stuck to the 'main' road, but satnav insisted and definitely picked a winner.

Just before the Passo del Tonale i got held up at roadworks. All bikes were waved to the front of the queue and signalled to kill the engines. They were shifting materials back and forth so it was a good half hour wait. Helmet and gloves off, topped up with water, then killed time with a group of Italian bikers.

Cleared the pass with them, then rather than continuing west, i headed north over the Passo di Gavia. It's marked up as dangerous for good reason. The southern side has a crumbling stretch of single carriageway with blind corners and huge unprotected drop offs. I've ridden it before and I've got my notes with saved to my phone, but it's the most direct route to Bormio...

...which is where i stopped for a caffeine fix. Pulled up on pavement outside the usual pitstop. The restaurant was empty but the waitress pulled me a perfect espresso. She spoke enough english to supplement my half dozen words of basic Italian so had a brief conversation, that comprised mainly of me repeatedly saying grazie, ciao, buongiorno, per favore etc etc. Your basic Italian Ps&Qs. I think she was smitten.

Suitably buzzing from my caffeine fix i hoofed it up the Stelvio Pass. I'd skipped it earlier in the trip but the weather was good today. In fact it's a fairly solid 22 degrees everywhere with glorious sunshine.

The road was relatively quiet but there was the usually gathering at the top. I had an excellent bratwurst with sauerkraut and mustard. It proper hit the spot.

The skies in Switzerland looked good so rode north east to Zernez then flew through Switzerland, via St Moritz, and back into Italy. The entire route is amazing. One of my favourite roads. The passes flow nicely, the tarmac is good and the views are second to none. Riding the 27 and the 3 from NE to SW defo has the best views.

Quick fuel stop before leaving Switzerland then pulled up at the border crossing. I think the guard was bored and just wanted a chat. He asked where I'd come from and where i was heading. Gave him the abridged version, which seemed to impress him somewhat. He bid me safe travels and i took the steady road to Domaso on the shores of Lake Como.

The usual chap was manning reception, but no sign of Vicky and Mikey. I asked but there's only one bungalow occupied this week and it's an Austrian family. Never mind. It would have been great to catch up with them but i can only think that Catherine offended them last time.

Pitched the tent, sparked up the stove and got chatting to a German lad from a nearby pitch. He was (push) biking with a mate and they'd done a very similar route to me down through Germany and Switzerland. Unfortunately, when they hit the cold and rain they were stuck with it. I just pointed the bike south and wound back the throttle.

So it's been a day of perfect roads, perfect weather and filthy snacks. I went to bed with a big smile on my face.


238 miles

Day 6 - Lake Garda

Nice relaxing day today. Woken up ungracefully by the wind ripping a tent peg out of the basha so it started flapping against the tent. Secured it to some railings with tie wraps then back to sleep until about 10am.

Popped a few headache tablets to try kill the headache that i woke up with. The heat is nice but my body really can't cope with it and my head was complaining.

Called in to see Francesca and sort out the paperwork then took the stove and breakfast down to the lake. Dived in while the coffee was brewing then jumped straight back out shouting obscenities. Damn it was cold.

Polished off a steady stream of tea and coffee then back up to the tent to clear some washing. Figured this is one of the few places I'm guaranteed good drying weather so did the lot.

I was just in time to catch the resident Piaggio Ape (pronounced 'appy, apparently) make his trip up the slope to collect garbage from the top pitches. They've only got 50cc moped engines so the driver needs a huge run up, which he starts from outside the campsite gates. It's an amusing everyday occurrence.

Piaggio Apes are one of the coolest things on the road in Italy. Those and the original Fiat 500s, of which there are loads still running over here. Don't think I've seen any new ones here though. And Fiat Pandas. They make perfect sense over here.

Sparked the bike up and went for a little spin through Riva del Garda and into the James Bond tunnels. Sunday afternoon traffic was a killer, especially with coaches dumping tourists outside hotels, so I turned back just before Limone. The bike didn't feel right, which concerned me for a short while, but then i twigged it's ramped up for the weight of full luggage and i was obviously travelling light.

Took great pleasure in riding in jeans and t-shirt and feeling the cool breeze on my skin. I just pulled boots, helmet, gloves and earplugs from the pile of sweaty gear. The northern end of the lake is surrounded by mountains so it's naturally cooler. The west side had fallen into afternoon shade so was cooling down nicely. I still saw 28 degrees on the dash, but it was rather pleasant.

Enjoyed mixing it up with the Italian girls on scooters around the lake. They're fearless. They effortlessly cut up traffic wearing skimpy little outfits and looking stunning. I also realised that if i ride with my helmet flipped up and stick on a pair of raybans, i look Italian. It's like a Mr Ben quick change. No shades, idiot Brit. Shades, Italian gigolo. Magic.

Called into a gelateria in Riva. A scoop of pistachio and a scoop of cherry (amarena) in a waffle cone. Without doubt, it's the best 2 euro I've ever spent. Dumped the bike on the pavement and claimed the table next to it. It was busy with Sunday trade, both local and tourist. The poor bike looks like it has been around the world. It's absolutely blathered after riding through bad weather and muddy roadworks earlier in the trip. It's also got the only British plates I've seen since arriving in Italy. It drew a small crowd of admirers, which i acknowledged, but I'm afraid i was far too busy enjoying my ice cream for any small talk.

Stopped for fuel. I'm sure in time to come this will sound cheap, but £1.56 a litre is par for the course in Italy. Easily the most expensive petrol I've ever seen or bought.

Picked up provisions from the Coop. Sausages for tea. Sausages and cheese and bread. And beer and crisps. My body is craving greens so i compromised and picked up some lettuce and tomatoes. I'm no consumer expert but meat is expensive here. Salad seems quite cheap.

I was gonna take everything down to the lake to cook but i couldn't be bothered and the Germans in the pitch above me were playing a fine selection of Kraftwerk tunes. Not that you'd want to stereotype.

They're here in a camper van with a small collection of old Vespas. They sleep in the van and their bikes have their own tent. I met one of them at the Coop. Asked if he needed anything bringing back to the campsite, given that they're short on  space and I'm running light. He was fine but it looked a bit of a squeeze.

As a bit of a compromise (with myself) i cooked tea at the tent then walked down to the lake with it. By the end of the meal i couldn't eat any more cheese or meat and ended up picking out bits of salad. A token gesture admittedly, but it was all i could do.

I had my first introduction to Banana Joe beach bar. It looks like a hippy disco boat. You hear it long before you see it, as he travels along the river playing music on a PA and blasting claxons to announce his arrival. I declined.

Bit of a revelation tonight when i found the disabled showers. They've always been there but I've never investigated them. Huge showers with powerful, removable shower heads. Far better than the non-disabled showers so i snuck in for a late shower. Assumed I'd get busted at any point but pleased to report that i got away with it.


24 miles

Day 5 - Andermatt to Lake Garda

Showers were bloody brilliant. Worth the camping cost alone. I stayed in for a good half hour trying to warm my core. Overnight i was woken by the cold. -1 feels much colder in a tent. I put on every layer i could find without stepping outside to the panniers but still it was damn cold. After my shower i put on two long sleeve thermal tops, a wicking t-shirt, a fleece gilet and a windproof jacket. A pair of thermal long johns completed my rather fetching outfit. Plus my leathers, obviously.

Popped the kettle and the radio on. Swiss radio is a fairly even mix of Heidi music and (bad) 80's pop.

A couple of Dutch walkers came over to ask about my plans. I said i wanted warm and sunny, maybe the Italian lakes. Lake Maggiore is closer than i though - they reckon 100km. They warned me it's 'only 21 degrees' at the moment though. They were been serious, but 21 degrees sounds like heaven to me.

I loaded the bike and kept the essentials under a gazebo. There's a few dotted around the field over big wooden picnic tables. The campsite is actually ok. My only gripe is that you have to cross a road to get to the toilet and shower block. If there was at least drinking water at the camping side then it would be fine.

Waited for the rain to ease then hit the road. It wasn't gonna stop but the heavy stuff was coming in fairly regular waves. I obviously abandoned any hopes of playing in the Alps so no St Gotthardpass or Nufenenpass this year. Road north east to Chur. I'm wanna end up south of here but there's some pesky Alps in the way so i need to go up and over. I'm also heading towards the Stelvio, but I'll make a judgement call later this afternoon. It ain't gonna be any fun in the wet but i could murder a bratwurst mit sauerkraut and there's no better place to get one than the top of the Stelvio.

Pulled over in Chur for provisions and a break. Stopped at the first place in town -  Lidl. The cold and wet was taking its toll on my bladder and i was busting for the loo. No such luxuries in Lidl, or the garage next door so i went against a bush in the car park. It was either that or wet myself. Lidl was full of people dithering, which wound me up so i left empty handed.

A local chap came over for a chat as i studied the map in the shelter of the trolley park. An ex-pat, so no language barriers. He checked the weather for me and it was fairly obvious i had to get south of the border. An Italian bloke also came over gushing with love and enthusiasm for the bike. This time there was a huge language barrier but i got the idea from his very animated, and somewhat amusing, gesticulations.

From Chur i rode south to St Moritz, over the Julierpass. Last time we were here it was been resurfaced. They've done a marvelous job so full credit to them.

The rain was easing now. My leathers were repelling most of it, although some water was running down into my boots. It wasn't waterproof weather though and i figured my boots would quickly dry out in Italy.

The roads were wet but there was shed loads of grip. Providing you didn't hit any road markings, in which case things got a bit hairy. I caned it past a large group of Italian bikes and pretty much every other vehicle on the road.

Stopped at Passo del Bernina. From here i could cross over into Livigno and onto Bormio and the Stelvio, or south into Italy.

The weather looked terrible over Livigno so i gave up on any sauerkraut plans.

The Swiss police were at the border crossings inspecting every bike. A huge group of Italians were held up at Livigno while their mates bike was being photographed. He had a BMW with Akro cans with the baffles removed. He had the baffles with him and they made him refit them and bolt them in before they took him to their van to process his fine.

I crossed the border into Italy at Tirano, after getting my bike inspected then waved through. I let satnav guide me to Lake Garda. It's south east of here with no direct route. South to Breno then east looked the most obvious route but satnav wanted to take me up and over via Cles. I studied the map then agreed with satnav. Distance and time wise, there was very little in it.

Satnav kept changing its mind but in the end we agreed on Edola NE to Dimaro on the S42, then south on the S239 via Madonna di Campiglio. From Bolbeno, east on S237 to Ponte Arche then finally south to Riva del Garda on S241.

The entire route was brilliant. The roads were dry, it was late afternoon and the temperature was hovering around 18 degrees. The views east from Madonna di Campiglio were superb and demanded a quick photo stop. I've marked the route for future reference.

Rode through Riva del Garda about 7pm then straight into Torbole. There's a Coop here that I've often used and i know it closes at 8pm. I desperately needed batteries for my head torch. I can make do with the provisions I'm carrying but a bottle of local red and some cold beers would be nice too.

The last leg took me to my favourite campsite in Malcesine, right on the banks of the lake. Francesca wasn't around but her mother was and i remember she speaks very little English. I managed to gather that Francesca isn't working tonight. She's just had a nipper but she'll be in tomorrow morning. Her mum thought maybe I'd phoned and booked with Francesca which is why i was asking for her. I hadn't, but she speaks excellent English which would make this a whole load easier. I then showed her my loyalty card which i always carry in the kitty wallet, along with a shopping trolley token. She then lit up and told me to choose any pitch and come back in the morning to sort out the paperwork.

My favourite pitch was free, right at the front. It's on it's own and perfect for parking the bike.

Threw my tent up then went for a paddle. The lake was quiet apart from a German lad fishing from the bank. He was casting to the middle of the lake a spinning a lure back in. I stood talking to him from a few feet out while huge fish swam past my feet.

Caught up on a few phone calls while i cooked tea. Was on phone to sparky when the fireworks started over the lake. Sounded like gunshot at first so there was concern from the other end. It took me a while to see the fireworks but could then confirm all was ok.

I love it here so I'm gonna stay put for a couple of nights. Tomorrow I'll be able to catch up on some washing and then chill for the day. I might ride the James Bond tunnels and pick a few things up from Torbole but otherwise the bike can have a well earned rest.


251 miles

Day 4 - Waldshut to Andermatt

No fox related thefts overnight - everything was still bolted to the bike. So they're really not that cunning, are they? He crept in about 2am and tried to make off with some of Mo's stuff but we were still sat out drinking so scared the little blighter off.

50c for showers this morning. Chargeable showers know the exact moment your eyes are full of soap and that's when they cut out. 50c showers *always* cost 1 euro.

Shared breakfast with Mo. Continued last nights lessons in a perfect cuppa. There's Yorkshire tea, then all other tea. Only the first does the job. Packed him off with a handful from my provisions. White or yellow mug, milk goes in last, semi skimmed milk unless it's UHT in which case it's gotta be skimmed. I think he's got it.

Swapped details just incase I'm ever passing cologne and need digs. Apparently my email domain, fleagle, sounds amusingly like the German for naughty child, flegel. Go figure.

Pondered over the maps and asked satnav to guide me to Altdorf in Switzerland, avoiding toll roads. It's no deal breaker but i want to avoid buying a vignette if possible. It looked straight forward enough. Hop over the border and  follow the back roads. Motorway wouldn't be much quicker but it would be much more expensive. Altdorf is north of Andermatt and the first major town on my Italy map. Once there i can swap maps and go for a play.

First though, i retraced the last couple of miles of the B500 to warm me, the bike and the tyres up. I could have ridden that stretch for hours but I'm gonna head south while the going's good.

Just north of Altdorf there's a group of lakes. My Germany map is too large scale to show them properly and they're too far north to hit the Italy map. They're all lovely though.

Stopped for quick bite to eat by one of them, at a restaurant with a lakeside terrace. Paid 17.50chf for a shot of espresso and a mattersons sausage and processed cheese salad. It hit the spot but if i had the faintest idea what the Swiss exchange rate is then I'm guessing I'd be feeling fleeced.

The huge lake north of Altdorf was an unexpected surprise. It's the perfect intro to Swiss scenery. Satnav took me through the tunnel into Altdorf, which I'm certain is vignette territory but satnav disagreed. I think i got away with it though. I also think i got away with the speed camera that flashed me and/or the car in front of me. The camera was both front and rear facing but only the forward facing one flashed.

I assume William Tell has Altdorf connections. They're certainly cashing in on his name.

The road between Altdorf and Wassen threads over and under the motorway. Even with a vignette I'd recommend it over the motorway.

At Wassen i turned west for a play over the passes while the weather was good. Figured i could do the figure of 8 loop west of Andermatt then ride east out of town on the Oberalppass. A few clicks out of Wassen, towards the Sustenpass, the heavens opened. I pulled over at the first bit of shelter i could find and waited. Eventually it stopped but the temperature plummeted. From the tropical heights of 20.5 degrees this afternoon down to a brisk 1.5 degrees! Then at the Sustenpass, it started hailing. I continued riding to keep whatever heat i could in the tyres but i wasn't setting any records. It crept back up to about 7 degrees but i called it quits in Andermatt around 8.30pm and resorted to the roadside campsite we've used before. It's not perfect, or cheap, but it'll do. As expected, everything in Andermatt shuts down early doors. Thankfully I'd picked up some provisions earlier so I'm sorted for tea and breakfast. For some unknown reason i thought a bottle of ice cold beer would go nicely with tea so i picked one up from the campsite reception. I now have some unwanted Swiss shrapnel rattling around in my pocket, although the beer was so damn expensive there isn't very much of it.

Tomorrow morning I'm either gonna do the St Gotthardpass and Nufenenpass if the weather's good, or head towards Italy if it isn't. I can be at Lake Maggiore or Como within an hour or two. I'd love to hit the Stelvio on Sunday though, which means staying in Switzerland and riding east. I'll sleep on it and make a call in the morning.


165 miles

Careful what you wish for

Ungracefully woken from my slumber by the bloody heat. I'm now officially crabby.

On the plus side, Danny Dryer the crap cockney hand dryer made me chuckle. I think the lack of sleep is getting to me.

Day 3 - Baden-Baden to Waldshut

Eventually hit the road at 2pm. I started packing the tent away as it eased off around 1.30 and half an hour later it had finally stopped raining.

The other bikers put on their oversuits and braved the rain about 2 hours earlier. They headed north back to Amsterdam. They would have got very wet.

A dry line quickly appeared in the road and for about 15 minutes i had good riding. Then i gained height and disappeared into the mist. Proper pea souper fog. I couldn't even see the viewing points at side of road, never mind the views.

I pulled over to throw some layers on, one of which was my disco vest. A couple in a 5 series pulled over to make sure all was ok so gave them a thumbs up.

The B500 south of Baden-Baden is awesome all the way to the junction with the 28 to Freudenstadt. Even in the mist and gloom it was enjoyable.

I took the 28 to Freudenstadt and was messing around with satnav trying to find Titisee. My icy fingers kept hitting the H instead of the I so all i was getting was Tithill in Somerset. Amusing, but not right. Once i had it sorted I came to my senses and noticed that the road had dried and the temperature was up in the lofty heights of double figures. Well almost, but 9.5 degrees is far nicer than 7.5.

The stretch to Freudenstadt is really nice. The road i wanted outta town was closed so quick U-turn to retrace my path. Then another one to call into a little bakery for a bite to eat. Eine grosse pretzel bitte.

Pretzels make the world a better place. Weather picked up and the road was good.

Had a bit of a play with a Porsche panamera as i rode towards Triberg. He obviously enjoyed it as much as i did, given the way he was sliding around. Triberg looks like a really nice place to kill some time. There's a huge beer garden in the centre and it all looks quite civilised.

On to Titisee and Bistro zum See. The usual haunt. Started chatting to a couple from Durham. They were just polishing off a Titisee pfannle, or escalope skillet. They had both had it 3 days running and strongly recommended it. I only had eyes for currywurst, so that's what i ordered.

The menu described it as 'gourmet veal sausage with a spicy sauce', which was bigging it up slightly. It was mighty fine though.

Caught up on a few texts over a very nice espresso and before i was done the heavens opened again. I sat it out on the terrace and it cleared up after about half an hour.

I let satnav guide me to a site off the beaten track at Schluchsee but it didn't look too promising. However the weather was still holding and the roads were bone dry so i caned it to the end of the B500 at Waldshut. The last stretch that drops down into Waldshut was the absolute highlight of the day. I'm tempted to ride back up tomorrow to repeat it.

It was getting late so pulled into Rhine Camping in Waldshut. As the name suggests, it's on the banks of the Rhine. I'm still in Germany but i can wave to Switzerland on the opposite bank. If the weather's bad tomorrow i can buy a vignette and clear Switzerland in no time then enjoy tea in Italy. If the weather's good then i can stick around for a play in the Swiss alps.

The girl on reception was lovely. She directed me to the bike parking and then the tent area. They're not together but she let me ride through and park in the pushrod shed right next to my tent.

She cleared up the mysteries of 'tschuss' for me. I though people were saying cheers as they parted but now i know the truth.

I asked about mosquitoes on the Rhine. Sounds like it's normally a nightmare at this site but she said it's far too cold at moment so no worry. I think that was good news. Foxes are an issue though and she pointed out the big warning on the welcome leaflet. They creep in and steal food and shoes during the night. I was advised to leave nothing unsecured outside the tent.

As i peeled my boots off at the pitch i struggled to imagine why any creature would want to steal them.

I staked claim to a huge patch of tent real estate. It was getting late so knew nobody else would turn up to dispute my turf. There's a couple of other tents here but it's reasonably quite.

Got chatting to a German kid called Mo. He's on his way back home to Cologne. In a canoe. A 50 year old folding canoe that he bought off eBay 6 weeks ago from a buyer on Lake Constance. It's made of 50 year old wood and fabric. Not sure I'd trust it sight unseen but he's done 100km so far without any probs. Only another 500 to go. On a bad day, with the flow against him, he'll manage 4 or 5km. On a good day he expects 40. Nice kid. He's only 21 but got some stories to tell. We shared them over beers, then i treated him to some Yorkshire tea when the beers ran dry. 3 rounds of tea later, at 2.30 in the morning, i was spent so called it quits.

It's been a good day today. Despite the inconvenience of rain, I've had a few near misses with the weather but not actually ridden in any rain. The late start set me back but i don't have any set agenda. I'd have preferred dry roads throughout but the wet ones come with their own unique kind of entertainment. I defo need some warmer weather though.


144 miles

Black forest

Bloody weather. Tried to convince myself that the noise on the tent that woke me from my 9 hour sleep was wind, but it was torrential rain. I'm gonna sit this one out. Every time i think about riding through it, i remember the last time i tried the same thing. It was in Geneva and it didn't end well.

I've got the remains of Catherine's awesome lemon drizzle cake and olive bread to keep me going. Plus plenty of Yorkshire tea bags and half a punnet of strawberries. Actually, the campsite shop and restaurant is only 30 seconds walk from the tent but the weather is far too bad to risk that little trip.

So I'm staying put. My tent will be the one surrounded by bottles of truckers tizer.

Day 2 - Zebrugge to Baden-Baden

No idea how they do it but P&O know when I've packed ratchet straps. And whenever i bring my own, they have them onboard. Whenever i travel without, they give me a crappy piece of blue rope.

They've also replaced the proper bars of soap in showers with those plastic squirty soap dispensers. The type that break after 6 months and can be seen in all their useless glory in Premier Inns throughout the country.

Woken at 5am this morning. Or 7am, as P&O liked to call it. Need to get my head around time difference. Bright sun, thin curtains, loud tannoy.

Hit the motorway for the usual long dull slog outta Belgium. Headed south east towards Luxembourg. By Brussels, or Luxembourg at the latest, you can usually get a handle on the weather and aim for the good stuff. No concrete plans but as far as i was concerned it was always gonna come down to koblenz/mosel or black forest or south east France this year. Weather looked good all round so decided to split it down the middle and head to the black forest. Providing the weather is kind, it's guaranteed laughs.

Loads of roadworks in Belgium. Actually, most of holdups were caused by tractors cutting grass in central reservation of motorway. Saw one car nearly twat into back of a tractor but thankfully he clocked it at the last minute. Big holdup just before Luxembourg. A lorry had gone into back of another lorry and then apparently caught fire. Most of the stationary traffic parted to let me through. A few Belgians didn't see me but i guarantee every single French driver threw themselves in the gutter, including lorries and buses.

Stopped for a tank of cheap fuel in Luxembourg. Right hand was completely numb from vibrations and i was feeling the chill long before i stopped. 17 degrees is usually right enough, but factor in several hours of 90mph wind chill against unlined leathers and it takes its toll.

Jumped off the bike, ripped gloves off, pulled woolly hat and several layers of clothing out of panniers and quickly layered up. As i was jumping around trying to get some blood flowing through my hands again, a German bloke came over to chat. He was sat in the sun, soaking up some rays when i pulled up and he thought I was having a fit or something. Had a nice little chat that ended on the lines of:
'Where you heading?'
'Black forest'
'You'll love it'
'Yes i will!'

He said Baden-Baden is a good place for supplies. Tools, equipment, biking stuff etc etc. Thankfully I'm good but it's worth remembering. He also said the black forest is where lots of Germans go on their jollies if they can't be arsed to travel further afield.

Lots of other motorists in service station taking advantage of Luxembourg's cheap prices. The services was like a cash n carry. I didn't want a huge bucket of rolling baccy for 30 euro, but i did want some food. A P&O breakfast takes you a long way, but that was hours ago. Picked up a rather sorry looking ham, brie and walnut sandwich but thankfully it was delicious. It certainly tasted far nicer than it looked.

The toilets were completely open plan which was quite a surprise. I'm reasonably well travelled so I'm familiar with squat & drops in Europe, open pits in the mountains of Canada and tiny saloon doors on cubicals in the States. Urinals in full visibility of everyone in the service station were a new one on me though. Anyway needs must. Bear in mind the French have no shame and go wherever and whenever they need to. At least i make the effort to find a tree.

Suitably refreshed i cracked on to the black forest. Motorway to sarre-union, including two short stretches of paege totalling 2 euro. I noted last time that getting past sarre-union was a chew on but couldn't recall how bad. It's not tricky, just tedious. You've gotta ride past it then double back and try to avoid sat nav forcing you back onto motorway. Once you're on the back roads it's quite pleasant. Lots of pretty little villages and old rusty tractors. A nice way to chill out after a day of motorway though.

There's a few speed cameras though and they're rear facing ones so bikers beware. We Brits paint them bright yellow and put them high on poles for all to see. The French paint them grey and hide them in bushes. There was a lot of coppers out on the roads today too. Catherine recently warned me that a French copper catching you at more than 40km/h over the limit will confiscate your licence immediately at the roadside. Fingers crossed i wasn't a naughty boy today. I triggered smiley faces at every speed sign in the villages, which is what counts as far as I'm concerned.

Crossed the Rhine on that cute little roll on roll off ferry. I rolled up as they were about to leave and the pilot pulled away as soon as my wheels hit the deck. I felt like kitt pulling into the back of his trailer.

Stopped a few clicks short of the campsite for provisions. A handful of cold stubbies from the beer fridge and some sausages, cheese and bread would make for an easy tea. I grabbed a big punnet of local strawberries too. They turned out to be lovely. I gave the local white asparagus a miss though. I love asparagus but tonights tea doesn't have any fresh veg on the menu.

I used Adam camping plaza again. Same lady on reception. I recognized her. She didn't recognise me. She's as lovely as always though. Friendly, but uber efficient.
'One bike?'
'Ja'
'One person?'
'Ja'
'One small tent?'
'Errr... ja!'
Well i guess it's small compared to a marque. The tent's fine. The basha is huge but i think i got away with it! 10 euro.

Pulled up next to four other bikes and bikers. Brits, although the one lass lives in Amsterdam. Parked up, helmet off, pulled a cold beer out of the pannier and had a beer with them. They've just come from Lake Constance and they're on their way home. They've had crap weather and been eaten alive by mosquitos. I'm hoping for better.

They went for showers. I put the tent up and cracked on with tea. I brought my little battery radio this year so i cooked tea to German radio. It's quite listenable, but not up there with French rock radio.

Noticed the dog wash while i was washing my pots. There's a dedicated room next to one of the two toilet blocks. It's got a huge sink and a shower hose. Great idea, especially when you're staying on a site with a huge lake.

The room is labelled hundsbad, which looks an awful lot like 'bad dog' to me!


356 miles

To absent (minded) sisters

On the ferry, washing down the spectacular P&O buffet with a nice pint of hoegaarden. Sun is shining, bike just been serviced, tank full of juice. Europe here i come! Cin cin sis.


46 miles

Isle of Man TT 2013

A safe return to the Isle of Man this year with Deano. Chuffed to report that I've returned with all limbs intact after a spectacular week of racing.

I'm keeping the ball rolling and just booked a last minute ferry to Zebrugge for the annual hoof around Europe. It's a solo flight this year so no stress and lots of spare room in the panniers!