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
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
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