Trip to Italy
Posted: Mon Oct 28, 2013 8:24 pm
4th October I set off at 6.30 am, to catch the ferry to France on my 2 year old S1000RR, standard bike apart from a hollowed out seat and lowered back end, it may slow the steering down a bit but it’s still steers quick enough for me! the seat modification is compensated for comfort on long distances with an Air hawk, also has flat bars which make it really comfortable to tour on. Past Colchester it starts to rain, before Chelmsford I get that all too familiar feeling of cold water around the delicate bits, have to stop and fill with fuel and try and make sure all the zips, studs and Velcro are in order. On to Dover and it’s brightening, in Calais the sun is out, I find a bike shop to purchase another over suit but it’s shut, never mind it may not rain any more. I see a sign for St Omer on the route National road and think that’ll do, so take it, I’ve given myself 4 days to get to Monza so no hurry! after an hour or so messing about on tiny roads I realise I must make progress so take the E42 to Mons, then a mixture of motorway and A roads past Luxembourg and into Germany, I cannot resist taking the small roads past Remich where I camped with 5 Dutch lads back in 1975. It starts raining again and I find a hotel before water finds it’s way south! The hotel is staffed by a Russian girl and a chap from Croatia, no English is spoken and we probably use my full German vocabulary several times over as I tell them about my travels and experiences (mainly disasters), with a bit of Italian thrown in for good measure, (Croatians sort of understand Italian) (well he nodded at the appropriate times anyway, and that’s good enough for me).
Next morning I set off in the rain for the nearest bike shop, I buy another over suit and put it on in addition to the top quality BMW one that leaks, I zigzag in and out of France heading for Baden Baden, after an hour or so I’m back to square one in the damp department, I think to myself there’s probably places people go and pay good money to have cold water trickled around their private parts but heading for Italy in October is not the right time or places for such sadistic pleasures! I find the famous B500 and head south, on the odd occasion I am above the clouds the road dries out and I have some fun. South of the town in the middle of the Black Forest (begins with F but I have not got time to find how to spell it), the road is dry and the sun is shining, deserted roads and this is what riding an S1000 is all about. Stop overnight beside Lake Titisee, (I camped there in the seventies as well).
Next morning it’s Switzerland and some real mountains, I never buy the motorway pass so I again zigzag my way south, Luzern always makes me feel good as I cross the bridge and look at the old arched one to my right, I cannot find the free road out, so end up heading for Bern, never mind, marvellous roads, take a left and pass Thur and Interlaken, now my first high pass of the trip, the Grimsel at 2164 metres, half way up and I’m in cloud! at the top I’m not sure if it’s dark or just incredibly thick cloud, half a mile down and I’m in brilliant sunshine, I look to the left and I can see the road of the Furkapass winding it’s way, cut into the mountain side, I stop and remember when I rode my 1960 Bonneville along there nearly 40 years ago. A good thing about travelling alone is one can make instant decisions about what to do, how to do it and when to do it, I stop at a junction and I still have not picked a pass to enter Italy, I go for the Simplon, mainly because I’ve never done that one. As I’m getting nearer it’s getting towards the end of the day, (that’s a bit of an understatement, it’s dark and night time is upon me). There’s a little town called Brig which the road to the pass leads out of, the sign for Simplonpass is crossed out, indicating that it’s shut! I nearly take another road signposted Simplon but just in time I realise it’s to a motorway (I have no vignette), I back paddle a few yards and see that the sign is green and not blue for the free roads, it’s difficult to tell in the dark! I explore various options and end up in another village where a young lad is playing with a mobile phone, according to him the only way to Italy is by Motorway, I disbelieve him, he’d got far too many spots, spoke far better English than me and only gave me a fraction of the attention he was giving the space age device he was playing with. On the way I noticed a sign that was not blanked out so take the road heading up a steep incline, I pass no houses or any sign of civilisation so assume I’m on the way to the pass, after several miles I come to where the road is dug up, there’s machinery parked across to block any adventurers making progress, however, there’s a track to the left, an extremely tight hairpin bend on gravel, which tests the steering lock on my ultimate sports bike. I get round no problem, the traction control is working overtime as I’m on loose ground, I have not the slightest idea where I’m heading for, it’s pitch dark, stars in the sky so that means there are no clouds to rain on me! surprisingly I’m not at all cold, I must be approaching 2000 meters above sea level. After a while I reach a ‘T’ junction to a larger road, in my mind I was not at the top of the pass and uphill was to the right, bearing in mind my last turn was to the left, if I had done a loop around the road works I expected to turn left again to carry on the road I was on, amazingly there was some bus timetables on a post, they gave me no clue which way to turn so I went for the uphill option, after a few miles I came upon a sort of half tunnel cut into the mountain side, all lit up, I could see the lights way before miles back. By the time I reach the summit of the pass it’s 11 o’clock, I’ve not even thought about where to spend the night, as I progress down towards Italy over planed tarmac with quite severe ramps, (I don’t want to buckle the wheels on this bike, it’s not a G S!!!) it starts raining again, I look skywards and sure enough the stars have disappeared, even quicker than the fuel when I’m on full chat! It’s far too late to find any accommodation, I’m not at all cold so I could find some shelter and become a true adventurer, it’s not like being in Alaska, there are no bears to eat me! I turn off the main road and consider my options as I amble through a village at about 30 MPH, a car is right on my tail so I wave it past, turns out to be the Caribinerie (last time I encountered them it cost me 138 euros and silent meal service (from the wife)for a couple of days) this time they are not interested in me, they’d probably never seen an S1000 ridden so slow! I pass a bus shelter to my left, perfect I thought, turn around, ride the front wheel under cover and set up camp. I eat the rest of my supplies I’d bought to use up the Swiss francs I’d been ripped of for at a fuel station when paying in Euros, nip round the back for a pee and fold up my lining out of my jacket to make a pillow, I will admit I heard the church bells chime on several of the hours throughout the night but overall it was another adventure in my life, I’m 61 and still like to do crazy things. At about 6. 30 the young girl delivering papers to the houses across the road gave me a rather suspicious look so I thought it’s about time I got back on the road before people start congregating to catch a bus. Afterwards the thought did cross my mind to have left my hat for any odd coins to be deposited in, but I had no dog by my side and the S1000 was a bit of a give away as to my financial status.
I ride along the side of Lago Maggiore past some really exclusive hotels, not for one moment did I wish I’d spent the night in any of them, I have breakfast (prima colazione) in Como, in view of Lago di Como. I find my way to the Hotel Fossatti just north of Monza where the 11 of us planned to meet. On all of these trips I seem to be the butt of the joke and my latest hair style made sure this was no exception, the next day when taking lunch in St Moritz, (I say lunch, it was dinner in my vocabulary, (breakfast, dinner and tea), but the company I was with over ruled me) we were questioning the waitress about her origins and accent, I asked the question “what are you doing tonight”? Barry said “no chance with your hair”, she said “just keep your hat on”!
Next day we set off for our second hotel about 20 miles north of Florence, the only sensible way (does sensible and me fit in the same story?) to travel in this area of Italy in by Autostrada, so I have to pay a toll (I normally refuse to pay to ride on boring roads) only 8 Euros so not too painful, Neil leads us on a more sensible road to a cafe in the centre of Mantova where the proprietor says I look like Sting from the Police, his sales pitch for drawing in customers is now come and dine with an English pop star. We stop for coffee after a few more miles and only have another 30 to get to our destination, Garth is wobbling about on uneven ground on his VFR so I wait for him, the others turn off to the left and we miss the turn, we keep going straight and after 30 miles realise we have gone wrong, maps are consulted and being real pioneers (‘U’ turns and back tracking are not options we consider) we decide to carry on and come in from the south, after 5 miles it’s raining, another 5 miles and it’s dark, 5 miles from the hotel, for Garth it’s very dark, his headlamp has failed, we crawl in 2 hours after the others with an extra 60 miles on the clock.
We spend the next 3 days riding around Tuscany and eating pasta. Highlight of every stop was the rating of my chances of pulling the waitress.
Saturday morning, over a week after leaving home it’s time to make our way back, I decide to travel alone, I cross the flat land between the Appennino and the Alps/Dolomites without paying any tolls, do a bit of sight seeing (only from the seat of the bike) in Verona, then head north to Rovereto, there’s a road to Schio that was recommended to me years ago, (that’s where I was relieved of the 138 Euros) this time all went without incident, also I was told that there is a point where, on a clear day it is possible to see St Marks square tower, in true adventurer tradition I turned left up a narrow track and found some quite incredible views, alas Venice was not visible although I’m sure I saw Padova. I’m riding a dirt road on a ledge with no barrier to my right, I am quite concerned about meeting a vehicle coming the other way around the blind corners, by luck I come across some lads who have stopped in their 4 wheel drive truck, rather than just ride up what may be a no through road I ask “er, possobili viaggi Schio, del strada?” eventually I get the answer “non problemo” so I carry on and get back on tarmac, even dry tarmac! I head north again and spend the night in between Trento and Bolzano in a tiny village on some minor roads.
Task for the next day was to cross into Austria over the Timmelsjoch, I reached Merano via some beautiful minor roads, they had their first snow of the season the previous night and for the first time after leaving home my hands were cold, I stopped to admire the view of the valley below and had a chat with a German family on holiday, I needed fuel in Merano and whilst filling up a rather posh Italian gentleman with an open face helmet had a flat battery on his V Strom Suzuki, we pushed it down a slope and he blamed the clutch for being too sharp and stopping the engine turning over, I thought better of trying to explain about getting it back onto compression first (no matter how good his English was) he was only half a mile from home so he could sort himself out, even if I’d had no luggage on the back seat I don’t think there would be any way he would climb on the back of my bike! Before I went he asked my route home, I said the Timmelsjoch and he laughed out loud, “no chance with this snow” he said, in jest I said “what about the Stelvio” (knowing full well that was one of the highest), “forget about the high passes” he said even louder, (by now we’ve got the whole area’s attention). He told me to take a route I’d ridden years ago and I knew the highest part was only about 1500 metres, we parted company and when I was out of sight I got the map out, after studying I noticed a pass at 2094 metres called the Jaufen, I took the road towards it and sure enough on the information board it said the high one is closed and my chosen one still open, I was determined not to leave the Alps without reaching serious altitude.
Although I’ve travelled the continent quite extensively, I’d never seen fresh snow on the pine trees at low altitude, leaving San Leonardo on the tiny roads was something very special, it was snow either side all the way up, at the top it was foggy but not exactly in cloud, I had a bowl of soup and got the camera out for the first time on the whole trip, yes you’ve guessed, the battery’s flat, I mooch about outside hoping someone will take pity on me and sure enough, I ask a chap if he could lend me some batteries and full of enthusiasm he offers to take my picture and immediately emails them to me. I do a tour of Vipiteno and cross into Austria parting with 4 Euros 80 for their road tax, the sun is shining and I end the day back in Germany in Kempten.
I leave Kempten at 8 am, do a bit of autobahn and turn left for the black forest, I zigzag about and reach Strasbourg, by now it’s raining hard, the thought of getting a peage ticket and fumbling about with money to pay the tolls on French autoroutes with wet gloves is unthinkable, so I head north and back into Germany and Luxembourg, where it really is raining hard, 40 MPH is all I dare do, it’s dark I’m sodden but amazingly I’m not cold, there’s a serious accident and I filter for miles, I’m not sure if it’s legal or not, I see some others on bikes and they are doing it, anyway what cop is going to ‘do’ a biker when it’s raining this hard? I know of a hotel in Dinant in Belgium and I decide to stop there, however a few miles before the road is dry, the stars have reappeared and I’m still not cold, “I’m going home” I said to myself, 5 miles later the rain caught up with me again and it rained all the way back to Calais, a petrol station cashier took pity on me and gave me a free coffee.
Got on the boat at about 12, spent most of the time drying my gear in front of the hand dryer in the toilet, the slip road up the A2 is shut so never mind I’ll do the M20, it’s shut and I’m diverted along the M26? I have to go to the Caterham turn on the M25 before I can turn round, adds nearly an hour to my time, got home just after 5, 21 hours after leaving Kempten, 850 miles that day, total for the trip 3400.
Next morning I set off in the rain for the nearest bike shop, I buy another over suit and put it on in addition to the top quality BMW one that leaks, I zigzag in and out of France heading for Baden Baden, after an hour or so I’m back to square one in the damp department, I think to myself there’s probably places people go and pay good money to have cold water trickled around their private parts but heading for Italy in October is not the right time or places for such sadistic pleasures! I find the famous B500 and head south, on the odd occasion I am above the clouds the road dries out and I have some fun. South of the town in the middle of the Black Forest (begins with F but I have not got time to find how to spell it), the road is dry and the sun is shining, deserted roads and this is what riding an S1000 is all about. Stop overnight beside Lake Titisee, (I camped there in the seventies as well).
Next morning it’s Switzerland and some real mountains, I never buy the motorway pass so I again zigzag my way south, Luzern always makes me feel good as I cross the bridge and look at the old arched one to my right, I cannot find the free road out, so end up heading for Bern, never mind, marvellous roads, take a left and pass Thur and Interlaken, now my first high pass of the trip, the Grimsel at 2164 metres, half way up and I’m in cloud! at the top I’m not sure if it’s dark or just incredibly thick cloud, half a mile down and I’m in brilliant sunshine, I look to the left and I can see the road of the Furkapass winding it’s way, cut into the mountain side, I stop and remember when I rode my 1960 Bonneville along there nearly 40 years ago. A good thing about travelling alone is one can make instant decisions about what to do, how to do it and when to do it, I stop at a junction and I still have not picked a pass to enter Italy, I go for the Simplon, mainly because I’ve never done that one. As I’m getting nearer it’s getting towards the end of the day, (that’s a bit of an understatement, it’s dark and night time is upon me). There’s a little town called Brig which the road to the pass leads out of, the sign for Simplonpass is crossed out, indicating that it’s shut! I nearly take another road signposted Simplon but just in time I realise it’s to a motorway (I have no vignette), I back paddle a few yards and see that the sign is green and not blue for the free roads, it’s difficult to tell in the dark! I explore various options and end up in another village where a young lad is playing with a mobile phone, according to him the only way to Italy is by Motorway, I disbelieve him, he’d got far too many spots, spoke far better English than me and only gave me a fraction of the attention he was giving the space age device he was playing with. On the way I noticed a sign that was not blanked out so take the road heading up a steep incline, I pass no houses or any sign of civilisation so assume I’m on the way to the pass, after several miles I come to where the road is dug up, there’s machinery parked across to block any adventurers making progress, however, there’s a track to the left, an extremely tight hairpin bend on gravel, which tests the steering lock on my ultimate sports bike. I get round no problem, the traction control is working overtime as I’m on loose ground, I have not the slightest idea where I’m heading for, it’s pitch dark, stars in the sky so that means there are no clouds to rain on me! surprisingly I’m not at all cold, I must be approaching 2000 meters above sea level. After a while I reach a ‘T’ junction to a larger road, in my mind I was not at the top of the pass and uphill was to the right, bearing in mind my last turn was to the left, if I had done a loop around the road works I expected to turn left again to carry on the road I was on, amazingly there was some bus timetables on a post, they gave me no clue which way to turn so I went for the uphill option, after a few miles I came upon a sort of half tunnel cut into the mountain side, all lit up, I could see the lights way before miles back. By the time I reach the summit of the pass it’s 11 o’clock, I’ve not even thought about where to spend the night, as I progress down towards Italy over planed tarmac with quite severe ramps, (I don’t want to buckle the wheels on this bike, it’s not a G S!!!) it starts raining again, I look skywards and sure enough the stars have disappeared, even quicker than the fuel when I’m on full chat! It’s far too late to find any accommodation, I’m not at all cold so I could find some shelter and become a true adventurer, it’s not like being in Alaska, there are no bears to eat me! I turn off the main road and consider my options as I amble through a village at about 30 MPH, a car is right on my tail so I wave it past, turns out to be the Caribinerie (last time I encountered them it cost me 138 euros and silent meal service (from the wife)for a couple of days) this time they are not interested in me, they’d probably never seen an S1000 ridden so slow! I pass a bus shelter to my left, perfect I thought, turn around, ride the front wheel under cover and set up camp. I eat the rest of my supplies I’d bought to use up the Swiss francs I’d been ripped of for at a fuel station when paying in Euros, nip round the back for a pee and fold up my lining out of my jacket to make a pillow, I will admit I heard the church bells chime on several of the hours throughout the night but overall it was another adventure in my life, I’m 61 and still like to do crazy things. At about 6. 30 the young girl delivering papers to the houses across the road gave me a rather suspicious look so I thought it’s about time I got back on the road before people start congregating to catch a bus. Afterwards the thought did cross my mind to have left my hat for any odd coins to be deposited in, but I had no dog by my side and the S1000 was a bit of a give away as to my financial status.
I ride along the side of Lago Maggiore past some really exclusive hotels, not for one moment did I wish I’d spent the night in any of them, I have breakfast (prima colazione) in Como, in view of Lago di Como. I find my way to the Hotel Fossatti just north of Monza where the 11 of us planned to meet. On all of these trips I seem to be the butt of the joke and my latest hair style made sure this was no exception, the next day when taking lunch in St Moritz, (I say lunch, it was dinner in my vocabulary, (breakfast, dinner and tea), but the company I was with over ruled me) we were questioning the waitress about her origins and accent, I asked the question “what are you doing tonight”? Barry said “no chance with your hair”, she said “just keep your hat on”!
Next day we set off for our second hotel about 20 miles north of Florence, the only sensible way (does sensible and me fit in the same story?) to travel in this area of Italy in by Autostrada, so I have to pay a toll (I normally refuse to pay to ride on boring roads) only 8 Euros so not too painful, Neil leads us on a more sensible road to a cafe in the centre of Mantova where the proprietor says I look like Sting from the Police, his sales pitch for drawing in customers is now come and dine with an English pop star. We stop for coffee after a few more miles and only have another 30 to get to our destination, Garth is wobbling about on uneven ground on his VFR so I wait for him, the others turn off to the left and we miss the turn, we keep going straight and after 30 miles realise we have gone wrong, maps are consulted and being real pioneers (‘U’ turns and back tracking are not options we consider) we decide to carry on and come in from the south, after 5 miles it’s raining, another 5 miles and it’s dark, 5 miles from the hotel, for Garth it’s very dark, his headlamp has failed, we crawl in 2 hours after the others with an extra 60 miles on the clock.
We spend the next 3 days riding around Tuscany and eating pasta. Highlight of every stop was the rating of my chances of pulling the waitress.
Saturday morning, over a week after leaving home it’s time to make our way back, I decide to travel alone, I cross the flat land between the Appennino and the Alps/Dolomites without paying any tolls, do a bit of sight seeing (only from the seat of the bike) in Verona, then head north to Rovereto, there’s a road to Schio that was recommended to me years ago, (that’s where I was relieved of the 138 Euros) this time all went without incident, also I was told that there is a point where, on a clear day it is possible to see St Marks square tower, in true adventurer tradition I turned left up a narrow track and found some quite incredible views, alas Venice was not visible although I’m sure I saw Padova. I’m riding a dirt road on a ledge with no barrier to my right, I am quite concerned about meeting a vehicle coming the other way around the blind corners, by luck I come across some lads who have stopped in their 4 wheel drive truck, rather than just ride up what may be a no through road I ask “er, possobili viaggi Schio, del strada?” eventually I get the answer “non problemo” so I carry on and get back on tarmac, even dry tarmac! I head north again and spend the night in between Trento and Bolzano in a tiny village on some minor roads.
Task for the next day was to cross into Austria over the Timmelsjoch, I reached Merano via some beautiful minor roads, they had their first snow of the season the previous night and for the first time after leaving home my hands were cold, I stopped to admire the view of the valley below and had a chat with a German family on holiday, I needed fuel in Merano and whilst filling up a rather posh Italian gentleman with an open face helmet had a flat battery on his V Strom Suzuki, we pushed it down a slope and he blamed the clutch for being too sharp and stopping the engine turning over, I thought better of trying to explain about getting it back onto compression first (no matter how good his English was) he was only half a mile from home so he could sort himself out, even if I’d had no luggage on the back seat I don’t think there would be any way he would climb on the back of my bike! Before I went he asked my route home, I said the Timmelsjoch and he laughed out loud, “no chance with this snow” he said, in jest I said “what about the Stelvio” (knowing full well that was one of the highest), “forget about the high passes” he said even louder, (by now we’ve got the whole area’s attention). He told me to take a route I’d ridden years ago and I knew the highest part was only about 1500 metres, we parted company and when I was out of sight I got the map out, after studying I noticed a pass at 2094 metres called the Jaufen, I took the road towards it and sure enough on the information board it said the high one is closed and my chosen one still open, I was determined not to leave the Alps without reaching serious altitude.
Although I’ve travelled the continent quite extensively, I’d never seen fresh snow on the pine trees at low altitude, leaving San Leonardo on the tiny roads was something very special, it was snow either side all the way up, at the top it was foggy but not exactly in cloud, I had a bowl of soup and got the camera out for the first time on the whole trip, yes you’ve guessed, the battery’s flat, I mooch about outside hoping someone will take pity on me and sure enough, I ask a chap if he could lend me some batteries and full of enthusiasm he offers to take my picture and immediately emails them to me. I do a tour of Vipiteno and cross into Austria parting with 4 Euros 80 for their road tax, the sun is shining and I end the day back in Germany in Kempten.
I leave Kempten at 8 am, do a bit of autobahn and turn left for the black forest, I zigzag about and reach Strasbourg, by now it’s raining hard, the thought of getting a peage ticket and fumbling about with money to pay the tolls on French autoroutes with wet gloves is unthinkable, so I head north and back into Germany and Luxembourg, where it really is raining hard, 40 MPH is all I dare do, it’s dark I’m sodden but amazingly I’m not cold, there’s a serious accident and I filter for miles, I’m not sure if it’s legal or not, I see some others on bikes and they are doing it, anyway what cop is going to ‘do’ a biker when it’s raining this hard? I know of a hotel in Dinant in Belgium and I decide to stop there, however a few miles before the road is dry, the stars have reappeared and I’m still not cold, “I’m going home” I said to myself, 5 miles later the rain caught up with me again and it rained all the way back to Calais, a petrol station cashier took pity on me and gave me a free coffee.
Got on the boat at about 12, spent most of the time drying my gear in front of the hand dryer in the toilet, the slip road up the A2 is shut so never mind I’ll do the M20, it’s shut and I’m diverted along the M26? I have to go to the Caterham turn on the M25 before I can turn round, adds nearly an hour to my time, got home just after 5, 21 hours after leaving Kempten, 850 miles that day, total for the trip 3400.
