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Prima parte

This one has been a while in the making. If there is one place to go and see the MotoGP then the San Marino GP is one of the must do's.

A group of us has decided to attend the meeting but because of the fear of flying I elected to take the bike down to visit the
eyeties and in the process explore a bit more of this world. It didn't start well. By my own stupidity I deleted a few photos of the
start of the trip

Sunday evening we beat a trail to Ashford to stay over for the night. On the way there we pass the Moto GP trucks. On a tighter schedule
than us to get to San Marino. The air is warm and the view at night on the QE II bridge over the industrial area is something I rarely
see and my missus even less. A good sleep, an early rise and a train to Calais. Just in time to see the people arriving to protest the
migrant camp which has made the news for the wrong reasons.



The road was very monotonous but before Bastogne we turn off to enjoy the country side. Not planning on the detour we encountered so we double
back and try another way leading us past a bridge destroyed by the Americans before crossing a farmers field to join the road into Bastogne. A stop
in the centre of Bastogne to enjoy some of the irresistible cuisine.







Onwards to Vianden and another detour through a village where roadworks force you through a farmers yard. Fun for me but the missus is a
bit more concerned. And so the operator failed his satnav practical which lead us to some really good roads and eventually Vianden which
comes into view as you round the corner.















I, I mean we, liked the place but not the restaurant were we ate. This place is to be avoided in
the future together with the hotel next to a very busy road. You live and learn.

The next morning is straight out of a children's book with layers of fog drifting through the forest. Beautiful. The roads leads us away and
out of the forest and into sunshine.





Here once again the operator failed his resit of the nav exam. Fear not for he is stubborn and failure
is not an option. Onwards through the Northern Vosges, lunch break in Haguenau, before crossing the Rhine to Baden Baden and the B500.





Afternoon tea is at Mummelsee and we beat a path to our overnight accommodation near Engen. The place has some dramatic views across southern Germany, the Bodensee and into Switzerland.



Next morning the sunrise has me reaching for the phone. Such a view is rarely seen and I click away. Also spotted the couple downstairs who
made quite an enthusiastic noise last night



From previous dispensed advice I knew the road to Lindau is going to be busy and it was.
Somewhere we stop for a brief coffee and snack and a chance meeting with some bikers on a holiday. We will see more of them later on.



Eventually made it to the Alpenstrasse. Now it is starting to feel like a holiday. It is beautiful in the crisp clear air and the mountains tower over you.





The road snakes through the green valley past alpine cottages and blue lakes. You breathe the fresh air and all is right in the world. The
missus clicks away happily on the back of the bike. Immenstadt calls for a toilet break and a chance to replenish the food stock for later
consumption. Also a good place to meet Ausies, the bloke kept me amused for a good 10 minutes before we set off. The sausage we bought is on
my mind. The Hahntenn Joch provides the opportunity to sample the local delicatessen and enjoy the views. Loads of cars and bikes out today.
Some flashy, some a bit more workhorse like. We are heading to the tourist mecca of Imst and Oetz.



















It is cooking in the valleys and the spots of shadow provides some relief until we climb the pass again. The deeper you go into the valley
the steeper the climb out of it is going to be. The Timmelsjoch does not disappoint. The view from the top is breathtaking. The restaurant
is most definitely recommended. At the altitude the sun beats down on you. With a cool breeze blowing we seek out the leeward sunny side and
relax with a milkshake. This is a spectacular pass and a lesson in road building practises. The Italian side is narrower and seems steeper. The
road surface is also noticeable poorer.

















It has been a long day and we still have some distance to cover. 2 more passes before we laid eyes on Vipiteno and 15 minutes later we stop at
a selfcatering holiday let in Reisenschuh. Perfectly positioned for a trip up the ski lift and magnificent views of the surrounding mountains.
The hosts are most welcoming and I suspect the hostess would set many a single gents trousers on fire A small restaurant nearby provides the last meal of the day, traditional Italian pizza before we retired to a good nights sleep.









What I come to appreciate of the mountains is the clear crisp air, the views and the reflection of the morning sun on the mountain peaks. It
is food for the soul and you drink it up never to tire of it. With a clear head and purpose we set off. Today would be a proper introduction to
the Italian way of building roads. Vipetino to Bolzano Bozen avoiding the motorway. The road twist and turns with switchback after switchback
of narrow road until you reach the top. We found ourselves overlooking the Penser Joch early in the morning. From here we drop down into the
valley to follow the road all the way to Bolzano Bozen. It is a road that eggs you on notwithstanding the undulations caused by years of neglect
and patchwork repairs. It is fast and flowing interrupted by little settlements and light traffic.









Bolzano Bozen is our gateway to the Dolomites and we waste no time there. Ferrari, Lamborgini and Fiat tractors. You will find them all on the
road and on the slopes covered in vineyards. By now we can see the Dolomites. For a biker the Dolomites is tarmac heaven with the sights to go
with it. During the course of the day we navigate more passes that you can shake a stick at but the ultimate goal is to ride the Passo Di Giau.
I have first seen it on the KTM Super Duke GT launch video. Rest assured. It doesn't disappoint. No wonder this place is a UNESCO world heritage
site. You have to see it for yourself because no words can desribe the sight of the pale limestone peaks. Sturdy and strong as it can never me
moved and as old as earth itself. It attracts all sorts of adventurers but for today it seems the conditions are right for paragliding. Leaving
it behind via Passo Pordoi we descend down the mountains into the valley. Another comfort break before we deviate slightly to avoid the string
of cars forming on the road to Cavalese. And so we stumbled on the Passo Lavaze or the SS620. This road rewards an aggressive approach to ragging a loaded GSA up and down and round the corners. For once the tarmac is smooth and predictable. It was a joy playing the gears up and down the box. The missus is protesting and making promises of a severe see to when we stop. Well, better make it worth it.



























Cavalese gives the impression of being a sleepy town. We have opted for a hotel south of the village with a swimming pool to relax in. That
evening we indulged ourselves and took a walk in the eveing to see more of our surroundings before bed time. Cavalese would be the last stop
in the mountains for us before arriving in Cattolica. It was with some anticipation that we set off on the Friday to join the group arriving
during the day in Cattolica. Instead of going to Trento and then down to Verona we took the road to the south of the river out of Castello di
Fiemme. The road winds its way round the slope of the mountain loosely following the river. It is early morning and in the shadow so we are
gratefull for the extra time in the cool morning air. The traffic is light and the pace makes for a comfortable ride as the miles click by.
Then we turn off to cross the mountain and instantly we are back on the now familiar crappy Italian roads. The GSA soaks it up. In the mean
time my mandibular molers are swimming and despite the effort of searching for a toilet near Lake Caldonazza relief had to wait till we found
a secluded spot on another pass a mile or 2 away.



By now the weather has set the tone for the weekend as we travel further south. It is getting
hotter and the camelback is refilled more often. We are in the sticks and get a good view of what Italian life is like in the rural areas.
God knows how they cope driving from one village to anther. A stop somewhere for a break and restocking our supplies with a surprising poster
in the mens room



As a last goodbye the mountains rewards us with another unexpected good road and I make the most of it unaware of how tedious the rest of the
day is going to be. By midday we made it to Camisino. Here the landscape changes in a dramatic way. You arrive at the edge of the mountainous
plateau and the floor drops away as you wind your way down numerous switchbacks with the equivalent of the fens stretched out as far as the eye
could see. This is the agricultural heartland of the north. From here there is not much excitement apart from what the traffic can dish up.
A few stops to refill the camelback and rest in the choking heat with all that protective gear on. Getting to Cattolica is the only mission and
the roads are straight and fast. Ducati and Ferrari will have to wait for another visit.









Fine della prima parte

Cheers Tanneman, great write up and pictures, me and Mrs P did some of those roads in Sept 15, and that brought back some great memories for me although the HahntenJoch will live in Karen's worst memories for a long time.

What happened?

You know she rides her own bike, it was a long day, and Sunday, sun was shining and hairpin bends mixed with vertigo don't go apparently
neither do a multitude of GS's in full touring mode going hell for leather around every bend, you get the picture
Can't be all bad going back this year

Thanks for the comment. As long as she was ok. A bike is a bike. My missus was clenching the seat tightly as we went up. It sure is a good road up to the pass. Just be careful in the tunnels. The bends can be a bit more slippery inside than those in the open.

Don't tell anyone but the bikes are going in my van this year, get them out and ride some great roads without being knackered getting there, but just don't tell ANYONE

We have similar thoughts. Great minds think alike, fools never differ.

We made it to the seaside resort that has become home to many a Moto GP rider in the past few years. Probably because of VR46 being situated
close by. Even Frankie Chili is rumored to have a beach nearby. The hotel is located on one of the main roads and easy to find. Close to the
beach and about 40 minutes walk to the track. The afternoon is spend relaxing on the pool side and walking along the beach. This pretty much
sets the rhythm for the rest of the weekend.

Saturday and it would be rude not to take the missus to go and see the country of San Marino. As part of a group we booked an organised tour.
You cannot miss the imposing hill that the old town is build on. I must say that the history of the region is interesting and the government
certainly different to what we experience here in Blighty. The weekend festivities included a food celebration at the old part of San Marino.
It is a proper tourist trap and a big part of the finances is made up by tourism.

















Unfortunately we didn't make it to Sic's memorial. It is on the list. A must do is the visit to Tavullia. The town has become an international
attraction. You pass the VR46 HQ on your way there. The ranch you can spot in the distance. But then you have to find parking for the bike.
Bloody hell. The place is brighter than the sun with all the yellow about. No point in breaking out the Spartan colours Best to play along and
get your official Rossi T-shirt from the shop. Just a mention about the local roads. The worst one is the road that leads to Tavullia.











That evening we spend a bit more time out and about ending up in the pre Moto GP party which probably would be the season ending party. There
is a lot of yellow and you don't spot much of anything else. Being foreigners we did as the Romans do. Drink copious amounts of alcohol, party
like the locals and stagger like the locals . No yobbos about and everybody is in the mood for a good time. For some the good time would carry
over to the next day but with more of an aftertaste like chocolate covered brussel sprouts. Plenty of swimming pools on our way back to take
a dip in. One thing you do notice about the locals is the varying degrees of tan. From bronze like the characters in Spartacus to a something
that would not look out of place in Africa. We are of course easily identified by the pale skin.





Race day. And in Cattolica it starts early. We are woken by the traffic as first a trickle of yellow and then later a whole wave of yellow floods
the streets. Some walk, some on scooters, some in buses, some stuck in the traffic. We walk. A brisk pace sees you there in 40 minutes or so with
time for a refreshment on the way. The Brutupela stand is at the far end where you are issued a flag. This has to be prominently displayed and
waved with vigor when the man comes past. A few riders are singled out for special treatment from the spectators. As chance will have it we were seated next to Khulu and his missus. Having never met them it was quickly discovered that 2 saffas were sat next to each other. I was there to watch Brad Binder win another GP. Watching Rossi was a bonus The atmosphere is phenomenal and it carries you on till the end. And where else than in Italy can you invade the track. Brilliant. Everybody made their way to the podium waiting for the man to appear like the messiah and make a short speech. Something to experience for yourself.















One issue with walking to the circuit is that you have to walk back. This proved a bit too much for the missus with her shoes so I carried her for
the last few hundred yards. No sweat and some brownie points booked. Another afternoon at the swimming pool and a walk along the beach before we turn in. The next morning we take one last walk on the beach and then saddle up, say our goodbyes and slip away into the Monday traffic.


Fine della seconda parte

ACE, but maybe I little too much yellow for my tastes and it's my favourite colour.
Sensible shoes is a very hard lesson to give the other half, I'm still trying after 21 years lol

Thanks for sharing. There should be a like button!

Excellent write up and photos.

Thanks for the replies. More to come.

Tuscany. A dream destination depicted as idilic by many a TV house hunting program. In reality it is just an extension of rural Italy where the roads are so so. A bit further on and the views come into play. We were stuck in a valley for some distance but now we are climbing into the hills. At some
places you have a view of the green leafy hills. We pass some small settlements. The buildings are a bit delapidated. Small enclosures keep next years
ham or tomorrows milk and patches of orchards populate the surrounding hillsides. Small settlements surround the bigger towns and it is a one such
town where there is a market and an impromtu stop to rest and sample some icecream. We are about halfway to Florence. The nature of the roads and the
route we chose makes for a slower pace today and we are settling in after the weekend in Cattolica. By mid afternoon we skirt around Florence and
take the most boring road to Livorno. South of Livorno we pulled into a holiday camp. Lucky for us the girl at the counter speaks 3 lanuages fluently.
We settle in and head to an outlook over the west towards the sea where we are rewarded with a beautiful sunset.









Since we are not far from Pisa a stop was planned before we carried on to Genoa. Regarding Pisa. It is a proper tourist trap like I have not seen.
Maybe because all that there is to see is in such a small space. It is worth the visit just to lay eyes on the art created by masters. If I have to
dispence advice it would be to go there early in the morning.











For the rest of the way we would follow the toll road before we turn off and head towards La Spezia. From here the road takes us into what is called
the Cinque Terre. La Spezia is a port where you can catch a ferry to one of the towns located along the rugged coast. One is a beautiful and colourfull
town called Riomaggiore. It is said curiosity killed the cat. I was curious to see what there is in this part of the world. The roads are very twisty
and narrow. Some places it is barely wide enough to get a car and bike through. You ride with anticipation trying to keep one eye on the road and one
on the views afforded over the inaccessable coast. Industry here is agriculture. On hills this steep they laid out terraces for olives and fruit trees.
Once every often we pass a little tractor mounted on a rail system to carry the harvest and people up and down the slopes. It is steep and working in
the orchards must be hard work. The day is hot and the only breeze is when the bike is moving. We stop for a rest at one of the more accessable seeside
towns for a break. We would rejoin the toll road near Sestri Levante but not before we ride through what must be the longest single track road through
a mountain. And it is not straight. It has corners and goes up and down and provides respite from the heat of the day. Rain looms ahead and we opt to
change to waterproofs which adds to the misery of the day. By now I wanted to get to our destination. It didn't help that instead of stopping to pick
up a ticket at the toll gate I carried on. Luckily the toll road is a fairly quick way to travel. After a bit of a wait at the exit toll gate and a wrong
turn we ended up at our hotel. By now I was a bit irratated and the atmosphere around me was not a loving place for my missus to be. A good nights sleep
set me right and a bit of a word from the missus pointed out the error of my ways.

















Rising and feeling much better we set off, once again heading into the hills to have a picnick for breakfast. The roads twist and turns but now the
scenery changes. The hills are lower and the slopes not as steep. There are more grass and no sea view anymore as we travel inland. The mood is
lightharted and we find a few good roads. Another break to eat something on the beach near a place called Savona. A blast along the toll road and a
wrong turn somewhere lands us on what must be one of the best roads in that part of the counrty. The SS28. The tarmac is smooth and the course set by
it is just the right amount and grade of corners to keep you enthusiastically entertaining yourself. This will not last and as we near the more
major towns the traffic increases and more trucks crowd the tarmac. We arrive a bit earlier than we thought in Borgo San Dalmazzo to found our
overnight stay. The owner of the B&B let me park in the underground garage. It gives the impression of an upmarket place for a reasonable price.
That night it rains.











The morning air is a crisp and the ground wet with clouds lingering around the mountain tops. From here we had a choice of routes on the way back.
Colle Della Maddalena was closed and we didn't fancy to much of a twisty road today. Follow the SS21 to the west and at Vinadio turn left onto the SP255.
This road leads you up into a mountain range which on the Italian side is spectacularly beautiful. It is what a pass should look like. We even spot a
marmot near the road. Pass a herd of white cows grazing on the lush grass before we break through the tree line and another scenery delight greet us. It
is cold and strong breeze adds to the chill. There is few others at the top. 2 bikes were parked up and a car pulls out and dissapear down the Italian
side. A photo at the top of Col de la Lombarde and we make our way down the other side past the remnants of the French fortification. This fortification
was part of the alpine extention of the Maginot line. Immediately the difference in tarmac is noticeable. As we head down the mountain into the valley
we set course for anther pass.





















A spirited ride down what must be a short level road before we turn off and start climbing again. We are lucky. The sky is clear given a few clouds
and the view to our next destination plays peek-a-boo through the trees and hills and the road winds its way higher. There is not much of a tree
line here. Grass gives way to different coloured rocks and soil. There are loads of cyclists coming downhill. We can see the outcrop which is known
as Cime de la Bonette. The air is thin and it is realy cold. We park up on what little parking space there is. Cyclists arrive one after the other
to have their photo taken at the marker. We follow suit after a meal at the top whatching the eagles soar beneath you and the marmots grazing on
the slope. The road back leads us past Jausiers, Col de Vars, where a stop is called for to sample some French desert, Briancon, Col da Lautaret
and Grenoble. As we enter Grenoble the feeling descends that we are nearing the end of the trip. You can feel the pull of home.





































Fine parte tre

Fantastic pictures and write up! Right, where's my atlas...

Cheers,

Paul

I'll say it once more SUPERB many thanks for taking the time and effort really makes me want to do a trip now. I love the picture of all the bikes at the memorial, and I did giggle at the Pomme de Tarte piccy, did you not like it or could she not believe you are taking another picture.
: cheers