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Part One – day 1 and 2
The Plan
The idea was genius! Get the bikes, strap a tent to the back, and go to Europe for a week. All we needed was a route, somewhere to stay, and a bit of cash.
We had both read plenty of magazines of people doing it, how hard could it be?By the Thursday before we left, the only thing we had… was the bikes, and a tent.
On Friday, a few rushed calls to the camping club and we were ready! J
Sunday
We were meeting at the petrol station near mine at 6am, and by 20 past, I arrived! After being moaned at by G2M for being late, we set off for the 3 hour jaunt down to Dover. My excitement was soon wearing thin as the M40 was soaking wet, and a strong head wind coupled with my panniers led for an interested if not hard worked trip down. We arrived at Dover, slightly late and were bumped onto the 10:50 ferry.
Around 1pm local time, we rode onto French soil. Not really sure what we were doing, we gave the satnav with two instructions, ‘take us to Nancy (our first camp)’ and ‘ignore the motorways’! It was always going to be a long day, Calais to Nancy via Rethel was 350miles.
We travelled along the A26 and the E44 (I think), to Rethel, some of the most beautiful roads we had ever seen. Twisty roads led onto mile long straights, cutting through the tree lines flat out in sixth felt like warp speed, slowing only for the unsighted roundabouts which led to a few nervous rear wheel in the air braking moments, by Rethel the rain had arrived, so we jumped on the motorway, headed for Reims and round to Nancy.
Finally, after leaving the UK at half 6 am, we arrived at Nancy, at half 10 pm local time! It had been exhausting, and the site owner wasn’t too impressed either since the site reception closed at half 7.
By half 11, the tent was up and we were showered and ready for a deserved sleep.
Monday
This was the official start to the trip. After getting the long haul out of the way, we left the motorways in search of the European dream roads we had heard so much about.
We left Nancy around 10, and headed for Colmar near the French-German border. The N59 was amazing, with a 10 mile twisty section up the side of a mountain and back down near Sainte-Marie. Of course, the inevitable had to happen at some point. Satnavs are only useful until there’s a village fair on and most of the roads are blocked. However, with our keen sense of adventure, we ignored the satnav and carried on. That was until the road ended, and we travelled up a path the type you would normally expect mountain bikes charging down, not 160+mph sports bikes going up.
Luckily we found a very nice Frenchman, he spoke no English, and the only French I could think of was ‘bon derrière’ which wasn’t going to help me out today! So after a lot of pointing and raised Brummie voices, the man gave up, got in his c*r and waved us to follow. 5 minutes later, and Anglo-French thankyous’ out the way, we were back on the main road. Shortly later we hooked up with the E25 then the E35 (I think), ending up near Emmen, Switzerland.
The initial plan for Monday was simple, get to the campsite, pitch up, and go play on the bikes for a bit, and as we climbed up the twisting roads into the hills the plan was going pretty well.
My short little 600 was making easy work of the tight winding roads, picking up the exits of the corners and accelerating through the high tree lines, slowing hard on the brakes for the next, and while G2Ms 900 could catch back up on the straights, the corners made me feel like I could take on Rossi! With only a few miles to our second camp at Vitznau, Switzerland, we were still excited to get rid of all the bags and get back onto the roads.
But….
There was a small problem, one that would not even include the bikes.
Lake Lucerne, 44 square miles of glacial lake, over shadowed by mountains reaching over 1’000 metres above its level.
Well, after a number of hours in full bike leathers, the 18’C water was too tempting. A quick stop at the shop for beers, and we were swimming.
A perfect end to an amazing day.Part Two
Tuesday
As we set off from Vitznau, we were instantly being launched onto incredible roads following the edge of the Lake, some parts had drops so far that if you made a mistake you had time to phone for the emergency services. We stopped to get fuel at Ingenbohl before coming off the lake road and onto the Klontalerstrasse road. The road here still didn’t let you down. Winding up the outer edge of the mountain, the bikes were running well, and we were taking full advantage, being cranked over on their side only led to cranking them further over onto the edge of the tyres round a blind right hand 180’ bend as a truck coming down was using 2 feet of our side of the road too! The brown trouser moment only served as a reminder of the hidden dangers of such incredible roads, there were no second chances here.
Soon after we turned off and began our ascent up the Fluelapass, and as we reached the 2’300 metre top, you could feel the bikes struggling in the low rev range, as the air thinned you could smell the mixture getting richer, exhausts popping loudly on downshifts. It was worth it. The views were so incredible target fixation caused me to miss my turn-in point, braking hard to miss the barrier by inches on one turn.That was enough to get us to stop for a bit, outside the Hotel Fluela Hospiz, 2’383 metres above sea level.
As we started down the other side the views were ignored as the roads seemed to drop away on corners, some hairpin corners required full steering lock to keep you from running wide.
We finally crossed into Italy at Campocologno, but my first impressions of the country were made clear just a few miles in with a 37 euro fine for speeding.
87kph in a 50 zone!
It soon became apparent that this is where our plan was running thin. As we joined the SS42 toll road, the satnav happily announced “follow the road for 107miles”.
Now, I have heard the rumours that Italians are nuts, and on the motorways they only served to prove the rumours correct, for example, they only indicate as they are half way across the lane change; and we had an even bigger problem….…. 32’C ambient, in full bike leathers. You could begin to understand why the locals ride around in shorts and t-shirt. It was killing us. Dehydration wasn’t only causing pins and needles, but heavy eyelids too. We made the decision to stop. We took on plenty on water, and after a lengthy chat, decided to loose the leather trousers in favour for jeans. We continued on.
Finally, we arrived at San Felice del Banaco, Italy; our third campsite, overlooking Lake Garda.
To be fair, it was what we needed. A family holiday park meant two things, bar and restaurant. We took full advantage of both, but at closing time we were ready to keep going. Having a walk around we heard singing and music coming from near the lake side. We followed and soon found ourselves in a very nice seated area, not being dressed overly well (villa shorts and reebok t-shirt), I took a seat at the back, while G2M found some drinks. It was all going well until we found out that the party was actually a German wedding reception, and the hotel we were in… was booked only for guests of the couple. On the bright side, the bar bill was being picked up by the groom, so… not wanting to make too much of a scene, we picked up our glasses and made a hasty beeline for the exit! LOL! I never got chance to say at the time but thankyou to the couple (and this is the reason I am not footing the bill at my wedding next year).
Wednesday
The following day comprised of stinging hangovers, and the heat was rapidly picking up again, by 10am it was closing in on the mid 20’s. We decided to leave biking for a while, we were only due to head back to Vitznau anyway, and that could be covered in only a few hours via the Saint Goddard tunnel. After a soak in the pool, we packed up and hit the road, but not before soaking all our gear in cold water.
The motorway was again a nightmare, 34’C, nuts Italians, still a slight headache. Not a good combination.
I did get a brief enjoyment as my £2000 zx6r, laden with panniers and a tent. Kept up from a rolling 50mph, with a £120’000 Ferrari F430, right upto 150, before he edged away. I wonder if he is still crying that my bike cost £118’000 less than his car, and I kept up. HAHA!!!!
Our excitement of returning to Vitznau was however ruined by a severe storm right on top of the campsite. Which I am told was enough to knockout the football transmission. That night was not pretty.After over a 1000 miles on the pillion seat, the tent wasn’t looking too good either. It had already suffered a broken pole from our drunken return the night before, and wind on the bike had caused small holes in the outer canvas. As a result, in came the rain.
The tent leaked everywhere we looked. G2M (believe it or not) came up with an idea, to cover the tent with bin liners. This at least stopped the rain in the main compartment.Brilliant stuff Champs! Looks like you both had a superb ride, I told you that European roads are something else. I waited over 20 years to find out, now I can’t wait to get back as soon as I can. Your pictures were amazing too
Yes Champs I concure with Max and Radar, fantastic stuff, great review and exellant photos, awaiting the rest of your review, its sure to be as literary and informative as the first two parts.
The final part
Thursday
The next morning found boots full of water, bike electrics soaked, and the tent had taken more battering.
After waiting over an hour for the site tumble dryer to finish drying most of our gear, we packed up and headed off; again taking the lake side route for about 16 miles, really good fun if not a bit slippy in some places, having enjoyed the past few days of Velcro-like grip, my ham fisted (throttle stop and hold on) approach to exits left the back trying to kick a few times, but if was all part of the fun!
After a few more hours dash on the motorway, we came off for the last hour across the farm lands of France, arriving at Gigny-Sur-Saone, more precisely the Chateau de L’eperivere.For some reason, I didn’t get any photos. I think serious exhaustion and the promise of a late night bar got the better of me.
Needless to say, the campsite is built in the grounds of an old French chateau, and the restaurant, bar etc, were all build in the refurbished stables. Beautiful.
G2M had some stomach problems around 3am, in which he went into too much detail after returning to the tent about half an hour later. We don’t think it was the food, more his crap diet and awful eating patterns for the last few days.
Friday
Fridays plan was to make a quick dash 240 miles on the motorway to Reims, to miss out getting anywhere near Paris. Then take Reims to our final campsite 3 kms outside Amiens.
Jumping on the motorway for the final time, fatigue was setting in instantly, and I had (apart from the 3am wake-up call) slept a bit too deeply and was suffering with shoulder pains. They were okay when I sat up, but zx6r’s don’t cater for sitting up at high speed. When I did sit up the windblast was causing more of my limited energy to drain.
We needed to stop for repairs as G2Ms scottoiler was spraying oil over the left side of his rear tyre but finally after a couple of hours we arrived in Reims.We both had a hot dog, and I finished off a well-needed Grand Café Crème!
Informed the Satnav to avoid motorways at all costs, and headed down the N31 and the D934 to Amiens.
The hardest part of this route was the fact the single carriageway roads designed with using only rulers and set squares, offered the chance to open the throttles hard and top the bikes out. Normally a plus point, but the sneaky pint sized rear facing speed cameras made the trip more of a spotting trip than anything else.Setting up camp for the last time, the tent was completely wrecked. The storm on Wednesday night had ruined the outer cover, our drunken antics had bust one of the two main support poles, and the dry hard ground of most of the campsites had caused a few tears whilst taking down the tent.
We unloaded the bikes, donned our jeans, t-shirt and trainers, helmet and jackets, and headed off into Amiens. Locking the bikes up we found comfort in the Friday night collection of other bikers, annoyingly a brand new Ducati 848 was packed next to mine! I love those!
We had our final meal of the trip abroad, and headed back for an early night.Saturday
Waking early, G2M got all our bookings sorted and his passport back from the campsite reception. Once all the important stuff was sorted, I woke up! HAHA!
Packing the tent for the final time on its trip of Europe, it was quite a sad moment. Not only our trip was over, but that our final journey included the 3 hours from Dover to Brum.
Our final trip through France was a 2-hour blast down the D928, 86 miles of single carriageway twistys and straight farmland runs, arriving quickly in Calais.
After getting booked in, we had about an hour to wait, and were looking forward to a quick meal in Calais, but to our disappointment, Calais services aren’t as good as the Dover ones. The only food facilities available were a crappy little instant drinks machine.Finally, the ferry arrived, and after strapping the bikes down, we made haste for the food court. Large fish, chips and (of course) mushy peas! Large lemonade, and a cheesecake. Probably the biggest meal we had had all trip.
Afterwards followed the 3 hour trek home, amazingly we filled up near Dover, and I got the bike all the way to Warwick Services for the next stop. Either that’s impressive riding or the tank holds more than 18litres.
Getting separated on the M40, the final 100 miles were quite miserable. Not only the lack of decent sleep or a decent eating schedule, but I realised, it’s the only time alone since 6:30am last Sunday. Although most people would be glad to get rid of G2M, it didn’t feel right, it also gave me time to reflect on what we had done.In thought!
We started with high hopes and stories from people who had done it all before. Don’t get me wrong, what we did on just 3 days planning was bloody impressive since a trip to crossgates was hard enough the other month.
I think we gave ourselves too much to do in too shorter time. The motorways were the killer. Lack of food and sleep left the motorways looking like never ending sections of tarmac, 4-hour journeys only ever broken up by tollbooths.
When looked back, I would love to do the same blast to Switzerland, but I would set up camp there and stay there for a week. There is so much to do. All the best bits of Europe, but in one country.
It was always going to be an experience, and it didn’t fail to be anything else. The view from the top of the Fluela pass can’t be forgotten, especially when you have a bike waiting for you to carry on.Finally, I would like to thank the one that didn’t give up, kept plodding on when things were going wrong, and even though I didn’t treat you with the respect you deserve. You rule!
He returned back from France, but I don’t think will be going on anymore trips.Tent!
Great stuff Champs, glad it worked out fine for you and G2M[
]. Youv’e got you the bug Eh, to do the same but go one better next time. Good Luck, Go for it, when you look back at what youv’e done it was ALL worthwhile. Hum! dont know[?] how you will get on next time though without your tent [V][^]Thanks for sharing your trip to France, pictures were exellent, glad you enjoyed the experience of riding in Europe.[
]A real adventure, sounds like you ought to go B&B next time! Well written and highly enjoyable tale, cheers Champs!
] (mad has fook) love it[
]
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