At the sound of three Goldwings arriving on the drive Julie put the kettle on and began to make up the bacon sarni’s. Barry had arrived at The Clubhouse Mkll. He brought with him from the Leeds direction, Gordon on his dirty golden 1500 and Tony on the candy 1800 from just across there in Wakefield, the weather looked OK here though Barry had come through rain. Carol, the Scottish lass of the brightly coloured jackets from GMTV weather promised sunshine and showers. We should be in for a great day.
Today’s target was going to be a former bomber airfield in Lincolnshire, in East Kirby to be exact at the Lincolnshire Aviation Heritage Centre. In the 1940’s it was a satellite bomber airfield, one of dozens doted around these Lincolnshire flatlands during the war in fact. Fred and Harold Panton had built this place up as a museum and memorial to fallen RAF Bomber Command especially their brother Chris who was shot down and killed on a bomber raid over Nuremburg in 1944. The centre piece and pride and joy is a working Lancaster, she is NX611 “JUST JANE” she taxi’s around the field on special days and for a fee you can ride in her. It’s a fascinating place worthy of an afternoons visit. I had obtained permission to have some Appy Wanderers pose the bikes with “JUST JANE” this afternoon. To make it a good ride I gave Barry a route that would be interesting and in keeping with today’s theme.
We four wings left Walnut Cottage en-route to Bawtry which lies south ten miles down the road and the main meeting point of the day. We rode by former RAF Finningly, now a civilian airport before reaching  Bawtry. Bawtry is a quant little market town famous for its links with The Pilgrim Fathers, there used to be a port here many years ago until the area was reclaimed by a famous Dutchman who was rather expert with his hole plugging thumbs!

          Gordon and Rocky at Bawtry

We had our first mild soaking here as we sat around waiting for any stragglers, none arrived so just after ten thirty today’s Appy Wanderers left Bawtry, we were Barry Walton  (T1), Mick Emmett on his golden 1500, Brian and Janet on the their dark red 1500, John and Lynne on the purple 1800 trike. Gordon on the flashing golden 1500, Wakefield’s Tony on the candy red 1800, Mark and Chrissy on the Purple Pussy 1800, Russ on the neat 1800 and last but not least by a long chalk Ian and Adrienne ( known as C.C to his friends) on their old blue 1500 and STILL with his Alpine rear disk, no hills today so he should be able to keep up!
The first waypoint for our squadron today was Gainsborough, turning right after the lights to follow the River Trent  briefly before heading east, squirming down tiny country lanes through the villages of Marton, Stow and Cammeringhar, we came to a double junction, which to be honest only looked like one, Barry called out to be aware but Gordon was oblivious and shot out in front of the old lady in her car, it gave her such a  start she actually stalled her car,  I stopped to let her pass when she collected herself and finished her chuntering, I nodded to her in agreement.  I suppose not many groups of Goldwings come through these parts, I’m glad to say no damage and no injuries were caused, and hopefully our ”Condor man” was fully awake now.
We came to our first RAF interest of the day and that was the beautiful village of Scampton, home of 617 squadron for part of the war, these guys became famous for their dambusting raids, yes folks they were “The Dambusters”.  We passed slowly through the village, Barry pointed out the public house of the same name on the left as we passed the cemetery on the right.  Along the ridge top now we rode and skirted the end of the western end of the runway of RAF Scampton, it’s now the home of the famous RED ARROWS.  Away to our right was a vast view of the west, we could see Retford and Worksop in the middle distance and just see the hills of  The Peak District on the horizon, Sheffield would have sat before them but wasn’t  visible to the naked eye.
Lincoln was our next waypoint, Lincoln is a cathedral city, but in size it is not a very big city, it’s more like a large town, with the usual sets of traffic lights pedestrian lights and white vans! It was an easy run through even though our Barry took a slight detour, the pedestrian precinct looked very inviting I have to agree, but not the way forward for ten Honda Goldwings! He showed a sprightly u-turn and came back to us as we sat grinning at the lights! Back on course we followed the signs for the A15 and Sleaford and enjoyed a quick pleasant cruise through Lincoln in the sunshine.

                                         RAF WADDINGTON preview area.

A few miles down the road we came to our first tea stop, it was the official viewing car park for folk interested in military aircraft. I guess the RAF are happy to give us this piece of land in return for keeping plane spotters in the one place and not having to constantly move them on from all points around the airfield! Today we could see three or four AWACS parked up. These are huge Boeing 707 aircraft converted for military use, they have a giant dinner plate stuck on their backs which is a huge radar of about six foot in thickness. These aircraft are in use quite a lot in the middle east at the moment. The tea hut is overwhelmed by all fourteen Appy Wanderers, as is the solitary toilet! 

       Multi layered Lynne.

 The last time I was here it was run by himself and his wife, the poor guy was on his own today his wife had the day off. Barry and Lynne

We looked at the aircraft and at the resting delta winged Avro Vulcan that sat on permanent display just a few yards away beyond the chain link fence. She was once part of our nuclear V bomber force from the 1960’s along with the Handy Page Valiant and Victor  jet bombers. We stood and chatted whilst looking up at the darkening clouds, rain was approaching so we zipped up and moved on just as the rain arrived by the bucket full, we sidestepped it in a minute and were hardly touched!
 We turned on a parallel course down a tiny road to Metheringham, then in a south east direction across the Fens through a village called Martin, then on through a sizable Woodhall Spa. This was also a former RAF facility, the nearby small museum had an English Electric Lightning jet fighter sitting on the grass, we kind of looked at it but we were just being ambushed by another dark wet front  that drenched the living daylights out of all who dared to stay out in the open….aha, that would be us then!
 It wasn’t bad at the first few minutes of its arrival but on entering the village of Coningsby it got suddenly worse and Barry quickly pulled over under some overhanging trees for some shelter.  

Taking cover in Coningsby

We all followed suit and squeezed in tight, within seconds the road was awash in several inches of water.    Rocky smiling through adversity

hailstones joined in the attack and bounced around the place as we looked on from our scant shelter. Gordon scaled the fence and dived into a wood coppice, leaving his 1500 parked and peppered on the pavement, only cars and trucks moved in this deluge, not a single person was in sight. John and Lynne under the trees

It lasted about twenty minutes, those who could pulled waterproofs on, I pulled on my trusty rubber lined army long coat but forgot my rubber gloves. Presently the monsoon from the South China Seas eased and we decided to make a run for it! I’d said our destination was less than six miles away,Hailstones in Coningsby

 Poor Gordon wouldn’t come out from the woods so I gave him directions for the last fifteen minute ride and bade him farewell. I hopped onto my boat…. I mean bike and rode off after the group who had by now exited the village. RAF Coningsby and the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight lay just a few hundred yards away to our right but we gave it a miss today in favour of the warm dry NAFFI and hot tea at the Heritage Centre at nearby East Kirkby instead!
We took over a corner in the NAFFI and peeled off our kit, naturally it had stopped raining just as we arrived! We rode our bikes directly into the museum and parked in a long line in front of the hanger where the four engine Lancaster bomber sat, its nose just visible through a half opened door, but we needed a bit of TLC first so we piled inside and sat at the tables drinking hot tea and waited for our meals, most of us were just damp under our bike kit, this didn’t stop Lynne from taking her knickers off, (in the loo of course) she now sat opposite me in just a pair of waterproof leggings and skimpy white top, I was shoving chips up my nose and pouring tea in my ear-hole in total distraction bless you! Gordon had arrived by now too, he had come out of hiding, scuttling along the running river that was the A155, he showed us his wet belly, Barry shouted snap and showed his! Our bodies began to dry, we were here, all was OK and blue skies and sunshine arrived, we drifted outside to lay our wet clothes and gloves in the sunshine.

Drying the wet gear

I spoke with Louise the PR lady and family member of the museum, she was sorry but because of the unsettled weather their fragile  pride and joy would not be parked outside this afternoon, instead the hanger doors would be fully opened and we could take our bikes inside to park just in front of her in a V formation. We shifted a few bikes around then switched them a bit more….then a bit more, at last the right position, it’s not every day we get such an opportunity, so it had to be just right, right Lynne?

Avro Lancaster NX611 “JUST JANE” posed with ten Honda Goldwings

for a team photo. I’d like to thank Brian and Janet and Russ for letting me use some of their photographs in this write up, cheers guys! I would like to thank Mick Emmett especially for the above work of art

Two beauties pose.

After the photos were done and we had a short look around, our jackets and gloves had dried nicely, it was about that time already, time to head home. Admiring the lancaster JUST JANE

 We said thank you to the folk at East Kirkby and in warm sunshine Barry led us out of the centre, we waved goodbye to Lynne and John as they headed off in a different direction whilst the rest of  us rode towards Lincoln via Horncastle, hitting the Lincoln ring road, skirting round onto the A15 northbound, there is a quirky squiggle as the A15 actually goes around the eastern end of the runway at RAF Scampton! We had ridden past the other end earlier in the day remember? We then rode about twenty miles in heavy traffic, making great progress as most of the vehicles pulled over a tad to let us pass. We found the M180 at Scawby heading along it westwards at a faster pace. It was really warm as we cruised on in twenty plus degrees. I was the first to leave the group, I waved as I slowed on the slip road and headed toward Hatfield and ran close by the nearby civilian airstrip, it lay on a taxi way that was all that was left of a former wartime four engine bomber conversion airfield RAF Sandtoft. The day ended in calm warm sunshine the wild hailstones at Coningsby were long forgotten! Chalk up another great day you Appy Wanderers.

                                                       Tilateron……
                                                                                      The Scribe

It was a nice day when Julie and I left Doncaster early on Sunday the 26th July 2009 on our black 1800. Blue sky and white puffed up clouds sat above and a light, warm breeze played across us, we exited the M18 onto the M62 westwards. The weather would change when we left the motorway at the M606 junction onto the A58 and head on towards the Appy Wanderers Clubhouse in Keighley. The weather began to turn grey and depressing, we could see the drifting rain blot out the valleys off to the right as we passed through Denholme, we stopped to pull on waterproofs, it was July after all! Thirty minutes later and we arrived at the club house; Tina put the kettle on as Barry inwardly cursed Mother Nature for spoiling our day so soon in the day!
After a bit of chit chat and munching of chokkies we dropped down into Keighley centre to pick up the first of today’s Wanderers               

 Steve “Spanners”

There sat “Steve Spanners” and “Nick the Freak” two 1500 breadvan owners, “Spanners” is the mild mannered and ever smiling Mr. Whilst “Le Freak” is the special Nick “The Freak” Scott

Nick Scott from nearby Bradford, as you recall he has had a gammy hand, a result of an accident at work yonks ago, Nick agreed to let the surgeon lop off the two curled digits and streamline his hand, he is bandaged at the moment and in some pain but much MUCH happier with his lot. He is looking forward to wearing a pair of bike gloves when the discomfort subsides. Wow what a man! This dude is a proper biker don’t you agree? 10 out of 10 my man for keeping the faith. Please accept a shiny medal for your commitment to biking Nick!
We headed off towards Shipley to pick up Mark and Chrissy and their 1800 Purple Pussy, they were hiding from the drizzle under a tree. Just a couple of weeks ago we were both burning tyre rubber on glorious high Alpine roads and we were now reduced to this shitty weather…Still, it is July!
Off we shot towards Thirsk, two 1500 breadvans and three 1800 race horses. Barry’s ride was described as a candy shack by “Spanners” quite funny really as the colour of Barry’s is a bit on the girly side!  Heading out of Skipton on wet shiny roads, I saw both “Spanners” and Nick  do a quick shimmy as they piled on the coals coming off a roundabout and both back ends squirmed on the shiny wet roads. Breadvans they are but both ridden with style and pace! We skirted an old meeting point at Riply castle, nobody there today, we rode on, slowly leaving the grey muck behind, the road dried, the sky turned blue again. Thank you very much Mother Nature for the change in heart.

Thirsk  market town

We arrived in Thirsk at the familiar spot on the market square and parked carefully on cobbles and met up with the rest of the days riders.

The new guys

Bill and Lorraine came down from Newcastle way, take note you wimpy fair weather mile conscious Wingers! Theirs was another1500 breadvan, they had only had it a short while, this being their first ride out. They would soon iron the teething problems out of their unfamiliar ride over the next few months and before long they would be grinning instead of grimacing from ear to ear as their beast convinced them they could get a wiggle on in fine style and not crash into the nearest hedge!
Next came two more “newbie’s” in the shape of Deryck and Jan from the backwaters of York on their deep blue 1800, though technically they were not new because they joined Julie and I on the first fifty miles of “The Tea and Scones Run” in May of this year when we were making a parallel run back to join Barry near the M6, Jan became unwell as the morning matured, she felt so bad that they turned and headed for home…..But not today!

Ken and Jean Beck

Ken and Jean Beck from Harrogate were here today on their German 1500, they had recently succumbed to Barry’s pleas at Colin Appleyard Goldwing Centre and put some “dosh” down on an 1800 racing snake, Jean was not convinced of the luxurious comforts the 1800 offers over the 1500. No doubt Jean would soon decide the sexy beast (no not Ken) was to be the one for her, her leathered bum would soon squish the navigators seat to her satisfaction…keep persevering Jean!

Wakefield’s Tony and Heather

Tony and Heather came on over from Wakefield on their new red 1800. Heather smiled a lot today, she too is getting used to the new bike and looks to  be really enjoying herself, another converted soul, welcome to paradise city girl!
“Havatrucker” is here again, Gordon rode down from Leeds on his dirty golden 1500; it was getting more like a Warburton’s convention, ha ha ha! Today Gordon had fixed a big yellow trainers bag beneath his yellow workman’s light, I hadn’t quite worked out why, he did say during the day but his answer on the CB was very long and broke up several times in the morning breeze. It was getting late as we stood around chatting and taking the rise out of the usual suspects….Mark. It was after 1100 hrs when finally today’s group of ten Wings of Appy Wanderers pulled out onto the road. The cars played along and stopped, letting us all get out as one, a good omen for the day I thought, may the cars continue to behave.
We left Thirsk in the direction of Sutton Bank and as we twisted up the hill side I noted the clouds were still around but lightly coloured and few in number, the grey stuff looked far away to the west. The last right turn at the top is a bit wicked but not a problem for those of us that had just returned from the Alpine test tracks!  We cruised along the tops towards Helmsley, not stopping here today we carried on through and turned right towards Pickering, there wasn’t a large number of bikes in the square as there usually are, I saw just half a dozen this mid morning. Maybe they accepted what the weather people were saying and did “the family thing” today? Yesterday I brought a lady this way on the bike for a birthday treat and she loved the twisting roads to Pickering, reaching triple figures at times…that was 70.5 MPH (for the benefit of that Yorkshire snitch out there!!!)
Do you know the feeling when you often pass a road and wonder where it leads to? Well today I finally found out as Barry led us a “different way” towards Whitby. It wound its way to Hutton-Le-Hole. Once there we turned right and headed on over the North York Moors, the breeze was fresh and welcome. We rode over the waves of heather lined tarmac, we dropped steeply down and round into Rosedale Abbey turning right towards Egton Bridge.
In the distance I spotted an old castle or stately home of some kind, it was just visible on the skyline. I called to Barry what it might be; Tina shot back, “Its FYLINGDALES stupid!” We were on a parallel road but four or five miles apart from the main road going from Pickering to Whitby….the same road that the huge top secret RAF listening facility is located!!! Some wag chirped up on the CB “You go explore that castle and I’ll get you a good lawyer. Ha bloody ha!” Maybe that’s why I’m at the back and not the front?
We came to a difficult right turn, it was our small road leading onto a larger road, we had to turn right and steeply uphill at nearly ninety degrees to join it. We all got round by skill, luck and a prayer. It certainly made one sit up and concentrate, a common road over there in the Alps but not at all common here in England! We made a beeline for Goathland, it’s also known as Aidensfield village in TV’s Heartbeat series, for you “suverners” out there.

…I remember when…

We pulled onto the forecourt of Scripps garage and saw two more Appy Wanderers sitting having a drink or two as they waited for us to arrive. This was Chris and Eve from the Hull area who rode a deep red 1800, we don’t see them much these days, I hadn’t seen them for about twelve months so it was nice to catch up with them. These two came on the original Appy Wanderers tour in 2005 where I conducted their mock wedding in Lake Garda! We took over the tea garden and several benches. That was a funny affair!  People looked on as we ribbed each other and recalled several tall stories, both true and a bit false, like Chrissy and her 25 mile orgasm on the Grossglockner. If the grandkids could see and hear what was being said I’m sure they would look at us in a different light! This is what Sundays were made for don’t you think? The Geordies

We waved goodbye to the tea man, people gathered around the bikes as we made ready to leave with cameras poised as they waited for us to zip up, climb aboard our 15’s and 18’s. The road cleared and we made good our exit, I was last to leave making sure we had all actually left! We rode down into the valley over the railway bridge and back up the other side to join the Pickering to Whitby road; just a mile or so away to the right stood Fylingdales Stately Home in its entire slab sided grey metal splendour. Silly bugger me!!
Barry thought we might park in a different spot today in Whitby and took us into the top car park under the whalebone monument; we gave ourselves an hour and half here, ample time to wolf down fish and chips from a tray whilst sitting on the harbour wall. The trick was to keep ones shoulder between your food and the HUGE George Segals (seagulls) that flashed close by all the time. To say it was supposed to be a wet day there were plenty of folk milling around and the usual “Goths” looking for Dracula. We had a browse in the dark ages as we explored some of Whitby’s crooked back streets before making our way back up the hill to our bikes.

Rocky sizes up the team shot

It was time for the team photo, we put just a couple of bikes in front of the whalebone monument, Barry arranged everyone around the bikes, even getting my Julie to get on her knees so the small Schnurfler from Bolton could be seen at the back. 

 Appy Wanderers team shot in Whitby

Tony and Heather were not present for the photo as they were having just another slice and a cup of tea down in the town somewhere. They returned as Gordon lit up a huge cigar and let slip that he was only smoking it because he had run out of baccy for his pipe and that his wife usually bought the stuff.  It was suggested he brought his pipe and some money and buy fresh baccy here in Whitby. “Well, the wife normally buys it and I don’t know where to buy it”.  I couldn’t tell if Gordon was taking the rise or if he was genuine, his explanation made everyone laugh all the same.
After that gem of a story we all rode off with a smile on our faces, we headed toward Scarborough on the coast road, it’s a fine road which sweeps along dipping and rising on nice tarmac, we took it easy and sat in the traffic because our turn was imminent. We turned right into The North Riding Forest Park, this is a quiet pearl of a place, Barry and I “discovered” it last year on one of our Thursday research and development days, the roads are really small and have little tufts of grass growing here and there, it’s generally high banked with hedges and bushes so you need to take good care for other road users, we usually only encounter one or two cars, the odd tractor, chickens and a pile or two of cow dung otherwise it’s a fine little tour, by far it’s the prettiest of today’s roads.
It wasn’t long before we joined up with the A64 again, it was busy, it’s always bloody busy! The weather turned, it looked very grey ahead, in fact it looked to be wall to wall grey as the promised rain front arrived from the west. We stopped at the first garage after Malton, topped up the tanks and made a decision to end the ride out here instead of at Squires Café twenty miles further into the rain, it was after four in the afternoon so I don’t think any of us felt cheated. It had started wet at the beginning of the day and was going to end in the wet, but to be fair it stayed dry for most of the day and we all enjoyed ourselves. Today’s new guys can now chalk up their first ride out with Appy Wanderers, I think they really enjoyed themselves and didn’t feel out of their depth. I’ll finish off by saying I think the 1500 breadvans and 1800 candy wagons mixed well today!
Tilateronthen.
                     The Wanderers Scribe

PART 1

THE END?…………

We stepped over the pile of junk mail and into the house to flop down into familiar comfy chairs. ”Barry…… Barry are you there mate?” I whispered.  For the first time in two weeks there was no answer.  Peace reigned at last as the realisation of that fact seeped through my bones and the tour was over, a long sigh escaped from deep inside of me. passing through teeth forming a faint smile, a job well done I thought.  As Julie set to with the unpacking, out in the drive the wing ticked and clicked as the engine cooled down, I too cooled down, relaxing as my mind rewound to the dock side at Hull two weeks earlier. Now, where is my cup of tea?……..

The Purple Amethyst at Hull.

 DAY 1…….. WINGS BY THE WATERSIDE.

It was a warm breezy afternoon on Friday 19thJune 2009 as we neared the Hull docks , suddenly we passed Barry and the Appy Wanderers on the opposite lane of the carriage way, they had arrived to top up their tanks, we had just done that minutes earlier and were just turning into the dock area. I keyed the CB, “Hello Twat 1 from Twat 2 nice to see you, we’ll talk again at the check in area, Remember it’s the Rotterdam boat and not the Zeebrugge one I reminded them, a healthy riposte boomed out from seven Goldwing pilots. I grinned happy that we had got off to the usual noisy start!

In Hull, Yorkshires windy city!

Relaxing in the bar aboard the ferry

Rocky offers Barry a helping hand as he molests our wife

The American flyboys had names like “The Razor” and “Iceman” Our glorious RAF chaps have Red 1 and Red 2, so Appy Wanderers had Twat 1 and Twat 2. I was to take my place at the back doing the back door job whilst T1 was to lead with Mistress Garmin aiding (sometimes not, as the case was to prove)
We found “Amethyst Dream” at the check in area, this was Lynne and John on their purple 1800 trike, however we wouldn’t be totally complete until the end of the next day when Clive and Pat Hammond would join with us, they were to meet us at the first overnight stop deep in Germany, they would be making their way from Richmond, that’s the Richmond darn sarf in Landan, wiv the uuuuje park and deer (oop north we makes do with ducks and duck ponds!) Clive and Pat would travel via the “Chunnel “then on through France.
Meanwhile back with the main body of Appy Wanderers, we were now on the ferry and had lashed our bikes down, had found our rooms, ditched bike stuff, and changed into our customary yellow shirts, supplied once again by Colin Appleyard Motorcycles of Keighley……. thank you again kind sirs.
This newer  P+O ferry was researched last year by Julie and myself, she is The Pride of Hull, along with her sister The Pride of Rotterdam and they are proudly  marketed as P+O’s new flagships may I say what a pair of buxom beauties they are too!  We found them to be a lot more roomier, especially on the car deck, we were not hoisted to the roof on the meccano like rickety bike ramp nor blathered in oil, grease and filth, she was much newer and cleaner, more user friendly and brilliant for bikers. The far away destination ferry port sits in the huge Rotterdam complex but is much easier to access than the smaller Zeebrugge ferry port believe it or not and is better served by the auto routes. No longer will Barry lead us a merry tease around nearby housing estates whilst looking at the distant dock cranes as we fumed and fucked about on the outskirts!  Hull to Rotterdam offers a better all round service for our needs. I think we have seen the last of Zeebrugge and the two smaller mature ferry ships. I’d like to add that all the staff on both routes are equally as professional, knowledgeable and friendly.
I stood at the round end of the ferry (stern) at the outside bar with shandy in hand and gazed up the estuary at the towering Humber Bridge ten miles or more away, we generated towards  “yellowshirts” as they made their way to this natural meeting point and we gradually got noisier as expectations grew.  We had a mix of veterans and first timers amongst us; the vets have enjoyed each other on these trips for five years now and were quite the familiar family! The “Newbie’s” were not left alone at all as Barry and I doled out insults and compliments  in equal amounts to old and new Appy Wanderers alike! 
The afternoon past into evening dinner after which wine and ale was consumed, we joked and talked of the impending adventure, Adrianne’s partner Ian tells me several times during the evening he is an advanced rider, I certainly questioned that fact after the trip! They are riding a blue 1500 bread van that looks like it has done quite a few miles, its offside exhaust sits at an odd angle, he also has a squawk box with a very loud frog and cockerel noise, it was going to sound interesting and fun, I couldn’t help but wonder if Barry and I had covered everything. I thought  maybe Ian would  be an asset and be a helpful chap to have along with his advanced riding skills?
Come 22.30hrs and folk gradually retired to bed, after all we were robbed of an hour as we sailed to the continent and had an early start in the morning and a long first journey of about 360 miles, others soon followed whilst Ian sat staring at a picture, he says it was his way of fighting sea sickness. Tomorrow would also be the start of a learning curve for some and a quick jog of the memory for others, especially as the first of the anticipated fast black German 4×4 would be encountered. Don’t ask me why the fastest are black, they just are!
DAY 2…….THE LONG RIDE
At last the door opens and bright sunlight rushes in, the deckhands signal the gentlemen to start their engines. We had 360 miles to cover before our first hotel on this the first transit day; it was going to be a long but effortless ride today. The “deckies” adorned in bright orange boiler suits, beckon us into gaps as they stop the cars and we are off the ferry, through light customs checks and onto the auto route in quick order. It was fairly quiet as we headed inland.  Rotterdam port is vast and spread over the huge inlets for twenty miles or more.
We settled into our running order, I think the new guys found it painless in the light traffic, everyone knew their position and with only a few new adventurers there wasn’t much for me to do this morning except keep a keen eye, and to keep up and enjoy the day!

Who’s that behind the bike then? 

We rode through Holland at an early morning 70 mph; it will change when we hit Germany I kept reminding folk, it was almost like riding in England so far except we were on the wrong side of the road! We flew east towards Arnhem before turning south east towards Venlo to enter The Fatherland, skirting the edge of The Ruhr, this was a heavy industrial concentration of towns such as Dortmund, Essen, Duisburg and Dusseldorf.
The German motorways, I’ll call them auto routes now we are in Europe, are very well built and maintained and the drivers for the most part have a very good sense of road discipline, personally I love riding over here, I feel much safer on these roads. We pulled into one of the service stations to top up and have lunch, Mark sat at the pumps and looked confused, foolishly he shouted across to us “What do I put in Barry?” “PETROL!” we all hollered back “OH aye, sorry I’m just having a blonde moment” admitted the man from Lancashire, behind him blonde Chrissy smiled and whispered something in his ear.
 Back onto the autoroute again, Barry encourages everyone to increase speed to 80mph….I mean 120k…ish, this is about the slowest they drive on their auto routes. We were getting used to the quicker speed when it happened, a German 4×4 zoomed past us, as if we were standing still, boy he was really shifting. What colour was it? Black of course! A few Saxon words hit the airwaves…you know the ones. “Welcome to Germany!” I replied to the new guys, “there will be a lot more and a lot faster, don’t worry its perfectly safe, I’ll  call when a really fast one is coming through, if you’re in the fast lane either speed up or move over, just DON’T dawdle in front of him OK?””  We had discussed this at the meeting at Barry’s weeks ago, and mentioned it often but without actually seeing it in the flesh so to speak, some folk probably find it hard to imagine. We were a relatively small group so we would follow the leader in overtaking, experience shows it works well.
Frankfurt was the last big city before we stopped for the day, we pass close to the airport and its massive new buildings, it certainly made one look up as one passed close by! The 360 plus miles were soon tucked under our belts as we pulled of the auto route into the small town of Marktheldenfeld and our half way hotel.
It was our second visit here and the staff are ready for us with keys and a smile as usual. Clive and Pat are here already, they were a quiet pair from the nicer part of London. Clive had this knack of glancing around without moving his head and often looked quite serious whilst Pat on the other hand was a real head turner; she sported a blonde bob and smiled a lot. They had been riding motorbikes a long time and were really well travelled on Honda Goldwings, recently touring part of Norway. Their red 1800 sat there now flanked by the rest of the gang. Clive had a he tool boxbox strapped to the towing hitch, he said it was for Pats knickers, we all laughed except for Tina she went green with envy and a light bulb went on in her head, look out Barry an idea is forming!

                                                         Rocky with Pat Hammond

We changed before returning to the patio area and got stuck into a few glasses of the local ale. The weather had been OK so far, sunny and cloudy with a few spots of rain now and again, Mark and Chrissy were both hot people today, they had heavy duty bike kit on and jeans underneath, I guess they were unsure what to put on on their first trip on their bike, everyone repeated “All that bike kit AND bloody jeans, I bet you a bit warm eh?” Mark with a 24 hour fag glued to mouth and pint in hand agreed, Chrissy smiled and said not a lot to start with she had a warm smile and looked at you through long blonde locks, yes a quiet girl which is quite unusual as she hails from Australia. Mark on the other hand was from Burrrrnley, sorry I mean Blackburrrn and made up for quiet Chrissy, this was their first tour and had their purple 1800 just a month or so, he was full of excitement and was a very funny bloke with an infectious laugh, his little legs became the target for many many jokes, you just made sure you sit upwind of his constant fag smoke!
After dinner at the hotel we strolled of in groups to join in the celebrations just up the road, it was the towns special birthday and the streets were packed with people enjoying themselves and gathering to listen to the various bands dotted around the centre that were playing on makeshift stages, food and drink was plentiful from dozens of stalls in the centre, they stretched down both sides of the street, it was packed with revellers all eating bloody sausages on a stick in a bread roll  chopped up on a plate of tasty source.it was nice to be part of it for a short while.
DAY 3……HEADING FOR BERCHTESGADEN.
In the morning it was all gone and cleaned up, this was a very clean and well sorted town, a council to be proud of I think and not unusual from what I have seen in Germany over the years. We paid our bills packed the overnight bags and set of south again on the second leg, I took photos of each bike as they left, everyone smiled for the camera.       

Steve and Jane Lenza of Scotland

We were reminded within minutes where we were by yet another fast black car, we tightened ourselves up as we progressed south on the auto route. We were back down to nine bikes, as one of our number decided to return home. We rode on confidently further south, we rode on towards Munich. It began to get busy at the back for me as fast cars chewed at me wanting to come by….

                                         Clive and Pat Hammond of Richmond, London

Folk were reminded to speed up more as they occasionally dropped back down to a slow English 70mph, which of course is not the way to go on these roads…as the Germans were quick to point out! We were in the outside lane often overtaking trucks caravans and motor homes Barry moved back over as soon as he could, only staying out if I said it was clear at the back. It was quite safe but busy all the same. Quite often a car would slow down and take photos of us especially the trikes; this would cause cars to stack up behind him! Only once on this day did some guy come by on the inside, he was coming on like “Billy Fuck” in some huge black BMW; It was later identified by T1 as a Mclaren BMW race spec road car. He was carving everyone up and not just us. Then to top it all a good old boy in his dirty white motor home pulled out and just keep coming, coming right across our bows… Do you remember that T1? A very exciting morning this proved to be for T1 and T2 and a steep learning curve for the new guys!
Stopped for lunch somewhere in Germany

A couple of hours later we could see horrible black clouds they lay across the distant mountains,  underneath them lay thick grey sheets of rain. we were less than sixty miles from our exit so Barry pulled us into a service area for a while hoping it would move on, the traffic had slowed to a crawl so the pause was a good call. We donned the wet gear and waited a while, it became clear it was not moving so we changed tactics a little, the two veteran trikes suggested the solos carry on and filter down the slow traffic, they would make their own way to the hotel, both had stayed in Berchtesgaden several times before so it was agreed we would do this. I pulled on extra long black rubber gloves that came up to my elbows, they might look a little naughty and nursey like but they are the best kind of gloves when going through heavy bouts of rain. A rare halt on the autoroute

There was a lot of room on the auto route to filter and whilst it’s still not quite the accepted thing to do in Germany yet most let us past save for the odd driver who remained obstinate and refused to move over a few feet, Barry took one group and I brought on the new guys a hundred yards behind at a steady pace, the trikes on the other hand  took their place in the traffic. After several miles the traffic cleared and we were free again, everyone had done well in these difficult conditions. Barry led us off the auto route and we took the back roads to Berchtesgaden through forested areas on superb tarmac but we were getting too tired to enjoy it fully unfortunately. Mistress Garmin (T3!)stepped in and threw us a red herring that promptly took us through the housing estate of a growing village, for some reason it did exactly the same to me last year, only this time we followed it through to rejoin our road again a few miles further on. We soon ran alongside the familiar fast flowing river on the valley floor for about eight miles, this led us into Berchtesgaden via the railway station. We caught glimpses of mountain through rain filled clouds above us but for the main part it was wall to wall cloud! We reached the hotel and parked up in the familiar roof top car park, bike keys were turned off and the clocks showed over 650 miles completed in two days. Adrienne wipes the drips away in Bertesgaden

The girls went ahead and sorted the rooms out as the guys pulled bags from panniers and secured the wings, I looked at the clouds, they seemed just a hundred feet above me, they still looked laden with rain and threatened to tip all over us at any time. I shook my head in disappointment and told myself not to worry it would be clear in the morning….probably!
DAY 4 ……DRYING THE GLOVES.
 Today was an off bike day, the mix of 1800, 1500 solos and both 1800 trikes sat resting in the morning drizzle, Bike kit was left to dry and bums left to recover! Most of the group toddled of down the road to the salt mines. This area is originally known for its salt extraction, billions of years ago there were seas here but as the Earth shaped itself mountains grew and surrounded huge areas of sea and eventually covered the trapped lakes of seawater, Methods were devised to extract the salt now deep in the mountainside way back in 1517. Until recently only dignitaries were allowed to visit, you even get to travel by raft on a huge saltwater lake, I dipped my finger on our previous visit and I can confirm it really is salty, yuck!
So this morning Julie and I took a walk up the surrounding heights at the back of Berchtesgaden, and explored all along the walkways in the hills often stopping to look down at the town square to see a bombsite scene. It was a fresh damp morning more like a fine February morning, which was fine because I love February’s!
 The huge hotel complex and parade of shops along with most of the underground car park on the corner had been torn down to make way for one of those wellbeing type hotels with spas and health centres. Unfortunately it won’t be ready until 2010, I’m told  it took 8 yrs to agree the final plans, so much do they fight to keep things as clean as they can that even the high cranes are electric powered and can hardly be heard, they try hard to keep things in keeping with the town. The centre is quiet this year as a result; no doubt a return visit after 2010 will see the place back to its normal busy self. By late afternoon the gang trickled back into town after their great day down the mine, Tom even discovered the local brewery, Tom is a brewer by trade so easily sniffed the place out , he didn’t get time for a proper visit unfortunately.

Tom leads the way and forgets the rain

In the evening we explored the towns eating houses and chatted about the days events, hopefully we would ride the mountains in clearer weather, Ian tells us again that he is an advanced rider but I’m not convinced. Ian, bless him, is fighting a battle with his swollen leg and so determined to come along that he bullied the Dr into giving him some medication, so perhaps that’s why his riding is a little bit erratic and maybe that is why he says he will pull into the fast lane whatever is coming up quickly, I’d like to have seen that, on second thoughts perhaps not, I don’t fancy scooping up his gammy leg from out of the grill of the big black motor. He says “Whatever” and “Bring it on” a lot like some petulant teenager!  Perhaps the drugs are making him talk such bollox!!?
 We drifted from the eating house, Brian and Janet sloped off, Janet claiming she was going to change her shoes, which was a nice way to say they were off for a bonk!  After visiting a couple of bars we too drifted back to the hotel There was a gay bar too but I’m not ready to talk about that place yet.

DAY 5….. DEPRESSED ON A BUS AND A BOAT.
It’s still bloody raining and the sponged up grey stuff still sits above us obscuring the beauty that lay above, I so much want to say “Look up there, I told you it was beautiful and it is isn’t it?” 

                                         But we don’t want to go on a bus Daddy!

I felt like the beholder of a secret! As it was still a bit glum and wet outside so half the guys went to Salzburg for the day on a bus whilst the rest of us went to nearby Lake Konigssee, also on a bus, Hmm , so much for a bloody biking holiday. I think I was getting a tad frustrated!
I bought several small bottles of various schnapps and drunk them during the day, Jagermeister being my old favourite, I introduced it to the guys who for the most part liked it. The lake is very tranquil it’s surrounded by huge mountains and has a peaceful aurora; the bikes were soon forgotten as we rode across the lake to the far shore, getting off the boat at Salet and walking to the small lake of Obersee further into the woods. Stephen was so taken in he tried to walk on water, only to sink to his knees nearly, reminded instantly that although he was Scottish he was still mortal! What most amazed me were the trees that grew out of rocks. they looked sculptured and unreal I couldn’t take my eyes of them. We found the return boat and returned to the halfway point at St Bartholomew. I sat on a bench to drink more schnapps and looked at the new church red roof nearby, an ice cave was visited by some of the group as the rest of us decided to head back and catch the bus back to the station in Berchtesgaden. We were denied a trip up the mountain and the scenic views of The Jenner once again due to low cloud. Ahh well, perhaps another year I thought. Barry kept looking at the sodding clouds and saying things like “Hey I think it’s getting better” and “I think the rain is easing off mate” If he carries on saying stuff like this I swear I’m going to kick him in the nuts. Pass me another schnapps someone! Over dinner we chatted about the days adventures on a slow boat and for the others a trip around beautiful Salzburg and their ride home on a bus full of school kids (suddenly the trip on the lake doesn’t sound so bad) Scottish Stephen tipped me over the edge that night when he asked what kind of bike gang were we turning into? Riding aboot on buses an electric boots! Bragging aboot £10 travel teas maids an how WE can have a cup of tea in our room so much so that other couples began to pine for one themselves…Mark an Chrissy step forward! Throughout the adventure this question arose, like the time Tom bought himself a crystal earring and Ian spent a million pounds on some ornamental pieces of crystal, and then came Barry and his field research for a handy milk container for the teas maid for Christ sakes!!….. Did I mention that we had one too?

                       DAY 6……..WE GO WHERE EAGLES DARE!

Today we take to the bikes and damn the weather! It’s only about an hour’s ride to the next valley and a visit to BURG HOHENWERFEN, This is the castle used to in the film “Where Eagles Dare” although the famous cable car scene was shot elsewhere in Ebensee. It was also used in backdrop scenes for the mythical mini TV series a mystical adventure called “The 10th Kingdom”. It was built originally in 1075 by a duke who had stations above his head!  In recent times it was used as a state prison and in the 1930’s an accidental fire caused much damage, the cost of refurbishment led to the ownership passing into government hands, where up until 1987 was used as a training centre for the Austrian Police department.An eagle….naturally!

 These days it’s for the tourists to explore, it is reached by cable car or a walk up to the back door via the “tradesman’s entrance” winding up through the woods. The views are fantastic of course even on this cloudy rainy day looking down the cloud filled valley. We take in a guided tour and look at a display from the Historical Salzburg Falconry, the birds were reluctant to fly in these damp conditions, but the close view we had of the eagles was very rewarding all the same. We took a wet ride home; I saw that evening that we were very happy to have been out on the bikes in spite of the rain and I felt much happier with myself.
DAY  7…….THE ICE CAVE IN THE SKY
Today half of us went back in the general direction of the castle to visit the biggest Ice cave in the world, EISRIESENWELT ICE CAVES. The entrance is 1642 metre up a mountain though. Work THAT one out folks! It’s so high up that you look down on the castle we had visited yesterday and it looks like a toy castle on the hill way down below about half a mile away, this we could see when the rain and thin cloud cleared away.

 Tina looking….?

Tina being a tight arse and a stumpy Martian bought a teddy bear wrap around hat, put it on and appeared ten years old again, hoping to get entry at a child’s rate! But it didn’t fool the ticket officer at all as she waddled towards him from the direction of her 1000th  toilet visit, that’s another entry in her “Bogs and Bidets of Europe” book.
To get to the cave entrance (Which by the way is 4800 above sea level) we had to walk steeply upwards for twenty minutes then a four minute cable car up the steepest part then walk upwards again for another twenty minutes, we left Janet at the halfway café, Steven suffered a bit also so joined Janet, the rest of us padded onwards and upwards like Hannibal and his Elephants, it’s no wonder they dropped like flies! On we walked until we reached the cave entrance, it was huge and had air doors that we had to pass through, when we did the temperature dropped suddenly and our carbide lamps blew out (naked flames) we re-lit and set off in our party, the guide showed us fascinating ice formations to our left and right, the cave was so huge you could sit York Minster inside, the caves were discovered in 1849, but the folk at the time had more pressing interests like finding food and staying alive! So the first expedition wasn’t until 1912 when life got easier and people began to show an interest, previously only known to hunters and trackers, the whole complex goes on for over 40ks, however the touristy bit goes forward and steeply upwards 134 metres (then back down again) the scaffold steps have been drilled into the ice and are so steep you catch your knee on the step in front. Not for the lame, lazy or fat people, they practically say that in the tourist information too, there are 1400 steps to be climbed after all. Every few minutes the guide stops and lights a magnesium ribbon and shows great ice mountains with names like “The Bear” or “The Elephant” He explains that these ice formations are MILLIONS of years old and that they are able to calculate the age by the layers of ice in  pale blues and greens rather like rings in the trunk of trees. I can now confess a secret now I’m seven hundred miles away…… I was caught short and had to take a leak! So no  maybe I put their calculations out by a few million years with my green stain, maybe my DNA will be discovered in year Zillion nought one and I will be famous. It was an act of nature not vandalism, because we more mature men need to pee a lot more in sub zero conditions right guys?
 No photos were allowed because of the upset to the timetable as groups moved along quickly, the constant flash photos would have spoilt the effect for people and blinded the guides, so the photos you see here have been borrowed from the official site. It was hard going for all of us except of course for Jane our lithesome Scottish racing snake!

I think we all agree it was well worth the effort. An hour later we reformed at the car park miles below, out of breath, thighs and calves bulging but well satisfied with the visit, a lot better than pumping iron in some gym!
As we twisted slowly down the mountain road on the bikes ( we weren’t at the bottom of the mountain just yet) A view of the castle appeared and we stopped to took photos, it looked moody with the thinning clouds slowly moving across it, BURG HOHENWERFEN is by far the ugliest slab sided castle I have seen it did the job though and looked darkly imposing, just how Mr Eastwood and Mr Burton climbed out of THAT window is truly unbelievable! Suddenly the sun burst through a hole in the greyness and bathed us in warm rays ; the previous few days were soon forgotten. Oh isn’t Mother Nature wonderful?  I swear my wing picked up speed all on her own! We remembered a supermarket and pulled over to let Mark and Chrissy purchase a portable tea making machine. What kind of bloody bike club are we? I remembered. What the hells next, fekkin Motor homes???
Later back at the hotel the new guys listened to our tale of the ice cave in the sky, they told us of their tour to THE KEHLSTEINHAUS (The Eagles Nest) Even though the weather was unkind and they didn’t get to see the fantastic views they all had a brilliasnt time, Hitler’s golden lift takes you to the very top at 1834 metres, there lies his tea house, too small to bomb accurately in 1945. It’s an odd fact that he rarely used it as he had claustrophobia, had a fear of heights and was half way to going completely of his head! How the world might have been now if as a young art student Herr Hitler had not been refused a term at the Vienna Academy of Arts? The Eagles Nest is now visited by the ordinary folk of the world. You can’t escape its great historical standing whichever side you are on. I have visited so often that my bosses at work are getting a little concerned! I was heartened to hear the ‘newbies’ had enjoyed it, all this cloud and rain was making me feel a bit of a Billy Liar because I’d gone on for ages saying how beautiful the place was, about the mountains and the views, I really was beginning to feel guilty.
That night some of us went to the local Chinese and had one of the best meals ever. Others went for an Italian meal. It became interesting at the end of the meal when they presented us with little pot cups because when tea was poured into the cups  a picture of a nude man or woman appeared in the bottom of the cup, now how original is that?  Jane had several cups of tea in several different cups checking all of them out, Janet on the other hand drew a blank, and all she could make out was a Turkish soldier with a fez on his head and a big gun in his hand?? My darling Janet darling you have spent far too long on The Falklands as a young lady! Perhaps you should drag Brian out from underneath his beloved Jaguar now and again and change HIS shoes!
DAY 8     TO THE GROSSGLOCKNER
It was 11.00hrs and we had covered the sixty odd miles in suspiciously clear weather, I didn’t trust it and kept looking up at the strange blue bits and white fluffy cotton.We now sat at the foot of The Grossglockner, bathed in warm sunshine, my tail was finally up! Barry said it’s a single road up and that we should stop at the summit for lunch, it was agreed, I took photos and smiled a lot, very happy at the weather, very happy indeed! We zipped up as we I set of, I was zooming away quickley to find a good spot to photograph everyone on a picturesque bend.

Mark and Chrissy

Most everybody that came around had the hugest grin on their faces. I think Brian and Janet had the hugest because they had come here several times to find it closed due to a fogged in summit……but not today! We mounted up and shot of in pursuit, We saw the usual mad European cyclists who always managed to get to the top, they must have been in first gear for hours peddling hard to reach their goal, Rotherhams Brian and Janet

I didn’t envy their effort but the feeling they had when reaching the summit must have outweighed ours by a long chalk! Janet and Jayne

We had lunch at the half way stop amongst the stuffed animals and Rossi lookalike. it was a bit misty now but warm, we pushed on as a group after this individual stage, we went through the two long tunnels reaching the far side of the first summit, it was raining a bit, which in normal circumstances would have put a damper on things but up here on The Grossglockner it had no such effect whatsoever. The road ahead.

There was snow here, it was patchy but big and deep, at the road side for instance it was over ten feet in depth. It turned quickly misty as cloud arrived and drizzled over us. Within a mile it turned really sunny and clear and dried us and the road. This is typical weather for “The Gross” I stopped at another bend with Barry and watched Tom and Michelle  lead a red Ferrari up the road, both he and the German driver had huge grins on their faces as they gunned it up the hillside, I’m very happy to report that Tom didn’t let the Ferrari get past him. Michelle mumbled“ It was great” from deep inside her full faced helmet. Oh yes this is the stuff of wet dreams! When I die I don’t want to go to heaven I want to come here!
 

                                                                    5 Men in a boat….

The very end of the road was in fantastic warm sunshine with really jaw dropping views of the Franz Joseph Glacier, along with other ice tops they are slowly melting back, global warming caused by us is blamed, but according to scientists the ice age has come and gone before, maybe this is just good old Mother Nature at work again? We spent a couple of hours here just soaking it all in and caught a few sunrays at the same time, it was wonderful. Dozens of bikers were here as usual, on every trip here over the past few years we have seen dozens of bikers, so word is getting around, we even spotted a Honda Goldwing all the way from Russia.
 We turned ourselves around for the return leg of mostly downhill turns, twists and switchbacks. I followed Mark and Chrissy who had Tom and Michelle close behind, we zoomed off down the road we were all fired up for the return leg, it was so exhilarating dashing along the spine of mountain tops at nearly ten thousand feet above sea level, huge swathes of snow sat along the road side, we rode quickly along the smooth, small but perfect road, the snow banks were about fifteen feet or more above us and just a yard or so away. Not much grass or trees here because we were way above the tree line. The rest of the guys were held back by roadworks at the summit, it almost became a hill climb speed trial in reverse for us three. We were doing really well until we hit the rain again and slowed down to a safer speed. We went through the two tunnels to emerge at the other side of the mountain range in drizzle and cloud, I was asked to take the lead  which I did and so with CB I called out “clear road” or “car coming” as we passed four coaches, our momentum increased and we skipped down very quickly all the way to the toll gates and……..bright sunshine again! Mark was coming in his pants it had been such a brilliant experience for him, Chrissy?  Well she hadn’t quite stopped yet and murmured contently for a while. Mark lit a fag like you do after such a mind blowing ride, I knew exactly how he felt from our  first time in 2005, I’m just so glad nobody arrived to challenge his moment…steal their thunder so to speak.  This day will stick with those two forever. Tom and Michelle arrived as did the rest over the next five minutes or so. Everyone was in a state of euphoria and rightly so, all the girls enjoyed the ride …..Except Adrianne.
……….“No I bloody didn’t” she replied to my question “He kept up a bloody running commentary that he was about to lose his brakes then finally said yes I’ve got no brakes now, ”the pillock, I was bloody petrified!” Oh no, his brakes failed on The Gross? What bad luck I said. At least they were safe and now he has the chance to put his bike in order. I mentally awarded the poor lass a George Cross Medal on the spot. I’m just happy to say there were no accidents and no injuries; in fact a great day was had by everyone. Tomorrow was a transit day to our next hotel at Landeck on the other side of Austria.
It seems Ian knew his brakes were worn and hadn’t bothered to get them changed, Advanced rider or not I think he has dropped a huge clanger, their old 1500 when loaded with luggage and the pair of them aboard is a challenge for decent brakes on these roads never mind worn ones, I felt them later that evening and cringed. Crisp bread was smoother. We have more sever alpine roads to explore in the second week, what on earth did he think Alpine roads were?? Perhaps he will get a new disc Fed Ex’s to the next hotel at Landeck?
…………………………………………………………Follow the continuing  write up in part 2!

                                                                                 PART  ll

DAY 9 …………MOVING TO LANDECK  VIA THE CRYSTAL FACTORY
We had breakfast, paid our bills and said goodbye to Petra, she was selling the hotel this year so this is the last time we will see her, and she has taken good care of us since 2005. We rode of in dry weather and cut through the back roads through the mountains, we intended to go on the old trunk road before the auto route was built, and had less than two hundred miles to go so an easy ride was anticipated.
We stacked up behind an old Austrian camper van labouring up the twisting road, he pulled over and waved us by as the CB cracked into life and a Scandinavian sounding voice said something, Barry asked if it was me speaking, I said it was probably the campervan, maybe he was wishing us luck. What actually happened was this…..Clive and Pat had been to Salzburg the day before, Now Pat was a great fan of “The Sound of Music” and enjoyed their visit, so much so that she was singing away to herself, she was singing songs from the film. Now then, unbeknown to her, hubbi Clive had clicked his CB switch and everyone with CB’s heard her as the campervan had moved over, I put two and two together and got five. Ooeer! So sorry Pat for mistaking your singing for an old Scandinavian campervan driver!!! Clive your rascal of a husband was to blame this time!!
On the way to Landeck we planned a lunch stop that would benefit Ian of all people. It had been billed during our preparations as “One for the ladies” It was a visit to the famous SWAROVSKI KRISTALLWELTEN. (Chrystal world) It’s the actual factory where the Chrystal is turned into works of art.  Barry thought the girls might fancy a visit, but it actually interested Ian more because he loves the stuff and has a big collection at home. So this was to be a big tick on his list of “must do’s” Well done that man!
The morning was an easy ride through villages and a few towns, the rain visited us again, we pulled over at a garage to top up with fuel and don our wet suits again. We set of into the traffic, pulling onto the auto route for a short while. There was silence on the CB and nobody was answering me, I pulled abreast of Mark in front and pointed at my ear and shook my head tapping my mike at the same time. I think he got the message. I pulled over and quickly checked the CB channel, Julie had knocked it at the last garage, I flicked it back to channel 15 and set off after the distant group, I caught up in double quick time, Mark had relayed my problem to Barry and when I stopped he guessed what I was doing. We have ridden together so much these days that t this rate he will guess when I need a pee before I do!  We soon came up to the next exit we needed to the glass factory over there on the right.
We curved round and round getting tighter and tighter on the new unpainted tarmac; these are the best and brilliant roads to hone your cornering skills! We leaned the wings over more and more, what remarkable bikes these monsters are! Mark and Chrissy had drifted purposely right across the lane as he went in a bit hot so taking a wide line. I was a few yards behind him and higher up the downward curve when I saw a big blue articulated truck with SWARVOSKI painted along the forty foot length of its trailer coming towards Mark! Just for a second only I could see what was going to happen and managed to utter just one short word then Mark saw him too and did a split S with soufflé, dipping hard onto the correct side of the road, it was a dangerous moment. God only knows what the truck driver thought; do they have the same word in Austrian? Did he even see him even? I never heard any air brakes but by now I was laughing my head off, I keyed my mike managing through my giggles to enquire after his highly entertaining manoeuvre. We parked up a minute later in the factory car park, I was still in fits of laughter, everybody looked on puzzled as he and I shared the moment, nobody else knew anything about it, Even Julie didn’t see it and Chrissy thought he was showing of a bit! He said to me after the tears of laughter and the cack in his pants dried up that he thought it was one way road and he was ever so surprised when he found himself staring at the swiftly closing chrome grill and headlights of the huge blue M.A.N truck! It made me chuckle for days after, even now it’s making me smile broadly as I re-live it. I just wish somebody else had witnessed it too. I’m glad to say once more, no accident and no injuries on this day just one forced change of underpants!

A horse…..with crystal trinkets

Most of the gang went for a look inside the visitor’s centre the rest of us had lunch and rested. Eventually they returned some had trinkets, for example Tom bought himself a pair of Chrystal earrings…don’t ask. Ian bought what he came for and spent a pretty penny too I’ll bet! It doesn’t really do anything for me so I’ll say no more.
We saddled up and pushed on towards our hotel on the Kaunertal road a few miles from the town of Landeck. It was a huge hotel that specialized in bikers in the summer and skiers in the winter, it was one of those well being hotels where they provide spas, massage and swimming for the less able folk, many in wheelchairs, it was such a huge place, the car and motorbike underground facility was second to none with garage equipment and a bike wash bay, bikers were well thought of, even down to the wash bowl and cloth at the main door to clean helmet visors! It is also the official BMW test centre for cars, we have in the past seen secret cars all masked in black tape with sensors stuck in various places, we are met by the happy Charley Kafel the hotel has been in his family for years, he is a nice bloke and always has a smile on his face, Mrs Kafel is as stunning as she is leggy. We have stayed here before so his welcome is really genuine, I also met him at the bike show at the NEC. After meeting Charly I always manage to sink a schnapps or two, even at the NEC last November! I’m sure he has it on tap. He is very bike orientated and commited, for example someone had parked their trailer in the garage, we mentioned it to Charley, the next minute it was removed and placed in the camping bay round the back. Try and get that kind of service back home! There are about six of these kinds of biker hotels in the mountains, they all work with each other, and sre  to be keen bikers themselves. Just go on Google on your PC just type in www.motorrad-hotel.com and let yourselves be introduced to a whole new world!
Everyone could see we had gone up a gear in accommodation, the food here was very VERY nice if just a bit rich sometimes, well it was for me anyway. The bar was huge, spacious and had splendid staff who paced around supplying drinks at a nod of the head.  After several nods of the head it was time to retire, our belly tanks nearly full for the night.

DAY 10….UP THE KAUNERTAL FOR AN AFTERNOON
Today we would ride The Kaunertal, and for the first time in bright blazing sunshine! But first we cleaned the bikes, the jet wash was used first to clean the worst of the muck from the wheels before lightly spraying the top side of the bikes, the car park outside filled up with drying bikes and proud men eagerly polishing their toys.

One for the ladies

Janet pulled the men from their bikes to arrange a “fat belly” photo shoot, judging by the photo there was just one who didn’t like the way he looked and sucked in his belly….Barry! The girls had to reciprocate of course which they did! The hotel guests began to appear and looked on thinking correctly that we were all mad!
One for the lads.

It wasn’t a long day on the bikes so we didn’t leave until around ten thirty, heading up the way towards the toll booths at the start of the pass road. Coming up the mountain

After that it was an invigorating ride up to the dam and the halt before the “twisties” up the mountainside.  The water at the dam was calm and green as usual, some photos were taken and once again Julie and I went up first to pick out a good spot to take photos of everyone as they came around. We led the way, within a mile I had half a dozen Germans  hard at my heels, I smiled  and  increased the speed  it was one of those passes with lots of open corners so one could plan the line up the corner and give it plenty with ease…its helps too that we have ridden this several times now. I found a good spot and pulled over, signalling early to give the guys plenty of time as to what I was doing. As they passed they did so with grins and a thumbs up, it’s nice to ride with strangers sometimes even though it’s only briefly. I can’t help but wonder what they thought as they chased us two old farts up the mountain on a “lumbering” Honda Goldwing!

Purple Pussy chases Barry (The don’t catch him of course!)

We got set up, I framed a nice backdrop and waited, it wasn’t long before we heard Barry doing a “Norman Collier” on the CB, This told me he was within a mile, perhaps less in these lower hills. Julie saw them starting their ascent far far away just as the dam stopped and the road started to twist and turn skywards. Five minutes later Barry swept by followed closely by Mark an Chrissy, they were hanging onto Barry’s tail as he showed them the ideal line to take, Tom and Michelle came next, I saw him grinning through his “Darth Vadar” helmet. Ian and Adrianne loomed up next heaving their old banger effortlessly round, Adrienne’s long blonde locks swishing wildly, “looking good” I shouted. Ian wore his handsome smile as usual, and Adrianne waved. Brian and Janet arrived, Janet was clicking away with the camera at me the cheeky mare! Brian threw their 1500 into the corner. The two trikes have no problems on these corners; in fact they probably have totally different experiences than us two wheeled folk! Clive and Pat came last taking it easy because Pat doesn’t like heights, she is ever so brave and sits on the back taking in the wonderful alpine smells and sounds, she closes her eyes when enough is enough! The top of the KAUNERTAL is not a beautiful place to visit in the summer months, quite ugly grey ang gravel pitish! There is all kind of winter equipment and building materials doted, not cleared away into compounds just left by the side of the few buildings, for sure this is one of those places that probably looks better in winter, all around, slate grey is the colour, it’s the centre for the ski activity so that’s probably why snow vehicles, bob cats and building material is in evidence. 
Last September Barry, the girls and I sat at this café and watched huge cement trucks struggle up and round  boulders as they negotiated the temporary shale tracks carved out of the mountain side, they climbed to the very top to pour their cement into the foundations of the new cable car system that we now looked at as we sat at here nine months later, we especially noted in surprise that the drivers had their cab doors wedged open in case they had to leap out! It was quite mesmerising to watch. Then pick their way around boulders as big and try to keep on the shale tracks, it was so steep and loose underfoot I’m sure we would have seen one loose control if we sat there long enough.

Standing on top of the world.

After lunch some of us took an expensive ride on the brand new cable cars to see the view from the very top. It was a fifteen minute ride in silence as the cars lifted couples to the very top of the world. We were rewarded with the most fantastic view ever ever EVER! At 3526 metres, (that’s about 10,578 feet) We stood on the snowy ridgeline and stared at wall to wall mountain tops as far as the eye could could see, we were looking at Austria Switzerland and Italy all at once, it was magnificent, clear and sunny. Tom, Barry and I stood in silence as if looking at our first naked girlfriend from our puberty years! A snowball came our way and we tramped about in one foot snow for half an hour taking it all in and taking “summit photographs”
We were blessed with clear blue skies for a while, the onset of darker clouds signalled our departure.  I think I get a bit of an idea why climbers climb mountains now; it really is worth the effort. We went back down the way we came in single unhurried order, the hotel was about ten miles down the one road, so a solitary ride back was enjoyed, Barry and Mark encountered a few brown goats on the way down, the girls took photos until they hopped over the barrier and down the side. We came across familiar rolling road blocks in the shape of grey handsome looking young cows, I pulled up behind two of them, I followed slowly as they swayed and shimmied along the road swishing their tails to and fro, I dare not squeeze past them fearing their sharp long horns, instead I turned up the volume and let Led Zep hopefully clear the way, unfortunately they liked the old rock music and just carried on, heads nodding in unison to the howling sounds of ”Black Rod”! This went on until suddenly they broke into a canter then a gallop turning and leaping the low barrier and disappearing down the side. So the next time your over here and see those triangular signs advertising cows, take heed folks they could be just around the next bend and you might not see the warning signs…piles of cow dung! Once past them we soon progressed swiftly and reached the dam, the road turned back to normal again, long and level!  We rode along the valley floor, along the last ten miles to the hotel, we parked up in the underground car park with Barry and Mark, others soon arrived back in one’s and two’s. Tea, coffee and cakes are served every afternoon around four o’clock in the bar, it’s a real treat because its free, everyone gathers in the bar grabbing a chair plonking kit in corners and tucking into the afternoon tea, “What kind of bloody bike club are we?” comes to mind again. Nearby three mature German bikers in leather and long hair have maps spread out chatting about their days ride, I looked around and saw the scene played out with couples, and small groups of older chaps on old BMW’s Then there our gang, laughing and hogging the cakes and tea! We sat outside drinking our tea staring back up the valley just managing to see the mountains in the distance, we had managed to outrun the rain for a change and saw some wondrous sights today!

 John and Lynne joined at the hip!

DAY 11……CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG DAY.
Another day of two  adventures today as the “old guard” took themselves off to Innsbruck by train whilst Barry and I escorted the “Newbies” across the wooded Fern Pass in hot sunshine, we pulled over at The Blue Lagoon for a coffee, the lake was a peaceful hue of blue green hence the name… probably. We had sprinted up the side of the mountain so now took a long glide down the other side heading towards the olde worlde town of Fussen; just on the edge was our destination, the magical white castle of SCHLOSS NEUSCHWANSTEIN (New White Stone Palace) Is a 19th century castle commissioned by Ludwig II of Bavaria as a retreat and home to his very close friend and composer, Richard Wagner, you’ll not be surprised after seeing the castle to note that the plans were drawn up by a former theatrical set designer! Work started in 1869, however just before it was completed the King was declared insane and shortly after his arrest he was found drowned in a shallow pool……along with the professor who declared him insane! Hmmmm…Apparently nobody was available from the then royal family for comment.  Oh what a mad world we live in eh?
The colourful history just adds to the lure of the place, 50 million people have visited so far from all over the planet, this works out at 1.3 million per year, plus some Appy Wanderers! We left the new guys to explore and headed back to The Fern Pass, they would make their own way back later in the day. Barry, Tina. Julie and myself stopped off at an old ruined fortress castle of Ehrenberg, the origins of which go back to 1293. we saw it on the run in earlier, we climbed the hill to the top of the ruin, history tells of invasion and counter invasion from the 1500’s onwards from the likes of Duke Meinhard II of The Tyrol, and a gang of Swedes later on, plus the French lot and then the Spanish hordes. The trouble with Ehrenberg was that the hill just four hundred yards away was higher up and each invading group had a whale of a time just lobbing projectiles down into the fortress! In 1971 a fund was set up to begin to renovate the whole place, starting with the buildings below, so up at the catle ruin itself they were just starting to renovate it. In fact the first thing we saw when we finally got to the top was a bloody orange cement mixer, two jackets and two lunch boxes belonging to the two workmen, it brought a smile to our faces! The views were worth the long hike, you could see all down the valley and could quite understand the dominating vantage point as it straddled the only road into the then Kingdom……….except for that bloody bigger hill sitting four hundred yards over there and the advent of the siege cannon! We stayed a couple of hours just chilling out in the afternoon sun and admired the views.
We returned to our two bikes and had a great ride back up and down The Fern Pass, it’s a wonderful, smooth and wide road that allowed the use of more speed than usual for a spot of “pass bashing”. Both Goldwings flew as one; the mid afternoon traffic was nearly nonexistent!  On the downward leg an Austrian local on his Suzuki GSX1100cc latched onto us and sat about thirty metres behind; I dropped into line astern and informed Barry of his presence. He sat there a few minutes looking at us with left hand on his hip. I have to admit that we got a bit mischievous at this point; it was too good to resist! I asked Barry to call if it was clear as he rounded the downhill into blind corner I duly timed it to overtake an articulated lorry on a diving blind bend! The jet jockey behind suddenly went from crouching tiger to flustered hen and sat bolt upright, “Donner Und Bltizen!” he probably said to himself I wish I could have seen his face! We did this for the next few miles, he couldn’t work out if we were completely bonkers or just plain suicidal, we four were chuckling at his dilemma, as we got to the bottom of the pass, it was here that the road began to straighten out. “It’s your turn to play with him Barry” I laughed as I waived him by. He zipped past me dropping his leg as a thank you. He squirted by Barry so quickly that his rear end snaked as the slick tyre spun up. Barry zoomed off after him as a corner approached the Austrian slowed, just around the corner was a village with restrictions, Ah So! this guy was a local and seemed quite sensible! This was probably his playground. The poor guy just could not shake us as we went through village after village, giving us time to catch up. At one point at pedestrian lights we pulled up to his back wheel side by side like a couple of highway cops! How he resisted the urge to look round I don’t know,he off he shot again rear wheel spinning up again and snaked off into the distance……until the next village! On this went for over twenty miles, he must have been beside himself, he must have heard ABBA blasting through the speakers and seen us both laughing our heads off in his mirror. We got to the roundabout at the auto route entrance slipway  he was going back up the way he came, he looked up the road at first before seeing us actually on the same roundabout as himself; he stared and waved slightly before he sped off. It was a hilarious episode. GSX man would surely not mention this episode to any of his race bike pals for fear of losing his street “cred” We two on the other hand couldn’t wait to tell everyone that night. 
The expedition by train to Innsbrook with the “old guard” was a more serene affair; they were messed around a bit by a local cycle race and nearly missed their train. I’m told by my Scottish spy that one of our ladies was taken short and had to answer a call of nature in a car park between the fence a and a fancy BMW car, Imagine the look on Herr Schmitt’s face when he not only saw a radiator leak from his brand new car but found before passing out that it tasted of fermenting liquor, he was last considering suing BMW when he leaves the clinic.

Riding into Italy

DAY 12……..THE TIMMELSJOCH  AND ANOTHER LITTLE SHOWER
A full day out on the bikes was enjoyed today by the whole group, we would explore some great landmarks in the Garmish-Parken Region, We got the boring bit out of the way first and completed the Auto route run, the highlight of this section was the ride over The Brenner Pass, we pulled over to discard some clothes as the temperatures rose, we topped our fuel tanks and set off again. We passed into Italy at a checkpoint manned by police officers dressed in reflective glasses, dark blue uniforms, high black shiny calf boots, huge flat topped hats and white webbing belts, with a pistol strapped to their hips. I remembered The Village People for some reason. We rode on past with a nod and a smile, not returned I have to say. Barry pointed out some buildings high to the left, I pointed out some concrete barriers just two yard to our left and some steel barriers two yards to our right!  We exited the auto route presently and entered the most picturesque village then went round a few times before stopping for a few minutes to consult the map. Mistress Garmin had “advised” this turn which turned out to be one junction early, the auto route passed high above the village on spectacular bridging, we rectified the mistake and rejoined the auto route, I reason that we were on an adventure and had gone a different way, not got lost, because that’s exactly what you do on holiday right? We would not have seen such a pretty village or been able to inspect the bridge from this angle otherwise. At the next junction we exited and found our little road to head into the mountains after this hour or so passing down the valley.
The first pass of the day was Italian and called The Jaufenpass, and good practice for the mother of all passes tomorrow! The over banding was typical of the region…..Plentiful and very bloody wide! It was no good trying to avoid it. The secret is to go just that bit faster and skip through it, I know it sounds mad but it works perfectly, we have seen lots of bikes over the trips up here and not one had come to grief. You see you’re not on one long strip but crossing at an angle over dozens of the buggers!  It was a wooded ride upwards and very pretty as you glanced away to the right, following this pass came the Via Passo Glovo, the trees grew less as we passed the tree line and the land turned rugged  and sparse.

A coffee and strudel break

We crested the top and ran steady amongst empty windy roads and darted in and out of a couple of tunnels, the snow sat around in high banks as it had done all the holiday on all the high passes.  Sheep and cattle kept ones’ mind  alert as they meandered around chewing the grass. We dropped down again before heading into a village and going straight back up again up the other side. We stopped at the base of the next climb and had lunch, sitting there looking up at the twisting road, it changed, first to a light grey line then a creamy white ribbon as it zig zagged upwards to disappear in the folds of the mountain, Folk were encouraged to go up on their own and stop at the top at the tea house for a breather. So off we went in dribs and drabs I ran with Barry for the first part before stopping to take in the vast views. I stood on the one foot stone parapet that was all that stood between life and oblivion and was that creamy ribbon we could see from the café way back down there. I watched the guys coming up, silent at first as the black dots turned into red, blue and black motorbikes, only on the last turn could one make out what types they were and could only hear them on the last hundred yards or so, I waved at Clive as he came by, Pat had her eyes closed again but sat smiling as he described the scenery in his gentle way. Through the pitch black tunnel we rode passing into a long gentle descent amongst lots of snow that sat banked up, it was usually well over ten feet high, I have so far resisted the urge to stick my finger in it as we zoom past it! The mountains on both sides along here were plain grey and full of slate or so they seemed, a scene of rough beauty if ever there was one. The top of The Timmelsjoch came into view and the toll booths. We posed by the flags for photographs, some mature English folk walked over to say hello and chat for a while. Everyone stuck their sticky pass badges somewhere on their bikes, all mine are in the top box, Hey look at me!

Mark bought yet another metal pin badge and emulated a veteran as he pinned it to his leather waist coat, he wondered why he was getting back ache as his weight increased. I joked that when he falls of the next time he would probably disappear in a shower of sparks with all the bleeding badges he had acquired now! Time was passing and we had miles of beautiful roads to go yet. We said our goodbyes to the old English folk and slipped down the mountainside again, we soon ran along the valley following the raging green river, we passed through several towns, I halted at some crossings to let some old folk cross, the last old boy gave me a right look followed by a right mouthful and waved his stick at me, I’m at a loss to explain his actions, maybe its “back door rider” syndrome again like with the Romanian village attack dogs on the 07 adventure? I caught up and repeated what happened, all I got in return was laughter on the CB! Barry thought we might take a detour to miss out the auto-route bit and take a “little road” that should bring us out not far from the hotel, then the rains came again.
We pulled over at a garage to don water proof gear again as it got really heavy and prolonged. A 360 at the next roundabout took us back to that little road and we began to climb upwards in pelting rain, Ian began to slow as his rear brakes began to fail again. He hadn’t done anything to fix them and consequently he slowed greatly creating a long gap between the main group and the last three bikes. Barry and Mistress Garmin were at it again and we did another 360 looking for a particular turn, we hauled around one by one still in the pouring rain, it was getting a bore now! As we got to a village Barry called out to turn left at the village, unfortunately Ian, Clive and I had just passed it. I saw it and called for Ian to turn around again, I directed him to the turn which we approached from a difficult upwards angle. I stopped to hold the traffic just a minute and to let Ian and Clive make the turn, so tight was the angle that they had to use both lanes, it was difficult but they did it. I on the other hand was in the wrong spot all together, I rode on and turned around  further down the road, all the while I could hear Barry calling, I was too busy to reply, I’m not too sure he would have liked my answer at that moment in time to be honest!  I eventually got on the right track up through a village, Barry kept calling to take the left turns up the hill, what a bloody awful pig of a road it was. There was no worry about getting lost we had map and mobile phone and was only one valley away so no worries were setting in, I was just fed up of the 360 turns, the heavy rain, and the bloody gap caused by the brakeless 1500. We rejoined the group as they sat at the top of the hillside. The rain abated as we crested the hilltop and rode on stopping briefly at a great viewing point, only it was a bit cloudy and the bleeding rain was catching up again, we pressed on down this side of the valley managing to keep ahead of the following rains. A wet end to a very exciting and exhilarating day!
The bar got some hammer from me after tea; I was in need of venting some steam after the last bit of the day’s adventure, much later I was laughing with the rest of the midnight barflies at our antics. Charley joined us from his night out in the mountains after a boy’s night out, he topped off my night with some banter and plied us with various Schnapps, I’m getting quite a taste for the stuff. By midnight I was looking forward to the next ride in the morning.
DAY 13…….. THE STELVIO IS CALLING
For me this will be the day of days on this adventure because it’s such a magnificent achievement and quite a technical pass to do especially on a Honda Goldwing. That’s not official it’s just my opinion OK?  It just has to be done; we had planned to do it on the last day in order that everyone had lots of practice on lesser passes.
Once again a nice sunny day graced our company as we headed down into the valley and turned left towards Italy again, the lake at St Valentin meant we were on the correct road, the checkpoint came and went without any problems they just stood and observed, clearly we were not their target today.  We passed dozens of farmers harvesting the long grass, they used a two wheeled shearer with a little motor on top that made short work of the grass, girls and young boys gathered the cut grass. It was a huge gentle valley that pushed a strong breeze into our faces, it made it hard to hear the words on the CB but hey what nice scenery and the turn was miles away! The miles were reeled in and Tina got her wish finally. To stop in the walled village of Prato alla Stelvio. It was a very Italian place with light brown high walled buildings that looked somewhat ancient and unlived in, we spread out and explored, Julie and I sat by the river and had a drink, others arrived in dribs and drabs we sat around chatting, we then had a stroll round the sleepy back roads of the village taking plenty of photos, we were just like Japanese tourists for God’s sake! A look at the clock meant it was time to go back to the bikes. Those who had arrived early back at the bikes had found some cherry trees and were busily stuffing themselves whilst waiting for everyone else. Clive and Pat decided to stay in the village giving The Stelvio a miss.
We rode through the village, passing slowly through the busy square I stopped to let some people cross when it happened again, this old dear scowled at me as she crossed and gave me a mouthful. I have no music on, I’m smiling at her and definitely NOT saluting, is it the colour of the bike or what?
Five miles or so further on and a last pep talk about the road ahead, and it was time for everyone to go explore again, we’d agreed to meet at the hotel halfway up, suddenly a couple of GoldWings came past. They were English, they smiled and waved, Barry knew them, he shouted “See you at the top” Everyone set off at their own pace, as back door man I would wait five minutes before setting off, Julie and I sat twiddling thumbs for what seemed like twenty minutes before moving off, not ten minutes later the bloody rains visited yet again! We passed Mark and Chrissy as they donned their jackets, within minutes he was on my tail and far too close for the difficult bends ahead, I asked him to  fu…I mean go on ahead of us. Which he did rather too eagerly, a bit like a young oss at his first jumps I guess. Tom whipped his black beauty by me in fine style Michelle’s little hand waved as they passed, I’m sure he was glad he wasn’t on one of his prized scooters today, he’d probably end up carrying it! The first part of The Stelvio is full of steep angled corners with views obscured making it very hard for our girls to declare the road clear or not. The Stelvio zig zags  are so tight and steeply cambered that you have to approach  from the opposite side of the road in order to make the turn, going in slowly then gunning it going in the opposite direction upwards  exiting on the correct side of the road, gunning it because the steep camber tries to pull you down into the storm gutter! it’s a really good idea for the girls to look up high over their shoulder and shout “clear” or “car” or “can’t see”  If its “car” or “can’t see” then you need to stop or slow before attempting the turn, otherwise you simply won’t get round! On the wooded lower section it’s often “can’t see” as trees, supporting walls and bloody grass got in the way!  By the time I got to the half way point everyone was there ok and ordering drinks whilst staring at the now familiar zig sagging thread of ribbon that disappeared over the distant snow covered top away in the distance. It looked quite daunting to me the first time I rode it in 2005 so I knew what the first timers where thinking as they gazed up.
After a few coffee’s it was time to complete the final leg, again folk set off in singles, we sat and watched as they roared away up the mountain side, we set of behind Mark and Chrissy, he had slowed going into the corners and was making better progress, both Chrissy and Julie were doing a great job….until Chrissy missed a bike coming down and Mark found himself head on with a vehicle, luckily it was just a motorbike  he slowed right down and managed to cut right back inside, both bikes passed, the German and I exchanged glances and smiled. It’s easy to do and isn’t a great drama after all when it’s two bikes. The girls both spotted a Marmot dashing along the top of a supporting wall, these are a lot like beavers in size and shape and live in the Alps. We zip past a lorry as it groans its way up the pass – we wait for a short straight bit before doing squirting past him. The top is in sight with just one bend to negotiate, which we do especially easily after the last couple of dozen!

The view from the top of the STELVIO

At the top is a plethora of European bikers looking very pleased with themselves, I sat on the wall and just looked back down the valley at where we had come, no matter how many times I do this run it still makes me look back in awe, people were mooching about the few tatty shops all selling pretty much the same things, everything had STELVIO printed on it somewhere, it’s getting quite tatty these days  and in need of a refurb, and the café that served up the lunch wants blowing off the face of the Earth, the food was bloody disgusting. “Lurch” the waiter had problems stringing his words together and ought to return to rehab; the next time I do this I will be taking a packed lunch….it’s not the money!

OK, so try the STELVIO on this then!

Amongst the people milling about here was Englishman John Kent and a few of his friends on their wings he runs tours too and is an old friend of Barry’s. He was the guy we saw at the very bottom of the mountain. After everyone bought stickers and stuff we set off down the other side heading towards Switzerland.
It was a more serene affair going down this way. The Umbrail Pass was more serene compared to the previous accent up The Stelvio but still a ride that demanded skill and good brakes…..Something that Ian didn’t have, I mentally awarded poor Adrianne her second George Cross of the tour for bravery above and beyond!  We turned off the tarmac part way down and rode across compacted gravel ,half way down this minor road we entered Switzerland, Ian slowed right down again and I stayed behind him just in case and called to Barry who by now was way ahead down the mountainside. Fortune was on Ian’s side as we made it to warm sticky tarmac; the rest of the group had waited for us as we closed with them a mile further on at a village.
The Offen Pass was our next point of interest, it wasn’t half as difficult as the previous ones, the road was wider and the corners were open, no walls or trees to obscure visibility. They were still tight and the inside of the corners fell away sharply as usual demanding good throttle and clutch co-ordination. The group wound itself upwards; the girls took pictures and sometimes waved to the others on the bends below then it happened.
From thirty yards away I saw Mark flatten the corner of the uphill right hander and slow down to a stop he put his right foot down but he had at least two foot of air between his foot and the ground, the wing just keeled over slowly like a shot Elephant, I was calling “Bike down “before it hit the ground, which it did, it rolled further over as it hit the gully of the storm drain, Chrissy was dumped on her arse in the dust. Ian filmed it as he rode by? I stopped the bike and ran up the last couple of yards, Tom saw it as he was just in front, he came running back down the road, Julie stood at our bike watching for traffic. Chrissy was struggling to move, One of the short flagpoles had gone through the loop on her jeans and pinned her to the floor, Mark was flapping about a bit and still plugged in, I thought he’d do a John Harvey! I  unplugged him and sent him round to the other side of the bike, We had pulled Chrissy from her impalement and I looked her bum over carefully, it was fine, VERY fine! She stood with Julie, dusting her jeans down as Tom, Mark and I shoved the bike back up, I stabbed my foot under the back wheel as Tom now stood with his back to the bike holding it, I told Mark to bang it in gear quickly, his adrenalin was flowing hard as he bounced hard on the gear lever and broke it off!  “Oh fuck, its broke off!” he shouted. “No, silly bollox I meant like this” and leaned forward to press the reverse button, we then got the side stand down and relaxed. Barry arrived from up the hill and checked over the bike, as we checked Mark over, both seemed OK, the bruises would appear in 24 hrs no doubt  At least it had been a nil mile an hour get off, although on this occasion  they tumbled a longer distance than normal. The bike seemed rideable in spite of Mark kicking off most of the poor bloody gear changer! Our next stop was just half a mile  or so at the top of the pass, once there we looked underneath properly this time and find not a single mark, no oil drips, no anything, just some damage to the paintwork and the decapitated gear changer of course!
Both Mark and Chrissy had escaped the spill with bruising and dented pride, Mark says it all began to go wrong when he missed a gear on the corner. It is a big learning curve on these special Alpine roads, there is nowhere in the UK that one can get any practice on. Mark hadn’t ridden for a number of years and had only recently acquired his Goldwing, his personal learning curve was perhaps the steepest and for sure he has probably made the most progress in the skills department out of all of us. I hope he learns from his mistakes and manages keeps the faith.
 The rains visit us again at the top of this pass; it was becoming a daily event now this week to see some heavy rain by late afternoon. We gathered ourselves and donned wet gear once again for the long downwards ride towards the Austrian border about an hour away. It was a gradual descent along this crumbling road, it jinked left and right as it hugged the mountains, we could see brighter weather ahead but we just turned and twisted around the mountains and this kept us under the grey hazy blanket that slowly drifted from right to left. The road works didn’t help either, last August it was just the same. The Italians don’t seem to have the same energy when repairing the roads as the Germans and Austrians do, the road became a river of water as we slowed yet again at the back due to you know who! The gap grew bigger and bigger as we tottered on at a slow pace, a  Mercedes Benz cement mixer came close to my arse we were going so slow, I knew it was a Merc and that he was really close for a while because I could see the big badge in my mirror! The border came into view and the 1500’s topped up again at the garage for the short run home on the auto route. I awarded Adrienne another George Cross. I firmly refute Ian’s claim to be an advanced rider and if he mentions it again I’ll shove his shagged out brake disc where the sun doesn’t shine! Let me see that handsome smile now you bugger! We got back to the hotel having missed tea and cakes, Oh no!  Dinner was snaffled early and seats grabbed in the bar, the days’ events were re-run over and over again, especially the tumble of the “Purple Pussy” What an exciting day we had, it was a long and enjoyable ride with an unfortunate incident but most of all we were all OK.
DAY 14….. TO DO NOT A LOT
This was a free day to do not a lot, some drifted down into the village, others went further to the town of Landeck, the rest of us explored the beauty spot we visited briefly a few days back before being chased along by heavy rain clouds.
Today started off in fine style as usual clear blue skies and warm rays of sunshine bathed us. Julie and I found the spot again high up the mountain side the views were the usual fantastic long spectacles that went on for miles and miles, we stayed an hour looking down in silence and wishing we lived with such views, but then if we did we would have nowhere to ride our bikes to would we?A view point somewhere high above the hotel
We took a different route down to the local village of Prutz and filled up the bike ready for the next day’s journey back up to our overnighter in Germany. We had one last blast back up the valley to the hotel, this time in plenty of time for tea and cakes, I picked a spot out of the way in a corner and began to convert the daily scribbles into notes in preparation for the last supper tomorrow. When I’d done this Barry joined me and we sat chatting about the holiday, both agreed it went very well in spite of the inconvenient wet periods, we both crossed fingers for a dry run in the morning. Dinner was had for the last time here. I was craving for some bacon sarnies, all this fine food was splendid but not really my cup of tea, in fact an old German lady said to me back in Berchtesgaden over breakfast that their bacon was so thin it was rubbish and that the English made far better bacon! How right she is.
DAY 15…….THE RIDE HOME PART 1
It was around nine when we left the hotel for the last time and headed for the auto route at the village down the valley, we slipped quickly up the slip road onto it in the early morning sunshine, the traffic was light and we were making good time, we headed up and over the Fern Pass, well, we would have done but the fekkin rains arrived again! We donned rain suits and headed of down the side with now customary huge gap between “HIM” (Captain Caos) and the group, me as usual sticking with him, keeping an eye from behind and reporting our progress to Barry. We finally got together about 6 miles up the road, this was to be the cross country bit to reach the auto route, once on it we just had to eat about two hundred miles. Our riding on the auto route by now was precise and perfect, we had ridden together so much in two weeks now that we felt very comfortable with ourselves, from the back it looked really polished, only broken now and again by the big black German 4×4’s. Only this time we moved around the lanes in near silence at time, the CB was quite redundant at times Just Barry calling out the occasional increase in speed  and getting my update of the rear.
We saw huge bilious looking clouds all day dark blue and dark grey, in the distance they looked a shade purple, we managed to avoid most of it, in fact we discarded the wet gear at one petrol stop. We were close to our final exit when the weather turned really muggy and hot, the temperature turned 30 degrees, we came off a junction early due to road works and worked our way to the same halfway hotel as two weeks earlier.

                                                     One last viewpoint over Landeck

It was a shorter transit day and boy were we glad of it, it was getting really close and uncomfortable. The first thing we did upon arrival was to have a cool shower before gathering on the patio to replenish our body liquids, the winds began to blow as the impending storm got closer, here we go again we thought, another late afternoon bloody drenching at the end of the day! Only today it skirted around us and we relaxed.
The last supper was a night of joviality and was becoming a tradition with our novelty prize giving for great deeds. For example Mark got 1st prize for crashing. Our Scottish heathens Steve and Jane got a prize for finally becoming Englishified. Brian got one for a faultless two week of group riding. Tom got one for the huge transition he’s made from the scooter to the Honda Goldwing. Adrienne got a chest full of medal for being the bravest woman of the tour. Even I got something,I got some new yellow rubber gloves. I had brought some enormous heavy duty gloves that I pulled on every time the rain turned nasty (several times unfortunately) I could only pull them on if I pointed each arm skywards and pulled hard on the rubber gauntlet pulling it all the way up my arm pits, they may have been a tad too long I’ll grant you that but they kept me warm and dry…except for the sweaty arms!  As is the tradition I gave this log its first and only airing in its raw, adult and uncut version, nobody was spared a good slagging off as I got into top gear and told lie after lie! Everyone took it as intended, laughing and pointed at victims as I went round the room with the hatchet, daring to say what people thought but dare not say. I can be so rude and outrageous I know but the laughter just seems to egg me on, folk had tears streaming down their faces. I’d like to sit down and listen to myself one day, I bet I’m funny.

Telling the adult version of the LOG

DAY 16……THE RIDE HOME PART II
Barry thought we ought to leave early for the 360 odd miles ride to the ferry at Rotterdam, he reasoned that we might get the heavy rains again, heavy traffic on Saturday  especially around the likes of Frankfurt, and that we couldn’t afford to be late, the ferry won’t wait. I agreed completely because he’s perfectly correct of course;  a lot could happen in 360 miles. As it happens not a single hitch tripped us up!  We rode on fast flowing roads and made brilliant progress at good speeds. We were nearly riding like Germans! We arrived at Rotterdam in plenty of time, and found the terminal with unprecedented ease, in fact we were so early the check in booths were still shut when we landed. People got settled in groups and waited, a few of us hopped across to the pub and had refreshments,  other bikes arrived and we began to compare adventures as bikers always do. I spoke with an English couple who had been exploring Norway, I keep hearing about bike riding in Norway it sounds quite tempting! This couple live just ten miles from us, I promise to drop by and get more information from them. 
We were waived towards the ferry, by the Dutch traffic handlers; it was a stress free time on this newer ferry, lashing the bikes in grime free and well lit conditions was a pleasure. We were at the outdoor bar in no time at the stern, musing over the day, “Sods law” stayed away today as did the customary rains!
I always get sad about this period in time, it’s been a roller coaster of high dips for two weeks and now it was over. All the planning over the previous six months, the frequent meetings with Barry to sort out ideas and routes, all the chokkie biscuits and tea (thank you Tina) all done and dusted, I was tired too, very tired and quite glad  to see the back of it all for a while at least. I’m afraid I’m not the best of company on the last night!

Next morning at the dockside in Hull we kiss and shake hands for the last time for now at least. it’s been really good to meet old and new friends, I say goodbye to Barry and hope never to hear him for at least 24 hours!!!  …..T2 to T1, signing off!
                                                                     

 Barry says, untilthenextimethen

                                                       tillthenextime……… The Scribe  

PS

I would just like to thank Steve an Jane / Brian an Janet / Mark an Chrissy, for the extra photo’s. x