Andy B – Ducati 916.
Jo – Yamaha 535 Virago.
Lindsey – Yamaha 600 Fazer
Myself – BMW R1150GS.
Holiday time. Down to Jo and Andy’s then off in the blazing rain to Hull. Check in, on the boat, bikes fastened down, riding kit dumped in cabin. Bar. Yummy. Big nosh then more beer and, at last, sleep.
Special rain making machine at Hull. We wondered where it was all coming from.
Off the boat at Zeebrugge at the ridiculously early time of 9:00am. Then off down through Belgium and into France, it's all very flat and boring so we stick to the motorways for a while before finding some slightly less boring A roads. The weather is nice and sunny to start with but that soon changes and we're into some rain as we head south - the exact opposite from that predicted by the weather people.
Romilly Pizza Place - deep joy, food and beer.
And thus to our first camp at Romilly. Not the best I've ever seen but not the worst either and it's only an overnight stop on the way to the good bits. Although standing under the trees, coffee in hand (no beer and no shop, not good) and watching the rain lashing down was starting to wear at our optimism. After a while the sun came out and we took a walk into the village, and there, like a ray of golden sunlight, a sign pointing us to salvation in the form of a superb pizza restaurant. This sorts us out with food and beer which always makes for happy bikers.
We get back to the campsite feeling much more content with ourselves.
We start off in cloud, get some bits of rain, lost occasionally and find most of France closed, most depressing, and a bit worrying when two of the bikes are running on fumes after a hundred miles. We get into the Massif Central, the roads start to twist, the sun comes out and the temperature goes up. The game is on.
The campsite at Chambon du Lac is brilliant and we're soon parked up and pitched up, however due to the lack of open shops and the scary cost of beer in restaurants we ain’t gonna get pissed up! So while Andy, Jo and Lindsey settle down at a restaurant for a meal I go walkabout with my camera to try and capture the evening sunlight, by the time I've finished snapping they have finished eating and I join them all for a beer or two. We're all knackered but glad to be here so another early night won't do us any harm.
We're awake at a more sensible time today. A walk to the village finds shops open and a chance for us to stock up for breakfast and tea.
By midday Andy and Jo take off for a ride into the hills, Lindsey and I take a more sedate option and go for a walk around the lake. It's really quite stunning but also very touristy (inevitable really) but quiet once your a couple of hundred metres from the car parks (which I guess just goes to show people are idle the world over).
Le Mont Dor, no pictures of the journey over because it was too much fun to stop.
By mid afternoon Jo and Andy are back with tales of a stunning twisty road and cable car rides. The temptation is too much, Lindsey and I set off with good intentions of taking it easy. This soon goes AWOL as we give in to temptation and start to enjoy the ride, think Penrith to Hartside but loads more fun mixed with bits of The Mountain. If your down that-a-way it's the 996 from Chambon-s-Lac to Le Mont Dor.
We then finish off, what feels like my first day of holiday, with a picnic tea with lots of wine, beer and mindless gibbering. Hic.
A happy man fondles with his still healthy Ducati.
Time to move on so we say bye-bye to Chambon and set off towards Meyrueis in des Cevennes.
Initially we stick to the A75 motorway, which is pretty cool, even though I usually hate motorways. It curves nicely every so often (signed Motos for some reason) and it allows me to gawp at the views. Ace fun, and coming down from the Massif we ride into a wall of heat - Oh my god, what have we let ourselves in for.
Some ace fun as it turns out. The A106 to Mende and then Florac is a beaut, it twists and turns through some stunning scenary and then the final section descending to Florac is orgasmic, corner after corner of motorcycling joy. So we all bugger off to play leaving Jo on the Virago to catch up in her own time. All but the best driven cars are readily despatched with a twist of the wrist (the good ones can be viewed as mobile hazard warning devices) and at last I get a chance to finally realise why people rant about the handling of GS's. I know the luggage is there because I can see bits of it in my mirrors but it's not spoiling my fun at all, overbanding and bits of loose stuff need some occational last second changes of line, the boxer does it all without complaint or concern. At one point I pass Andy on the Ducati going back up to do it all again.
Meyrueis
From Florac to Meyrueis the road shrinks to a small twisty B road full of potholes, gravel, overbanding and hairpins, but wonderfully scenic. It's not fast and causes some concern but I quite enjoy it.
The original planned campsite at Meyrueis is full. So is the second - our own daft fault for turning up too late. Just as stress levels are starting to rise to explosive levels we find another site a mile back up the road. Sorted. We've stocked up with beer and have emergency food so it turns into a most pleasant evening till some killjoy cyclists complain about us talking. Well it was nearly 10:30!!! Miserable gits. Still if I was stupid enough to be touring by pushbike in a mountainous region in that heat I might want to make an early start too.
We decide to stay where we are for the day and do some exploring which lead us to la Grotte De Dargilan. These are some caves which besides been generally wowish are also some 20 deg C cooler, a major selling point in this heat. Once inside though I can’t help but be impressed, the main cavern is huge, but I can’t quite convince myself it isn’t going to collapse, that much weight and clear span just should not work.
Deep in the caves.
But no sign of Gollum, I guess he's now in Hollywood looking rich
and getting gobbled senseless by eager young actresses desperate
to make it into the big time.
A pleasant hour or two is spent here before returning to Meyrueis for a mooch about, a cool beer and a bite to eat.
In fact it was so nice we walk back into the village for our evening nosh and a couple more beers. There is definitely something to be said for European pavement café-culture, eating, drinking and watching the world go by. The fact that it is still shorts and t-shirt warm at 10:30 may have something to do with it though.
Andy wanted a red Ducati really...
Off to the deep south today. The road from Meyrueis to the motorway is a canyon road and is possibly best described as "fookin ace". It is everything you could expect a canyon road to be; fast, twisty, sod-all run off, little traffic and extremely good fun. We play nicely. Sort of.
Once on the onto the motorway we start to pick up traffic and it gets busier and hotter. By the time we reach Vairas-Plage (near Beziers) we roasting but fortunately have no trouble getting onto the site, which is huge, and are soon settled in and enjoying a beer.
... on the beach ...
Well, we're on the mediterranean coast and only a short walk from the beach, it would seem silly not to go for a splash about and possibly even a swim. Brilliant, I've rode to the south of France and been swimming in the Med, I'm a happy man. The rest of the evening is spent eating and drinking; a couple of beers on the beach, a couple more by the tent, a feed at the site restaurant and then a couple more beers for good measure.
On the downside Andy's Ducati is having problems and seems to be eating it's cush drive and chain adjuster leaving a trail of metal fillings - you could possibly retrace our route with a metal detector. We bash the offending article back in and hope for the best.
Care and maintenance of your Ducati. Note the socket driver used as a hammer.
We decide to head for the Piranees and to save time plonk for the motorways. It's stupid hot but at least we're making good time however the Ducati is still indulging in a little self-cannibalism leading to concern if not outright paranoia.
The campsite is quickly found just about 10 miles east of St. Girons, it's ok but with far too little shade for these conditions. I'm so hot I've lost the plot and can't remember getting there, this is partially fixed with a dip in the pool and a couple of beers. But I’m still suffering, the pool is full of kids and the beer is hot having sat in a pannier all day.
It's so hot, and the site so boring I'm reduced to photographing butterflies
Andy's now very concerned about the bike, Lindsey and I are very concerned about the heat, so we all decide to head north tomorrow and see if we can get into Moto Dordogne in the hope that a) it’s cooler, and b) we can find some tools to beat the Ducati with.
We await with bated breath for tomorrows exciting episode...
We manage earlyish start but it's still crazy hot. In order to cover the miles we end up on the motorways yet again, where we discover the secret of motorcycling air con. At every stop pour cold water over your head and t-shirt, you then end up with a nice cooling sensation around your chest. It's only seems to last about 50 or so miles but it glorious while it does.
Then we're off the motorway and on the backroads for a few miles of well deserved sillyness before diving into Gourdon and a stop at the first café we see for a long and leisurely salad lunch and a few cold lemonades.
A few more miles and, after a few false starts, we find Moto Dordogne at the end of a sniggly, gravel covered lane. Everybody is too hot and cranky so I ride about to find the reception. It's at the back of the bar and the first thing the man says, after I've spluttered something incomprehensible in French, is "Would you like a cold beer?"
Hell Yes!!!
This chills everyone out a bit and I can't control a manic grin, it's like the most civilised rally site imaginable. You find yourselves a spot and pitch your tent on a shady wooded terraced area, 3 course menu available, for 30 Euro you get a beer card (saves buggering about with change), stay as long as you like and pay on the way out.
Feeding time at the Moto site.
Once pitched we go for a cooling dip in the pool and have a general frolic. It is heaven; no kids, no aggrevation, plenty of floaty toys and at a most pleasant 27 deg C.
After which Andy and me ride into Gourdon again to visit the marche and tabac, it's so hot we go all continental and do it in jeans and t-shirts. I know, I know but we took it easy, well on the way there anyway. Any rumours of 110mph sillyness are of course greatly exaggerated and should be treat with suspicion.
Then it's back to the bar for eats and drinks, they are playing Van Morrison and Bruce Springsteen, it's now just pleasantly hot and the atmosphere is perfect. I think we will stay here a while.
We have a lazy sort of day.
Andy, Jo and I have a walk around midday (mad dogs and Englishmen) and I take few pictures, it's extremely hot and we see very few other people, must likely because they have more sense.
After this bit of typical English stupidity we join Lindsey to spend the rest of the day either lounging in the shade at the bar with a beer or, when we get too hot, having a dip in the pool.
It's a dirty job but somebody has got to do it.
And that more or less sums up the day but when the temperature is in the mid 40s and the pool a positively chilly 27 what else can you do?
Jo attempts something un-natural with an inflatable turtle.
Another hot day, this is getting tiresome! Still that’s life.
Lindsey doesn’t feel like riding so we set off two up earlyish to visit a Chateau. It's a beautiful building but internally the display is all dedicated to one Josephine Baker, music hall star of that parish from the twenties, interesting all the same but just not what I had expected. We finish our tour and head for the courtyard cafe for a lemonade in the shade - it's now seriously hot.
The ride back is sweltering made worse by me switching the heated grips on - yeah, yeah, fuckwit and all that - but we do get back to the site intact, then leaving the jackets in the tents and the girls by the pool, Andy and I set off for Gourdon for some essential provisions.
Man is it hot, in jeans and t-shirt the radiant heat on your arms is frightening and the faster you go the hotter it gets, visors are best kept down or your eyeballs bake. By the time we're there I'm wishing I'd put my jacket on to keep some of the heat off.
We pull up in the town centre in time to see a notice board announce it's now 50 deg C. Bloody hell, I'm usually overheating at 20!
So it back to the site, deposit some beer in the A-Bell Acme Beer Cooler (top box containing a binbag full of cold water) and then arse about with bottles of water down the strides and that kind of stuff before we go for a dip in the pool.
Dealing with extreme heat; A-Bell method No 1. - chilled nuts
Absolute luxury. Then a sit in the shade with a cold beer - a process that can be, and is, repeated for the remainder of the day.
Unfortunately an early night is called for as we plan to be on the road by 7:00am tomorrow to avoid the worst of the heat. On the plus side though Andy's bodge with some cable ties seems to have persuaded the Ducati to stop eating itself.
It will be a shame to leave Moto Dordogne, it is without doubt the best campsite I have ever visited.
Well we don't actually get off the site till 7:30 but I suppose that's not too bad. The first bit is in glorious cool air then, a couple of miles before Gourdon, the sun appears above the trees and you can feel the temperature rising by the minute - literally.
By the time we've gassed up we're already too hot, thankfully once on the motorway things are tolerable at about 80mph but stopping at peages to collect/pay for tickets or to fuel up is seriously hard work. It's possibly slightly cooler than yesterday, say mid to high 40's.
Our destination today is the Loirre district, at a campsite just outside Cheverny. We get in easy enough and find a pitch, they have a pool, which is good, but on the downside it's a "family" site so therefore full of kids and chlorine for when the little bastards piss in it.
Evening, Andy, Jo and Lindsey go to the site restaurant for a 3 courser, I can't eat in this heat so lounge at the tent and read till the temperature drops enough to allow sleep.
Another day, another scorcher. Lindsey and I set off in search of supplies and some engine oil because true to form the boxer is guzzling a bit. No joy in Cheverny so we ride north to Blois where we find a supermarket and a Honda dealer which sorts out our woes.
Jo and Andy go visiting another Chateaux but we're too hot and head straight for the pool. Then a beer. Then another swim, then another beer and so on. It's a hard life....
The only real excitement we had on Wednesday. Well the sound of it woke us from our drunken stupors.
North again, this time towards the north coast for our last nights camp of the trip. It's mostly motorways but on the positive side it's much cooler than it has been which makes for a much more pleasant ride.
The first planned campsite just outside St Valery sur-Somme is full, shame it looked like a nice place. The next we try is also full, but it's also full of shits if you see what I mean. I would not have been happy to leave the bikes unattended there. All the same it is enough to fray tempers and instigate all sorts of they-don’t-want-us-cos-we’re-bikers/only-staying-one-night paranoia.
We land 3rd time lucky at a place Ault, think "Willington by the Sea", the site is fine though. We eventually find an open shop and stock up on bread, cheese and beer. The latter I drink while the rest risk eating out on unidentified foodstuffs.
Most toddlers in Ault seem to prefer Ducatis and soon are having there photos taken in front of it, I guess they know nothing of cush drives, speedo cables of neutral lights. There again neither does Ducati.
Later ... pleasantly drunk at Ault.
Another pleasant cool sort of day and another tedious ride across the north of France and Belgium to Zeebrugge.
The journey is uneventful except for Jo running onto reserve at 120+ miles, about 5 miles from the nearest motorway service station - the last one been 120 odd miles before! Let this be a warning to you, there are fuck all gas stations on the motorway across northern France.
We land at Zeebrugge an hour or so before we can board so spend the time in the cafe. And it is about this point we meet Mat who has been touring on his ZX9, his jacket had been pinched by some light fingered local leading to Mat riding in t-shirt and acquiring some really impressive sunburn.
Once on board we all head for the bar and get well pissed up. A good night and perfect end to the holiday.
Off the boat at 8:ish and off for home.
Good holiday - roll on next year.
After over 2200 miles across assorted roads types and traffic conditions from twisties to motorways, to busy towns and in some extreme temperatures (high 40s and at least once 50degC) we can report that you can tour on anything.
Although some are better than others.
Still nothing went terminal, they all started whenever they where asked to do so, no-one needed an osteopath at the end of a long days ride and all bikes where capable of carrying their share of the luggage.
The Fazer
The Virago
The R1150GS
The 916