Aug 2008 Distance: 3'300km Vehicle: Honda Deauville 650
This was my first trip even on a motorbike. First trip ever generally means bad planning, wrong luggage, too much luggage, got lost on the way, almost run out of petrol, too many kilometers per day etc. etc. Generally it was a poorly planned trip but a trip that will stay in my memory as "the inauguration of my biking trips" for ever. Having only 20 hours of experience on two wheels (2 day training course and half a day when I sat the driving licence) I really had no idea how to ride a bike... It takes tens of thousands of kilometers of riding before one can say that they are confident. Me, being an overconfident newby, something I only realise now, was a good recipe for setting off in such an endeavor. In the end all went well, we all got back in one piece and most importantly we all had fun. The bad planning of the trip was overestimating how many kilometers a newby can ride in one day. When you plan a trip, please keep it to a max of 400km per day, otherwise you might end up driving from dusk till dawn, unless you are riding in Le Mans which is done for this exact purpose. If you want to do some sight seeing on the way then the 400km mark is a good start when planning.
A few weeks before the trip we tested our skills by renting a bike for the weekend and going for a ride. The pictures below depict me on a Suzuki GSX, or what I would now call a "very uncomfortable bike". This bike is made for racing and not for touring, definitely not the bike you want to use to go around France. It doesn't even have space for a water bottle for heaven's sake.
A few weeks before the trip we tested our skills by renting a bike for the weekend and going for a ride. The pictures below depict me on a Suzuki GSX, or what I would now call a "very uncomfortable bike". This bike is made for racing and not for touring, definitely not the bike you want to use to go around France. It doesn't even have space for a water bottle for heaven's sake.
Honda Deauville 650
Marco (work colleague and neighbour at AKT) had already been driving for a few years on a bike starting in his teenage years. I had, as mentioned, 20 hours of bike riding experience (sounds like a recipe for disaster). We both rented a bike, mine was a Honda Deauville 650 which is not a bad touring bike for a beginner. I put my partner at the time on the back seat and rode off on 233kg bike + petrol + two passengers + luggage = ca. 415kg, now that was a heavy bike to start off with. We had booked all accommodation on the way and had a rough idea of what we were going to see. We finished work on a Friday, went to the rental shop, picked up our bikes, I connected my gps to the battery and off we were. First stop: Folkestone to catch the train to Callais. I received a phone call from Marco stating that his bike had broken down in the middle of the higway and was wating for the AA to resque him. I boarded the Eurotunnel service to France and waited for him at the other side of the English Channel. By Friday night we were both in Calais, remembered that here they drive on the right, and checked in at our hotel. Starting off with nice weather in London we were disappointed when horizontal rain hit us in the north of France the next day. It felt like we were driving at a 25 Degree angle to keep the balance. Being a novice driver this was well above my comfort zone. I started overtaking a truck on the way, where the wind abruptly stopped while overtaking, only realising that this invisible force called wind would pick up right after overtaking the truck. The wind hit me like a slap on the head and I nearly fell off the bike. I now knew that when overtaking one should lean into the wind right after overshooting a vehicle, especially a truck. Good lesson learnt there. The human brain adapts very fast in every situation and something new soon becane routine. After a 200km ride we found ourselves in Rouen where one can admire the Cathedral, a masterpiece in Gothic Architecture. When riding a bike for a long time I think all riders will relate to the fact that one gets back pain. I bit through the first long trip to Rouen, but did not like the rest of the trip on that day. We had to ride another 300km to Tours, where my back complained all the way. In Tours there is another Gothic Cathedral to admire. It was now Saturday evening.
We woke up on Sunday morning ready for more adventure. 30km to the East of Tours is a village called Amboise. There one will find Clos Luce, haven't heard of it? Neither had I. This is where Leonardo da Vinci lived the last 3 years of his life and where he died in 1519, having been invited to stay there by King Francis. The castle today is a museum exhibiting many of Leonardo's designs, manuscripts, and replicas of his inventions. Leonardo did offer Francis his Mona Lisa painting as a present, this is why the painting now is exhibited in the Louvre. If engineering is in your interests this is definitely a place to visit. I would call it an infamous castle with a very famous inhabitant.
After Amboise we set off direction Montpellier, the highlight on the way being the Millau Viaduct. Checking my gps it said: Montpellier 400km, doesn't sound too bad... how wrong I was. We decided to deviate from the motorway and practice our bike-leaning skills on country roads, that's what bikes are made for. Driving on a highway with a few stops can make you put ca. 100 to 120km per hour behind you. Driving on country roads sets this number to below 50km/hr average speed, including stop-start every time you enter a village or if you find [insert swearword] camper vans with German or Dutch numberplates in front of you. These vehicles should just be baned. Listen Mr Frog, Mr. Clog and Mr. Kraut (too much slang? click here) take your vehicle, leave it in the garage, don't forget to pay road tax so we can all enjoy good tarmac, and for heaven's sake book a hotel, it's cheaper than your 50'000 camper van for crying out loud (there I said it). We did encounter these long, strange looking, usually white vehicles on twisty and windy roads which made the trip ever so slow. The worst is when you risk your life to dangerously overtake on a tight curve one of these hideously looking abominations, an hour later have a pit stop for petrol/bludder-pressure-relief/snack etc. only to find out that this Mr Frog/Clog/Kraut (whatever the case might be) just caught up with you, is at the same petrol station filling up, leaves 2 min before you, and there you go again, you have to overtake him on another blind curve and risk your life. OK I'm not a Nazi but these people should be put to sleep once and for all, or use the highway and leave country roads to drivers who actually enjoy them [now back to the story].
As I said, my gps stated "400km to Montpellier" and that was a damn right lie. It was actually 400km in a straight like and last time I checked my bike did not have wings. When I pressed "go" on my gps it calculated the route and stated "destination in 658km, after 632km please turn right!" WHAAAAAT! I did not sign up for this! We had booked all our hotels on the way so any deviation or change of plan would just inflict extra costs to our already broke bank accounts. I didn't quite believe the 658km claim, I though that maybe there was a mistake or maybe I directed the gps to our next hotel in Nice. My fears were unfortunately confirmed by the first sign on the way that stated "Montepllier 650km". My face turned pale when I saw that. Anyway, we had to rev it. Knowing now that highways were much faster than county roads we decided to stick on the French motorway till Montpellier. There is always a good side in every bad encounter, the weather was getting warmer on every inch that we went direction south. 550km after Tours came the highlight of the trip, the Millau Viaduct, a magnificent piece of modern engineering designed by Norman Foster himself. One slight problem: by the time we had arrived the sun had set so we couldn't see much of it (or anything at all to be precise). No worries, we will see it on our next trip we said (10 years later and still haven't gone back...). Now my backmuschles were complaining beyond belief and that's where I realised that from the vibrations a biker's knees also take a beating. We started driving faster ca. 130km/hr on straight lines, which made the handle bars rattle like a jack-hammer, no joke, and my hands ware also aching. The Honda is a good bike for slow touring but the engineers obviously did not know what an opposing-piston was. I drove a bmw with a boxer engine a year later and believe you me the difference was astonishing. We did eventually reach Montpellier and checked in at our hotel only to collapse from tiredness. A bed had never felt softer. Being in the south of France summer was still in full swing in September, unlike northern France. We were happy to have put this tough challenge behind us. The next day we took it easy and strolled around Montepllier.
As I said, my gps stated "400km to Montpellier" and that was a damn right lie. It was actually 400km in a straight like and last time I checked my bike did not have wings. When I pressed "go" on my gps it calculated the route and stated "destination in 658km, after 632km please turn right!" WHAAAAAT! I did not sign up for this! We had booked all our hotels on the way so any deviation or change of plan would just inflict extra costs to our already broke bank accounts. I didn't quite believe the 658km claim, I though that maybe there was a mistake or maybe I directed the gps to our next hotel in Nice. My fears were unfortunately confirmed by the first sign on the way that stated "Montepllier 650km". My face turned pale when I saw that. Anyway, we had to rev it. Knowing now that highways were much faster than county roads we decided to stick on the French motorway till Montpellier. There is always a good side in every bad encounter, the weather was getting warmer on every inch that we went direction south. 550km after Tours came the highlight of the trip, the Millau Viaduct, a magnificent piece of modern engineering designed by Norman Foster himself. One slight problem: by the time we had arrived the sun had set so we couldn't see much of it (or anything at all to be precise). No worries, we will see it on our next trip we said (10 years later and still haven't gone back...). Now my backmuschles were complaining beyond belief and that's where I realised that from the vibrations a biker's knees also take a beating. We started driving faster ca. 130km/hr on straight lines, which made the handle bars rattle like a jack-hammer, no joke, and my hands ware also aching. The Honda is a good bike for slow touring but the engineers obviously did not know what an opposing-piston was. I drove a bmw with a boxer engine a year later and believe you me the difference was astonishing. We did eventually reach Montpellier and checked in at our hotel only to collapse from tiredness. A bed had never felt softer. Being in the south of France summer was still in full swing in September, unlike northern France. We were happy to have put this tough challenge behind us. The next day we took it easy and strolled around Montepllier.
After Montpellier we head off to Nimes to see the Nimes Arena, then off to Marseilles and then to Antibes (most of you will probably not know that Kazantzakis had a house there). In Antibes we slept in a Bungalow of a 5-star camping place, was a very nice experience. Only problem is that you are supposed to bring sheets and sleeping bags with you...
Walking around with my bike gear on made me sweat like a pig in the south of France. Lesson learnt: brig a locking cable and lock everything at the bike. Appart from that we were pretty happy that we didn't have to drive too many kilometers every day from now on. It was now Tuesday and took a day off biking so we visited Nice and Monaco (Casino, yeay!). On Wednesday morning we set off to see the Alps. We drove past Turin, then Aosta and headed for the Mont-Blanc tunnel. Before the tunnel we were stopped by toll staff and was told to pay the rediculous amount of 30 Euros... whaaaat! 30 Euros for 11km of tunnel, you must be joking! Anyway, there was no way round it. The view was breathtaking and the weather wasn't playing any tricks on us so we already had big smiles on our faces. The only problem encountered: one of those Mr Frogs/Klogs with his hideous white vehicled decided to cut me off and, although the speed limit was 80km/hr, decided to drive at 55 just to piss me off. Well, you did it! A few hours driving and we were in Geneva which greated us with the most amazing sunshine, time to dip in the lake to cool off.
Walking around with my bike gear on made me sweat like a pig in the south of France. Lesson learnt: brig a locking cable and lock everything at the bike. Appart from that we were pretty happy that we didn't have to drive too many kilometers every day from now on. It was now Tuesday and took a day off biking so we visited Nice and Monaco (Casino, yeay!). On Wednesday morning we set off to see the Alps. We drove past Turin, then Aosta and headed for the Mont-Blanc tunnel. Before the tunnel we were stopped by toll staff and was told to pay the rediculous amount of 30 Euros... whaaaat! 30 Euros for 11km of tunnel, you must be joking! Anyway, there was no way round it. The view was breathtaking and the weather wasn't playing any tricks on us so we already had big smiles on our faces. The only problem encountered: one of those Mr Frogs/Klogs with his hideous white vehicled decided to cut me off and, although the speed limit was 80km/hr, decided to drive at 55 just to piss me off. Well, you did it! A few hours driving and we were in Geneva which greated us with the most amazing sunshine, time to dip in the lake to cool off.
Long riding days were unfortunately not over, we had a 500km stretch from Geneva to Reims the next day. Being Thursday we knew we had to bring our bikes back to the rental shop on Friday night. Of course driving North meant that the weather started to worsen by the minute. We reached Reims on Thursday evening and visited the Reims Cathedral, not as famous as the Notre-Dame of Paris but as breathtaking. Our sunshine days were abruplty cut by rain, rain and more rain. Summer was officially over now. Back at the hotel an English lady saw our British number plates and asked us if we were going to or coming from England, we replied "driving to England tomorow" which followed by a sentence that left us frozen "forget it, the Eurostar cought fire just this morning". Yes, it was true, she wasn't joking. It was Thursday the 11th of September 2008 and if you don't believe click here. Come on, what were the chances of the Eurostar buring down on the one day that we need it! We quickly tried to get more news (this is a time before smarthphones) and realised that it was true. Not being able to do much we set off the next day towards Callais. On the way I saw an overhead sign stating "Manche ferme" and my French is not extremely fluent but that did tell me that the English Channel-tunnel was indeed closed. It was official, Murphy's Law had done it again. I then received a phone call from Marco who informed me that he was told it would be better to drive to Dunkerque and catch a ferry from there. We had split our paths, I had decided to head for Calais anyway. When I reached Calais the situation was utterly chaotic. Cars were queing up for miles to find an alternative route into England. Being a biker, having endured slow driving camper-vans, having endured horizontal rain and strong winds, among other mishaps, I was now ready to take full advantage of the fact that I was a vehicle no wider than 100cm and could fit through other bulky vehicles without a problem. I succeeded in overtaking everyone and got myself at the front of the queue. This was France and not Britain after all so jumping the queue was abosutely fine (sorry France...). I had to change my Eurostar ticket to a ferry ticket which was free of charge. After being directed to 5 different kiosks I managed to get my ticket (I though that I was doing greek burocracy for a moment). I then proceeded to passport control and off I was. Cold sweat started dripping down my back when, after being asked for my passport, realised that it was not in my pocket, where I thought it was. I said, hey, I can show him my driving licence (great idea...not). I handed over my driving licence to the officer who looked at me and said "you're having a laugh sir? you can't cross the border with this", to which I replied "are you sure?" which was definitely the wrong thing to say. This person is a border control officer by job, does this every day. He furiously replied "yes, YES, last time I checked!". I realised that this person has seen it all before and has had people trying to cross the border with a Tesco-clubcard so this is not what he wanted to hear. In all the havoc I had forgotten that I had placed my passport in one of my paniers. Luckily I found it fast, while the drivers behind me were becoming very frustrated after a biker who had jumped the queue had decided to lose his documents. This event could not have chosen any worse timing.
A ferry quickly arrived and I together with other bikers proceeded to embarking the ferry. A couple of hours on the ferry and we docked at Dover at around 15:00. I received a phone call from Marco stating that the ferries from Dunkirk were fully booked for the next 3 days, I was happy that I had chosed the option to dock from Calais. It was now a ca. 75 mile ride and the renting shop was closing at 17:00. By the time I got my gear on and mounted the bike it was 15:30. I reved the engine, passed the sign that sais "drive on the left" (don't believe? click here) and did a non stop trip from Calais to central London and raced to the shop which I reached at a few minutes after 17:00. I apologised for being late and explained that there was a fire at the tunnel and everything was delayed, only to receive a "that's not my problem!" answer from the owner. That's your thank you for busting my ass? Anyway, I was back in one piece and all had ended well. I had now the whole weekend to relax after my first bike adventure. Marco had to fight a little bit longer and brought the bike back the following Monday. That was the end of his trip. May we soon ride together again.
A ferry quickly arrived and I together with other bikers proceeded to embarking the ferry. A couple of hours on the ferry and we docked at Dover at around 15:00. I received a phone call from Marco stating that the ferries from Dunkirk were fully booked for the next 3 days, I was happy that I had chosed the option to dock from Calais. It was now a ca. 75 mile ride and the renting shop was closing at 17:00. By the time I got my gear on and mounted the bike it was 15:30. I reved the engine, passed the sign that sais "drive on the left" (don't believe? click here) and did a non stop trip from Calais to central London and raced to the shop which I reached at a few minutes after 17:00. I apologised for being late and explained that there was a fire at the tunnel and everything was delayed, only to receive a "that's not my problem!" answer from the owner. That's your thank you for busting my ass? Anyway, I was back in one piece and all had ended well. I had now the whole weekend to relax after my first bike adventure. Marco had to fight a little bit longer and brought the bike back the following Monday. That was the end of his trip. May we soon ride together again.
