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Day 14 Lugano [CH] > Vouvry [CH] (c.170 miles)

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I checked out of the Hotel Victoria au Lac with higher hopes for today's ride – I knew there was at least one good mountain pass and a couple of attractions in front of me.

My ride started out due north, following the line of the [2] motorway, but actually keeping to the minor roads for the entertainment value. At Cadenazzo my course shifted to the west and toward Locarno. It was something of a mixed bag of roads to ride, some slow urban passages, a few open sections and a quantity of fast trunk roads, but by about 10:30 I had left the valley at Ascona and began the climb back into the less populous mountain areas.

There followed an uphill run constantly flicking from left to right, my eyes were so focused on the bends ahead I shot past a layby that looked to be a promising viewpoint, so as soon as I could haul the bike around safely I back-tracked and took a moment for a cigarette and a photo of the lake below me, Lago di Palagndera, nestled in the forested slopes.

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Minutes after setting off again I once more found myself at a border, crossing from Switzerland and back into Italy. Apart from the change of signage, the landscape and ride continued seamlessly to the small town of Re, my first planned stop of the day.

I took a few photos of the stunning Santuario della Madonna del Sangue church from a distance before walking into the town and ordering up a coffee where (unusually for Italy) one of the guys at the next table struck up a conversation – he'd noticed my bike with its UK registration as he had come into town and had guessed it was mine. I actually got a decent coffee as well. I'm not sure what it is with this marketing BS about Italian coffee, I really seem to struggle to get what I consider a decent drink, usually when I ask the patron will disappear out of the back and come back with a thimble full of something very dark. This woman seemed to get the idea though and served up a latte in a decent sized cup and was then rewarded by me buying another.

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Back on route I continued my very enjoyable ride along the [SS337] until it spat me out onto a trunk road along the bottom of the next valley. It was only a short and very rapid ride until I was able to pick up on the signs for the Simplon Pass, which was the next bit of the day I was looking forward to. This road is curvy rather than twisty as it is a major artery frequently used by HGVs, but at least the nature of the well surfaced road allows opportunities to clear any slow moving vehicles that I came upon. I ploughed on alongside a river cleaved into the mountains, before the proper climb started I had to re-cross the border, back into Switzerland, I think this is the first trip that I have crossed more borders than the number of counties on the schedule.

There were nowhere near the number of bikes using this pass compared to the ones I had ridden in the preceding days, I don't know why. At the summit there was an obvious lack of tourist money traps, I parked next to Simplon Bellevue Hotel, which appeared closed so I contented myself with a drink from out of my luggage before taking a photo of the snow topped mountains opposite.

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The descent was a nice enough ride, rolling the bike from side to side until reaching the next valley bottom near Brig, where I shadowed the route of the [9] trunk road, initially using the marginally more entertaining local roads, but eventually having got bored of all of the traffic islands, switching to the main road until I reached the town of Sion. On arrived there I attempted so seek out the Château de Tourbillon, but the pedestrian route to it eluded me and having seen the size of the hill it was nested on didn't fancy the walk up there in all the bike clobber anyway. I was also unsuccessful in obtaining a decent snap of it as the sun was behind it from my vantage point and the image was not much more than a dark blob. Ah well, it wasn't important.

I rekindled my relationship with the [9] and had a dual carriageway blast for a few kilometres to the nearby town of Aigle where another Château awaited. I didn't have much more success here, it appeared closed, but at least I got closer and had a short walk. It also struck me that my environment was changing. The really big Alpine peaks were now gone and the lower mountains around me were now planted with vines on their lower slopes, some of the vineyards being associated with the castle.

The final leg of the day's ride was also a short one, the small town of Vouvry was just a few minutes away with the Hôtel Edirol on its northern edge and I rode into its parking bays at the respectable hour of 17:45.
This was a good modern single storey hotel and pretty good value for Switzerland. Once I had made myself respectable, I walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. There was no restaurant available and my host explained that it was unstaffed after 20:00, so if I wanted another beer after I walked into town I could help myself from the fridge and just leave a note on the bar of what was to be added to my bill.

It was probably too late in the day to phone my bank and arrange a loan to cover another Swiss restaurant bill, but I managed to burger myself up at a fast food pace in town and ate in a riverside park before walking back to the hotel. The chap who had served me before was still there finishing up, so obliged with pouring me another beer. "On the house" he said... I'm not sure if he thought that if I took one myself I probably wouldn't pay for it, so he might as well give it to me anyway, but I think he was just being kind. Anyway, that was enough to drink and I was content to have a last smoke and head for an earlyish night.

Today had been a couple of very nice rides sandwiched between some mundane stretches, but no complaints.

Day 13 Sirmione > Lugano [CH] (c.150  miles)

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Just 150 miles between hotels today and during my planning some month back I had realised that there were no attractive riding options for the first part of the journey. So, as I had intended I left Sirmione, made a fuel stop and quickly picked up the Autostrada network to get myself up and around Milan.

Sunshine, heat, toll booths and coffee stops pretty much sums up the next couple of hours. There was a point where a car seemed to be cruising alongside me with the driver gesturing at me, I couldn't think of what I had done to upset him and after a while he cleared away. A short while later, the same happened again with another car alongside me. Fortunately, this driver had obviously attended a superior School of Drama and Mime and I twigged that he was trying to tell me I had spent the last hour or so with my keys dangling from the lock in the top case. These keyless systems are all well and good, but I need to fid a way of stopping myself doing this.

From the outskirts of Milan, I switched to the [A9] for the final motorway run into Como and the distant mountains that had been hugging the horizon to my right were now dead ahead of me again. Como was surprisingly easy to make my way through and I quickly found my way to the Monumento ai Caduti on the southern tip of the lake, just as I had anticipated. Although I have my reservations about Italy, it has to be said that due to the proliferation of scooters, there are always plenty of designated parking areas for two-wheelers although I had to breath in a bit to squeeze the bulk of the GTR between the concrete bollards.

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After the pleasure of 45 minutes off the bike and a stroll around the area I had landed, I resumed my journey. The morning's motorway ride was behind me now and I had all afternoon to cover a relatively short distance through the Alps into Switzerland.

Leaving Como to the north and hugging the western shore of the lake I rode on to Menaggio. It's a pleasurable enough ride, with the road shelved on the mountainside with glimpses down to the lake below, but once again, just a succession of towns and villages keeping the bike at an almost pedestrian pace.

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There were many places I was tempted to stop and take it all in a little more, many beautiful lakeside villas called to the camera but I resisted and made my stop at Menaggio as planned, pulling into a motorcycle bay at the edge of the promenade.
After securing my jacket to the bike I took another walk in the sunshine, sought out another cold drink and found a quiet spot for a smoke. After taking my photos I was ready to mount up again.

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I now broke away from lake Como and began to climb west into the mountains which form the border with Switzerland. After a series of urban hairpins I left the environs of Menaggio and hoped to be on open mountain roads again. It was however another disappointing sequence of small towns and villages all the way to the Swiss border - nice scenery, but nowhere really that the bike could be let loose.

Now riding along the northern edge of Lake Lugano, I once again crossed a national border without causing the slightest interest. Eventually, dropping down into the town of Lugano, I crept through the mildly congested town centre and out to the western suburb of Paradiso where I located the Hotel Victoria without too much difficulty and also managed to get the last motorcycle parking spot opposite the hotel entrance.

This hotel had looked quite upmarket at the time of booking but had seemed quite good value for money in what I knew to be an expensive region. It turned out exactly like that, a comfortable room and elegant common areas, staff all uniformed and very attentive. It was of course probably a mistake to have ordered my evening meal on their terrace – it was a vey good meal, but thirty quid for fish & chips and a pint!?!  I walked off my dinner on the promenade before settling down for the night.

It had been an "okay" day, but no exciting riding and no particular points of interest, one of those days when I would have been just as well off in a car except having to park it.

Day 11 Valdidentro > Sirmione (c. 160 miles)

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After breakfast and taking a shot or two of the Hotel Interalpen – which was now in sunshine - I set off with a similar milage ahead of me as the previous day (although I had little idea at that time of how many hours I had in front of me in on the seat). Despite being past the halfway point of my trip, rather than bearing west I would be riding due south to see some of the Italian lakes and cross those off the to-do list.

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I back tracked the previous evenings road down to Isolaccia, much of it behind a Ford Puma with typical Italian scant regard for which side of the road it should be on approaching bends; I sometimes wonder how I survive these trips. The road down to Tirano was back to the "valley floor" type of riding but fortunately many of the towns and villages had been bypassed including frequent tunnels, and progress was good.

There was a brief stop in Tirano in search of some ancient tower which I either could not find, or couldn't be bothered to get the camera out for; I can't recall now, but it gave me 10 minutes off the bike.

My journey continued on the [SS38] for a short while until I left it at Poletta and began another climb into the mountains, the amount of passing motorcycles hinted that I was on to a good thing. Another set of hairpins bought me to the ski resort of Aprica where I stopped off at a mini market to top up on the snacks and bottles for the top case.

I was back in the groove now and really enjoying the road ahead of me. At Edolo I joined the [SS42] which would take me over the Passo del Tonale, a route with good mountain scenery and plenty of curves, but not so much that it becomes tiresome. After a period of corkscrewing and ducking under cable cars I found myself at the summit where the GTR was pitched up on a large car park next to a literally monumental war memorial. I ambled off to one of the many outlets catering for bikers and tracked down a coffee.

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The descent gave almost as much pleasure, but seemed to be a bit more congested in this eastward direction. Eventually I rocked up in Dimaro, which got no more than a cursory glance as I edged my way through to the [SS239], now riding south again. There was a quick stop for a snap of the mountains just beyond Folgarida. It's probably a good job that I do these trips alone, my frequent stops would probably irritate the hell out of a fellow rider, but I was on my own timetable and I thought I had plenty of time in hand.

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I got hopelessly lost in a small labyrinth of subterranean roads and junctions underneath Madonna di Campiglio, the Zumo was naturally unhelpful without satellites but fortunately some road signs led me out before I bumped into the Minotaur. I was now on another moderately busy valley road, but the snake of traffic was going thereabouts fast enough so I contented myself with holding my place in the queue until I reached Tione di Trento where I afforded myself a cigarette break – it was only 15:30 and the larger part of the ride was done.

I now had the pleasure of a quieter eastward winding mountain pass that would lead me to Fiavé. At least this one seemed mostly undiscovered by other bikers and cyclists and the odd car I came across was easy to clear. I was now facing south again on the [SS421] and entirely as expected I found myself on the road clinging to the mountainside above Riva del Garda where a layby afforded a decent view down the lake.

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The final drop into the town became incrementally more suburban and eventually arriving at the lakeside at about 16:35 I found myself at the back of some slow-moving traffic. Not unexpected in a town centre, but it took me half an hour to cross town and as well as the frustration of humping the GTR forward 15 metres at a time it was getting uncomfortably hot again now that I was out of the mountains.

There was a bit of respite along the north-eastern shore and I still felt confident enough in my schedule to allow a stop at Cassone for a glass of Coca-Cola at a lakeside café. I only just got away with this stop, I found serious traffic at all of the major towns, particularly Peschiera del Garda and was even forced into some uncomfortable filtering in an attempt to make headway. The fact that it took me over two hours to cover 56km will give you an idea of the level of traffic and frustration I was enduring. At my last stop I had received a text message from the night's hotel stating in no uncertain terms that the reception was closing at 20:00 and I would not gain access after that.

I marginally overshot the Hotel Ganfo at Sirmione, but did a rather inelegant U-Turn and back-tracked on what I thought was a service lane but turned out to be a pavement, squeezing the bike into a parking space at 19:56 and throwing myself sans luggage at the hotel door. I'm not sure my host was pleased to see me, I think he was already counting on the booking fee for zero work, but he reluctantly handed me my key and pointed me to the staircase. This wasn't the best of rooms – there was no external window, just a curtained vision panel onto the internal corridor but at least it had air-conditioning and after peeling off a very sweaty shirt I was able to have a shower and start to feel human again. Naturally, the hotel's bar was locked up and there didn't seem to be anywhere open within a 10-minute walk, it was too late in the day anyway so I finished up by raiding the top case for bits and pieces before going to bed.

What had been a good morning and early afternoon had turned into a ride of endurance during the later part of the day, perhaps I should have been more conscious that it was a Sunday in a tourist hotspot, but I had the option of a rest coming up.

Day 12 Sirmione

This had been my only scheduled rest day of the trip. I'd left myself the option of riding along the western shore of Lake Garda, but after the previous day's painful excursion down the west shore I just didn't fancy it. The whole of the day was spent sat with my paperback under the airconditioning unit with just a few short walks out; up to the lake shore, to find things to eat and drink, a tobacconist and a cash dispenser. Not much of a day to remember, but I needed the rest and I still had a week's worth of motorcycling ahead of me.

Day 10 Falcade > Valdidentro (c.160 miles)

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Just 160 miles in front of me today, but that was more than ample as it was not going to be particularly easy or quick riding, there were one or two mountain passes to negotiate before finally reaching the fabled Stelvio Pass in the afternoon.

My ride started by back-tracking to the lakeside town of Alleghe which I passed through yesterday. I've already said that it looked worthy of another visit, I hadn't realised that my route would be taking me through the very next day, that can be the problem with mapping a day at a time, I can lose sight of the overlaps.

After an hour's riding through the Dolomites, I reached Arabba where a layby with a bench and mountain views seemed to have been prepared just for me. I took a snap under the cloudless blue skies and decided not to worry too much about the signs warning that snow chains should be carried. Onward and upward, through mountain resort villages with shops and cafes trying to flog whatever they can when there are no skiers around (mostly to cyclists, a lot of caution is needed through the uphill bends), I rode on passing below the occasional cable car, cresting the Passo Gardina and enjoyed every moment.

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At Plan de Grabla, I had intended to take the [SS242] southwards, but a sign I did not fully understand hinted at a road closure, so a quick pull in enabled me to check my map a find a suitable and only slightly less curvy road to the north. I found myself thwarted again though as I soon came upon the back of a queue traffic. For the next 40 minutes, much of it with the engine switched off, I sat admiring the same mountain as emergency vehicles made their way down the otherwise inactive opposite side of the road. Eventually I passed through whatever the incident was and began to make progress one more. Going forward the road had reverted to the usual Alpine Valley Floor type, straighter, wider but interspersed with a lot of small towns to keep the speed in check.

Eventually I reached the [SS12] and turned to the south for a fairly non-descript trunk road ride beside the river to Bolzano. The capital city of the South Tyrol provided opportunities for petrol and a quick supermarket stop to throw a few more unhealthy items in the top case – a proper meal beyond breakfast is never a certainty on my travels.

Moving on, I left Bolzano on the [SS38], now travelling along the valley to the north. Beyond Oris the road leaves the riverside, switching west and begins its career as a mountaineer. The first few miles are a comfortable run and at Trafoi I began to notice a bit of snow on the distant tops.

Perhaps I should have planned to tackle this tarmacadam staircase during a morning. In the event, I started the climb at about 15:00 and I don't know if I was tired from what I had already done, but somehow I just seemed to have lost my rhythm on the hairpins. The infestation of cyclist doesn't help, often the line I wanted to take on a bend already had squatters, or I was spooked by someone throwing a bicycle round a downhill hairpin at 60mph with nothing but a water bottle for protection.

Being after 15:30, there seemed an endless stream of motorcycles coming in the opposite direction, most being unencumbered sports bikes presumably heading for their hotel after a day's riding. After about three quarters of an hour of turning curves into half-octagons I finally reached the summit where a cluster of traders had set up shop to feed the tourists and potentially push some souvenier trash. I took the opportunity to seize a substantial hot dog from Bruno's trolley and a coffee to wash it down with – I had an inkling that I would not be dining at tonight's hotel. There were of course several minutes with the camera before saddling up for the descent.

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I don't know if my Sausage-Inna-Bun had miraculous fortifying properties, or the fact that gravity meant that I was taking the curves on the brakes instead of the clutch and throttle, but it was certainly a smother, more flowing onward plunge. Eventually the road starts to straighten and pass through a series of galleries, some single-track and traffic light controlled which gave me some relief from full focus riding. Sometimes I would creep up to the back of a slower moving car which would, seeing a bike in its mirror, kindly slow or move to one side. I wish they wouldn't – I then feel under pressure to overtake and build some distance, when as long as they are going at a reasonable pace I'm happy to stay behind an take an extra glance or two at the décor – I like what they have done with the place.

Eventually I was deposited onto the valley floor just north of Bormio and I started to pick my way through a succession of villages in the direction of Livigno. As the road started to climb again in a rather unspectacular manner, a few spots of rain started to hit my visor an dampen the surface a little, but it was no drama, I was not many minutes away now from a room and a hot shower.

A couple of sets of roadworks with temporary lights impeded my final approach, but despite the traffic now being bunched and slow, I still managed to pass my hotel by. I realised something was slightly amiss when I unexpectedly arrived at a Swiss customs post where I was shamed into doing a U-turn and asking the guy in the booth where my bed was.

Only two or three hundred metres back downhill lay the Hotel Interalpen where I managed to forcibly insert the GTR into a gap between a gaggle of cyclist's support vans. It was a nice enough place, but I was glad I'd taken the fast-food option at Stelvio. The hotel staff were all dressed as penguins, so I think the restaurant would have been a budget-buster. I was content enough to order a couple of beers and sit outside with the view and smoke until bedtime.

Another good day had been had. I'd ticked the Stelvio Pass off the Bucket List although I have to say it was not one of my favourite mountain climbs – too technical, busy and tiring – I prefer a more flowing climb to hairpin after hairpin. Been there, done that, onto something else tomorrow.

Day 9 Lesce [SLO] > Falcade (c. 210 miles)

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There was a longer day ahead of me today, I had busted my self-imposed 200-mile limit as I didn't turn up a hotel within budget in Cortina d'Ampezzo which would have been my preferred overnight stop. The route was further lengthened by a couple of loops I had incorporated so as to take in what looked on the map to be better motorcycling roads. As it turned out there were to be a few more miles added on along the way.

The previous day's congestion was now a matter of history and I was straight out of Lecse onto easy roads through the Slovenian landscape under cloudless skies, only the fact that the heat was already building marred the experience. It's hard to believe that it was not so long ago that this was part of communist Yugoslavia and pretty much off the menu for tourists, but toady it feels like any other modern European country (except that your money still seems to go a little further).

I followed the [201] Westwards, taking the opportunity to refuel at Kranjska Gora as I wasn't sure what options there would be for petrol in the mountains ahead. Just a short while later I began the run over the Trenta Pass that would take me toward Italy. I confess to having some initial doubts about my route choice as the ascending tight bends and hairpins had been laid with cobbles, but fortunately after the summit they must have exhausted their stock and I was back to good old tarmacadam.  On the drop down on the western side I took a moment to stop at a the Razgledna viewpoint for a few minutes off the bike and couple of shots with the camera. After completing a very stimulating ride down the switchbacks, I arrived in the valley of the Soča river where I dismounted for a few more minutes – it was just too picturesque not to.

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After decent period of gratifying riding alongside the river I joined the [203] going to the north and unexpectedly got a visor full of the Kluže Fortress. Now, I was expecting a fort along this section of my ride and Fort Predel had been in my schedule, but here was one right here, right now, so I went for it. I spent just over an hour shuffling though the museum in this surprisingly intact fort, there were plenty of display and information panels, many, but not all, in English. Back at the bike I realised I probably had a bit of catching up to do to maintain my schedule.

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Shortly afterwards, I passed Fort Predel, but left my intended like a bride at the alter and a matter of a couple of hundred metres further on crossed into Italy, the land of buzzing scooters and competitive driving. As usual, there was no need to stop, the border post looked deserted except for the obligatory police car parked there, just for the look of the thing.

The roads continued to snake between the mountains and I was enjoying it so much that a bit of inattention to the Zumo resulted in me missing a turn and having to back-track a couple of miles to join the [SP76] alongside Lake Predil. The ride continued to be a stunner, but all good things come to an end and eventually I cruised into Chiusaforte where the [SS13] road onward became wider, straighter and less entertaining. It was not unattractive though, most of this section of the run was alongside an almost dry river bed which I eventually crossed to reach Amaro and the [SS52].

At Villa Santina another Spar store jumped into view, but unlike their Austrian cousins, there was no coffee machine so I got back on my route with a new quest in mind. The road stated to wiggle nicely and the mountains were closing back in again as I began to approach Ampezzo where the bike was duly berthed while I ambled away to find my drink and get a snap of the church.

The [SS52] continued to climb, fall and twist giving a perfect ride up to Forni di Sopra where after passing though the town the intensity of the ride grew as I entered the Sorgente Tagliamento Nature Reserve and a few hairpins were thrown in to make sure that I was not too focused on the mountain views. The afternoon was wearing on and I found myself heading for Cortina d'Ampezzo which I had originally favoured as my overnight, the road I was travelling was fine with the peaks of the Dolomites towering above, but my original plan had been to be taking a more direct route further south to my hotel, but as I said much earlier, my issues with the Zumo were preventing me from selecting a full route and I was travelling POI to POI – the Zumo had obviously decided that Cortina was the way to go.

Unfortunately, as I already knew, the Zumo is not as clever as it thinks it is as upon reaching Cortina, I found the road that it was directing me to take onwards was closed and the town was gridlocked. After a bit of head scratching and a calming cigarette, I opted to try my luck over the Passo Giau. I'd done it before and knew it was a good ride but it was already 17:30 and I had rather been looking forward to my hotel. Still, you have to live in the moment and enjoy what is in front of you, so the ascent began.

If you should ever get the chance to ride the [SP638] over the Colle Sata Lucia, I would really recommend that you do so. The road is entertaining from start to finish and the views are spectacular. I shouldn't have been here at all, but I'm glad I was. Although I'd ridden it before I had gone south to north, this time I was seeing the scenery from the opposite direction. There had to be a stop to catch a couple of digital images just after I crested the summit, but there remained the need to push on.

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At Selva di Cadore I switched to the [SP20] and began a rapid easterly decent through the twisties to reach the [SP203] which took me to Allheghe. This little town with its lakeside location has gone down in the notebook as an attractive looking place to stay one day. I continued my southward ride with my own long shadow circling me as I rolled around the gentle bends down to Cencenighe Agordino where I was able to switch to the [SP346] which would take me to my hotel.

It was not a long run to the Hotel Pineta where I found a decent room and a nice terrace to sit with a beer once I had changed. Okay, I had gone someway off my intended route at the end, but aside from navigating a couple of larger towns and a bit of trunk road it had been pretty much perfect.

Day 8 Rangerdorf [A] > Bled [SLO] (c.118 miles)


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After getting myself from under the duvet and the bike from under its canopy I set about what was to be one of the shortest rides of this trip. Only 190km ahead of me and it could have been less, except that I had planned a circuitous route that would take me over a mountain pass rather than just confine me to urbanized valleys.
My Innovv camera appears to have missed the first half an hour from the hotel. It does this sometimes and I don't know why, but nothing much is lost of what I remember being an unremarkable ride east along the [106] to Obervellach, where the camera seems to have roused itself after fuelling up for the day ahead.

Spittal an der Drau threw in some town centre riding to break up the progress along the valley floors, at least today the arterial roads seemed mostly to be bypassing the villages, so the ride was mostly at the national speed limits as far as traffic would allow and opportunities to pass slower vehicles did come along. Under blue skies speckled with the odd dark shower cloud, I followed the [100] down to my next great metropolis of the day, Villach.

Once again, with hindsight, I may as well have done this on the A10 autobahn which runs parallel and got the same scenery but quicker. Holding onto the lesser trunk roads does give more opportunities to pull up for a smoke, or coax a coffee from Herr Vendingmachine though and you do perhaps feel that the local culture is maybe being absorbed by osmosis.

At Villach I followed my intended route for a side trip to the Faaker See, a modest sized lake just to the south east of the city. The road out was perfectly rideable although unexciting and upon arrival at the roadside next to the lake I remained somewhat underwhelmed. It's pleasant enough, but not the most attractive alpine lake I have seen and it probably won't go down in any future plan, but at least there was the opportunity for a short stroll and a cold drink.

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From Lake Faak I picked up the [85] for a more enjoyable ride though the Carinthia region, still mostly on flat roads with mountains either side in the middle distance hinting at a better afternoon to come. Just beyond the village of Strau the moment arrived to join the [91] where the Loiblpass would take me over the mountains and into Slovenia.

I really enjoyed this one – a continuous series of bends climbing ever upwards with the mountainsides now properly closed in to form wooded or rocky gorges. A recent shower had dampened the roads, but not the spirits. All too soon I seemed to reach the summit where another sleepy border post awaited, I naturally slowed down but although a couple of police vehicles were loitering, my arival attracted no interest and I rolled on, through a 1.5km tunnel and into Slovenia.

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At the bottom end of the pass lay the town of Bistrica and I reckoned I was due another coffee. Years of riding around Europe has enabled me to pick up enough of the basics to get me by, but Solvenian is a complete mystery. Fortunately, everyone seems to have settled on English as a second language with which to communicate with their neighbouring countries, so I had no difficulty whatsoever in procuring my afternoon latte.

I can't help feeling the Zumo stitched me up in leaving Bristica, I was shown out of town on a series of badly surfaced narrow roads clinging to the hillsides leading though one tiny cluster of houses to another. Eventually I was dumped back into the environs of civilization at Lesce. I would be staying there for the night, but it would be too early to check-in and so I forged on to Bled, which was my objective for the day.

A nice sunny day at an absolute tourist magnet and traffic congestion was a nightmare as soon as I reached the edge of Bled. I crawled along with everyone else, taking about 15 minutes to do a mile before the lake edged into view. The pavements and path around the lake were just as crowded with those pedestrians who had been lucky enough to escape their cars. To add to my frustration, the car park I had planned for was closed off due to some event and I had to ride further on before finding an enterprising cycle store that would permit parking on their land for a few euros.

Once the bike was tucked in and my jacket secured to it, I set off for my walk in search of a viewpoint of the famous church on its island in the lake. Like every other day on this trip, it didn't matter if the sun was out, it was overcast, or it was raining, it was always HOT. I was glad I'd been able to ditch the jacket and had the good fortune that most of my walk was in the shade of trees. I'm glad I visited and got the box-ticking snap of the famous lake and mountains, but I would advise anyone wanting to visit to do so out of season if they can.

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Thankfully, getting out of Bled was marginally less tiresome than getting into it and I was back in Lecse and pulling up at the Hotel Krek Superior before 5pm. The hotel was set on a retail park so once I was showered and changed, I had a number of fast-food joints at my disposal and a couple of bars to chose from before shutting myself down for the day in my nice big modern room.

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Quite a good day, the Loiblpass being the highlight as a biker and the vista across Lake Bled as a tourist. Less than 24 hours to my seventh country.

Day 7 Spitzingsee [D] > Rangersdorf [A] (c. 170 miles).

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The view from my breakfast table confirmed the portentous weather app, it was going to be a wet start. Despite this, once I was clear of the car park I chose to have a little trundle alongside the lake to take a snap of the bike before hauling it round and setting off back down the nice twisty road to Schillersee, where I fuelled up and chucked a few more snacks in the case.

Another about-turn and I took the [307] on a south-easterly heading for my date with the Austrian border. Now this IS a good road to ride, the rain had knocked off and I was just left with a bit of dampness on the tarmac. There were ever shifting views of the cloud hanging around the pine forest clad peaks, the day was starting well. Just beyond Bayrischzell I came across a baffling road sign which indicated that I was OK to proceed in my current direction, but motorcycles were prohibited from travelling northwards. I've no idea what that could be about. Beyond the village of Tatzelwurm I turned in the direction of Oberaudorf, the road loses some of its width and smoothness, but remains pleasurable even if the throttle has to be treated with a bit more respect. Once I had reached the environs of Oberaudorf I rejoined main arterial roads for an easy but steady jaunt past the redundant border post and into Austria.

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Upon entering my fifth country on this trip at the town of Kufstein, I felt justified in popping the lid off a celebratory coffee at a handy Spar store before getting on with the next bit, which I knew from experience was going to be a bit of a come-down (literally) from the last hour and a half I had spent in the German mountains. Austria is a country of towns and cities set in river valleys, roads and urbanisation therefore track along these, and like my experience in Belgium and northern France the road network seems to be a series of straight roads with either towns or roundabouts every mile or so and it is difficult to get any rapid progress at legal speed limits. As I followed the [171] in the direction of Innsbruck, I did regret not hopping on the motorway for this section - neither option makes for a good motorcycle ride, but the motorway would have bought the attractive bits closer a little more swiftly.

Switching to the [169], the road ran through a less built-up valley, although there were high traffic volumes to keep progress in check. Finally, the slip off at Zell am Ziller manifested itself and I could start on the first proper mountain pass of this trip. The Gerlos Pass is a 69km toll road linking Zell am Ziller and Mittersil, I've done it in the car a couple of times and once (back in 2016) on the GSX1400 so I knew what to expect, it was just a question as to whether there would be any views given the cloud that was wrapped around the mountain tops.

It is a beautiful road, a few hairpins, a lot of gentle curves, interesting, but not too challenging – something that can be savoured without thinking about summiting because you really need to get off the bike. After a good ride, still climbing beyond the town of Gerlos lay the toll booths where I extracted €9 for the priviage of getting this far and down the other side. To be fair, the price charged is for a "day ticket", so once you have handed over the hard-earned, it is possible to spend the whole day practicing your moves if you are so inclined. I pulled up at the parking area just beyond the tollhouse to check my wallet was properly secure, clean the video camera lens of road spray and then took a photo of the bike.

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https://www.gerlosstrasse.at/en

The road then started to descend though the expected switchbacks and although I was totally content in riding, I could not resist another early stop to photograph the Krimml waterfall (Europe's highest) gushing down the mountain on the opposite side of the valley. Onward, through light rain I arrived in Mittersil where another coffee was procured from a Spar vending machine. I like a vending machine; you don't have to attempt to communicate with it in German.

From Mittersill I began to ride eastwards in the direction of Zell am See, along another valley floor with its string of small towns keeping speed in check. The on and off light rain was not problematical, but I did hope the low cloud was not going to spoil my view of the next mountain pass. Before too long I reached the turn southward for the [107] Großglockner Hochalpenstraße.

Initially, this road runs along another valley floor, but with fewer villages and a constant stream of motorcyclists assures of a decent biking road ahead. As it happens, I also knew this road from my return trip from Budapest on the GSX so there would be no disappointment. My previous run over (south to north) had been delayed as it was closed to motorcycles until they had cleared the snow – that was not going to be a problem today, it was way too warm.

By the time I reached the toll booth for this one, there were promising hints of blue sky and after handing over a hefty €35 for the pleasures ahead, went off in pursuit of the sunny bits. The official website will describe this road much more eloquently than I ever could. Suffice to say that many motorcyclists would have ridden it twice in the time I took to do it once; Not only am I naturally cautious as a rider, but there are just too many places to stop and soak up the landscape. For me, it's not a time trial or test of skill, I just wanted to enjoy it at leisure and there were several stops to fish out the camera.

Eventually I punched up and out of the clouds and reached the summit of the main road. At this point I had the option of taking the branch road to the Edelweißespitz, an even higher viewing area. I hesitated for a moment; it would be nice to attain the peak, but frankly the cobbled hairpins looked a bit daunting and the damp sheen from earlier rain on the surface added to my uneasiness.  I decided to get brave and give it a go. The problem is that the GTR is too heavy and I'm probably too light (last advice from the doctor: "Your BMI is good, but if anything, you could do with putting a bit of weight on"). I didn't particularly enjoy this bit of the run, but I did manage to get our mismatched combination to the top, very, very slowly. I'm glad I did it, the views were excellent and as a bonus there was a restaurant up there where I could get my nose in the trough.

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After cautiously edging my way back down the cobbles I re-joined the main road in heavy fog and gradually wound my way downward and southward with numerous stops for the photo-ops whenever the cloud broke. At one point I was treated to a magnificent rainbow spanning between mountains. Well into my descent on the [107], I came across another branch road that had escaped me in the planning stage. I took a punt and followed it for a while, once again climbing a nicely surfaced road clinging to the mountainside. I eventually reached a parking area with a view over an alpine lake which once again drew the camera out. It was now 17:40 though and I wasn't sure where the road was going to end up and as I wanted to be at my next hotel in time to order a meal I decided to spin the GTR around. Looking back retrospectively, if I had stayed with the road for another 5-10 minutes it seems I would have arrived at the Kaiser-Franz-Josefs-Höhe, another observation deck which judging by the Google Street View image is another biker's gathering place. Maybe next time.

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https://www.grossglockner.at/en

There are still a few nice bends to entertain you even past the southern toll barriers, but you always have to expect the unexpected. At Heiligenblut I was almost wiped out by a black Volkswagen hatchback which failed (intentionally or otherwise) to give way where a side-road joined the hairpin I was winding around. He then followed this by later overtaking the car in front of us with a blind bend ahead. Always assume they are out to get you...

Beyond Heiligenblut, the road straightens out and allows a comfortable ride through a smattering of villages to Winklern, where the Zumo took me onto the [106] and the short final run to the Hotel Mölltalerhof near Rangersdorf. At first, there didn't seem to be room on the car park, but then I noticed they had a little covered area for motorcycles with just enough space to squeeze the bulk of the GTR between a couple of other bikes.

Checked-in, changed and down to the bar I got myself schnitzeled up with a beer to wash it down followed by another to have with my last cigar.  It had been a really good day, OK, the roads through the Austrian valleys were not in any way special, but they are a means to an end. The German section and the two Austrian mountain toll roads were just what I had wanted.

Tomorrow, my sixth country in eight days.

It's not a proper trip if you don't have to use your gills at least once. 

Quite right, I had no expectation of 18 dry days 

Day 6 Klumbach [D] > Spitzigsee [D] (c.220 miles)

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Having looked at the weather forecast over breakfast, I knew the little bit of blue sky above me as I rolled off the Taste Hotel car park in Klumbach was not going to be with me for the whole day. By my own standards, I had a longish ride ahead of me today and as rain was forecast, I decided to ditch two of my planned potential visits. The new plan was get onto the Autobahn and make a decision on the fly about a possible stop-off in Neuburg an der Donau.

I reached the [A9] within about 15 minutes and settled in to some fully focused riding. I cleared Nurenburg, still in sunshine and with a fuel stop and coffee stop to keep me attentive. Although the shower clouds were starting to brew, it still looked as if it would be favourable for a detour to Neuburg an der Donau.

It was looking particularly dark in the direction of travel and sure enough after exiting the motorway my approach was greeted by a very sharp shower, but this had cleared by the time I pulled into my spot on the car park by the River Donau (or Danube if you are more familiar with its downstream name).

As I started my walk, I was initially drawn up the hill toward the castle where I found an appealing old town square which was worthy of pulling the camera out for but not much life, or any prospect of my next coffee. I found that and the cash machine I needed in the more modern part of the town back down the hill sandwiched between the river and castle.

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After wriggling my way out of town, a series of open, but busy roads lead me back to the [A9] which I joined in the direction of Munich. There is little to say about my next couple of hours on the bike; Autobahn, rain, congestion, rain, filtering, rain, cigarette break, rain, congestion just about covers it. None of this run was particularly quick and the [99] around Munch was decidedly turgid. This was not really a shock; I've been round here about ten times in the car or on the bike and the memory of a 37km queue one dark February evening is still securely deposited in the memory bank.

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At least, as I broke off on the [A8] in the direction of Salzburg it started to ease up a bit and the first sight of Alpine peaks on the horizon hinted that I was getting somewhere. At about 16:00 I escaped the motorway and began a more interesting ride through southern Bavaria toward the Alpine foot-hills, there were now a few bright spells as a bonus. It didn't take long to reach the lakeside town of Schillersee where I took the opportunity to dismount for a short while and contemplate the lake, cigarette in hand.

I was looking forward to the next part of the run, albeit it was not far. I'd done it a few times in the car on winter breaks, but the curvy climb ahead really deserved a bike. Just beyond Schillersee a right- turn off the [307] leads up a minor dead-end road to Spitzingsee, a group of hotels and tourist facilities huddled around a small Alpine lake, seemingly waiting for the winter when the skiers arrive and the tills start ringing. The road up is actually very good and well surfaced, but you have to zoom in quite a bit on Google Maps to find it, as it is not really a highway of any significance unless you happen to have the longing to go to Spitzingsee.

It is not a long ride up there, but enjoyable, with odd glimpses through the fir trees down to the Bavarian Plain as I wound my way up, through a short tunnel near the summit and just a couple of hundred metres on to the Hotel Grundle Alm where the bike was pitched up and the panniers decanted for my night's stay. The receptionist handed me my key and said I had a "lake view room".  The description was a bit of a stretch, if you give the photo a severe zooming, you can just see it between the tree in the middle and the white building on the left. Still. I wasn't too dis-chuffed, there was a balcony where I could watch the clouds ribbon across the mountains and a bar downstairs with seating under the overhanging eves where I could finish the day off with my beer out of the rain.

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Tomorrow would be the start of my Alpine voyage.

Day 5 Around the Franconian Jura (Fränkische Schweiz) c. 90 miles).

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As promised, Gerd, my companion for the day rolled up at precisely 09:30 as arranged and caught me on the car park finishing off a cigarette. I explained my phone charger problem and sure enough, he knew exactly where to go, so we rode off for the local electrical superstore. Unfortunately, we were too early for their 10:00 opening so we agreed to bat it to the back of the schedule and push on with our road trip.

Today I would be following the tail light of a BMW GS1200 instead of the Zumo, something I had mixed feelings about. During messaging he had asked me if there was anywhere in particular, I wanted to visit, but I had told him I was happy for him to plough the furrow as long as we avoided lanes with grass growing up the middle and city centres. If he could throw in a bit of history, architecture or landscape that would be perfect.

I got pretty much what I had bidden. First stop was back in Thurnau, which I had stumbled aimlessly into the previous afternoon, but this time I was led around to the rear of the castle where a different viewpoint presented itself, with the fortress now being a backdrop to a small lake. Out came the camera again, same subject different perspective.

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We moved on under largely blue skies with a scattering of affable cloud, briefly picking up a short length of autobahn to avoid the ubiquitous road closure which he was already aware of. My pursuit of the Beemer bought me into Königstein where we pulled up under one of the crags that this National Park encompasses.

We continued, sometimes in open countrysides and at other times descending to gentle cliff lined gorges before arriving in Sanspareil. I experienced a moment of disquiet as we turned on to a gravel track, but it was only for a couple of hundred metres to enable me to get a shot of our bikes with Burg Zwernitz as a backdrop. Back down the track and we re-parked our machines and prepared for a short walk through the woodland at the bottom of the castle, picking our way through rocks sculped by the elements before arriving at the ruined remains of a small outdoor theatre that once entertained the castle's guests. The landscape, history and architecture boxes seemed to all have been decisively ticked in one stroke.

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We continued to weave our way through the National Park for 45 minutes or so on a series of agreeable roads before briefly pulling up in Tüchersfeld where an impressive rock spire presented itself to my Pentax. Another gorge formed between sheer cliffs bought us to Pottenstein where someone had bagged one of the summits to build his small castle and give us tourists something to look at. After capturing that, we moved in to the village centre where there was time to sit outside a small café with a coffee.

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Twenty minutes of glorious landscape later, Gerd took a short detour up a hill where a lay-by served a belvedere with views toward Burg Rabenstein and the surrounding countryside. It was the briefest of stop-offs, one of the more significant outlooks was an ugly looking storm squatting on the far horizon and I had a suspicion that it was the way we were heading.

Sure enough, a short while later we were throwing up spray from our tyres, but the roads were well surfaced and the bends were not too severe, so there was very little effect on our progress. Fortunately, my clothing was keeping the weather out, but my leader pulled us into a car park by the small St Rupertkapple where we sheltered in the chapel porch for a while as the worst of the rain passed.

Next up on my mystery tour was "Schlosspark Fantasie", a small stately home seat in public parkland where on most days, my personal guide informed me, I would be able to see the fountains at work. Today was not the day however and the fountain basins were full of Hi-Viz maintenance bods, not water.

We rolled around the city of Bayreuth on damp, but drying roads until we reached the Ermitage on the eastern side of the conurbation where we spent and hour on foot around the parkland with its cascades and ornamental buildings, taking shelter when necessary as the thunder started to rumble around us and doing what I could with the camera in the poor light.

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I imagine our return route to Klumbach was, chosen for its directness, not quite as attractive as the roads of earlier in the day, but a perfectly acceptable ride none the less. Upon arrival in town, I followed Gerd up through some narrow streets that led to a viewpoint overlooking the roofscape and castle where he coaxed my camera from me and took a snap of me with my bike. I'm not of the Selfie Generation, so it's the one and only picture as undisputable evidence of me making this trip.

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We dropped back down into town and wound our way back to Media Mart where I managed to pick up the necessary charger (at three times the price I would have paid in the UK) before I was guided back to the hotel car park to say our farewells. After getting changed and checking my weather app I decided to take an evening walk to find a meal and a beer, I didn't want to put the wet bike jacket back on. Inevitably, the gods seized their opportunity for some fun and as soon as I had finished eating it pi$$ed it down resulting in a one mile walk back in a very wet sweater. My beer was deleted from the programme.

There hadn't been that many miles covered during the day, but I had been guided to loads of places that piqued my interest and the roads that we had ridden were exceptional in the main. It's always slightly troubling setting out with someone you haven't ridden with before and one worries about them being too fast, or too slow etc. It had worked out perfectly; in truth I found I was slowing for the towns and villages much more than absolutely everyone else in Germany, but once I had passed the struck-out village name and back into the national speed limit, a quick twist of the throttle and I was in convoy once more.

Tomorrow held the prospect of a very different ride.

Nuremberg is just south of where you are 

Oh, it always gets sorted out in the end. I haven't failed to return home so far 

Day 4 Aschaffenburg [D] > Klumbach [D] (c.155 miles)

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Today's run was scheduled to be relatively short. Klumbach may not seem an obvious choice for my next destination, bearing in mind most of this year's trip was concentrated on the Alps to the south, however there was a reason for heading further west though Germany. As you know I regularly use Flickr for photo sharing, inspiration for future trips and just the pleasure of the quality photography that can sometimes be found. One user regularly posts pictures of his bike posed in beautiful scenery of northern Bavaria. I'd expressed my admiration many times and he suggested that if I was ever passing nearby, he would take me for a day's ride around his patch. This time I'd taken him up on his offer, so I would be staying for two nights in Klumbach.

The day started with a couple of hours of good riding mostly on open roads through countryside with the odd small town or village distributed along the route. By 10:00 I reached the city of Würzburg, picked my way through the streets and settled into a street parking spot at the rear of the Würzburg Rezidenz, a colossal 18c. palace. My parking place enabled me to approach it through the surrounding gardens before taking a full walk around the exterior with the camera.

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At around noon, I let the Zumo attempt to take me out of town, but within minutes I found the depressingly familiar sight of barriers across the road. I tried a few back streets and stumbled into their twin. Once again it was a case of just working though those roads that I could, and hoping to break out at least on the right side of town. It wasn't too bad in terms of time or distance just the irritation of humping a heavy bike round in U-turns. I was soon out of the city though.

After an initial bit of dual carriageway dreariness, the roads settled back to a comparable pattern of those ridden during the morning and apart from being too hot under dull, humid skies, I was perfectly content.
After a short while I arrived in Volkach, and trundled up into the Altstadt (old town) and found another place in the street to leave the bike. A walk into the market place rewarded me with a coffee and a few shots for the album.

By about 12:45 I was back on the road again. On reaching the attractive town of Schlüsselfeld a wrong turning set me back a couple of minutes, but was easily recovered. More agreeable cantering followed, a few spots of rain made a half-hearted attempt to clean the bugs off the windshield, but quickly gave up.

Next up, at about 14:00 was the historic city of Bamberg where yet another insolent set of barriers barred my intended road in.  Once again, there was no obvious diversion provided and I was forced downhill on cobbled streets between tightly packed ancient buildings, finally arriving by the canals that thread through the town as I had hoped. My intention was to pay to park the bike up in one of the city's underground car parks unless any motorcycle bays turned up. None were forthcoming though and there were queues for the underground car park but I was eventually lucky enough to find an unguarded area of cobbles to plant my flag.

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There followed an hour or so as a pedestrian around the old town quarter. It really deserved more time, but at least I bagged the much-photographed Rathaus and some of the attractive buildings and canal side as well as securing another coffee before progressing onward.

The ride out was through the now routine mix of roads through the northern Bavarian countryside. Another set of barriers were lurking in Scheßlitz, but at least this time there was a clearly signed diversionary route, so no real harm done there, but I had barely got through the town when I was scuppered again. Now, the Würgauer Berg had not come to my attention in the planning phase, but it is presumably a hill of some significance and most definitely closed to motorcycles during weekends. I guess it must be an attractive road to ride, but the local authorities are tied of pulling people out of hedges when it is time-and-a-half or double-time pay. I threw a right turn as encouraged by my personalised diversion and set about the alternative. Frustratingly this simply led to another set of signs standing like a nightclub bouncer and saying "not tonight lads". Back the way I came for a mile or so, a left turn and a series of badly surfaced lanes and tiny communities before finally reaching some wider and smoother tarmac.

Back in the clutches of the Zumo, I let it carry me forward until the next road closure. At least tis one was a little less prejudiced, simply prohibiting all traffic going forward, so once again I select a right turn and random and waited to see what would happen. What turned up after a few minutes was Thurnau and as I dropped into the little old town, I had one of those moments where something unexpected and striking jumps into view that you just have to stop. I pulled over below an imposing castle linked by a timber bridge over the roadway to an ancient chapel. I suppose if the lord of the manor has enough money to construct a castle, he wouldn't want to be having to go to church in the company of the local peasants. After a swig or two from the bottle and a cigarette, I got on with it.

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Beyond Thurnau lay a "dog-bone" junction of two islands either side of the [70] Autobahn. I'd lost confidence in the Zumo for the moment and with multiple diversions, was now fairly clueless as to my position in relation to where I wanted to be – like an aging hippy I felt the need for a sanctuary to Find Myself. I doubled back to a service station just off one of the islands bought another drink and considered my course.

Due to the Forbidden Hill I was well south of where I should have been and it seemed the simplest thing would be to hop on the Autobahn for a couple of junctions and get to my hotel as quickly as possible. It was still overcast and humid and a shower and a clean shirt were the two things I wanted most in the world in that instant. Having made my mind up it was a fairly easy run in. Klumbach was a bigger town than I was expecting, it was probably just my imagination but I seemed to have to spiral into the centre to get to my lodgings.

The Taste Hotel was a decent enough modern establishment, the best hotel of the trip so far which was a bit of a bonus as it was one of only two places that I would be spending two nights on this trip. With the coveted shower and change of clothes out of the way I took the opportunity to take everything except the essentials off the bike, it would be nice to be out on a lighter bike the following day.

I messaged my acquaintance to confirm I was in town as per schedule and available for the next day if he was still free. He was kind enough to drive over to my hotel in his car, buy dinner and a beer for us and give me a lightning tour of the town. It had been a change from my usual snack-bar type diet, having Gone Native and indulged in a plateful of rinderbraten.

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After being dropped back to my room I went to message home and found that I must have left my phone charger and power adapter at the previous night's hotel. Something to sort out tomorrow...

Day 3 Munshausen [L] > Aschaffenburg [D] (probably c.250 miles, but who knows?)

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After breakfast and shoe-horning the bags back into the cases, a quick check on the Zumo confirmed its intention to stick about 100 miles of secret riding on my trip if I dared to follow what was in its little digital brain. Once more I was left to select the first way point and trust that it was going to take me on a pleasant route there.

The ride started out with a quick fuel stop in Marbourg but no sooner than I had ridden 50 metres off the forecourt I was confronted with a road closure; at this point I was blissfully ignorant that it was to be the theme of the day. I did a U-turn and headed off in the opposite to my intended direction. Through a series of minor roads that I didn't have any agency in selecting (but were nevertheless just the sort of roads I would have chosen) I made my way to the border with Germany at Dasbourg Pont.

Now hoping that the satnav would get me back on track I followed it to the village of Preischeid, where once again I was confronted with barriers across the road inviting me to go away. Another U-turn and run back to the [410] followed, I was now on a detour of the detour.

Frustrating though it was, any selection of roads in the German Eifel region will throw up a satisfying ride and it was early in the day, there was plenty of time to recover my schedule. The next two hours were exactly as this trip should be, winding though the countryside with gentle curves and changes of elevation, just right for the GTR.

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Just after noon I descended into my beloved Mosel Valley, parked the bike up under the river bridge and extracted a coffee from my usual café. The camera stayed in the top-case, I've probably got enough photos of this area already, but it didn't stop me taking 15 minutes round the old town and wishing I was staying longer.
A tunnel from the riverside road took me up though a series of tight curves into the Hunsruck massif which sits between the Mosel and Rhein rivers, once more I was on known territory with good riding to look forward to. Sure enough, at 14:25 I reached the town of Langenlonsheim, just beyond which lay the historical Felseneremitage which I had intended to visit. Once again, I was confronted with a row of barriers sternly blockading my onward route. I pulled up and perused the map on my phone, but there didn't seem an obvious way round. I could perhaps have walked it in about 20 minutes, but it was too hot and humid to contemplate in the bike gear, so the fixture was scratched.

I pressed on, "my" selected route had become a mere fantasy, and all I could do was select my next waypoint and hope for the best. The Zumo directed me out on the [420] and within a few miles I began to get a bad feeling, destinations ahead were crossed through on the signposts but I progressed in the hope that I was not supposed to reach them. I can only assume that the little box of tricks' intention was to take me over the Rhein on one of the little vehicle ferries, perhaps the "Rheinfähre Landskrone" at Nierstein, but inevitably I ran out of [420] before I ever got there.  I selected a road at random in the hope that I would find a diversionary route or anything that might be a helpful recalculation, but after a few minutes of aimless riding through small villages I pulled up, had a smoke and reluctantly changed the Zumo's settings to allow it to use the Autobahns and find the quickest way to my hotel for the night.

After just a few minutes of back-tracking I joined the [63] autobahn and settled to my cruising speed of about 130kph with a careful eye on the mirrors as (invariably black or gey) German saloons flew past at about 200kph. Looking back through my video as I write this, I have to say the route I was directed on makes no sense whatsoever. I was switched to the [60] near Mainz, followed by a touch of [67], a helping of [3] around Frankfurt airport, ejected onto the [5] to go south for quite some distance and finally expelled at Darmstadt North. During this motorway escapade another fill-up was required for the bike. A tank full usually lasts me a day, but I reckon I had exceeded my intended milage by about 50. Other than watching my fellow road users there was not much to entertain me, but I was curious about what appeared to be a catenary system in place over lane 1 of the A5 Autobahn – are electric trucks with pantographs coming?

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Next up was a bizarre tour of Darmstadt's commercial suburbs, finally leaving the town on the [26]. That is, up to the point where I reached Dieburg. Another town, another set of barriers – at least there was a decent diversionary route signposted for this one and after a few 30kph back-streets I was back on course with not much more than a mile or so added.

The final run into Ashaffenburg was easy enough even if a little lacklustre, and I was delivered over the River Main bridge straight to the Hotel Wilder Mann where I docked the GTR in the car park entrance way as there was no space available. I offered to the receptionist to move it if necessary, but she said it was fine and I was just left to hope that other users would take care when entering the car park.

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Due to my motorway milage I had arrived in town with plenty of time to explore. It's unusual for me, but the camera hadn't had much of a workout so I took a few shots before settling down in an Imbis bar with a beer and pizza.

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It has been an excellent morning and early afternoon, but a bit of a disappointing last hour or so to my ride. On balance though, a good day, frustrations but no disasters. On review, I simply can't understand why once I had arrived on the [3] Autobahn past Frankfurt airport, I was not just directed to stay with it until I reached Aschaffenburg, I don't know where Darmstadt would need to figure in the equation at all. Note to self; if diverted, spend more time with a proper map.

Looks like a cracking route, if you discount the Belgian bit.  Interested to see "Rangersdorf" on the map.  I stayed there a few years back after riding the Hochalpenstrasse at Grosglockner.  I wander if it'll be the same hotel?...

I stayed at the Hotel Mölltalerhof. I will get to it eventually but I'm doing this write-up at the same time as reviewing and editing my video and it's taking quite a bit of time - probably twice as long as actually riding it 

Day 2, Seclin [F] > Maunhausen [L] c.200 miles

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After a rather sparse breakfast befitting of the hotel, I made my way out before 08:30, straight into more heat. Another annoyance was that the despicable Zumo had stitched me up again. Planning all of the routes on Garmin Basecamp and cross-checking them against Google Maps had shown a consistent distance of travel but somehow in transferring them to the Zumo, the route seemed to have grown by 100 miles or more. I had to resort to picking out the waypoints one at a time and live without the overall distance to travel.

The route for the morning's run toward the Belgian border didn't hold much promise even at the planning stage. The Hauts-de-France region is generally uninteresting and served up a series of short straight roads broken up by roundabouts and non-descript villages. Not actually unpleasant, but nowhere to wind the bike up or lean it over.

After an hour of progress at (officially) never more 50 or 80kph, I made my way into Condé-sur-l'Escaut, the first planned stop of the day. There was no specific attraction for me here, but Google maps had suggested a café next to a lake and it seemed a good place to seek out for a coffee break. As it goes, I was too early for the café but took the opportunity to take a short walk around the woodland and lake shore and then into town to seek out a cold drink. Surprisingly for such a small town there were trams to dodge. Maybe I'll look into why such a place is entitled to an expensive light rail system if I can be bothered.

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I was soon into Belgium on roads that were broadly the same, but at least there was now the odd exciting road junction or set of traffic lights, the locals probably come out on an evening to watch them change. I don't want to be too unkind about Belgium, I'm really quite fond of it, but to really enjoy it on a motorcycle you do need to keep well south of the E42 motorway.

Eventually I broke away from the main roads and meandered through a series of rural byways to the small town of Thuin on the River Sambre. My carefully researched plan to hit the car-park at the side of the river was foiled by the presence of a local market and I was left to pitch up in a backstreet above the town. Still, at least I got my coffee, a cold drink for the top case, a look at the river and a snap of the medieval belfry. There was a bit more that could have been explored here, but as ever I was conscious of time so it will get added to the list for a revisit.

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There was a mixed bag of roads that led me to Givet, a nice variety and now up to 90kph on rural roads, I've commented before that the extra 10kph seems to make such a difference to headway, especially when you can stretch it just a little in open countryside. That said, Givet lies in a wedge of France that rudely pokes into Belgium, so I had to watch the speedo again as I approached. I stopped for a smoke at the side of the River Meuse and took a repeat photo of the Fort of Charlemont on the opposite hill, but once again I didn't linger as I had spent an afternoon up there on my 2023 trip.

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Continuing westwards, up the hill and out of the valley I broke back into Belgium within a matter of minutes.  I was now in the Ardennes area, one of my favourite places to be let loose with my bike. A land of hills, forests and curvy roads made up for the toil of actually arriving there. Just before 4 o'clock I rolled into a parking space in La Roche-en-Ardenne and spent the best part of an hour off the bike roving the streets of the busy little town below its castle, on the banks of the Ourthe.

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The final ride on minor roads into the Grand Dutchy of Luxembourg was just as rewarding and at about 17:45 I arrived at the small hamlet of Munshausen, just south of Clervaux and sought out my hotel. This was a much nicer affair than last night; a curious complex of buildings of which the reception was the local tourist information office, catering facilities were in a restaurant building and the bedrooms were in a separate block wrapped around a courtyard a couple of hundred metres down the hill. Although there were three other bikes on the car park, I got the impression that the business was focused on equestrian aficionados, given the surrounding fields of horses and stable-like outbuildings. There was also a handful of goats, one of which was constantly sneezing as I sat with my cigarette on a nearby picnic bench. Life must be hell if you are a goat with hay fever.

I squeezed a couple of beers from the bar before bed, satisfied with my afternoon ride and with the familiar Eifel and Hunsruck mountains to look forward to the next day.