So sports fans as you have probably deduced something went haywire with my post which I rushed off at Obernai in Alsace, as it was half finished. It’s not only Mr. Garmin that is not working properly, but also Mrs. WordPress.

I fact I took a shortcut on Friday evening because I was so bombed out, one which I learnt to my dismay on my Alaska jaunt is dangerous. And that is too trust a woman with technological matters, in this case Mrs. WordPress.

The most dangerous thing one can do when writing your blog is to type it into Mrs. WordPress directly, even if you save it as you go, for when you post it she has invariably forgotten some of the stellar words of wisdom whispered into her ear along the way. And these pearls of wisdom can never be found again.

This is what happened in Obernai with the bulk of the post, and they were epic WOWs (Words of Wisdom), never to be repeated.

So the lesson learnt is to type your blog into a Word Document, saving this as you go and then, once finished, copy it and paste into Mrs. WordPress.

But in short the ride from Davos to Obernai was awesome but long. I know this area of Europe so well, that it was like visiting an old girl friend. A few glances and you know their geography. So through Klosters and Landquart and then up North through Lichtenstein and across to the west along the Rhine.

The main bridge into Germany was closed for repairs and this necessitated a quick plan B and a diversion towards Basel. With starvation looming we saw some of our parties bikes parked outside what appeared to be a bit of a grimy stuhbli near a small place called Bad Zurzach. Now this turned out to be very interesting. Apart from six of our guys all having a Wurst and Pomme Fritte, there was one other patron, not eating but nursing a beer and smoking.

The waitress was as old and knackered as they come and the younger woman appeared to be her daughter. When I asked for the menu they burst out laughing and it soon became apparent that we had arrived in a knock shop and somehow our guys had managed to get them to deliver some food. The other man was waiting his turn and the two ladies obviously thought Christmas had arrived in the form of eight British bikers.

Anyhow they managed to rustle up some food for Granny and myself and were very upset when their offers of some house specialties were rejected, graciously I might add.

So from there across the river into Germany and our aim was to hit the B500 as soon as possible. The B500 is an epic and iconic motor bikers road. Famous to the extent that people come froxsssm all over Europe to ride this piece of tarmac which stretches through the famous Black Forest or Swartzwald as it is correctly known. The road is pitch perfect for high speed motorcycling with perfect scenery, surface and cambers. The police here play the game, so the speed limits in each small village are very strictly enforced but it is fair game in between. So it is flat out in perfect scenery and conditions.

At one point while overtaking a slow vehicle I gun it all the way and actually, completely by accident, pull a Wheelie in third gear while doing about 150 km/h. This is the stuff of motor GP riders as they pass the checkered flag, not of mature Biker Pilots. I give myself a massive fright as well but heavy boating rights for the evening.

We pass a very busy Titisee, a magnificent lake in the forest. I know this whole area quite well from my CI days and in particular the early ones. This was the period during which companies such as Kinzele, Dieter Grasslin and Isgus formed the backbone of the business. All these companies derived their world class businesses out of the skills developed in the area through making cuckoo clocks. This skill was in turn developed during the long winter months, when the bitterly cold weather and heavy snow kept the farmers indoors for months on end and they needed something to keep themselves busy. What they learnt was how to make very accurate and fine mechanical movements and this was translated into highly sophisticated and complex products.

On my first trip to Villingen and Schwennigen, both of which we pass on the outskirts of on this trip, the snow on the side of the road was over two meters high. The little hotel we stayed in still had coya matrasses. For the yonger followers, these are straw filled matrasses and unbelievably uncomfortable. Over the years I must have been here in excess of thirty times and have even, on occasion spoilt DB with a visit here

Eventually we decide, having had a very long day to cut straight across to the west and head for Alsace and our hotel. This is not as simple as it sounds as we once again have to find a Rhine crossing. This time south of Strassbourg. We manage and late in the afternoon, with thunder rolling and rain spitting, we arrive at our hotel in Obernai. I am very pleasantly surprised with both Obernai, a classically beautiful and very old Alsatian village, and with out hotel, The Le Parc Hotel. This is a place to come again with another woman, not JayneN. Maybe an Ménage a Tois including JayneN.

Alsace has some great cuisine and our hotel has a great restaurant. We enjoy an outstanding meal with classically aloof and shitty French service. Bikers may not really be good enough for this establishments staff. Clearly they need a kick up the ass, and they get It in two forms. The first in the form of Panto, who as an accountant checks the bill and finds that we have been ripped off as they have a two and three course option which incorporates all of our choices and is substantially cheaper than the al la carte prices we have been charged. Initially they claim we have had larger portions. When tis is pointed out to them that this is not the case, they claim that we should have told them upfront that we wanted the option and not al la carte and then they just could not understand us. The matter was resolved when the owners son, who spoke perfect English, intervened and we received a substantial refund in cash as we had all put in cards.And then the second kick in the morning in the form of Madame, who clearly calls all the shots and has heard about our dinner bill debacle.

On Saturday morning we woke to a perfect day and a respite from the bad weather we have had. This was needed as we had a huge day. In order to get to the Alps one has to cross Europe and this means big distances by European standards. Our Saturday trip would end up in Reims in the heart of Champagne. I decide to make a diversion to show Granny, Epernay, the spiritual heart of Champagne and in particular the Rue De Campagne. we are so close we cannot miss this. So we tear across the Vosges, another must visit part of France, stop for coffee near St. Die and lunch at Bar-Le-Duc. We are now in the heart of WW I and WW 11 areas with war cemeteries all over. This is the Meusse area near Verdun, famous for the signing of the Armistice in WW 1 and arguably the single most significant geographical point associated with the causes of WW II, due to Germany’s humiliation.

At this point, I am going to sleep, in fact I have nodded off as it is nearly 02h00. I arrived in Cambridge at 19h00 this evening after leaving Reims at 08h30 or 07h30 UK time. I have unpacked and finished my laundry. The flat is ship shape and DB arrives here very early in the morning to carry out an inspection. So I have to be on my game.

I will finish the last pieces of the trip and crossing the Channel etc over the next few days. There is lots to tell and also my thoughts on a number of things that I saw and did in the week.

So Good Night, Good Luck and Goodbye.