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Hello Sportsfans,

I realise that you must have been disappointed not to get the evening update from Biker Pilot and El Toro his wingman, but we have been riding hard, very hard, so hard that most grown men would be weeping at this stage. Good thing that Scope and Panto are not on this trip because the tears would add to the already huge rivers we have witnessed. Their bleating would be epic especially the Cambridge Pom’s.

We have ridden 1,200 kms of which about 800 have been on extremely difficult dirt roads, most of which have my personal worst surfaces on them, being loose gravel of a depth of between 5cm and 50cm due to all the road works being undertaken at the moment.

This means that the lady you are attempting to ride becomes a bit of a bucking bronco and is very difficult to keep on the straight and narrow. The only way out of this predicament is the opposite of what we do in these situations. Not a firm hand but rather a very light touch. Lots of power applied smoothly and weight forward.

Like all good things once the technique has been mastered it results in endless pleasure and enjoyment for all parties. The rider (who knows that he/she has mastered the steed) and the steed who does not end up mangled on the side of the road. However it is exhausting and at the end of each day on this trip, El Toro and I are collapsing and fall into bed.

Last night he and I shared a room at Casa Ludwig in Puyuhapi, on the Pacific coast in the middle of Patagonia. I left dinner earlier than he did and was absolutely fast asleep when he got in about an hour later. Our days generally start at about 07h00 and we try to get wheels up by 08h00 to get ahead of the gang who only leave at 09h00. SO at best we are only getting 7 hours sleep which is simply not enough given that we are physically active for about 10 hours every day and in a state of “close to terrified” for about 6 of those hours while on the dirt!

Right now my eyes are drooping and I cannot finish this so it will all have to wait to Friday at the end of this week when we have a free day in El Calafate. By then we would have broken the back of the trip with a few very big days of riding under the belt.

I have lots to tell you about including a major front tire puncture between Bariloche and Esquel. Abandoning my “blau maedchen” on the side of the road and been ridden to our destination on the back of El Toro’s mount. Discovering that the hire company had crooked us on my tires, which were not new as they were supposed to be but that my tire which ended up with puncture had already had a previous puncture in the same spot which had been repaired!

So until then Good Night, Goodbye and Good Luck

Please remember that the photos appear nightly on the following Instagram accounts:

Simon_is_travelling

Friedman2111

Ola.

So it is November 2017, and I am about to set off on a motorbike trip again. This time with a new riding mate, nephew Simon, El Toro, Huxter. Bull of the South American roads. We will be undertaking one of my most sought after trips.

From Puerto Varas in the Chilean lake district, all the way South, to Ushuaia and then Punto Arenas, at the most southern tip of South America. Having been to the very north of Alaska this will be a good way for me to finish off the America’s.

In the intervening years my bike hareem has undergone a full revamp, with a new set of long legged beauties in my stable. The original Spot and Lesley have gone, put out to an honourable retirement, traded in on newer girls, but all versions of the original ladies. They always say the second wife is a clone of the first, just a bit younger and tighter. The latest bikes in my garages (UK and SA) are both BMW R1200 GSA’s with all the goodies. This is the same bike as Bonnie and Spot, just newer. But different from Jayne who was a thoroughbred long distance tar road traveller. I now feel the need to get down and a bit dirtier with my girls. More trips like this one, for which Jayne is just not cut out.

My older riding partners, “Scope” and “Panto” are also not along for this trip, being totally disorganised. Also MVLP has cried off and two other invitees did not arrive at the airport. So definitely no “naughty naughty” on this ride! My mount on this ride is an unknown blind date supplied by the organisers. I only know her pedigree which is true blue BMW and will be introduced to her for the first this afternoon. Maybe it’s better this way. If you are going to have a bit of Nookie, then at least when you are finished with her, it’s goodbye and no expectation of calls, sms’s or WhatsApps. You use her. Ride her hard, no remorse if you are a bit rough and when it’s all said and done, apart from paying for any damages, you are free to walk away. Not even a glance over your shoulder.

After a few attempts to get a motorbike trip to Patagonia together, the great day arrived on Tuesday 21/11.

My first attempt was in 2013 and the organisers could not get sufficient participants and cancelled the trip. We were offered any alternative in their portfolio. I went for the Norway trip and was accompanied by DB who has now told me she will read this blog and that she really does not like this name. So, from here on forward she will be referred to as MVLP (Most Valuable and Loved Person). MVLP is holding down the fort in the UK and baby sitting Mini VLP (Valuable and Loved Person).

Anyhow getting back to the case in point, the Norway trip resulted in our meeting the famous Panto, who has become a firm friend and riding partner. He has to work this year and cannot make the trip to South America. My other regular riding partner, Granny Harry aka Dr. Scope, is also too busy working to get away.

I am fortunate to be accompanied by nephew Simon (El Toro), who has just had to visit Dr.D of the long putter infamy.

My trip to Santiago has been somewhat roundabout via London and our home in the UK to collect some riding kit. On Tuesday evening my flight left Heathrow late, scheduled that way @ 22h00 for an epic 15h30 minute nonstop flight to Santiago. This is BA’s longest scheduled flight and is operated by the newest aircraft in their fleet. The Boeing 787 and my first experience of this aircraft. I spoilt myself and flew FC which was fantastic, really comfortable and great service. An interesting fact about this aircraft is that its pressurization system makes for a lower cabin altitude than any other commercial passenger aircraft currently flying. This means that as a passenger you are subjected to less time at a high cabin altitude which in turn means theoretical less stress and less tired arrivals. Based on this one off first experience I can confirm that it works, as I travelled epically well and felt great on arrival.

A quick dodge through customs inspection via x ray due to heavy load of “tong” to keep hunger at bay on the trip and prunes to keep stomach freed up. Distracted the operator as the bags transited!

Nothing much had changed in Santiago since my last trip here on business in about 1990. Airport is the same. Chaos then at check in for domestic departures now still chaos. Security checks still madness and ineffective. No clear signs to the domestic departure, which is on a different floor.

Eventually I am through all of this and out of nowhere this big hand grabs my bags and hauls them off the security conveyor belt – El Toro – whose arrival in my South American life could not be more welcome. Physically I was at the point of collapse from carrying my essential kit, packed in two bags. For trips like this, trips in which one is not starting off on your own girl, it is critical that you carry everything you need for the trip with you, in case the luggage goes walkabout, always a possibility in South America. The negative is that it all weighs a ton, but having it with you means you can do the trip albeit a bit short on clothes etc.

We struggle to the Private Lounge courtesy of our Card Key (Standard Bank Private Bank) membership and a bit of a welcome respite from the outside madness. The various lounges I have access to are always a godsend. An hour there and we are on the way to Puerto Montt, about 01h30 south in the Chilean Lake district.

Flying South the view out of my window is spectacular. Volcano peaks dotted everywhere, a reminder that this is a geologically unstable country which sits directly on the San Andreas fault line. It keeps on getting more and more beautiful outside.

Puerto Montt airport is also madness. It seems as if the whole of Chile has decided to fly on the same day. Tourism is clearly booming, based simply on the number of tour operators meeting people. From what I can read the economy is on a tear. This begs the question as to why South Africa has the only economy in the world that is in recession other than Zimbabwe and Venezuela. No prizes that it has something to do with leadership or lack thereof!

From Puerto Montt we have a small bus to Puerto Varas which is on Lago Llanquihue, adventure activity centre of Patagonia. Somewhat like a ski village on the lake. Magnificent scenery here with a huge lake and Volcano on the one side, also snow topped.

Check it all out on El Toro’s Instagram account, to which we will be posting rather than trying to incorporate the shots in my blog. The address on Instagram is: Instagram.com/Simon_is_travelling and myself at Instagram.Com/Friedman2111

Also I need to let you adoring sports fans know that I will not be posting everyday as in the past. It takes longer than you realise and we have a great group of people so dinners will be long and I have decided that after arrival in the afternoon a short nap will be the way forward. So every so often I will post and update things, but not fanatically so.

Last night El Toro and I went out for a quiet steak at an excellent restaurant recommended by the hotel and close enough to walk. After an excellent Bife de Chorizo (Sirloin) and Salade de Palmito (Palm heart salad with Avocado) we were back and in bed by 2145 with lights out, for me by 23h00. The internet in my room is awful so no real newspaper reading or other activities, which now need an internet porn site for stimulation.

Today up at 06h30. The coffee machine in my room makes prison style coffee so down at 07h30 for a light breakfast and then into town for a good strong South American shot! Then back to the hotel and starting to get all our intercom’s and other kit organised. There is a group briefing at 15h30 and the girls start arriving at 16h30, which is when I will be introduced to my new “Darling”. Hopefully she will be in great shape with not too many miles showing or having had too much heavy riding. I have paid a bit extra for what I want so I should be pleasantly surprised.

Reading my earlier blogs I mentioned that I prefer to operate on an empty stomach. I find this definitely makes me sharper. The only reason I mention this is that I seem to be very hungry at the moment. I am surprised as generally being on this Ketogenic diet controls my hunger very efficiently and I only eat one real meal each day, this being in the evening with a day long fast to push my ketone level up. The side effect is that I stink like a mine worker after an eight hour shift. When MLVP tells me that I stink, I am very happy. So last night I see people recoiling from me as if they are shot – so I do not have to measure my ketone levels! But my hunger meter is completely out of sync and I am starving at lunch time. It maybe the cold as it is very chilly (sorry about the pun) here.

The Hotel Cumbras on the shore of the lake is as good as it gets on a motorbike trip and the tour leader seems top class. The rest of the group also seem to be excellent with a high percentage of ladies, something that makes for excellent dynamics on a tour. I understand that there are ten bikes which is a great number. So this evening after the briefing we will be out for dinner, at the same place we were at last night, which is fine by me. Then tomorrow a 240 mile trip to Bariloche in Argentina. This is in the mountains and will also be cold, but beautiful scenery. One border crossing.

So until the next time, good luck, good night and goodbye.

Adios

Objective number one on any motorbike trip is to stay vertical and off the road, in other words in one piece. So, touch wood, this objective was achieved for Granny, Panto and myself. Although Granny had one minor whoops at virtually no speed whatsoever, akin to falling off a stationary bike, in a hairpin bend when the road became too steep and narrow for him to compete with an Italian wannabe F1 driver into the corner. So he did the only sensible thing and gave way, only to find no road underneath him when he tried to put his foot down. This situation always results in one winner – great granny gravity – who has outlasted all of us and will continue to do so.

After a perfect weather day on Saturday for our ride across the eastern side of France, I awoke in a Holiday Inn in Reims, and not one to visit again in a hurry, to find fog outside all the way onto the ground. It was a small miracle that I could even see outside, given the size of the windows in my room. Even by French city standards these rooms were tiny. Someone received a PhD for getting a King bed into this room. Panto was even originally given a room without a window. One, which he in uncharacteristic English fashion, refused to accept. So in even more typical French fashion they moved him to one with only one tiny window!

Most of the guys had contracted severe case of “get home itis.” This is a disease that affects all of us towards the end of a grueling trip. They were therefore going to ride up the highway as fast as possible to Calais and catch an earlier than the scheduled afternoon train or ferry back to the UK. Granny and I decided however that it would be a long time before we had the opportunity to ride together in France again and we should at least attempt he more scenic route across the western half of France. We decided that we would ride for about an hour in fog as a maximum and if it persisted we would gap it to a highway.

Just as we were about to call it a day, the fog cleared and there, in front of our eyes, in broad daylight, was the American war cemetery at Oise-Aisne. Final resting place to 6,012 men including 7 sets of brothers who died in the Somme area in WW I, it is, like all the American and British war cemeteries, immaculately maintained. A poignant reminder of all the young men lost in their prime in a fruitless and stupid war. One fought in trenches with days going by in which only yards were gained and lost.

This part of France was the scene of some of the bitterest battles in both wars. It is also a testament to the great sacrifices made by Americans in two wars, which were, certainly as far as Europe is concerned, not their own wars. These were wars in which they gave their lives for a greater cause, freedom from tyranny and freedom for future generations of Europeans. This is why I get so cross when modern day Europeans are so critical of Americans as people. These are debts that can never be repaid.

Interestingly enough the American gentleman, who runs the cemetery, was immaculately dressed in a collar and tie at 09h00 on a Sunday morning, proud and dedicated. The money and budget for the US Battle Monuments Committee is one item that never gets held up in the current internecine battles in Congress and the Senate. They have 24 burial grounds around the world with about 125,000 soldiers buried in these places, young men having left the US never to return. At Oise there is one British sailor buried and the poet Joyce Kilner.

We then ride back into the fog, stop for coffee and decide that we will stop for lunch at Roye for a good French meal, rather than eat at the Eurotunnel terminal. A great decision as we find a fantastic small restaurant and I pig out on Fois Gras and Flambéed Steak Au Poivre avec Pomme Frittes.

From there we take the easy route and highway it to Calais and the Tunnel check in. Not a bad choice as it is bedlam. Every Brit in France and Europe is on the way home. I have never seen it this busy, but it all works well. Very well. We are booked on the 16h36 train and hope to get one about 30 mins earlier. No such luck. In fact the guys who had ridden directly earlier and had arrived at 12h00 could only get a 15h36 train. So we sat in the sun and caught our train on time, hooking up with a number of other bikers, most of whom had been onto the continent only for the weekend. The proximity to Europe and the tunnel makes weekends in France an easy possibility.

Our tour leader, Paul the Policeman, was waiting to escort Granny back to Guildford to drop off his bike. JayneN and I set sail for Cambridge. At 19h45, following another long and tiring day, we turned into our drive. Smelly clothes were soon in the washing machine and everything unpacked with the flat being made shipshape for DB’s imminent arrival this morning.

And this morning my lady had a full wash and polish from her man, making her look like new. Loving strokes for a sexy and reliable mount. Every trip has a few take away points from it, for me these are the highlights.

1. In nine days of riding, over 2700 miles or 4400 km I never saw one accident or even minor fender bender.
2. Over the same period I also never saw any litter or rubbish anywhere on the roads.
3. The level of driving and courtesy was outstanding despite the madness in Italy.
4. Two of our group dropped their bikes, all of their own accord. These were my two riding mates!
5. Switzerland and Germany really get it. Fantastic roads and everything works all of the time.
6. France also gets it. Great roads everywhere, fantastic food and wines. The best bread ever. Pity about my new eating plan. However overall the service levels and attitudes let them down. It definitely is not somewhere that it works all of the time. You can also see that it is a country in trouble. The small towns are dead. Devoid of life.
7. Italy is completely different. Even in Northern Italy, immediately you cross the border (unmarked and un policed) from Switzerland, you know that you are in a different and non Germanic country. It is not the signs as these are in German, it is rather an imperceptible difference in the appearance of the roads that go from great to merely good– and the coffee – which goes from merely good to great.
8. The alpine passes are supreme works of engineering. The road surfaces were great throughout, however once back in the UK the ride is rough and poor by comparison.
9. Europe is full. A huge population in a relatively small area. France still has vast spaces but by and large it is primarily an agricultural society. The farming appears to be highly organised and very professional.
10. South Africa’s Huguenot roots are evident everywhere. Names like Coligny, Arras, De Villiers, Mentz
11. Before the trip I had been advised to take my GS. This is the same as Spot in SA and Bonnie in the US. A bit lighter than JayneN and maybe a bit more nimble. However JayneN was awesome throughout the trip and particularly quick on the longer legs. At no point did I feel that she was out of her element. I loved riding her.
12. Granny and I rode well as a team. The decision to install Bluetooth intercoms so that we could converse throughout, something I learnt from my Norway trip with DB, was a winner. We were able to discuss loads of interesting things as we went along and when Mr. Garmin acted up, we could sort it out on the fly without stopping.
13. It is absolutely worth a trip to Alsace, above all else and to Obernai in particular. Le Parc Hotel had the best breakfast of the trip followed by the Chesa Rosa in Celerina in Switzerland.
14. The most enjoyable meal was at my old hunting grounds, Padrino in Davos. Well done Antonio.
15. The best lunch at Le Gourmet de Roye on the last day in France.

So where next? I am not sure but it has to be a trip with DB again. I am keen for the North East of the USA next year. The big one I have in the back of my mind, is all the way around Australia. But that is a six month trip.

Until my next adventure, Good Night, Good Bye and very Good Luck.

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.

I am lying in bed in Obernai in Alsace trying to prop my eyes open.

Panto has already fallen asleep at the dinner table and everyone is struggling, some more than others. It seems as if we have ridden half way across Europe in the past five days, which in fact is exactly what we have done and we are well on the way back to the UK. So all in all about 1700 miles or 3000 Kms so far.

By african or Alaskan standards, these distances are not vast. But factor in a little village with a 50 or sometimes even 30 km/h speed limit and huge amounts of traffic everywhere, and it is exhausting. Added to which is Mr. Garmin’s faux par with the new software upgrade that has left everyone with a Nav system that has a mind of it’s own, and one developed in Afghanistan. Three identical units loaded with the identical routes and three different directions to go. So we are having to revert to good old map reading. This works OK on the inter town route but in town we have no street maps so the Garmin is essential.

Hello Sports fans, from Davos in the heart of the Graubünden part of Switzerland. Last night was my night off in Bolzano, in the Sud Tirol part of North Italy. This was for many years part of Austria and is still more German than Italian. To the extent that every sign is in both languages and in most cases, everything also works efficiently. That is except for the traffic in the mountains and particularly in Bolzano.

The reason for this is not the roads, which are actually in remarkably good shape, much as if they were Swiss or Austrian, but rather because every Italian, irrespective of the car they are driving, be it a Ferrari or a small Fiat, firmly believes that they are the direct descendants of Fernando Alonso or even more dangerously of Kimi Raikonnen. So the speed and abandon in the mountains is frightening and impressive, all at the same time.

A game of nerves, to see who will hold their line into the next hairpin bend for the longest. A game of Poulet Italian Style!

So he reason is that each hairpin switchback, if taken at speed or on a motorbike requires a similar maneuver. This is a pull out to the outside of the curve to widen your arc, particularly if you are on a right curve because on these turns you are on the inside of the corner you have the tightest arc. Then once you are ready for the actual turn, you duck in to take the line and accelerate up the road or down it as the case might be. To do this at the same time as Fernando is doing it in the opposite direction is alarming to say the least.

Get it right with no opposing traffic and it is an orgasmic feeling.

So here we go, speed up to the corner, brake hard to get your speed right. Look up the bend to see if there is any on coming traffic in the other direction. Swing out wide, change down to First or Second gear, flick the throttle once or twice to get the revs up. If there is oncoming traffic make a very quick decision before you see the whites of the driver’s eyes – Speed up or slow down – and give way. If a truck or bus no decision. A car, take your chances.

The situation also is made more exciting by the road surface in the corners on the switchbacks. Due to the high amount of traffic and the turning and scuffing, the road surface in the bends is at times very rough and has ridges in the direction of travel. These are murder if you are on a bike. Those of you who concentrate on what I have written in the past may remember my description of the bridges in British Colombia in Canada, which have a surface made of steel gratings and what you have to do when Bonnie or Jayne starts getting the shakes and a mind of their own, while under steam. The same happens to JayneN when she hits a ridge on her turn line. She goes from being a willing partner to a bucking bronco.

So then. No different to handling any other woman! A very light touch on the handle bars, delicate fingers some might say. Others tell you to think of a pink canary between your hands and the bars and massage it gently to coax it into the direction you need to go in. As long as you have momentum, the chassis will always sort itself out. Then once you are stablised, a flick of the wrist on the throttle and full steam ahead. At least until the very next bend and the process starts all over again. Much like life itself I suppose.

The thing is that we have been doing four to five huge passes a day. Each about 2500 meters high and each having at least 30 switchbacks on both the up and down. Then, to top to all, on most of the days it has also been wet and huge amounts of traffic. The summer holidays are drawing to a close and especially in Northern Italy, there are literally thousands of people making the most of the last few days. This is also motorbike nirvana so there are literally thousands of bikers from all over Europe. Then also some intrepid bicyclists peddling up as well.

Yesterday we had remarkably good weather except that it was very cool in the morning in Celerina. Zero Celsius. We were into the first pass within a few kilometers and thereafter into the North of Italy and the lake district, Aprica, Edolo, the Passo Gavia and Molveno which is a stunning town on one of the prettiest lakes I have ever seen. Busy with Italians enjoying the cool of the mountains. Huge ski areas that I did not even know existed.

Eventually after a stop for lunch and then an afternoon stop for the obligatory espresso we dropped out of the heights of the Passo Mendolo into Bolzano. This is a huge agricultural area focusing mainly on apples on a scale, which makes places like Elgin and Grabouw look miniscule. Orchards all the way up the mountains and vast pack sheds and processing plants everywhere.

Unfortunately, the long day and distance, 430kms which may not sound like a lot, but which in Europe and particularly in the mountains, is a huge amount of riding, meant that we arrived in Bolzano at late afternoon rush hour.

This resembles a dodgem car event. Cars, trucks, Vespa scooters and people hustling in every direction. Italy, so no rules or right of way. The bravest wins. Not only was the traffic confusing, but after nine hours in the saddle, it was down right terrifying. Like always near the end, when it is short stroke time, a cool head is needed and so I told Granny (over our Bluetooth intercom system, to tuck in and tightly so and follow me religiously.

A few interesting minutes later and there we were, at the Stadt Hotel Scala Siegel. We had been warned not to judge it by the reception. Fortunately, because had we not been, I would have climbed back on JayneN and headed off again. My room was clean and not for the first time, designed for a handicapped person. I am starting to look more carefully in the mirror.

I will not bore you with dinner details other than to tempt you to join me on a cable car trip to the top of the mountain on the outskirts of Bolzano and a gourmet feast care of my skiing mate Georg who had driven from Munich and Lake Garda to have dinner with us. Thank you Georg and Mandy from Wales. Mandy is his climbing and mountain biking muse.

Today we had another heavy mountain pass day planned. At least five passes. After a nightmare first two passes, due to very heavy traffic and very slow going we descended into San Leonardo. This is the start of an area I know well as a result of skiing trips and driving in the area over the past forty years. Fortunately I rarely forget a route traveled, birthdays and anniversaries maybe, but not a road once traveled. A quick glance at the map and I asked Granny whether he felt like another 270kms and three passes or 130kms and two passes.

Granny is not a fool and we were soon on our new route. A great lunch on the way and an awesome ride through he ancient walled town of Naturno, before crossing into Switzerland and heading over the Fluela Pass into Davos. After leaving Merano we had a virtually traffic free ride which was a pleasure and at about 16h30 we were in my old stamping grounds of Davos. Past the Jakobshorn, the old Fluela Hotel. Haus Gredig where we have rented an apartment and into the Hotel Seehof garage. JayneN will have a two night break. She has worked hard to keeping a demanding rider happy and content. Only twitching once or twice on the ridges. She is not a rough rider unlike Bonnie and Spot, who both excel when you get down and bit rough and dirty..The rest of the team are trying to work out how we managed to arrive ahead of them, never having seen up overtake them.

Tomorrow there is an optional outride for the day, but Granny and I will walk in the mountains, in some of the areas that I have never seen other than when covered in snow. We have both had enough saddle time. In fact I have never seen Davos other than when it is white everywhere. It is spectacular and this walk will be epic – I hope. I have, however learnt from a walk once done with DB in Bad Ragaz nearby, many years ago. There, in the bloom of an early trip into Europe in summer, we met up with my parents who were taking the “cure”.

On that Saturday we took the cable car to the top of the mountain and walked down. About15kms. Young, fit and enthralled with each other, the distance sped by and some six hours later we were back at the hotel. Actual distances in the mountains are always much further than they appear on the map. So we had probably walked about 25kms. We did not know that going down was much tougher than the up, we soon found out. After sitting through dinner we were unable to move due to incredible stiffness and not the type of stiffness that was of any use to anyone.

So this walk will be as follows. Take the funicular to the mid station. Walk on paths on that contour or similar for a few hours. Have lunch on the mountains and take the train back down. Then a Sauna and dinner.

I have squared away everything, done all my washing and it is hanging in the room. I often wander what the staff of these five star hotels must think when motor bikers arrive and turn the rooms into laundries and kit rooms. On Friday it is up through Lichtenstein, into Germany and then Alsace for the night.

To all of you, guten nacht, viel erfolg und auf wiedersehen. Biker Pilot is going to have a “Pass” Out !!

A fantastic days riding in not so fantastic conditions. This blog will be short and sweet because I need a long and good night’s sleep.

The man has ridden a filly for over 450 kms through appalling weather and over some of Europe’s most iconic mountain passes – and loved every minute of it.

Really cold, temperatures down to 1C over the Grimsell Pass at 2145m high where we had snow falling on us we crested the summit. Do not forget this is meant to be summer. Followed shortly thereafter by the Furka at 2155m, the Oberalp at 2200m and then topped by the Julia pass near St. Moritz at 2250m. All freezing cold and covered in fog and rain. Not what was ordered, but the challenge of less than perfect conditions always makes it great riding. Nothing like taming your mistress on a really wet ride.

Throughout the day, all of it in Switzerland, I cannot help but marvel at the physical beauty of this small Alpine country, in its own way more beautiful than Norway last year. Not the over powering knock out of the fjords and the sea and lakes of Norway but the orderly beauty of the pastures and villages perched on the slopes of the mountains, the villages hundreds of years old. The chocolate box buildings and a country in which everything, but everything works properly.

One is also constantly reminded that this is a law abiding population and no one drives faster than the speed limit. In fact I rode through the very village, just before the Julia pass where I was ticketed 35 years ago for exceeding the then speed limit by 2 km/h and had to pay on the spot. Nothing has changed. The village is the same. The speed limit is the same and the policeman is also the same. No doubt however, the fine has kept pace with inflation.

So why déjà vu?

Because I have been coming to this country for over 50 years, the first time with my parents when I was 9 years old and regularly ever since then. In fact our ride today ended in Celerina, just outside St. Moritz. We rode into town past the ski slopes and lifts on which my sister Susan and I learnt to ski in 1964. The T bar and button lift on which Susan failed to let go and went over the ice wall at the end are still there, as is the Cresta Palace Hotel where we stayed with our parents. In those days I did not have to pay any bills. It was a great deal as I have now come to realise.

Children are created in a brief moment of passion and a dangling debit is created simultaneously, only you have no idea at the time. Pay back, if ever takes decades.

Interestingly enough as I remarked last night, this country is prospering. Building everywhere and huge upgrades to the roads and infrastructure. People everywhere particularly when compared with France, which is ossifying by comparison. TV in the hotel is a perfect example. In Metz on Sunday night, a good hotel. French TV only with not one international channel. Of course if you are in France why would you need or want anything else.

At both Swiss hotels, in Celerina and in Bien Biele, a full range of every international channel you could wish for. In Switzerland all the small villages have a Café or restaurant which is open and keen to do business. In France there were no places to even get a coffee in the rural areas. They are all closed.

Tomorrow we ride into Italy, the Italian Tyrol and Bolzano. Once part of Austria, it is an area that is still confused as to whether it is German or Italian. One area in which there is no confusion is the food, which is great and therefore must be Italian.

My great friend, Georg “Foul Mouth” Tymcowitz of Lear fame and renowned for the saying when that when skiing if you fall , “when the powder is deep and steep you have no friends”  and then promptly falling and begging me to help him get out. Which I might add I did not do, is driving from Munich to have dinner with us.

He has booked at what he assures me is the best mountain restaurant in the area. I thought that two years ago when we skied together nearby, that we ate at the best mountain restaurant in the area. It was fantastic and not the same place. So in true Italian fashion there are two best restaurants. So this must therefore be exceptional.

Then we ride back to my happy hunting grounds in Davos, where DB and I have skied almost very year for the past 35 years. I have never been there in summer and look forward to seeing it. We have two nights there, an opportunity needed in every big bike trip to regroup and re-organise one’s self. Granny and I will probably not do the day out ride but will use the opportunity to take the funicular up the mountain and then walk for a few hours in the mountains and eat at one of the areas “best” mountain restaurants.

So sport fans and blog followers, from the heart of the Graubunden, Good night, Good luck and good bye.

Buggered in Bienne Biel

Knackered is such a nice description for such a good feeling. One that only ever comes with being truly stuffed! And that is what I am feeling tonight. As are most of the riders. It has been a long tough day. We are in the mountains and it has rained all day. Progressively getting colder and colder. The winging Poms with us, asking why they ever left the UK where, believe it or not, the weather is fantastic.

Panto bought three bottles of sun tan cream before this trip and is wondering why. I have actually managed to get a burnt face, but it is due to windburn from riding with my visor half open to stop it from misting up. Nevertheless it has been an awesome day.

Down through the French countryside. Through the Ardennes and the scene of the Battle of Arracourt, one of the biggest and most famous tank battles of WWII. Military cemeteries and memorials everywhere, a poignant reminder of the death and destruction that took place in this part of the world a little more than 70 years ago. My father’s generation embroiled in this epic conflict.

Not to forget the war to end all wars, only 20 years before that. It is only because the politicians do not have to fight the wars themselves that they continue to engage the youth of their country in these senseless dramas.

We were discussing this over dinner last night and one of the group described his visit to the cemetery at Omaha Beach in Normandy and looking for the graves of the Ryan Brothers made famous in “Saving Private Ryan. He could not remember the name of the brothers and asked one of the curators where the brothers were buried?”. The curator asked which brothers? As there were more than 130 different sets of brothers in that particular cemetery alone!!

Nevertheless the countryside shows no signs of those conflicts and as an agricultural powerhouse France ranks only behind the US and Brazil and it shows in the magnificent farms and countryside everywhere. We have ridden through the maize lands and pastures of the Argonne and the vineyards of Alsace and then into the mountains near Colmar. Admiring the Charolais and Limosin cattle everywhere. Rarities elsewhere, here they dot the landscapes.

All of this quite sentimental in many ways for me. DB and I drove through this region on one of our first pan European car trips in my early business years. This is one of the gastronomic epi centres of the universe. Over many years of driving in Europe I have crossed this area from east to west and north to south – and no better way to do it than on a motorbike. Except for the fact that it was pouring with rain and very, very cold. Man stuff! As much as I am missing having DB wrapped around me, this is not a trip for girls. I have my hands full with Jayne in these conditions and a mistress as well as a wife is more than this man is up to.

We stopped for lunch at an unplanned restaurant shortly after the summit of the pass on the Col du Bonhomme, having missed the turn off in the mist for the team lunch stop on the summit. We hit the jackpot with a fantastic restaurant a few kilometers on. Granny and I selecting mouth watering main courses, after both having had Escargot to start. This was of course France!!

Then up through the mountains on smaller and smaller roads. At some point we crossed into Switzerland, no border marked and the first signs of change being the road markings and bus stops signs and then a Swiss flag. Granny was wondering why he had queued for hours for a visa interview and paid thousands of Rands. He felt hard done by all afternoon.

By 15h00 and after switchback after switchback, ups and downs. Roads slippery due to wet fallen leaves and cold hands we decided to take the shortest route to our end destination at Bienne Biel and a big thanks that finally my GPS seemed to be working. So a “Direct to” entry was made and an hour later, care of Swiss highways and tunnels we arrived at our hotel after nine hours in the saddle and about 425 kms.

I have been in this city before, and in most of this country, a country which I love for its efficiency and the fact that government is kept small and out of people’s lives. It really is a place where “government is by the people, for the people” and not like “for the government and the politicians” as in so many other countries. Important issues are still decided by a national referendum, which can be called by any citizen who collects more than 50,000 signature of support. The results of these referendums are binding on the state.

Amazingly enough the areas of France we have ridden through are also in pretty good shape but there is one very noticeable difference between Switzerland and France. In the small French villages there is no sign of human life. They are dead with no children to be seen and no schools. In Switzerland it is completely different with people everywhere and new schools being built.

Switzerland has an air of prosperity and growth about it, whereas in France you have the feeling that “The dead are fucking the dying!”

Tomorrow has some more trips down memory lane. Another long day, ending up in Celerina and Pontresina. Scene of our first skiing trip, the first as a family with my parents and the first with DB, when I found out to my horror that she was a much better skier than me. We managed to mess up the first T Bar we went on together and I fell off, as every gentleman should do rather than see his damsel in distress.

We will ride over the Julia and Sylvia passes, passes which Susan and I first were driven over in an old Kombi in 1966 by our then ski instructor Friedel and then, DB and I again in a hired Opel Kadett, in 1980 after fleeing from the house of friends of my parents, who had let us stay there in our early courtship. We had to flee because everything we touched broke, except the bed, which had a straw mattress. The only reason that this did not break was that the bed was so uncomfortable that we put the mattress on the floor and slept on it there.

I think of Errol Bouchier, my friend who was then flying for Swiss Air and who came down to stay with us for a few days. And of Uli Lindner, with whom I skied in these very mountains quite recently. Both now tragically gone to new flights and new ski areas in the sky.

So the real riders amongst us, such as Panto, are also really knackered and there is lots still to come. For many years now Panto has been the fastest man on the block. But on this trip there is a new group of much younger riders and they are quick, very quick! Even in these atrocious conditions. This has put him under severe pressure as he is having to play catch up.

So Panto is having to reassess how he approaches the next few days. Is it to be a slower and more measured ride with Biker Pilot and Granny, or is he going with the Young Guns?

My money is on the bad decision! We will only know in the morning. However Granny and I are doing the shorter and easier route, which at over 420 kms is still a big day. But we are getting bike fitter..

Oh and by the way, snow is forecast overnight in Celerina on Monday night, especially for us!!

So from Switzerland, on the Lake, Good night, Good Bye and Good Luck.

So the day started early in Folkestone.

Dinner the previous evening at the Holiday Inn Express was surprisingly good, only the wine poor. Not because of the Holiday Inn. The staff told me when I booked for dinner that there wine selection was abysmal, apparently Brits who stay there are not prepared to pay anything for wine and will drink any rubbish so long as it has an alcoholic content above 12%.

No, the reason the wine was poor was that I went to the Tesco next door to buy something better and nothing better was available there either. Tesco today announced a massive profit warning on the back of a series of poor results. Based on their wine selection more bad results are on the way. Call this Richard’s wine barometer of crappy financial results. Any supermarket that can list and display the shit that they had on their shelves is assuming that their customers have zero taste or brains. Even in the UK a selection this poor is difficult to get away, with except in Luton.

So we survived the night and set off for the Euro Tunnel express train to Calais at about 07h30. This is a great service and for those of you who have not used this service yet, do so! It is a testimony to all that is good about Europe. Arrive, get your number on a card, this denotes your train which goes under the English Channel to France. There are vehicle and freight trains every 15 minutes in addition to the passenger trains every 20 minutes from London to Paris and vice versa.

About 300 cars on each train and all loaded in 20 minutes. we had over 100 motor bikes on the train ahead of us and ours. Effortlessly on the way to France and out the other side in 25 minutes. All you have to worry about is riding on the right side of the road or else a huge truck will use one as a mosquito mush!.

Before setting off we had decided that Dave Murphy, he of Cambridge Theater Pantomime fame would lead our little riding group of three. In the middle would be “Granny” Bloch, who had never ridden on the right hand side of the road and I would act as the ” Sweeper”, to pick up the pieces if Granny or Panto went astray. At this point I might add that Panto is a superb rider, physically ideally equipped for it, short and with a sling gut of note which gives him an extremely low center of gravity which in turn is a perfect amateur’s build for motorcycling.

So tall and chiseled “abs” homo sapiens such as myself are at an extreme disadvantage when compared to Panto, simply because of our higher center of gravity. Also if he falls off the bike he tends to roll and bounce out of harms way, whereas we continue to slide into the fence at high speed.

So Panto rides FAST and WELL but is extremely difficult to follow for a number of reasons, the most important relating to simple mathematics, something which I had to explain to him a few times today and the result of which is that anyone following him is almost certainly going to end up in an out of control accident. This is exactly what has happened to his son Charley, who in the past two months has crashed twice while following his vastly experienced and competent father – Panto!

So the reason, as I say, is simple mathematics and was only deduced today after I was on the receiving end of the theorem.

It goes like this. You are riding together in a line with about 200 meters between each rider. So the last rider,being me was about 400m back. You enter a village and have to drop your speed from 130 km/h to 50 km/h, this being the speed limit. As Panto exits the other side of the town, he opens up fully, as he loves to “floor it” and roars ahead to 130 km/h again. Given that I am still in the village at 50 km/h, the “gap” now opens to 1000m before I exit the village and that is with no slack or vehicles holding me up, all of which only serve to exacerbate the problem.

Now, once I exit the village I have a deficit of 1000 m to make up and Panto is already travelling at 130 km/h. So even if I accelerate to the same speed the differential extends to 1200m. To make up this difference in say 5 km I have to travel at an average speed of about 190 km/h. This is hair raising to say the least and after a few villages and one pull over by the police, more about this later, I eventually explained this to Panto who told me that he was not very good at Maths. But it is the reason that Charley has pranged so often – he is always trying to catch up and at some stage Panto will work it out, or Charley will or his wife, Charley’s mother, will. Or Charley will do more serious damage to himself.

Our problems were further exacerbated by the fact that amongst the three of us, Panto had the only GPS that that was functioning properly, so we were forced to follow him. I had three hours of Granny moaning in my ear through the intercom about his Garmin problems and there was nothing I could do about this. Only the Irish could and eventually in the form of Gerry did fix it. It never ceases to amaze me that Garmin, a hugely successful company, can continue to produce such rubbish in the form of the flawed user interfaces and software. The new BMW Navigator V produced by Garmin is a disgrace and a poor reflection on both companies.

Over dinner I found that we were not alone and a number of other people on the trip had also been affected. On Monday I updated my old Navigator IV and the update caused it to crash to the extent that it was unusable. So needing a GPS for this trip I rushed out to buy a new Navigator V. You have to register it on line. This triggers and automatic update, the same one that bombed my Nav IV. Low and behold it also bombed my Nav V. This time however, in the face of desperation I consulted a whole number of forums on the internet and found a work around and a temporary fix, which as I found out in the middle of France, was not perfect and it had me going around and around to the same place, hence the need to try and keep up with Panto!

To night we are in a little town called Conde Northen near Metz, in the middle of France. The scenery today has been magnificent. I have been constantly reminded that these are the battle grounds of the First and Second World Wars, an area in which over one million men died. Often contesting a few hundred meters of territory whilst their Generals sat and drank champagne and had lunch served to them. We have ridden past the Maginot line. France’s ultimate defense against the BMW’s which two nice Jewish boys are riding through their on through this very area. The irony of it does not escape me. Beautiful military cemeteries dot the horizon as eternal memorials to the folly of leaders and to a generation of young British, German and French men lost forever. Wasted.

Panto, our leader, has one instruction from us. Only one! Find cafe’s with good coffee. He fails miserably and near Vouziers in a little shit heap called Bourcq, produces a cafe presse with the worst cup of coffee that we have ever had, plus a waiter with the worst attitude and then a toilet which came straight from Libya without being cleaned.

So tomorrow we are freeing him up to ride with Kevin “all ears” Hinton and Gerry the IRA general – so that they can all go flat out whilst Granny and i bring up the rear at our own pace. What I know for sure is that we will find great coffee. Also now that I have temporarily suspended my DB inspired Grain Brain regime, a croissant or three will be consumed with this.

Given Garmin’s that work, tomorrow we will be in the mountains and end up in Switzerland, on the lake at Biele near Bern.

Today I was exhausted following, tomorrow I will be back in front with my long time riding partner in close pursuit. We will meet panto and Ears for dinner in Biele. I will also tell you about the Gendamerie hauling Panto off the road for speeding and watching a Brit learn French in one second!

Till then. Good night, good luck and good bye.

So another bike trip is about to begin. I am in the Holiday Inn Express at Folkestone in Kent, England about to set off around Europe on a trip known as Mountains All the Way. Reputedly this is one of the “Must do Bikers Trips” in Europe. Ten days of intensive riding through France, Switzerland, Northern Italy, Southern Germany and back through France to the UK.

As the name implies we are in the Alps for most of the time and it promises to be interesting and challenging. The weather forecast for day three around Celerina near St. Moritz is a low of 1C with snow. Winter is on the way. Celerina will be interesting as it was the scene of my first skiing holiday with my parents and sister in about 1967 and then my first trip with DB.

Hopefully my blogging efforts will be better than my Norway trip with no DB and no one to talk to after the lights go out. On the flip side I have the Second Mrs. F with me in the form of my great mate, Harold Bloch. So today I have shepherded him from Guildford in Surrey to Folkestone as he has never ridden in the UK and it is very different to riding from Franschhoek to Yzerfontein on a Sunday morning. The volume of traffic, the overall speed with which drivers fill any gap in the road and the narrow roads would leave a Gugguletu taxi driver gasping for breath, at least for a while!

So we rode through Surrey, East and West Sussex and Kent today. Breathtakingly beautiful countryside and England at its best. I am on Jane 2 or Nikita as she is now known. There have been some wholesale changes in my stable of fillies. Bonnie and Spot have been upgraded to newer models, as every good mistress should be from time to time. For good measure I have kept Bonnie who served me so well to Alaska and back, as no mistress who graduates to wife status should ever be put out to pasture. Her place in my fleet is secure.

On this tour we have some of the old reprobates from the Norway trip. Dave Murphy of Cambridge Theater fame. Kevin Hinton of – leave your wife behind on the road in Norway after dropping her off to take photo’s of you riding towards her  – notoriety. Deaf Kevin who has now had an implant which has miraculously restored his hearing and made him instantly boring. Gerry from Ireland with the silky smooth voice and Blochie. So the struggle will be to get away in the evenings to write, as we have big days with big distances and have already decided that even in the absence of rear seat nannies that we will only eat well at good restaurants and drink great wines. Also all the ride days will be on the long routes.

Tomorrow we take the Eurotunnel to Calais early and then track across France to Metz for the night. This is a case of covering distance to get to the mountains and it will not be epic countryside. That having been said France is always magnificent and I am sure that lunch in Chamberai will be great.

It is fantastic to have my mount underneath me trembling again as I wind in the power. The open road of life calls and I cannot wait for great bike adventure to start.

So bed it is and sleep. Good Night. Good Luck and Goodbye till the next blog.