A barn in France 3

- 139500 km on the bike

It is blowing a gale next morning. Murphy's law; whenever I take a long ferry trip Hurricane Alma diverts to my location.
The wait at the ferry port is quickly passed by chatting with two French van drivers from the Allier region, two English couples in Land Rover Freelander cars and an Englishmen in a French-registered Land Rover Discovery.
I ask the first Freelander chap if he ever had trouble with his transfer box. Yes, he had. It was replaced at 60000 miles. This is a design flaw with Freelanders built before 2002, whereby the transfer box bearings are under-dimensioned. The other guy has 70000 miles on the clock and is still on box number one. He hasn't heard of that problem yet, so me and the other guy telling him about it really makes his day. But I have one more for both of them; the clutch in their 1.8 litre engine is also under-dimensioned. If they run into clutch-trouble in France they might want to know that the clutch mechanism on their right-hand drive vehicles is not compatible with French left-hand drive vehicles - any spares will have to come directly from the UK.
I quite like "Landies", but I would never buy a Freelander. The geezer with the French-plated Discovery grins and tells the other two chaps that his Landy has done 350000 kilometres without a single glitch.
The ferry leaves on time. I wonder a bit, as the seaman that ties down Kitty is just using a single strap for the job. Must be calmer out there than I expected.
But then the weather out in the Channel is so bad, that the crew has to ask the passengers not to venture outside, as the spray from the bow crashing into the waves splatters even the decks on the seventh floor of the vessel
Half way across the purser broadcasts a message over the speaker system in French, summoning me to the reception desk on deck six.
I am suspecting disaster, and I am right; I left the bike on its side stand with the transmission in first gear. On the side stand the bike leans over to the left at about 20 degrees. The storm was so violent, that it actually managed to throw Kitty on her right side, entirely against the bank to the left she had on the side stand.
A few seamen have already put Kitty 'back on her feet', but of course the damage of a fully loaded Triumph Tiger being violently crashed on her side by the furious elements can not be hidden; the right pannier is badly scratched, so is the plastic shield on the right handlebar. That there is no more damage is just another sign of the impressive quality and clever design of these bikes.
The third officer, a Monsieur Henneuse, fills in an insurance claim form. I see that he uses a clipboard containing at least a hundred of these forms in triplicate - I hope this is no indicator on how many of these forms they need.

[Postscript: three month later I duly received a cheque from Louis Dreyfus, completely re-imbursing me for the repair of the damage caused by Kitty toppling over due to being improperly secured during this stormy traverse of the English Channel].

I am quite easy-going about all this, which seems to be a great relief to the officer - I suspect this is the part of his job he hates most.
A few minutes later the engines of the ferry go into full reverse. We are obviously stopping for no apparent reason. We are outside Le Havre harbour entrance, and the sea has calmed down to a mild swell - so why stop now?
Then a small boat approaches. By the time I realize what is going on it is already too late; a pilot has come on board to guide us into Le Havre harbour. This chap jumping from the pilot boat onto our ferry would have been a sight - but I just missed it and in my picture I can only show you the pilot boat pulling off seconds after the pilot got (safely) on board:

We arrive on time in Le Havre. But the crew does not allow the passengers back onto the car deck until the vessel is safely moored and the vehicle decks doors are already open.
While this is sensible to prevent car and truck drivers to start their engines while the doors are still closed this does not work for bikers on a day like this where it is pissing down with rain. If you are a fellow biker you will certainly agree that it takes at least ten minutes to get into all your wet weather gear, undo the straps of your bike and get ready to roll again.
The ferry had only about 80 cars on board, so after two minutes the boat is empty - except for me, still struggling to get all my gear on. I couldn't give a toss. I will not leave this boat unless I am fully kitted for the driving rain outside.
The crew takes the delay very patient - they obviously know what happened to my bike during the voyage.
Four or five guides are waiting for me outside wearing heavy oilskins and guide me to the harbour exit - through droves of trucks and cars eagerly awaiting to get on board. I realize that this is a bank holiday monday for my countrymen and lots of eager (extended) weekend warriors are heading back for that little island out in the North Sea.
One thing is clear; these guys here are rather disorganized when it comes to handling motorbikes in any way.
I am out of the harbour by 6.40 pm French time. The motorway A131 is free of charge until exit 28. Even the great viaduct over the Seine river does cost 2.30 Euros for cars, but is free for motorbikes. I like that.
After six month in NZ plus two weeks in England I have now again to drive on the wrong side of the road - initially I have to really think hard when turning and to remember to drive counter-clockwise into roundabouts, but I know that after a while one gets used to this.
Five minutes after hitting the motorway I am happily rumbling along when suddenly my sixth sense kicks in again; something is wrong. I see a blue Renault spinning out of control ahead to my left on the motorway in the opposite direction. Then that car crashes into the barrier right ahead of me, separating my two lanes from the two going into the other direction. The barrier buckles in violently and is bent onto the fast lane of my road - on which I am just overtaking a truck. Earth and plastic fragments are shooting all around and past me. The Renault is flung back and crashes onto the barriers on the far side, while at the same instant being hit by a small silver Peugeot that can not prevent the crash. I can hear those plastic bits that have just shot passed me being turned into pulp by the dozen or so axles of the truck I am just overtaking. It takes much longer to narrate this incident here than for it to actually happen. Well, I believe that I had enough incidents for one day and that it is time to turn in for the night. Five miles on emergency vehicles and the French Fire Brigade are pulling onto the highway to sort out that bedlam down the road.
In spite of that maritime mishap and that motorway accident Kitty runs perfectly and I enjoy the ride in spite of the rain. But it is already fairly late, so I stop at Le Neubourg, a town about 40 miles south-east of Le Havre. The hotel "Le Soleil d'Or" offers all I need right now; a giant bath-tub and covered parking for the bike - which I like because it is still raining.
The hotel concierge tells me that they have wireless Internet access and gives me his 26-digit hexadecimal access code. But I see immediately that he has one of those dreaded French Telecom Livebox systems - the same crap I managed to prevent Nick from using last year. Each network device (i. e. wireless card) needs to be specified manually in the Livebox access point - a requirement making this device completely useless for hotels. The concierge knows nothing about this, so I resign to the fact that I shall remain offline this evening. I would have liked to check on tomorrows weather.

- 139600 km on the bike

It is still raining next morning. But the rain lessens with every mile I ride south-eastwards. By noon I can get rid of the wetgear. While the going is good I tell myself that it is a smart thing to cover some distance, so I keep on riding until 7 pm. As usual you can download the route here.
I have timed my ride very well; yesterday, when biking the UK, there was a bank holiday there, which means hardly any trucks on the roads. Today it is a bank holiday in France. They celebrate VE day, and again the roads before me are free of trucks.
If you check out my route you will notice that Paris is directly in the way - and that I take a major diversion south of the city to avoid it. I am sure some of you out there (especially those of you living outside Europe) may wonder why on earth I do not stop to have a look at the marvels the French capital has to offer?
The answer to that is simple; I don't like big cities, and I especially dislike traversing them on my motorbike. I have been to Paris 20 years ago and done the lot and got the T-shirt, and I am sure the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower won't look any different today then they did then. I have reason to believe that the banlieue of Clichy-sous-Bois has changed somewhat, but that place is not really a tourist magnet, not even to those like myself who enjoy cultural diversity.
I finish the day only about 200 miles before my destination Eschenbach in Switzerland. I find a cheap hotel in Franche-Comté and sleep like a rock. But at least I am now once again capable of riding for eight or nine hours nonstop without them old bones hurting too much afterwards.

- 140100 km on the bike

With my last petrol I just make it into Basel in Switzerland this morning (petrol is 20% cheaper in Switzerland than in France). I also buy a Swiss vignette for 2007 and then continue on my way. Switzerland is useless for riding a bike, so I just take the motorway. By 3 pm I am in Eschenbach and sort out tomorrows main service for Kitty.
The "Zum Zimmermann" guest house in Rapperswil offer me their room number 13 for CHF 45 with all mod cons - no need to use the youth hostel for CHF 35 today.
The room is so cheap because it contains the transformer box for the outside illumination. The buzzing sound that box makes is apparently quite unpopular with hotel guests. For me that thing works like a sleeping pill; the moment they switch it on at dusk my eyes get heavy and by 10.30 pm I am fast asleep.
Next morning I am off early and hand Kitty over to Hans and his mechanics. They offer me a brand new 2007 model Tiger for my disposal all day. Triumph has radically changed the design; it is smaller, lower, 50 kilograms lighter and has an even bigger engine than my 2002 model.
When I first jump on it it feels as light as a pushbike. But it has all the required qualities for a long-distance tourer and they have fixed a number of flaws with the old design; the brake and clutch levers are now adjustable, one can see the dashboard instruments at night and the warning lights in daylight, the riders legs are better angled, and the most important thing: it now has ABS fitted, a thing any motorbike should have as standard - on a bike this is even more important than on a car.
N.B.: Apparently the ABS is an optional extra. If I see any of you out there on a 2007 Tiger without ABS then let me tell you right here what I think of you: you are a tightfisted, ignorant and irresponsible moron.
They have also fixed the gearbox ratios. On my model the first and second gear have too long a ratio, while fifth and sixth gear are too short for long-distance biking.

On the negative side I notice that the gearbox on the new 1050 cc engine is far "clonkier" than on my model. Switching gears is as noisy as on an old BMW bike, and the distances between gears on the shift lever are much longer than on my Kitty.
Another point is the sound of the exhaust system; while the roar of my Tiger sends shivers of joy up the spine of any biker, the new Tiger sounds as tame as a sewing machine.
Triumph is also cheating a bit (again) on the selling price; like with my model year (2002) they do not include certain essential items. The centre stand and the panniers are extras not included in the base package. For a touring bike this is ludicrous. I recommend if you consider buying one, then go for the centre stand (plus CHF 140), but look for the panniers at an external supplier. The Triumph originals are too small on the new model (not even a helmet will fit) and way too expensive. I expect that Triumph will include these items at no extra cost in a year or two - they did it with my model from 2004 onwards.

But it is good fun to ride that bike and when I am retiring Kitty (I am aiming for a quarter million kilometres, and I am not kidding) I shall get me one of these.
I take the bike out on the motorway and drive to Schänis, completely forgetting that I have no motorway vignette on this bike - but all goes well and undetected.
By 6 pm the dirty, dented and dilapidated-looking Kitty has been turned once again into a shiny, happily purring cat by Hans and his Swiss wizards. CHF 1400 change hands, nearly 900 of them for parts alone.
Hans will send me a quote for the damage the ferry company has to pay later on this week.
I have also received an e-mail from Alex in Romania; he has finally bought that 600 cc Suzuki racer he has been dreaming about for a long time, so I am sure we will soon ride our two bikes together - me probably several miles behind him ;-).
I have called my tyre people in Germany. Unfortunately they are too busy this week and have asked me to come next Monday for the set of new boots for Kitty. Hmmmh, what am I going to do with those three days in between?
I have a look at the map and I find the old waypoint for "Haus Margarete" near Alpirsbach in the German Black Forest. You may remember, I stayed there for a couple of days last year. The weather forecast for that area is reasonable, so I decide to go there again and pass this weekend biking that area. A quick call via my Internet phone confirms, that they have vacancies for the coming weekend.

- 140400 km on the bike

Next morning the cloud cover over the north side of the Alps dissolves and the already gusty westerly wind increases further, and veers slowly ever more southerly. These are the unmistakable early warning signs of the Föhn-effect. It is already unusually warm by 10 am when I set out; 22 degrees centigrade.
But with every mile I ride north, away from the mountains, it gets cooler and once I have crossed the Rhine at Schaffhausen the cloud cover returns and the temperature drops to 15 degrees - I am out reach of the Föhn.
Biking Germany is much nicer than biking in over-restrictive and overcrowded Switzerland.
From the Rhine onwards the countryside climbs slowly upwards. By the time I arrive in Ehlenbogen at Haus Margarete at 4.30 pm I am 1500 feet above sea level. They offer me again the use of their garage for the bike - which is great because during the night it starts to rain.

- 140600 km on the bike

It is still raining this morning, but during breakfast it stops. The only other guest is a German tourist from Philippsburg, model 1926. Not many of them geezers out and around any more these days. I like history, so we have a nice chat about the olden times - nothing beats getting history from eyewitnesses, and most Germans of that age have witnessed an impressive number of historic events. We talk about what he did as a sailor in the German Navy during WWII.
By the time I set out on the route I compiled yesterday the roads are nearly dry and the sun is making serious attempts to brighten the day.
You can download the route here. I added the track download from my GPS after I drove it and also added all relevant waypoints. I did this because the route is one of the best I have ever found in this part of the world; scenic, very little traffic and full of good places to have a break. Use it whole or in parts if you are in this area and let me know what you think of it.
The first useful waypoint comes after just 17 kilometres, when I find a pub on the roadside that also serves coffee. Inside some locals are having their Schnapps and beer - it is well before 11 am, but in Germany having a few drinks this early in the morning is quite a tradition on weekend days. They usually go home for lunch and the hardcore patrons return afterwards and then usually won't return home until the wee hours of the following morning. These fellows have been out hunting last night and are celebrating their apparently successful night in the rain.
Their hunting equipment is dangling from the nearby coat hangers - each including a hip flask for Schnapps the size of a jerrycan. Quite astonishing that they managed to hit anything, considering the amount of "aiming-water" they had on board. But they probably did it like any drunken hunter does when the lone deer appears in the open: just aim for the centre of the group of animals you see.

After a few coffees I continue to my next destination: the old "Wenzel" Silver Mine near Wolfach. From 1761 to 1830 the local miners dug an impressive array of tunnels and shafts into the mountains and dug up about four tons of the precious metal - not quite the Comstock Lode, but for those days certainly a fortune.

In 2001 the local mining heritage club reopened the mine for visitors after some extensive refurbishing work was carried out. The only condition the prince who still owns the place had, was to exclusively sell and drink the beer from the princely brewery on the premises - apparently the aristo family found booze production significantly more lucrative than mining.
The guides are all volunteer club members and they do daily tours at 11 am, 1 and 3 pm Tuesday to Sunday. I have arrived just in time for the 1 pm tour. Our guide is working as a miner in a nearby active mineral mine. He must love the world underground, considering that he spends his spare time as a guide in this ancient mine. At the mine office we are kitted out with wellies, oilskins, miner's lamp and a battery pack.
Inside the mine the temperature is at a constant 10 degrees Celsius, summer and winter. Too warm for bats, I am told. For two hours we marvel at the massive work carried out under the most primitive conditions and just with hand tools and gunpowder.

Apparently some silver carrying ore was found on the surface on top of the mountain. Lacking any modern probing tools, the miners just dug into the mountain, hoping to strike it rich. Sometimes they found silver, at other times they dug for years without finding anything but hard granite.
After two hours we are back on the surface. There is also a mineral museum in the village, but my appetite for stones and minerals is satisfied for today. I rather have some more mileage, especially as the day has turned out nice and sunny.
If you can not view the downloadable GPS files, then here you have a map of that memorable trip through the Black Forest:

The length was just 150 km, but given the breaks and two hours at the mine it is near 6 pm before I am back.

- 140750 km on the bike

The sun shines out of a pristine blue sky this morning. The old geezer from yesterday is there again. Today we cover his two years as a POW in France, his return home in 1947 and the rebuilding of Germany in the years that followed.
After that history lesson it's motorbike time. For today I have plotted a 150 miles round trip to the Rhine valley and back. You can download the lot here. The route is just as gorgeous to bike as yesterdays trip. The back roads of the Black Forest

are fantastic. Today is Sunday, and German bikers are out in force. But like everywhere else a lot of them are just suicidal maniacs who ride with very little concern for their own safety and none whatsoever for anyone else's.
Some of the most dangerous roads have in fact been closed off for motorbikes on weekends by the authorities. I have never heard of any other country where this became necessary, though I admit that very few countries of the size of Germany have nearly five million bikers.
On many other roads large signs like the one above have been rigged, but to very little effect.
Just when the Rhine valley opens up ahead of me with a spectacular view, the sight is completely spoiled by the tremendous haze of a warm front moving in from France. Visibility goes down and the temperature sharply increases. Time for me to ascend again into the hills. I get as far west as the A5 motorway, but then head back east through the famous Baden wine region. The local winery cooperative runs a stall in Waldulm, where I stop and allow them to convince me that I must buy a bottle of their Müller-Thurgau.
At Aach I fall victim of a software bug within my Garmin GPS: whenever I miss my turn twice at the same spot, the GPS starts to recalculate the route, though recalculation is completely de-activated in the GPS settings. So instead of the scenic country road I have chosen myself that dodgy gizmo guides me via the B28 main trunk road and its interchange with the B294 in Freudenstadt, where I am stuck for 10 minutes in a big jam.
By 5 pm I am back at my digs - plenty of time to try out the wine I bought and smoke a pipe on the balcony of this absolutely tranquil place.

- 141000 km on the bike

Next morning that nice, old geezer during breakfast tells me about his 40 years work experience with the Siemens company. Unfortunately I have to start early at 9.30 am with my trip to Hergatz. It has rained again last night, but it is drying up and looking more and more promising weatherwise. It is just a 110 miles ride, so I arrive in Hergatz at the tyre shop by 12.30 pm. 90 minutes later and 240 Euros poorer my puss has new boots. Metzeler, the tyre maker, does currently only supply the "V" speed version, which is somewhat more expensive than the slower types which would be sufficient for my bike. But alas, I am ready for another 20000 km without having to worry much about servicing or tyres (at least I hope so).
It is just 2 pm, so I set out on a leisurely course along the north shore of lake Constance. I did that last year, and the bad impression I got then repeats itself; no roundabouts, sets of traffic lights timed so badly that the guy responsible for it should be charged for committing a felony - and horrendous traffic everywhere, and this time no Zeppelin to brighten the picture. At Mersburg I take the ferry to Constance.

The other passengers tell me to sit tight, as the ticket seller will come in time. He never does, so I get the ride for free. Some spray comes over the low freeboard. A guy with a van tells me that they try never to stop that ferry service, regardless of the weather. He tells me that he has been on the boat when 12 feet waves crashed over the decks and the front half of the ferry ended up below water - lucky for me today it is fairly calm.
They have quite a number of boats going here and the frequency in each direction is about every 15 minutes.
But I am not going to get much further today: a black wall of clouds works its way eastwards towards me. I just manage to reach the village of Aach, put Kitty into the garage of the "Löwen" pub and guesthouse, and then it starts hammering down like there is no tomorrow. But I am comfy in the restaurant having a dinner and Kitty is safely under a roof.

- 141300 km on the bike

I enjoy my last German breakfast for a while this morning. Bread rolls and ham, unlimited quantities of coffee so strong it would revive a dead man - that's a good start in the day. The weather however looks gloomy; grey skies and the tarmac is still wet from the rains last night. I also know from the forecast that the air here is extremely unstable. Any amount of sunshine will quickly produce showers and more thunderstorms.
But I also know that the further I ride westwards the stronger the inversion gets which will prevent those showers.
And I am right, soon after passing into Switzerland the sky breaks up. The sun comes out and immediately the convection starts producing showers. Luckily the Swiss A1 motorway bypasses the mountains. On my right I can see massive downpours in the Jura ranges. On my left I see giant thunderstorms over the Alps. And it is comparatively cold - the temperature today never makes it anywhere above 12 degrees centigrade.
By noon I am leaving the boring Swiss motorways and start the fun part of the trip. The Ain region is a bikers paradise and I think I never plotted a better route through it than this one which you can download here. The Cols are not overly high, but biking the topside of the Col de la Biche at over 4000 feet, I have to think of the fact that this hardly known Col is twice as high as the highest pass over the Southern Alps in NZ.

Finally I reach the river Rhône at Le Port de Groslée. I am now in the Isère region. From here on the country is less spectacular. Further on I reach Vienne, which is a traffic bottleneck. The A7 motorway ("L'autoroute de soleil") is free of charge until Vienne. So everyone leaves the motorway here and instead of crossing the Rhone river (yes, I have reached it yet again) on the new modern motorway bridge, everyone queues up to cross it on the ancient bridge in the town centre. But luckily being on a motorbike means that I can bypass most of the jam.
The first bit of road along the far side of the river bank is not really my cup of tea; too many roadworks and too much traffic. But after ten miles I turn south-west again on the D503, right into the heart of this Rhône-Alpes region. This is motorbike country; winding, empty roads and picturesque villages make this stretch sheer bliss.
I have done well over 600 km today and it is near 8 pm when I call it a day at Bourg-Argental at the Hôtel de France. What a great biking day.

In my room I want to see the weather forecast at 8 pm. Instead of showing the forecast they play the Marseillaise and then Monsieur Le Président himself is giving a speech to the Nation. It is Jacques Chiracs last day on the job. He is saying good-bye by summarizing his achievements during his term. Due to his choice of subject it is a rather short speech, and finally I get my weather input: it looks like a pretty wet day tomorrow followed by a total washout the day after. Well, I have hardly 300 km to my destination. I can do that, whatever the weather.

- 141930 km on the bike

It is still dry this morning, but the sky sure looks threatening. Murphy's law has it that ten minutes after I set out it starts to drizzle. I stop and put my full body condom on - the new wetsuit I bought in England. It is still pretty cool, about 14 degrees C, so that thing is easy to wear.
I am arriving now in the Haute-Loire region of the eastern Auvergne - and again I am quite delighted at what a fine route I did plot. In spite of the rain the countryside out here is fantastic.

My trip touches the northern part of the Lozère region - the former Gévaudan where the famous beast lived over 200 years ago, and reminders and monuments are erected everywhere. In this grey weather the land looks mystical - one can just believe that some clawed monster is lurking just beyond the next turn in the road.
Just before I reach Le Puy I cross the Loire river, which is pretty small here - no wonder, I am just a couple of miles away from its source in the mountains to the south.
At that time I notice that my Digi somehow got its knickers in a twist; it begins by showing all gears being constantly in neutral, then it starts flashing that big zero in various sequences. Finally it re-sets itself, but with entirely wrong settings: gear one and two are fine, but third and fourth gears are reported as gear one, fifth as gear number six and the sixth as third gear. I find it rather amusing that on a Triumph motorbike rapidly approaching 100000 miles on the clock it is always the ancillaries that are packing up, but rarely the factory built-in gizmos.
After St. Flour I reach the fabulous N122 national road at Murat. I know it from last year, but the weather is now seriously closing in. At Le Lioran it is coming down in buckets and during the climb up the mountain I disappear into the clouds. Since 2002 they are working on getting a tunnel drilled through this sodded mountain. Normally I would recommend to take the pass instead of the tunnel, but in these conditions one may be excused to wish for the tunnel:

One day they'll open the tunnel, I know, but why does it take so long to dig such a short hole? Have a word with the Swiss, they know how to get a tunnel drilled fast and efficient.
At Aurillac the rain stops and by the time I reach the barn my wetgear is nearly dry. I just unload my kit. Tomorrow is supposedly a washout day, so I want to first buy some groceries to let me sit out that bad weather.
A quick ride into Maurs and my panniers return filled with all the stuff I so much missed in NZ. Various definitely un-pasteurised cheeses, foie-gras, mustard from Dijon, wine from the Loire, tea from England and lots of great French bread.
Soon I am comfortably settled in Nick's visitors caravan at the barn. The bike is inside the building in expectance of the copious amounts of rain to come. In fact it already starts in the evening and is hammering on the roof of the caravan - which has a leak that wasn't there last year. I have to put a bucket underneath.
It is now three weeks since I returned from NZ, and I realize that I have already added about 5000 km on Kitty's odometer - a decent annual mileage for many other bikers I have seen out on the roads.

- 142200 km on the bike

The next day is as predicted a total washout. I simply continue to get myself comfortable, read a book, smoke my pipe and enjoy this peaceful plot in the middle of nowhere.
Next day it is overcast and fairly humid, but dry. I take Kitty out to the Internet cafe in Decazeville. The two guys owning it greet me like I have just been out to get a packet of fags instead of having been gone since September last year.
This is the first time since leaving Martin in England that I have secure Internet access, so there is quite a bit to be done.
The weather forecast for the next few days looks pretty much like a mixed bag, but here in the South it'll be definitely nicer than further up north. I call Nick and tell him that I am squatting on his property again. We agree that I should come up next Thursday to Clermont-Ferrand to go out on the town. His own caravan apparently also leaks, so we agree that I fix them both.
I also sent a mail to Gail in New York. She works for Motorcycle Express. Let's see if she can organize a little trip to the other side of the pond for me.
The day has turned out beautifully and the ride back is great. In the evening I watch a documentary made by the Scottish actor Ewan McGregor, called "Long Way Round". It is about him and a mate going around the world on motorbikes. The documentary is quite interesting from a bikers point of view, but I am appalled to see how badly two supposedly intelligent men with near unlimited budget and tons of time for preparation can botch up the job. They pick the wrong bikes (1200 cc BMW's are far too heavy, guess why everyone else is choosing 650's for RTW ['round the world]?), they set themselves an unrealistic timetable without reserves for the unforeseeable, waste a lot of time with totally useless preparations while ignoring the most important bit: route and road info. They end up in the mud in the Mongolian and Siberian outback with a quarter million pounds worth of kit, but lacking basic routing info which even in 2004 they could have gotten in five minutes on the Horizons Unlimited website, the standard place for RTW bikers to look for such input - even I on my little trip here know that and use it.
That these guys actually make it all the way in spite of the bad preparation is a great relief for me - I quite like Ewan McGregor's acting, but I hope I never have to take part in any motorbike journey organized by him.

- 142250 km on the bike

Today I just do my chores; washing clothes (for which I have transformed an old baby bath into a washing machine), sealing the two leaking caravans and having a look at the tubing Nick has prepared in the barn for the electric and electronic wiring that has to go inside. His architect has asked for a diagram - no use for Nick to come down if I am here and go to up to his place on Thursday anyway.
That takes half the day. The rest is spent looking into the fascinating story of how and why the nVidia Corporation (the maker of the graphics card in my laptop) decided to discontinue the support for a lot of their cards three years or older in their LINUX driver recently (while still supporting them on that other operating system) and how the Open Source people reacted. If you are into IT and have nothing better to do, then look up Ubuntu bug report 96430 - and see how free software can sometimes collide with restrictive hardware manufacturers. Obviously nVidia wants me to either replace my four years old notebook (that can do anything a brand new one can and only slightly slower) or switch the operating system to that other thing. Well, I shall do none of the two, but when I one day get me a new laptop, have a guess at what make of graphics card that laptop will definitely not contain?
Next morning the weather is brilliant. On my way into town just a mile away from the barn on that narrow country road some geezer with a Renault Clio comes the opposite way. That fellow is about as old as the Renault car company.
Though the road is not very wide, there is still plenty of room for a car and a bike to pass each other.
The old boy is turning his steering to the left and heads straight for me. I drive into the embankment to my right, but the guy is still heading straight for me. I can see the panic in the old fellows eyes - he has obviously forgotten how to operate the steering wheel of his vehicle.
At the very last moment he remembers that he has to turn it to the right in order to point his vehicle in that direction and avoid the collision with me - and misses me by two inches. He then stops behind me - he probably needs his heart pills and a massive dose of medicine against his terminal stage of Alzheimer disease.
France is one of the last remaining countries in Europe where a driving license is issued for life. No health check or aptitude test is necessary once a driver reaches an older age. If France had such regulations in place, I suppose that this old geezer would be off the road in no time.

Decazeville is in the Lot valley. Unless you live in France, you have probably never heard about that river; its spring is in the Lozère region, near Mende. It winds itself for 300 miles through some of the least known, though most beautiful countryside of France, until it finally merges with the mighty Garonne near Aiguillon in Aquitaine.
My stretch of the river here in the Aveyron was known in the past for its rich coal mining tradition. Though the mines are all gone, there is a museum in Aubin celebrating that history. My idea is to visit that place today, but my good intention is torpedoed once again by the rather bizarre French shop opening policy; the museum is open all day nine till twelve and two till five in the afternoon - from June to September, that is.
As no respectable Frenchman would dare to spend his annual vacations outside that mayhem period from the end of June to the beginning of September (when Southern France is bursting with French tourists while Northern France is virtually abandoned), the local attractions make use of this weird behaviour by just opening accordingly. So no museum for me today, in the second half of May.
Instead I give the bike a good wash. All that riding through the rain and fog has left its marks on her.
It is also great to stay inside the barn this afternoon - as it is nice and cool inside that recently erected building (made in 1823). Outside the day has become stifling hot and humid and towards the south some thunderstorms are unloading torrential rain.

- 142400 km on the bike

Today is the day I am going to CF. I thought I'd leave around 3 pm, but already during the morning great Cumulonimbus clouds are sprouting everywhere, so I leave already at 11.30 am to avoid the worst of the weather.
And my plan works; though the sky looks very threatening I reach my destination without getting more than a few drops of rain.
Nick and Nouria (and little Sophia) are expecting me, and after a brief "Hello" after seven month absence my bike is soon put into the garage.
They have prepared a splendid diner, consisting mainly of all those goodies New Zealanders are deprived off due to their weird import restrictions.
That Nick has broadband internet access and a router with a spare network socket is also a great aid for me in my endeavour to sort out the paperwork for going to North America.
Though Gail in New York is great in getting things organized, I still have to fill in tons of forms. And the main shipping contract needs to be faxed back after signing it - other than in most European countries it won't be valid if just scanned in and attached to an e-mail.
Overnight the weather has turned pretty grotty and the temperature has dropped by 20 degrees, so I don't mind spending an entire afternoon online, negotiating with the shipping company (Six hours time difference means that New York opens for business by about 3 pm French time). By Friday evening everything is signed and sorted, and Gail disappears into her well deserved bank holiday weekend.
To celebrate my success in shipping myself and my bike to North America in three weeks from now I invite Nick and his girls out to diner in a nice restaurant in downtown CF.

- 142600 km on the bike

It looks like the rest of the new week is mainly a washout, so I leave Nick's comfy place on Monday afternoon and return to the barn, in spite of the drizzly weather. The ride is uneventful, except for the blustery wind and the Col of Le Lioran; this time the Col is deeply covered with snow. That is no problem, I am not a newbie biker. That the wind is gusting to over 100 kph and the sleet is coming down in buckets is also something I am used to. But that both sides of the Col are drenched in spilled diesel oil is something that makes this ride special. The driving rain flushes the oil over both lanes of the pass and turns it into one of the trickiest rides ever. On the wet road you can not see the oil, you just have to watch out for the spots where the wetness is glistening in all colours of the rainbow. The tyres are loosing their grip on occasion, but I manage to reach the other side without crashing.
I suppose that is the price a country has to pay, where those governmental paper-pushers have taxed the petrol engine into oblivion.

By 6 pm I am back at the barn - just in time before another great deluge drenches the already soaked land even further.
Nick is planning to do a complete refit of the barn during this summer - turning it into a fantastic and exclusive holiday destination for sophisticated people who like this part of the world. The refit includes all the 110 square metres of living space on two floors, additional windows to be fitted so that one can better enjoy the spectacular views of the Lot valley, putting all mod cons inside, sauna, a large, heated outdoor swimming pool and a great landscaped garden. It will be ready to be rented out in 2008, so if you fancy a fantastic holiday in this totally unspoiled part of France in a unique and exclusive location next year, then contact me and I will put you in touch with Nick. But hurry - I have already booked myself in there for next year, so make your move before it is all booked up.

- 142800 km on the bike

The weather is fine today, so I do a very pleasant bike ride south and have a look at the famous vineyards near Marcillac, where the wine of the same name comes from. The wine is so good, because the surrounding hills are fairly steep - making this area an excellent choice for vineyards and for motorbiking.

But by 5 pm I can see a dark wall of clouds coming from the North - a cold front is heading my way. This is sad as it has nicely warmed up. A thermometer outside a pharmacy shows 29° Celsius. I make it just in time back to the barn. The approaching front is a monster; cloudbase lowers to near zero, and the jagged lower edge of the clouds forms slowly rotating funnels - looks like its twister time. Add to that sudden darkness, the constant howling of the wind, the thunder and lightning - it is an apocalyptic scenario.

I temporarily abandon the caravan and seek shelter in the barn. Alas, the barn has withstood the elements for nearly 200 years, so it seems more trustworthy than a flimsy caravan.
I have seen twisters coming down in the midwest of the United States while biking there a few years back and the conditions were exactly like they are here today. The only reason in my opinion why there were no twisters hitting the ground here today is that it is simply not warm enough with those 29 degrees - the difference between the cold and the warm air is "only" 15 degrees.
Going from 29 to 14 degrees Celsius in one hour is not what we used to get. But with the global climate change we may as well have to get used to it.

- 142950 km on the bike

It looks like another washout day today. So I have time to sort out my confused Digi. The other day I downloaded its programming instructions from the makers website - by now I owe it for so long that I have completely forgotten how to match that thing to my gearbox. And it works - after re-programming it, the gizmo is working perfectly again.
My engine runs so smooth, that I often found myself in e. g. fifth gear at unnecessarily high rev's - unaware that I could shift upwards into sixth gear.
Ever since I have the Digi, this problem is a thing of the past.
I also fix my right mirror. Since those morons from the Transmanche ferry company let Kitty fall down last month, that mirror has a damaged joint and would bend inwards in high winds. I am rather fussy about my view of what is going on behind me, that's why I have long ago replaced the original mirrors (which are far too small and not far enough outwards, you just see your shoulders in them) with larger aftermarket mirrors.
And finally I put a route for tomorrow into my GPS. I have to go back to Switzerland for a job interview - yes, all good things must end one day and I will have to go back to work one day. But don't you worry, this summer will still be all about myself and my motorbike.
The route planning is very simple; after being so delighted with the route I picked on the way out, I just invert it and will drive along the same great roads back to Switzerland.

The next morning the weather looks promising; cloudy, but with ever more sunny intervals. I have to pack my kit and clean up everything I used at the barn, so I am not on the road before 10 am.
With every mile I ride eastwards the weather changes for the worse - I think I am catching up with the crap weather that has already left the barn. At St. Flour it starts to drizzle. I am wearing my weatherproofs again, but this time it is more to protect me from the freezing temperatures rather than the rain. It was about 13 degrees centigrade when I set out this morning, but now biking the Lozère and Haute-Loire at average altitudes between 2500 and 4000 feet AMSL means that it is no more than eight degrees up here.
This is not helped by the cloudbase descending to about 2500 feet - which is another way of saying that I am often biking within the clouds and visibility drops to less than 100 feet.

  

But I have to say again that this part of France is really beautiful, even in rain and fog. Who of you has ever heard of the 'Beast of Gévaudan'? But around here this beast is still as vividly in peoples memory as if it all had happened just 10 years ago. The above pictures just show two sample reminders regarding the beast I found along the roadside - there are many more in the area.
Needless to say that under these conditions my progress is slow. By 4 pm I reach a bogged-down village called Bourg-Argental. Fond memories of the 'Hôtel de France' from a few days ago convince me to take an early break after just 300 kilometres today and check in - how good it feels to indulge in a scalding hot bath and feel life return to my frozen limbs. I sure did not expect such weather in June in the South of France.
Of course within one hour of my arrival the sky breaks up and we get lots of sunshine - obviously the approaching good weather has caught up with me. It gets so comfortably warm, that I decide to take a stroll into the town centre just wearing jeans and a T-shirt. They have a kind of car rally here today, and the town is filled with wannabe-Michael-Schumachers in hotrod cars. Lots of spectators, too.
I finish the day off with a splendid French diner at a nearby restaurant. At the table adjacent to mine, four pushbikers from Germany are contemplating what a splendid and unspoiled piece of rural France this is - I couldn't agree more with them.

- 143250 km on the bike

There is no cloud in sight next morning, and at 8.30 am it is already warmer than it ever got all day yesterday. At the hotel bar there is already a motley group of locals assembled, sipping their wine or pastis. Where the Germans have their beer and schnapps on Sunday mornings, the French just do the same with their kind of booze. As is the tradition in France, as a newcomer I have to go around and shake hands with everyone before sitting down at the bar. If you, dear reader, are ever in the same situation, I give you one important peace of advice: make sure you do not overlook anyone while shaking hands. If you do, then that overlooked person will be extremely cross with you - it is one of the worst affronts you can commit in French society. Blood feuds have started that way.
For breakfast I take a coffee - that is the best part of a French breakfast. The other items usually served with that coffee are hardly worth bothering with.
By 9.30 am I am on the road. It is incredible, what a difference a few degrees more and no rain or fog do make; the ride is just brilliant, the route is fantastic. Even that bit along the Rhône river which I did not like on my way out is much more charming today. The absence of lorries or rush hour traffic on this Saturday morning makes all the difference. And the river bridge at Vienne is a piece of cake.

From the Isère into the gorgeous hills of the Ain region, then further into the cols and valleys of Haute-Savoie. By 3 pm I reach the motorway at the Swiss border - I wish I could turn around and bike this great route a third time right away.

Three hours later I am in Ebnat-Kappel in the canton of St. Gallen. Unfortunately my favourite room no. 13 at the Zimmermann guest house in Jona was occupied. But I know alternatives; here in this village there is the Bellevue hotel, sitting 2000 feet above the valley. But they claim to be full. Much more likely; they can't be bothered, as tomorrow and Tuesday are their weekly rest days. In this part of the world most guest houses, smaller hotels etc. close their business on one or two days per week to give the staff their rest days. Try to introduce that nonsense in British public houses, hotels or B & B's.
But the "Sternen" hotel in town is just as good. Considering that B & B at the local youth hostel costs CHF 32, I am certainly not overcharged here at CHF 45 for the same.
Like in the French hotel this morning, here is also a motley crew of locals assembled, sipping Swiss beer or Swiss wine, and talk in that ingenious vernacular that goes under the name of "Swiss German" in this part of the world. Imagine a toothless Swede trying to speak Dutch while chewing tobacco, then you are probably not far off that lingo. I've heard it many times, but it is still hard to follow for me if these guys are in full swing.

- 143850 km on the bike

Below is the usual map with my GPS tracklog and some trip markers. I have omitted the return journey to Switzerland, because I followed the same roads as on the outward journey.