The hills are alive with the sound of thunder.

Day 79

Milage 6723

Swiss Cheese!

Today we find ourselves just outside the Spanish coastal city of Donostia/San Sebastian in the Basque region. It’s been a testing couple of weeks because of the unseasonably stormy weather but we hope it’s preparing us for the more challenging times ahead. The trip is going well, spirits are high and the bikes are proving to be very dependable. We would like to update the blog on a more regular basis but we have been having a few computer issues and a little too much fun.

Roadside picnic, Switzerland

The road to Interlaken, from Scuol, took us through, yet more, spectacular deep valleys and over incredibly high passes. What locals had advised would take approximately 5 hours took us a day and a half. Each twist and turn revealed a panorama that made it hard to keep our eyes on the road. We made numerous stops along the way to savor our surroundings, snapping pictures and snacking on bread and cheese. The changing weather conditions would tease us with glimpses of the snow capped peaks that flanked our route. By the end of the first day we rode into camp thoroughly exhausted having covered a little over half the distance we’d intended to. A hearty meal followed by a good night’s rest set us up well for the following day’s ride and by 3 in the afternoon we were coasting alongside Lake Brienzer on the final stretch in to Interlaken. This mountain town has become the home of Switzerland’s adventure tourism industry and a magnet for guides from all over the world, many of whom we’ve worked with over our years spent pushing rubber. We set up camp, knowing we’d be here for a few days, excited at the prospect of catching up with some old friends. Faces we hadn’t seen in almost 15 years made our stay a special one, while I was put to work on two of the local rivers guiding and safety kayaking, Beth had a chance to go canyoning in the Chli Schliere gorge. Evenings were spent at the local ‘Irish’ bar swapping stories and raising glasses to guides who are no longer with us. Arriving on a weekend when bookings were high and staff scarce worked in our favor and the added income helped balance our tight budget in this expensive country. On Sunday we couldn’t resist exploring the local roads and found ourselves climbing up towards the town of Grindelwald which provides an impressive view of the North face of the Eiger. 

Find the road.

One thing we’ve always agreed upon with the journey we are taking is, if we find a place we like along the way, we may just stop, for a short time, or possibly for good. Interlaken, in its pristine alpine location, with so much to offer in all the activities we value and enjoy could have been one of those places. Reluctantly, we tore ourselves away to explore further. To end this trip so soon after it has begun, when there is still so much more to see would be disappointing but we both feel as though Interlaken is a town where we could easily feel at home. 

With mountain fever setting in, (we couldn’t get enough) Zermatt, at the foot of the Matterhorn, became our next destination. The direct route, via the drive-on train through the mountains didn’t appeal so we decided to skirt around the edge making a slight detour into the city of Montreux for one night of the two week long jazz festival. An old friend, Neill, and his son Yarin, decided to join us on the ride so we convoyed over the Gsteig pass and down into the Rhone valley, hugging the shore of Lake Leman into a carnival of live music, street performances and every kind of food we could dream of. Yet another festival coinciding with our journey, how nice of the locals of Munich, Garmisch and now Montreux to arrange things so. We can’t wait to see what the rest of the world has to offer. From what limited news we have access to it appears as though the Middle East is in turmoil over how best to welcome us. After a day and night of fine music, great food and sweltering heat we packed up and left Montreux to its revelry determined to reach higher elevations and cooler weather. 

Montreux Jazz Festival

As we rode further into the French part of Switzerland we noticed the landscape subtly changing, hotter and drier, vineyards clinging to the slopes surrounding pleasant mountain villages. Unfortunately, our plans to reach Zermatt were thwarted by the closing of the road at the small town of Tasch. In order to proceed, special permission is required from the local police, forcing those wanting to reach Zermatt to take the overpriced train or hire a taxi service which uses the perfectly adequate road. Only those wealthy enough to own property in Zermatt could use their personal vehicles to proceed so the worn out taxi vans share the road with a dazzling display of Bentleys, Bugattis and Ferraris. Once in Zermatt, however, the streets are so narrow the town centre is reserved for miniature, battery powered shuttle vehicles giving it the feel of a theme park. With the prospect of hiking near the Matterhorn impossible to resist we booked into a campground outside Tasch for three days determined to make the most of any break in the weather. Although hot and humid, a heavy layer of cloud concealed the true scale of the peaks surrounding us. Occasionally we would glimpse a bluish glacier catching the sunlight at the end of an adjoining valley or a jagged peak thrusting through the cloud base, even on our first visit to Zermatt we were denied a view of the the crooked peak that towers over the village. We hiked regardless of the conditions, enjoying the crisp air and the occasional showers, the spring flowers were in full bloom and the steep trails from the valley floor soon had us puffing and panting, thankful for the exercise. Each evening ominous banks of dark cloud would slowly sweep down the valley, distant claps of thunder would precede the first fat drops of heavy rain and we’d huddle in our cosy tent sheltering from the impending storm anticipating the lightning display that never failed to impress.  Only on the third day did the weather clear and we were rewarded with stunning early morning views of the Matterhorn, its surrounding peaks and the enormous glaciers that blanket their bases. We chose a route that led us along the northern shoulder of this postcard peak, craning our necks to fully appreciate its scale and beauty. By late morning the clouds began to return and as we neared the base, the summit became hidden by columns of vapor, occasionally the veil of moisture would slip, seductively, from the mountain’s shoulder revealing a possible route to the summit. We gazed in awe for a long time fully enthralled by the power of its attraction. It took a lot of will power to resist climbing further.

Neill and Yarin guiding us into Montreux

Switzerland had absorbed more of our time and budget than we’d anticipated so, reluctantly, we made the decision to move on. People have often said, living in Switzerland is like living in a postcard and although we did find the native sense of humor a little two dimensional and flat it has certainly been one of the highlights so far. It is simply beautiful, pristine, safe and even though there are multiple national languages it all seems to work very efficiently, at least from our perspective which is more than can be said for our laptop. 

A frustrating problem had been developing with our MacBook Air making it virtually impossible to write so we made a slight detour into the city of Geneva on our way out of Switzerland hoping the local Apple store would have a quick fix. Alas, no, an internet search revealed a multitude of users experiencing the same issues and there are undoubtably support groups out there too for coping with the frustrations. The Apple store, however, assured us that this was a unique, one of a kind, issue and they’d never seen anything like it before. If we could simply leave our laptop with them for a week or so they’d see what they could do. We balked at the prospect of staying in a city for so long so, in our broken French, we contacted a store closer to our next destination, the town of Fontainebleau, outside Paris, in the hope they would be able to source the required replacement parts in time for our arrival. 

Yet another stunning road

Leaving the Alps was difficult, we had become accustomed to powering our bikes into the endless twists and turns, utilizing every square inch of tire tread, exhilarated by the sheer exposure and breathtaking scenery. Now, as we rode West, the terrain flattened and the journey became more about reaching a destination than enjoying what was in between. Alpine forest gave way to open farmland and the horizon stretched further beyond us with each mile. We based ourselves on the outskirts of Paris, hoping to visit the city and resolve our laptop issues at the same time, unfortunately Apple only place their repair centers in or around reasonably sized cities. Our first visit made it clear we’d be stuck in the area for a few more days so we decided to make the most of it and explore Paris. For the majority of the journey we’ve been avoiding large cities but neither of us could resist being tourists for a day or two and our first excursion, on one motorcycle, into the heart of Paris as evening fell began as a wonderful experience. In most European cities, motorcycles are practically invisible. Other drivers don’t see you but, as dangerous as this may seem, it can be used to your advantage, you can get away with a lot more and I couldn’t help reverting to some of the old tricks I had learned as a motorcycle courier so many years ago in London. Speed traps and traffic light cameras typically take pictures of the front of the vehicle and, of course, our license plate is on the rear. Footpaths and opposing one-way streets are now legitimate routes and parking is the easiest of all. Simply pull the bike up wherever you like, lock it to something solid and walk away. As reckless as this seems, it is the norm and the more aggressive the riding the more acceptable it appears to be, even the police turn a blind eye to what some bikers get up to. 

The camera shy Matterhorn

From where we had camped it took just over an hour to reach the centre of Paris. We parked on a side street next to the Eiffel Tower and wandered beneath the intricate lattice of steel that forms one of the world’s most recognizable landmarks, hundreds of eager sightseers formed orderly lines, a rare sight in France, hoping to scale the heights of this iconic structure. We strolled onwards, over the Seine River, towards the fountains of the Esplanade du Trocadero, dipping our feet in the cool waters, enjoying the last of the day’s sunshine. With only and evening to savor the sights and sounds of Paris we found ourselves drawn back towards the river and as we walked along its banks the setting sun turned the sky into a palette of pinks and reds all reflected in the calm waters of the Seine. Later, we meandered along the Champs-Elysées towards the Arc de Triomphe where we stood, in awe, as traffic hurtled around the impressive monument over slick cobblestones without a traffic light in sight. As darkness fell we returned to the Eiffel Tower in time to catch the hourly light display which brings the steelwork to life in a sparkle of a thousand glittering bright flashes. As we watched, with countless others, a full moon peaked out from behind a cloud and completed the show. We left the city centre in great spirits already planning our next visit, undaunted by the hour long drive back to camp. Four hours later after visiting every suburb in Paris, enduring a torrential thunderstorm of lightning, rain and emotions, having almost run out of fuel, we arrived back at camp, exhausted and thoroughly soaked, vowing never to return to Paris as long as we lived. 

After a good night’s sleep and another visit to the Apple store, we realized we would be stuck in the area for a few more days so we moved to a campsite within Paris and decided to give the city another chance. We set out early and made the most of a full day in the city’s historical centre. We returned to the Champs-Elysées but found it oddly quiet for the number of people who crowded the footpaths. We hadn’t noticed on our initial visit but the entire avenue appeared overrun with temples to consumerism and those around us not in a shopping frenzy shuffled along with the glazed eyes of smart phone zombies texting and tweeting their every move while taking arm length images of their heads obscuring the city’s iconic landmarks. It felt a little unsettling to see a street with so much historical significance reduced to an open air shopping mall, I wonder has McDonalds considered adding an arch to the Arc de Triomphe and painting it gold. This wasn’t the Paris we’d come to see so we followed our ears and noses and soon found where the locals gathered, loud, cheerful, sometimes passionate conversations filled the maze of side streets and the smell of food had our taste buds instantly drooling. I’m not sure what we had expected to find but this seemed to fit the bill, we must have stood out like sore two sore thumbs in our smelly biking gear but we couldn’t help join in the cheer and absorbing the atmosphere. All along the banks of the Seine locals gathered to celebrate nothing more than the end of the working day with overflowing hampers of food and wine and as the sun set it looked as though the parties were just beginning.

Champs-Elysees in the evening

Content we’d given Paris another chance but fully aware we’d barely scratched the surface we both agreed we would certainly return. For now, with our laptop in good working order and our rough schedule falling further and further behind, we left the region and made our way towards Spain. Having never experienced the Atlantic coast of France we chose a route to take us West before turning South toward the Pyrenees. Unbeknownst to us, a series of powerful thunderstorms had made similar plans and after several days of blinding rains and exhausting crosswinds our resolve crumbled and we booked into a cheap hotel in the hope of drying our gear and getting a full night’s rest. This was to be our first night in a real bed in over two months and as our dripping gear formed multiple puddles around the room we watched the French news reporting the path of destruction left by the unseasonable weather. The following morning with fresh spirits and dry gear we loaded up and took to the road but within thirty minutes we were completely drenched again. C’est la vie.

Full moon tries to outshine the Eiffel Tower

The pattern repeated itself for several days but, gradually, the further South we went the warmer it became and by the time we reached the Bordeaux region blue skies dominated the grey. We celebrated our first dry day with a bottle of the local grape juice. Before long we found ourselves entering the foothills of the Pyrenees and leaving behind the flat, straight roads of the coast. Careful route selection took us well off the beaten track and a few wrong turns brought us into deserted mountain villages but the rewards were worth it, smooth, snaking ribbons of asphalt took the square edges of our tires. The warmer air penetrated our protective suits and drove out every drop of moisture, the faster we rode the drier we became, for the first time in many days we arrived at our destination without creating large puddles beneath out feet. We entered Spain along the pilgrimage route and have settled for the next few days outside the Basque city of Donostia/San Sebastian.

Mont St Michel, France

Ziggy and the art of motorcycle maintenance.

Day 62

Milage 4735

Well, we are finally on our second visit to Switzerland, we tried leaving Germany only to be drawn back by the exceptionally fine beer , the generous hospitality and the chance to attend the BMW Motorrad Days festival in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a motorcycle event of epic proportions

Relaxing in camp outside Augsburg, Germany

Since leaving Banberg we followed the advice of our camp host yet again and took the scenic route to Heidelberg. Once more his recommendation took us to a wonderful twisting empty road leading to the novel little city on the banks of the Neckar River. We arrived late on Sunday to explore the city as darkness fell, the cool evening providing a welcome respite from one of the hottest days we’ve had to date. By now the bikes were overdue for some attention, oil needed changing, filters replaced and chains lubricated so we decided to establish ourselves for a few days outside a major city where we could find the necessary supplies. Stuttgart was nearby so we wound our way up into the Black Forest and stumbled upon the village of Hofen which had a comfortable campsite alongside a crystal clear creek.  Here we were able to take care of all our basic bike maintenance needs while having an opportunity to explore the city of Stuttgart. We tracked down a BMW motorcycle store and, as always, felt thoroughly violated after paying a premium for some basic supplies. It was therapeutic to work on the bikes, even when a magnificent thunderstorm broke loose overhead during the oil change, and both machines responded well to the attention. A Hungarian biker, Ziggy Kiss, we’d met in Amsterdam had a different philosophy on the art of motorcycle maintenance. He argued the amount of time spent fixing mechanical failures after they have occurred is far outweighed by the time and effort spent taking preventative action. We have considered applying this logic to one of our bikes and comparing the result but we can’t yet agree on whose bike we want to neglect. It seems strange, even though they are just machines, after riding them for the best part of each day it is hard not to become attached to them.

A bad hair day in the German Alps

The city of Stuttgart turned out to be a little disappointing, aesthetically, when compared to where we have been over the previous few weeks. It felt a little too officious and business like, more impersonal and for the first time in Germany we noticed the extremes of wealth and poverty, the destitute begging for change outside boutique stores selling overpriced trinkets for the uber rich. After a few days exploring the area we broke camp and moved further East. Augsburg became home for the next five days.  A sizable city, close to Munich, it is home to the first ever artificial whitewater course created for the 1972 Olympic kayak slalom event and a great area for getting a feel for the Bavarian side of the German republic. We spent a full day in Munich which coincided with a BMW sponsored marathon, live music and mini beer festival. A party atmosphere filled the streets and we couldn’t resist sampling some of the local beverages. Traditional bands played along as young men in tight lederhosen cracked whips overhead, Beth seemed quite impressed and suddenly developed a new found interest in traditional Bavarian music. 

We followed our visit to Munich with a sombre day at Dachau, exploring the remains of the first concentration camp from the third reich era, a prototype for the horrors that followed. It is hard to imagine how such a place came to be but a chilling museum within the camp reflected on the power of propaganda on a population whose economy lay in ruins. Matin Niemoller’s statement hung over the faded pictures of those who suffered under conditions of sickening barbarity.

"Labour makes you free" Dachau 

“First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the socialists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for me,
and there was no one left to speak for me.”

As always with motorcycle travel things wear out and need replacing and not just on the bikes. Our next project involved chasing down a new set of tires, four in all, for both bikes. Unfortunately German law prevented us from buying the tires we wanted as these are not rated for autobahn speeds of over 150mph. Luckily, with the help of friends in Switzerland, we were able to order what we needed and have them shipped and fitted there. Another tip from a knowledgable local took us over the Ammersattel Pass through Linderhoff where we stopped to explore one of King Ludwig II extravagant palaces. A chance encounter with a motorcycle tour group leader alerted us to the upcoming BMW motorcycle festival in Garmisch-Partenkirchen from July 5th to the 7th. We had a rough plan of where we’d like to be by then but we often travel with open agendas and follow the advice and suggestions from locals we meet along the way so we decided to return after picking up our new tires in Switzerland. No visit to this region would be complete, however, without a stop at the fairytale castle of Neuschwanstein, the inspiration for the iconic Disney logo. Commissioned by the reclusive Ludwig II as a personal refuge it dominates the landscape overlooking the village of Schwangau and cost him his entire personal fortune and possibly his sanity. Ironically he didn’t live to see its completion. It is still an impressive landmark and we spent the day hiking through the surrounding mountains, taking a much needed break from our long days in the saddle. We are slowly becoming accustomed to the huts which appear at the top of the most impressive peaks, each one a safe haven from the changeable weather and a great place to pick up a cold beer on a hot day. 

Neuschwanstein Castle, Fussen, Germany

From Germany we followed more local advice and rode into the clouds enveloping the Hahntennjoch Pass, the wet roads and freezing temperatures at the summit added to the feeling of exposure as we could only imagine what lay beyond the edge of the road. Cold and wet we dropped into Austria and through to the small town of Scuol, in Switzerland,  where we were greeted by hospitality so warm and generous we soon forgot about our own discomfort. We’d stopped here on the banks of the Inn River to catch up with an old friend and whitewater legend, Kyle Spinney but as he was still entertaining clients in a raft, his friend Hamish Guthrie, opened his doors and made us feel like old friends within seconds. We partied hard and by 3am , still in our motorcycle gear, we called it a night. Two of our tires had arrived but the others were still in transit so we spent the next few days rafting and hiking and enjoying the spectacular village of Scuol. One of the most beautiful in Switzerland, it was established as a health spa and on every street spring water flows from fountains each one with its own unique properties, some are even naturally carbonated. Each one is a source of delicious and refreshing water and we gorged ourselves, trying to rehydrate after weeks on the road. Eventually our tires arrived and it was time to hit the road again. Hamish and his house mates provided a list of recommendations for roads and passes to take us back to Germany and we stitched together a route encompassing seven major Alpine passes, looping down into Italy, back through Austria and North into Bavaria. We had heavy rain on the first day but the sun appeared on the second and we pulled into Garmisch-Partenkirchen on the afternoon of July 4th, exactly ten years after Beth and I first met in a small bar in California. In two days we’d ridden some of the most renowned motorcycle roads in Europe and arrived at the biggest BMW motorcycle gathering we’d ever seen.

Stelvio Pass, biking heaven, Italian Alps

From Friday July 5th through Sunday July 7th the German city of Garmisch-Partenkirchen in the Bavarian Alps played host to the 13th annual BMW Motorrad Days festival. This year BMW celebrated their 90th year in the motorcycle production industry with an event to remember. With an estimated 35,000 riders and enthusiasts in attendance from all over the world ,the streets, campgrounds and hotels were swarming with every model of BMW old and new.  The event site  covered an expansive area becoming its own village of vendors, attractions, exhibitions, beer halls and food stalls. A further 15,000 square meters of fully serviced campgrounds surrounded the site providing a suburb of nylon and canvas. Bikers came from all over the world, a large contingent from Malaysia completed their own overland tour by riding into the event on Friday afternoon, we saw license plates from many different parts of Europe but only two others from the USA, Dawn and Paul, two intrepid travelers on their own journey to Mongolia who we’ve bumped into twice before, in Belgium and the UK. A mere 80 kilometers from Munich, event organizers drew on the expertise acquired over decades of Oktoberfest celebrations and there was enough food and beer to satisfy an army of adventure riders. 

Beth putting the F700GS to the test

An off road enduro park allowed riders to test the GS fleet with everything from the big 1200 Adventure to the 650 single available. Under the expert guidance of the BMW instructors, riders with varying degrees of ability were able to experience what these bike could do in more challenging terrain. We had so much fun we couldn’t help but have a second go. For those wanting to experience how the motorcycles handled on the road the entire current fleet of BMW motorcycles were available for test rides and we’re not talking about a quick spin around the parking lot. 90 minutes of pure joy was had as we raced a selection of bikes through alpine passes, along side pristine lake, past lush meadows and back to the event site. After so many weeks on our fully loaded enduro bikes we couldn’t resist trying something a little lighter and more responsive. The F800R, the K1300R and the breathtaking 193 hp S1000RR provided just the thrills we were looking for. For the more traditional enthusiast a special exhibition of the classic milestones of brand history was housed under the ‘90 years of BMW Motorrad’ tent. The main exhibition tent included all the current models included the new R1200GS and the extended range F800GS Adventure. BMW technicians and mechanics were on hand to answer questions regarding bike performance and suitable modifications.

Camping in Garmisch

Keeping the crowds entertained were a multitude of shows, parties and displays. Gravity defying acrobats sped over the creaking wooden planks of the world’s oldest Motordrom. Stunt legend Chris Pfeiffer performed impossible tricks in the event arena, even putting a 1200GS through its paces and an onsite cinema featured inspiring movies of motorcycle journeys taken throughout the world. Each evening culminated in an enormous party with live bands, motorcycle raffles and a staggering amount of food and beer. For those who preferred a more relaxed evening there was live guitar music provided by the very talented Byron around an open camp fire. By Sunday morning, as the Metropolitan Jazz Band from Prague entertained the breakfast crowds, the weekend event gradually began to wind down and by late afternoon swarms of motorcyclists took to the roads in every possible direction, some beginning, some ending or, like us, continuing their adventures on two wheels. For those who ride and even those who don’t this has to be one of the highlights of the motorcycle calendar and should be considered on everyone’s agenda. Book early though, with an event this good, it’s only likely to get bigger each year. 

Chris Pfeiffer on the 1200GS

We reluctantly packed up on Monday morning and, on the recommendation of several bikers we’d met over the weekend, took and exciting series of Alpine passes down to Innsbruck in Austria. What we’d thought would be a quiet night at a small campsite turned out to be an extension of the party atmosphere we’d left behind in Germany as several bikers joined us from Israel and the UK. A shaky start the following morning saw us following yet more advice and climbing over even more spectacular winding passes back into Switzerland towards the village of Scuol alongside the Inn river. As welcome as we were made to feel we, sadly, had to push on as our rough schedule for Europe was beginning to get pushed further behind so after one night in Scuol and a few too many glasses of fine single malt we fired up our engines and took to the road, this time, bound for Interlaken.

Road testing BMW's fastest on some of Europe's finest roads