FRANCE !!!

I was actually quite sad to leave Elba behind. It is a VERY beautiful place on Earth and deserves another visit less rushed.

Yes it's true... I was feeling like I had set a tremendously ambitious ride in place, and I was afraid, no... I knew that no matter what... I could not do it Justice.

I had come to Europe to not only meet family I'd never known... but of course to fulfill a life long dream I'd carried with me for 38 years. That was to ride the Continent.

And I was going to do of that as much as time would allow me.


My morning ritual of packing Piroska was down to a science now. In fact I could do it in the Dark if I had to!

Don't you find that we all have our little routines?

The local 2nd Cup for our Skim milk Mochas, kissing each time you pass under that trellis, perhaps skipping rope every night at 10.

These little routines are what keep us sane. They ground us when we live our otherwise normal lives in an ungrounded fashion. For me, it had become the packing and unpacking. That was my Mocha, my routine, my sanity. I knew that each day I was exploring something new, that rarely would there be the same moment passing in time every day. I knew that each and every day I would have Challenges, hazards, maybe even hardship. I also knew that every day I rode... I would put my cover in the bag, lay it on the seat with my Technic saddlebags over them. Then the Bert's Tail Bag I'd bought one year in visiting California, my magnetic tank bag with todays route facing me, and lastly... my 35L Givi trunk. Yup... these little things were my sanity with the reality of several hundred kilometers of the unkown before me.



As I left my Divvie behind, in gear, on the vehicle deck of the Moby Love... I was sad to be leaving this jewel in the Mediterranean Sea.

I sat reflecting on the trip thus far, as the Love thrummed Harley like, its diesel powered journey over to mainland Italy. It was a bit chilly this morning in the sea breeze, and I would have that breeze with me all of the day. I had decided that I would head directly North along the main Autostrada to try and gobble some kilometers towards France.

I tagged onto the E 80 once I'd passed thru Piombino and ske-dadlled my way up past Livorno, then smiled as Pisa came and went. The speedo steady at 110 KPH, rolled us beyond La Spezia then thru densely populated Genova.

It never ceases to amaze me how we as Humans build our cities in places that you wouldn't think an ant would choose... yet buildings and houses clustered on rock faces that were actually connected by man made roads seemed to defy gravity!

By the time I'd reached Nice... I'd had enough. Have I mentioned how much I dislike riding the Autoroutes?! It had cost me 50 E in tolls but we had covered several hundred kilometers if not in scalpel type fashion... then at least a blunt knife! I had been warned that proceeding thru Cannes would be a nightmare, the film fest was in full swing, so I detoured thru the very lovely Grasse north towards Digne les Bains, climbing with each mile into the southern French Alps.

Call this, Sport bike heaven!

Route Napoleon carried us thru Castellane, a cute tiny little town that was flowing with motorcycles of every description.

Yet again, it never ceases to amaze me how fast motorcyclists ride on these undulated, twisting mountain roads with in most cases, sheer drops into bottomless gorges! But, like those Italian homes, they seem to defy Newton's Law over and over again.

By this time I myself had stepped up my mountain pace substantially. Well within my own bounds of mental health and abilities (shades of YSR's at Burlington) but to a point where in some cases the toe of a Prexport would feel the pavement ever so slightly...

The shadows were lenthening and it was becoming harder to find accomodation this Friday. I couldnt begin to count the riders. Hundreds everywhere. Men and women... mostly sports bikes. I even pulled off into a Hotel that turned out to be a mecca for Trials and dirt riders well up in the mountains. They not only had a complete and modern Hotel... but they had a complete and modern motorcycle shop in the same building! Rusty would have been amazed!!!

What they didnt have was a room to spare for by this time, a very weary CDN Biker! I blew thru a roundabout in Barreme, about 30K short of Digne shaking my head. It was a mistake and I don't like making them. They can be very hazardous to one's health, and vowed yet again to take the very next available accomodation.

As fate/luck/karma would have it... there it was.

The signed proclaimed "Under new management" (always makes me wonder why the old guys left?) The owner had a TDM 900 with ultra stickies on it's rims, and 2 very large dogs that looked like they were itching for a meal of human flesh!

Not to worry, Joseph locked the ravenous beasts into the yard and welcomed me to the Hotel Alpes! His English had been learned in 10 years of the French Navy... I wanted to ask him if he had personal knowledge of the sinking of Rainbow Warrior in NZ 2 decades ago? Then I thought of the dogs... the slime dripping from their T Rex sized canines, and thought better of it.

Joseph made me a nice meal that evening and the next morning I went on (routine nicely in hand) to Digne, then Arles, Montpelier and Beziers. As a side note, A French motorcop passed my on the way into Arles. He wasn't travelling at extreme velocity but was moving 20 to 30 kph faster than the traffic. I decided to tuck in and followed him clear into the city. Ha... my very own personal French Police escort! Gotta love it. Like Moses, the waters/traffic parted as he rode between lines of opposing traffic. If he knew I was there and I can't help but think he did... it certainly didn't seem to concern him in the least that I was tagging along his "coat tails".

The route of the day went from mountain passes with curving sweeping bends to low lying flatlands as I approached Narbonne.

I caught a glimpse of mountains to my north as I rode thru very green French countryside towards my destination of Azille and a visit with expat CDN, Saskia who I know from Calgary.

Several years back she moved to the south of France (doesn't that have a nice sound to it... the south of France! ) and my friends, you would not believe what this transpalnted Dutch CDN girl has been doing!

She, and for the most part, singlehandedly, has taken on the purchase and renovation of homes as her "job" and let me tell you... she's doing a damn good job of it too!!!

We're not talking some paint and carpet here folks, nope... we're talking demolition of 2 foot thick walls of stone and rebuilding!

HER CURRENT PROJECT IS NEARLY 400 YEARS OLD!!

Having been doing my own home in Calgary I have some idea of the time effort and skills involved. This is light years beyond that! Good on ya girl ! Bravo !!!



Saskia's was a little haven. Time to rest (so I thought ha) and do a little maintenance. For Piroska and my 54 year old bod.

Stay tuned, more later...

ps

One of the things I have found on this trip as opposed to my last foray into Europe in 2002 is that the web has arrived big time here! This poses a problem for a traveller such as myself. Perhaps my old bud TG can come up with a suitable solution to this dilemma. Seems that pretty much everywhere you will find "wee fee" This is Wi Fi to us. Every MacDonald's the most obscure little hotel, it's everywhere. Trouble is, if you're travelling with limited luggage capacity, carrying the Toshiba can be difficult. This has posed me some probs in accessing the web to pay bills, answer emails and update BLOG (still like that word) But sit tight, I promise... there is morer... much MORE to come.