GSX1400 Owners .org

Think of this post as a "coming soon" trailer...

My last excursion into Europe was the 2018 circuit of Spain and Portugal. During 2019 no arrangements were made as my mother-in-law was terminally ill, and then Covid scuppered any plans for 2020 and 2021.

I had planned and booked a trip around France in 2021 and having shelved it managed to rearrange it for this year, I should be heading for the ferry terminal in Portsmouth on the 23rd June. It's going to be a solo ride for me this time – my wife who has accompanied me over the last 10 years on these excursions is just not up for it, but she knows how much I want to go so I've been given a pass...

There will be a bit of coast, some time exploring the river valleys and gorges, a break on the Mediterranean, a couple of days in amongst the Alps and a return through the centre of the country picking up on a few historic towns and sights. 19 nights away from home in all, about 2900 miles but I'm allowing another 200 as the Garmin Zumo is bound the get me lost once or twice.
A rough map is attached but this has included motorways which I will be studiously avoiding, so the routes linking the stops will be straightened out to a degree.

The planning is all done now, a service has been arranged for the GTR just before I leave and I'm looking forward to getting on with it. Once I'm back I'll post up a bit of a report with photos – probably over several instalments.

Sounds fantastic, especially on the GTR! :onya:

Looking forward to living that trip vicariously through the forum.

If you were doing it on a push bike I'd be impressed  :whatever:
Just kidding  :cheers: I too will be keenly awaiting your very thorough reports 👍👍👍

Will be fun to read your reports, your the Master of ride reports.

I'll second that  :onya:

Well, I'm back and I've had a thoroughly enjoyable two and a half weeks. The bike has been on its side once and for a short time I was stuck without phone, wallet, passport and all my other essentials but despite all that it's going down on record as a good trip. Details to come, but here's a couple of spoilers...

Day 1 Home > Portsmouth (163 miles)

The pannier bags had been packed the night before so it was a matter of minutes to load the bike up after it had been pulled from the garage.  The ferry was not due to sail from Portsmouth until 20:15 and although I kicked around the house for an hour or two after getting up I just wanted to get on with my adventure so set off around 11:30 with the intention of making something of the day.

There were a couple of coffee stops on the way down to break the trip into manageable chunks and by 14:00 the GTR had settled on the car park at Porchester Castle – it seemed sensible to use up my surplus time with a couple of hours around this English Heritage ruin and my camera started accumulating the holiday snaps before I had even crossed the water.

Another quick stop at a nearby supermarket enabled me to refuel the bike and indulge in a quick snack. I arrived at the terminal in plenty of time; Portsmouth's terminal is very easy to navigate ad after the traditional waiting around in a queue I managed to move on through the border checks. Two other bikes and myself were pulled in for a quick customs examination, but having opened up one of the panniers the dude from Border Force seemed fairly satisfied that there were no illegal emigrants concealed in there trying to flee Britain. There's one upward ramp to negotiate on the "Bretagne" and a couple of tight U-turns to get the bike pointing back in the right direction, but the ferry staff take care of strapping down the bike so it's all quite painless compared to some ferries I have boarded.

Motorcycles are first onto the ship so I was quickly upstairs finding my way to my cabin and the bar before the hordes arrived. I'd got the alarm set and my head down at a sensible hour – bring on St-Malo...

Day 2 Mont Saint-Michel and Saint-Malo (80 miles)

Usual story, first on last off - but at least whilst I was waiting to disembark I could get the Zumo programmed and the Innovv camera set up for the day. It was always intended to be an easy first day, I wanted to visit Mont Saint-Michel and new that it would deserve more than the half hour that most other places on my itenery would get, so once I had broken free of Saint-Malo it was a case of travelling some quick but unexciting trunk roads to my destination. It was about 09:00 when I reached the large motorcycle park and although it was early-ish I was surprised to find only one other bike there – even more surprised to find it was another British registered GTR1400; what were the chances of that??

The car park charge includes a free shuttle bus from the mainland, over the causeway to the island. I haven't used public transport much in recent years but as my health and fitness is not great these days I decided to put up with mingling with the proletariat to dodge the walk and leave myself with some energy for the monument.

Having been disgorged by the bus at the town walls I set about exploring some of the island. I can't say that I saw it all and didn't go inside the abbey, but I still had an enjoyable wander round which included a late breakfast and a coffee. It's a place that is certainly worth visiting if you are near and I may well be back.

After eventually extracting my bike from the car park (after about five minutes I discovered that the car park barrier does not accept ferry cabin key cards and insists that you put the proper parking ticket in), I picked up the coast road in order to work my way back to Saint-Malo.  Let's bung in a bit of landscape – many compare Brittany to the south west of England and if you imagine Cornwall wearing a stripy jersey and a beret you are pretty much on the money. I passed a few seaside towns, sandy beaches and some rugged headlands; all very pleasant. There was a brief stop at Saint-Benoît-des-Ondes to take a picture of and from an old windmill tower that had been converted to a belvedere and then it was on to Cancale for my second proper stop.

Cancale is a small seaside harbour town that was pretty busy with tourists, fortunately there was a motorcycle bay provided and there was a bit of space I think those arriving by car were less lucky. It was OK to walk round for half an hour but largely consists of seafood restaurants – if you are the sort of chap who likes to get himself wrapped outside of mussels and whelks this will do you nicely but it was not for me. Half an hour, a quick cold drink and I was ready to see what was further along the road.

What turned out to be further down the road was the Pointe du Grouin, this was entirely expected as I had planned it. The bike was parked on one of a number of free car parks and I took a 15 minute stroll along the headland to take in the costal views and purchase yet another cold drink. Although the day had flicked between slightly overcast (with a handful of raindrops for one moment) and bright sunshine it had been hot throughout and it turned into a bit of a mission to keep hydrated.

Next up was supposed to have been some sculptured rocks just a little further along the coast, but the reviews had not been overwhelming so I decided that in view of the heat I would scratch that fixture, check into my hotel in Saint-Malo get out of the bike gear and have a shower.

Having executed plan B I set about prowling the streets of this beautiful old walled city. The hotel I had chosen was Intra Muros (within the walls), you pay a little extra for hotels in the historic centre but it was nice to feel part of it even if the bike was berthed on a motorcycle park just outside the gates. There was time to get something to eat, take a walk around the streets, city walls and beaches and finish by sending a couple of messages home from a small street café with a beer at the side of me.

(sorry, no pictures at the moment, still getting a 404 Forbidden message, I'll try and add them later but they can be seen on my Flickr accound (address in signature strip).

Let's have another try with the pictures...

Day 3 Saint-Malo > Tharon Plage (c. 155 miles)

After indulging in the hotel breakfast and hauling my bags through the city back to the bike I held the prospect of a proper full day's riding ahead of me. My ride would take me more or less directly south now, chopping across the peninsular containing Brest, so a sort of mastectomy route I suppose.

Out of Saint-Malo, across the Rance tidal power barrage and then just a short ride on more quick and easy roads expect for the time I missed a turning and the Zumo invited me to check the progress of the harvest from a few farm tracks and then to my first stop of the day at Dinan.

The delay to this year's trip had enabled me in planning to drill down to the detail of where would be best to park in each of my stops, this makes it all the more annoying when you find that the target car park has been requisitioned for the local fireman's ball and if your vehicle is not painted red you ain't getting in. No matter, there was space across the street where I could park up and take a look around the outside of the castle and find a café for the morning's coffee.

Although it was another hot and humid day a few spots of rain started to fall just as I remounted the bike. I contemplated holding on for a while to see if it would pass but decided to be a hero and get on with it. After about five minutes out of Dinan it was a complete deluge, another five minutes and it had broken through the gloves, jacket and trousers, only the boots were holding out, I resigned myself to an uncomfortable day, but after about 45 minutes I was back under a blue sky and within a further half hour I had blown completely dry. At least with a dry road surface I could enjoy the riding again, largely single carriageway roads, a lot of straights but the odd curve, bend and village to keep it enjoyable.

Eventually I reached my target car park below Josselin Chateau on the banks of L'Ouest. I made some time to take a few pictures from the river bank before heading over the bridge to an attractive looking hotel that seemed a good prospect for my next coffee. At the point of crossing the bridge I was accosted by an elderly couple who seemed to be making some request of me in French. I explained as best as I could that I was English and didn't understand, this forced a confession from them that they were also English, and would I mind taking a picture of them standing outside the hotel where they had spent their honeymoon 40 years ago?

Onward toward Saint-Nazaire... more of the same agreeable but unspectacular roads and countryside, a brief stop for fuel then a couple of dual carriageway stints – although the Zumo was programmed to avoid motorways some of the cross country roads in France were still threatening to square off the rear tyre. Eventually I reached and cut through the outskirts of the city. The bike was pulled up as planned on the dockside opposite the old Nazi U-Boat pens and after taking a couple of pictures I decided to relocate it, the dockside did not look that busy but I didn't like the thought of the bike getting a swipe from a forklift. The bike was re-parked at the end of a cycle stand in a side street, I nipped into a supermarket to pick up some bits for lunch then made my way up to the roof of the old submarine base. The word "brutalist" is often used is describing concrete arcitecture, it certainly fits here, the sheer mass of the concrete structure is a sight to behold. On the roof a small forest of trees has been planted to grow through the concrete beams to soften the thing, but it is still one mean building. At least the roof gives a couple of benches to sit down with your DIY sandwich and look across the port. I don't know why it has stuck in my memory, but I seem to remember a teacher back in my school days saying that the natives of Saint-Nazaire are less than friendly toward the British. Unlike other parts of northern France which saw themselves liberated, Saint-Nazaire was almost wiped off the map by allied bombing trying to get at that submarine base – it's certainly true that I saw very little in the way of older buildings during my brief visit.

From my perch on the roof I could see the Pont de Saint-Nazaire suspension bridge and that was the next thing the front wheel of the GTR was to be pointed at. Garmin's Base Camp seemed to have made several attempts to dissuade me from using this, I seem to recall having to add in several way-points to avoid it sending me on a major detour into Nantes to cross the Loire, as I approached the bridge I kept a sharp look out for any signs that motorcycles were prohibited but nothing came to my attention. True, the wind was doing its best to chuck the bike around a bit, but I was over it quickly and safely enough.

A little run down the coast from Saint-Nazaire bought me to Tharon-Plage, a coastal resort that gives the impression of being solely composed of holiday homes and the odd small hotel, it's alright but there is not a lot of charm to it – a sort of French Prestatyn. The hotel for the night had no car park so the bike was laid up in a motorcycle bay 100 metres down the road and fitted with the disc lock. After a shower and a change of clothes I took a walk in the opposite direction to the bike, up to the little harbour and from there back to the hotel for a couple of drinks.

Day 3 all accomplished as planned.

Day 4 Tharon-Plage > La Rochelle (c. 150 miles)

The route for the day was far from a straight line between points A&B, like some interplanetary probe the GTR was planned to slingshot in a graceful arc picking up some points of interest along the way.

I left Tharon-Palge under a bit of light rain, nothing too significant and I could see blue sky in the distance that the nicely surfaced straight roads were taking me toward. The land it pretty flat and agricultural and whilst not unpleasant to ride through it got a bit repetitive so I took the opportunity to pull up in the small village of Geneston, grab a cold drink from the top case and take a break.

It was after pulling away all refreshed that I had my first major falling out with the Zumo – it was bound to happen. Having left the village in the direction indicated it then instructed me to take a left turn, down a slip road and round an island to join a dual carriageway. The problem was that none of this existed I passed by the phantom turning and continued for half a mile or so with the unit screaming at me to do a u-turn. This was done when safe to do so and I took a slow ride back to the village carefully looking out for anything that I might have missed – but still no sign of anything other than fields and industrial units. I did an about-turn in the village and followed the directions again asking myself what was more stupid; the Garmin with its imaginary junction or me for looking for it again. Sadly the construction workers had still not installed any new roads within the last five minutes so it was back into Geneston to see what options the signs offered. My ultimate destination for the day was to le La Rochelle and as there seemed to be a sign for that, it seemed the way to go.

I was now having one of those uncomfortable rides where you go along in the hope that the Zumo will come up with a Plan B to get me to the intermediate points I wanted to visit and not just leave me to follow signs for La Rochelle and miss out everything between. After another 10-15 minutes I started to see Clisson appearing on the signs, it seemed I was heading the right way.
When I arrived in Clisson I found it much busier than I had imagined it would be. The bike was parked up easily enough but after walking around the outside of the castle and into the old town I found all the bars and cafes heaving with the young and middle aged sporting rock and metal band tee shirts, after about five minutes of absorbing the signs and posters I fathomed out that Clisson is the home to Hellfest rock and metal music festival. If I had foreseen this I may have incorporated it into the trip, there were a couple of bands I wouldn't have minded seeing. I did manage to find a quiet table and imbibe a coffee before rolling on.

It was still under mostly blue sky and uncomfortably hot when I left to take on more flat, straight roads. It was to be one of the longer stints between my intended stops so there was a bit of a beak in a wooded picnic area but it was not too long before I reached the walled hilltop town of Vouvant. Again my parking intentions were thwarted by a Route Barree and Deviation sign but I pulled up the GTR by the church as there were already a couple of bikes there. It was time for a decent walk as it felt I had been a while on the seat of the bike, so the helmet was secured to the bike with the cable lock and I went off to explore. My walk took me through the town, out of an archway in the ramparts and down to the lake at the foot of the hill. I spent half an hour at the lakeside before returning up the hill for a drink and to saddle up again.

Next up was Fontenay le Comte and the Zumo delivered me directly to the spot I remembered picking from Google Street View. I'd been a bit careless though and forgotten to note exactly what I had intended to visit it the town. I walked into the town centre in search of yet more fluid but with hindsight I think I should have been walking up to the medieval gardens. I did manage to get a drink, but the town was not that attractive so I didn't linger except to have a conversation of sorts with a chap on a mobility scooter who had pulled up by the bike and seemed full of admiration for it. I was sorry to hear that he too was once a biker but an accident on it had left him reliant on his little electric scooter.

There were 40 miles to do to reach La Rochelle, the sky was becoming a bit more overcast, it was still hot and the roads remained easy but uninspiring. Other than a quick fuel stop I was happy to push on into the city centre. The Zumo took me straight to the Kyriad hotel and I chanced a brief stop outside to unload the bags and sort out access to their underground car park.
Once the GTR was roosting in the basement there was the chance for a shower and a change of clothes so that I could go out to see what the city was made of. My hotel was in Les Mimes the cheaper area near the newer port but I wanted to see the Vieux Port (Old Port) area, my walk took me past a branch of McDonalds so I decided to dine in style before continuing tp the water's edge. The is a small passenger ferry (Passeur) that will take you from Les Mimes to the old port for the princely sum of €1 and it seemed the way to go as the little electric boat takes you between the two historic towers from which a chain was once suspended to protect the harbour from people like me (British).

Typically of a French city the Vieux Port area is a lively, friendly place with plenty of bars and cafes fronting the harbour. I took in my fill of the sights and a couple of beers before boarding the Passeur again and taking the short walk back to the hotel.

Day 5 La Rochelle > Rocamadour (225 miles)

Having seen off breakfast at the Kyriad Les Mimes, I extracted the GTR from the underground garage and set off. To be honest it was a bit of a shaky start, I found the traffic flow and signage in this area difficult to follow, disappointing as I'm usually pretty good. The bike had to be swiftly extracted from a bus carriageway at one point and there was a bit of hesitation here and there whilst I tried to work out who had priority at some unmarked junctions but after five minutes I was clear of it all. Today was scheduled to be one of the longer runs of the trip but I was sure I had time in hand to cram in a couple of visits.

It all started off on the dull flat straight roads I had become accustomed to, a mixture of cloud and blue sky but already getting hot again. Eventually I arrived in the town of Saintes and with a bit of shuffling round the back streets found my way to the remains of the Roman amphitheatre. Despite two years of planning I still hadn't got this detail right, it turned out to be closed on Mondays. I contented myself with a short walk around the perimeter and took what photos I could.

Moving on, there was a subtle change to the roads as I travelled east, nothing much but at least there was the odd slight curve on the horizon now and again, the GTR was easting it up and had to be constantly held in check to keep within the speed limits. Eventually I reached Barbezieux where a chateau held my attention for a short while before I walked the town in search of a coffee which turned up at one of the "tabac" stores.

I really enjoyed the next section of the day's route. Admittedly they were not really challenging but were interesting enough to make for a good ride, gently curving between villages. I took the opportunity for an unscheduled stop at La Rochbeaucourt-en-Argentine as there was a convenient layby opposite a partly ruined chateau as I was about ready to grab another drink from the case. I didn't stay long, just enough to re-energise for the run to the next proper stop.

The next section of the ride clipped the bottom of the Perigord-Limosin nature park and after a few more miles of fast-flowing roads I turned on to a series of country lanes through farmland and woodland where I eventually arrived at the ruins of Boschaud Abbey. Now, many of you will know I like a ruined abbey; I probably spent a good hour walking around there waking up the basking lizards and picking out the English bits from the information panels. It was a properly remote and tranquil spot but the schedule dictated it was time to move on.

It was only a short distance further south that I came upon Brantome-en-Perigord. Once again I managed to hit the target car park on the banks of the river opposite the abbey. Yes, another abbey, but as this one was intact it still qualifies as variety. I took a few minutes on each river bank and onto the curious angled bridge that links to the abbey's gardens. The gardens looked as if they could be worth going deeper into but the heat more than time dissuaded me from going on, I could probably have secured the touring jacket to the bike by I was minded not to drop the trousers.

The task now was to push on to my night's accommodation, still some distance away. It was a proper mixed bag of road types that lead me onward but all very entertaining and surprisingly free of Frenchmen or any other type of traffic, I wish the road around home were this uncluttered. There was now hardly a straight bit in sight, roads were of good width but not important enough to be awarded a white line down the middle of them. The big drawback was a lot seemed to have been resurfaced in the French style; basically dumping a lot of loose chippings "Gravellons" in the hope that passing traffic pounds them into the road and making sure that there is plenty of loose stuff on the bends...

There was another brief stop at Condat-sur-Vezere to buy another cold drink and straighten myself out. I would regard the GTR as a comfortable bike over distance but as the day wears on I find the need for stops becoming more frequent, I don't think clothes sticking to me in the heat helps much either.

After passing through Soulliac I found myself briefly running along the banks of the Dordogne with rocky cliff faces to my left, this was the first hint of how the next few days of my trip were planned to be, largely exploring river valleys and gorges. I crossed the Dordogne just south of Pinsac and it was almost with disappointment that I arrived at Rocamadour – I'd really enjoyed the day on the bike, but at the same time I was ready for the break.

I'd booked two nights at the Belvedere hotel and I'd made a good choice; there was a decent car park, bar and restaurant and its elevated position gave good views over to the historic town of Rocamadour. My bedroom was one level down from the reception but still gave good views, I was looking forward to seeing some sun on the valley in the morning. A handy door at the end of the bedroom corridor gave easy access to the bike so that I could pull all of the luggage off and I was soon showered changed and headed upstairs for an evening meal and a drink or two.

Posting pictures seem to be a problem again, "failed security checks"

Seems that it didn't like the map, perhaps the file size was too big but it didn't say so...

Couple of things about France - firstly sat navs just don't understand how french roads work (I live here and still google earth a route as well as use a tom tom, and still come a cropper lol) and secondly, you don't really need to chain helmet to bike - its astonishing how, outside of the major cities, there seems to be such trust that long ago vanished elsewhere. Enjoying your travelog

Great photos and detailed reports, keep em coming Pete. Travel safe :cheers:

Quote from: Kiwifruit on Monday, 01 August  2022, 05:59 AM
Great photos and detailed reports, keep em coming Pete. Travel safe :cheers:

I agree Col & feel very jealous 😿😿😿

Great info and pictures.

You've seen more of France than me and I've lived here for 7 years!  :worshippy:

Quote from: frenchgixxer on Monday, 01 August  2022, 05:21 AM
Couple of things about France - firstly sat navs just don't understand how french roads work (I live here and still google earth a route as well as use a tom tom, and still come a cropper lol) and secondly, you don't really need to chain helmet to bike - its astonishing how, outside of the major cities, there seems to be such trust that long ago vanished elsewhere. Enjoying your travelog

To be fair I never saw anything in the natives' behaviour that made me suspicious of them. I think locking the helmet to the bike is partly habit, and partly becuase it was a brand new Shoei NRX
- a 60th birthday gift from my sisters and it was the first trip for it - I'd hate to have to explain its loss to them knowing what they cost. It did very often just sit on the tank when the bike was in my sight.

I'd tried spot checking a number of the roads that I'd plotted into the Zumo by comparing them in Google Streetview to make sure they were "rideable", but with almost 3000 miles you can't go cover everything. Many of the problems start when you miss a turning or come across a road closure and then you are entirely in its hands as it maliciously recalculaes.

Thank you for your comments gents, a lot still to come in between finding time to ride my bike  :grin:

Day 6 Around the Lot and Dordogne (c.150 miles)

As I'd hoped the day started with Rocamadour in bright sunshine and I grabbed the camera to take a shot as there was a hot air balloon in front of the cliff-side buildings. As I was having a two night stay a lot of the GTRs load was eased by leaving bags in my room and I was able to make use of the Kevlar lined jeans as it was still hot and there looked no prospect of me getting wet.
The idea today was to head south and join the Lot valley at Carjac. It was to be largely minor roads and I was overdue a kicking from the Zumo. A short distance from Rocamadour I was directed to a left turn and as I entered it I knew I was being stitched up again. It looked more like an access road or driveway and sure enough I eventually emerged in front of a very large country home with a chap on a sit-on mower going about his business in the company of a chocolate Labrador. The was plainly no way through, the Lab seemed pleased to see me, man on the mower perhaps slightly less so. I could only apologise and point to the satnav directing me up his garden path, at least he was decent enough to give me shove to turn the GTR around on the gravel drive. Onward I went, in the direction that struck me as being southward.

I reached the River Lot at Carjac and then followed the river westward. This was the best road of the trip so far, a section of it between St Martin-Labouval and St Gery is a Balcony Road, cut into the cliff face with a few tight spots and tunnels to contend with. There are more spectacular balcony roads in France, but this was certainly worth riding if you are in the area. There was an odd stop for a couple of photos but I was hoping the Innovv camera was catching the rest.

In due course I arrived at Cahors, a small town sitting in a loop in the river. The road I had plotted into the Zumo was closed so I left  it to come up with an alternative – It's a good job I was not in a car or a van, I was taken under the railway line by a tunnel with 1.5m headroom, even on the bike I felt the need to duck.  Eventually I made my way to the medieval "Pont Valente", a fortified bridge of three towers and numerous arches. Inevitably the scaffolding crew had got there first to spoil my photo, but that's pretty routine now.

After leaving Cahors a very satisfactory series of country roads lead me northward for around 30 miles to the hilltop town of Domme. Climbing the hill and passing through the archway of the town wall I was struck how much the architecture and the colour of the stone reminded me of an English Cotswold village. The GTR ended up with a good tour of the town as the car park I was headed for was full and I had to complete a couple of circuits before settling on a spot where I was happy to leave it. I spent a good hour walking around Domme, a balustraded area on the edge of town gives good views over the Dordogne river below and is a nice place to take 10 minutes with a drink. With the bike being relatively unladen today it was possible to stuff the jacket in an empty pannier which made for a more comfortable walk. It probably deserved a little more time but I had another two stops in mind of this day's ride.

I wasted a frustrating 5 minutes trying to find my way out from the environs of Domme.  Zumo lead me straight to a dead end car park and kept trying to take me back, but by my own means I found my way down to the banks of the Dordogne at Beynac-et-Cazenac. I'd intended stopping here but there was no chance of parking, even for a motorcycle, instead I rode a like further east along the river to La Roque-Gageac where I was able to pull up for a short while. This is yet another beautiful town that begs exploring further, there are dwellings or fortifications cut into the cliff face that runs above the string of riverside houses and shops, the place was heaving from day trippers taking river excursions from a number of operators, I sure a full day could be made of it.
My ride concluded with a cross country trip on minor roads, sometimes in farmland, often in woods, regularly through ancient quiet villages and finally becoming more rugged as I reached Rocamadour again.

There was yet another shower and change of clothing before walking to a convenience store in the village for something to eat, I'd used the hotel restaurant the night before but didn't fancy it again. Having eaten I found myself looking down on the town and regretting that although I was booked here for two nights I had not found time to visit it – it looked a long way from the hotel as you can see from the photos. After feeling sorry for myself for about the length of a cigarette I caught sight of the pedestrian sign suggesting it was 10 minutes walk from the path running alongside my hotel, I was not entirely convinced but decided that having travelled all this way I should give it a go. To be fair it was an easy 10 minutes, going downhill is always less challenging at my age and I found myself passing through one of the arches in the wall and onto what was pretty much a single street that runs through. It was early evening and the hordes has gone so the place was nice and quiet even though a lot of the businesses and attractions were closed for the day. I found a hotel where I could sit outside with a drink or two as the shadows descended on across the valley and all that remained to be done was climb that hill back up to my bed.

A few more images from Day 6...

Day 7 Rocamadour > Mayrueis (c. 151 miles)

After discharging my obligations at the breakfast buffet I resolved to carry out an urgent, thorough and in-depth review of my trousering. Given the past few days and the forecast ahead I concluded that the Kevlar lined jeans were the way of the future.

Only just of a 150 miles to cover on this day, but of course there were stops planned and I knew I would be wanting to absorb the scenery I was to ride through. The whole idea of this trip was to effectively string together 16 days of "Sunday Rides" and the previous day had been spot-on. Some of the day's ride would take me back over roads that I had travelled to the southwest of France and the Pyrenees some years ago, I held fond memories of that section of the run and was looking forward to doing it again. It was time to release the GTR into the wild...

To start with the route lead through Causses du Quercy Natural Regional Park, sometimes it was possible to get a bit of speed up but more often than not it was 30-40mph riding on minor country roads. Eventually I once again reached the River Lot and had the pleasure of following its course on to Entraygues-sur-Truyère. At this point the Zumo wanted me to turn right and cross over the historic bridge, but I was immediately confronted by a set of bollards; it looked as if this had been closed to vehicles for a while. Being as I was stationary and the nose of the bike was able to go no further it seemed a good time to hop off and take a photo.

After buying another couple of drinks from a fridge in town (one for now, one for later) I pushed on to Estaing. I loved this road, it was just as I remembered, a steady 50-60 mph following the valley in gentle curves. I pulled up at the viewpoint on the edge of town which now had a proper surface and had generally been tarted up since my visit of eight years ago. I was also delighted to see that they had finally got round to scaffolding the chateau tower, it had to happen sooner or later.

I left the Lot Valley at Espallion and headed south on a series of fast trunk roads, not so picturesque but I was covering a bit of ground to get me to would I hoped would be another decent lump of scenery later in the day. I had planned very carefully to avoid motorways on this trip, it had been set as an "avoidance" in my route planning on Garmin Basecamp so I found myself wondering a little time later what combination of circumstances had lead me to end up on the A75 motorway and heading steadily toward the Millau viaduct. At least it was not a "payage" so I was able to keep my hand out of my pockets. After about 15 minutes the bike was ejected at Aguessac and I began to see signs for the Tarn Gorge, I was heading the right way and was looking forward to this bit.

During the planning stage I was a bit dis-chuffed that I couldn't find a hotel in the Tarn Gorge that I liked the look of and was within a tolerable budget so I'd had to settle for accommodation a few miles away. I would follow the Tarn Gorge to Le Rozier and then continue west to Meyruies for the night, the idea being that I would then back-tack to Le Rozier the following day to continue the ride up the gorge.

The ride to Le Rozier was everything I'd hoped, a nice flowing road with the walls of the canyon closing in and increasing in height the further I went. I couldn't resist a stop at Le Rozier to pick up another drink and then set about tackling the "dead leg" of the journey to my hotel.

It turned out the road to Meyrueis was an unexpected delight, I was now following the D996 along La Jonte river, set in its own gorge, the road here was perhaps a little bit more twisty and it was a pleasure to be astride one of Kawasaki's finest. There are a couple of tight spots, whereas in Britain we drive on the left and in continental Europe they usually drive on the right, I have learned on this trip that a Frenchman in a white van or motorhome usually drives plumb down the middle – you have to watch out.

I hit the little town of Meyrueis deep in the Cévennes National Park at a respectable hour and managed to berth the GTR in a motorcycle bay just outside Le Grand Hotel de France – at check-in I was offered garaging, which is something to remember for the future, but the bike was already fully locked up and I was disinclined to shift it. There was enough time of the evening left to go for a short walk and find something to eat and drink before bed. Although it had seemed an inconvenience at one point, the ride to and stay in Meyrueis had turned out a bit of a bonus.

Day 8 Meyrueis > Avignon (c. 157 miles)

I left Meyreuis knowing that at least to start with I would be riding some nice roads, the return down the valley of La Jonte was just as enjoyable as the previous day's ride up it and although I was riding in precisely the opposite direction to my next hotel, as intended I re-joined the Tarn Gorge at Le Rozier.

It was only a few miles alongside the Tarn before it was time to heave the bike up the side of the gorge via a series of hairpins so that I could reach Point Sublime – the name's a bit of a give-away really, a popular viewpoint that enables the visitor to take in the gorge cutting through the landscape for some distance. After reaching the top of the gorge there is still a few miles to cover through the farmland on the plateau, in fact I seemed to have been up there so long I was worried I'd missed a sign.  I was only the third vehicle on the car park so I grabbed a few moments at the railings to take some photos unencumbered by other tourists. I hadn't really done enough riding to earn a coffee, but the young lady was just opening up the kiosk, so it seemed rude not to. All in all this little detour had accounted for a fair bit of the day's mileage.

I could have done a bit of a loop around the top, but I like running along valleys so I dropped back down the way I came and continued with the river up through La Malene and just enjoying the road in front of me with its cliffs, tunnels and balconies adding to the pleasure of the gentle curves.
Another short break was taken at Saint Enemie before once again taking a planned detour to the top of the gorge where another viewpoint overlooks the town. Back down in the valley I continued with the Tarn in an easterly direction, beyond Ispagnac the gorge widened and tamed somewhat but the river remained my companion almost all the way to Florac at which point I started out on another road that had attracted my attention in planning.

It was time to join the D9 Corniche de Cévennes, a 30 mile scenic road that connects Florac with Saint Jean du Grad to the south. There are no high mountain passes, just a broad well surfaced road that snakes from hill to hill with 360 degrees of French landcape to soak in between the bends. It is one to set out on well prepared, there are no major towns or villages so refreshment and fuel options are limited. I had a breather at Col Saint-Pierre before finishing the tourist road at St Jean du Grad.

After the pleasures of the Tarn Gorge and Corniche de Cévennes, the next section of my journey proved less spectacular although this was to be expected, there were still some attractive patches and it was not a bad ride but the bar had been set too high. After a brief stop at a Tabac store in Boucoiran-et-Nozières to top up on cold drinks I continued with a series of trunk roads carried me on toward the Pont du Grad which was the first "monument" box to tick for the day. Sometimes I felt I was on the fringes of urban areas, other times I was in flat countryside with vast fields of sunflowers either side.

I was almost within touching distance of Pont du Grad when I came upon a whole heap of congestion that took me around 15 minutes to edge through. When finally clear of it I found my way onto the barrier controlled car park. This is the moment that you find out that it is going to cost €9 to get out even for a motorcycle, even for a short duration visit. The charge is all well and good for a family of four in a car intending to spend the day on the river banks, but I felt it was a bit of a rip-off for the hour I was going to take. I fixed everything to the bike as best as I could and plodded through the visitor centre, down the nearest river bank to take a picture of this ancient roman aqueduct, back up over the modern bridge and a little higher on the opposite bank for a different view. I confess that this walking around in the continuing heat and the parking fee had left me with a bit of a grump on, at least I got a decent coffee from the visitor centre, but I didn't want to hang around, I needed to push on for a shower and fresh clothes and there was still a city centre to tackle.

Avignon was only about 40 minutes away accounting for the traffic at that time of day and was fairly easy to get around. I found the entrance to the small car park at the back of the Hotel d'Angleterre fairly easily and the lady on reception shot out to open up the garage for me which was unexpected – mind you, I don't think she was expecting the bulk of the GTR, but with a bit of shuffling it was berthed for the night.

The coveted shower and clean shirt was sorted out and it was time to spend an hour or two on Avignon. Due to me being either poor or tight-fisted my hotel was at the opposite end of the city to the main attractions but still within the city walls and only 5-10 minutes walk to the main square outside the Palais des Papes. I was the usual friendly, lively city centre I had grown to expect in France but there was some event going on in the square featuring what seemed to be an 80's cover band which I found offensive to my auditory canal, so I made my way down to the side of the river Rhone so that I could take a look at the famous Pont d'Avigon which seems to strike out into the river but then give up half-way. Back in town I bypassed the dudes knocking out the Phil Collins covers, side-stepped the palace which was covered in an unbelievable amount of scaffold and walked up to the terraced Jardin des Doms.

After walking up the various ramps and steps to the summit of the gardens I found a small lake and to my delight a small bar at its side with some empty tables where I could down two beers and strike up a small cigar. The crowds in town were dispersing as I walked back down to the hotel and I went to bed reflecting on a very decent day on the bike.

Stunning!

That viaduct pic is amazing, as are all your pics and info on your travels @Rynglieder.  :hat: I feel very lucky that you have taken the time to share this wonderful trip with us  :worshippy: :worshippy: :worshippy:

Quote from: GSXKING on Sunday, 14 August  2022, 01:49 PM
That viaduct pic is amazing, as are all your pics and info on your travels @Rynglieder.  :hat: I feel very lucky that you have taken the time to share this wonderful trip with us  :worshippy: :worshippy: :worshippy:

amazing Roman aquaduct - and near by is the Harabo sweet factory  :)
@GSXKING

Quote from: KiwiCol on Sunday, 14 August  2022, 04:21 AM
Stunning!

Thank you, loads more to come as time permits.

Quote from: GSXKING on Sunday, 14 August  2022, 01:49 PM
That viaduct pic is amazing, as are all your pics and info on your travels @Rynglieder.  :hat: I feel very lucky that you have taken the time to share this wonderful trip with us  :worshippy: :worshippy: :worshippy:

I still feel a little guilty that it was not done on the GSX when posting on this forum, but it's all about riding a bike, that at least we have in comon!

Quote from: Notty on Sunday, 14 August  2022, 08:01 PM

Quote from: GSXKING on Sunday, 14 August  2022, 01:49 PM
That viaduct pic is amazing, as are all your pics and info on your travels @Rynglieder.  :hat: I feel very lucky that you have taken the time to share this wonderful trip with us  :worshippy: :worshippy: :worshippy:

amazing Roman aquaduct - and near by is the Harabo sweet factory  :)
@GSXKING

I'll leave you guys to the Haribo, I'm not a fan.

I couldn't have smuggled you any back through customs either, the panniers were stuffed to the limits with dirty laundry  :grin:

Day 9 Avignon > Villeneuve-Loubet (c. 205 miles)

After chalking off breakfast and extracting the GTR from the goods trolleys and guest's bikes in the garage I rolled out of Avignon for the start of what was going to be one of the 200+ mile rides of this trip.

The urban sprawl eventually gave way to some fast, flat, straight roads between fields of sunflowers and after half an hours riding I started to find the signs for Gordes. A more rural and bike-friendly road then took me up to the town viewpoint for a chance of a snap of this old hilltop town. It was then a five minute ride up the hill through narrowing streets before pitching up at the bottom of the chateau. I took a short walk, it was once again unbearably hot and I was conscious that I was on a longer run today so it was a case of just picking up a couple of cold bottles and absorbing a little of the town.

I left Gordes on more rural roads with a range of mountains on the horizon ahead of me. The morning's ride took me over the Luberon national nature park, with one minor road after another leading me eastwards. I was very much in the hands of the Zumo, but it seemed to be behaving. Not too far along the route I came upon Bonnieux, another old hilltop town where I pulled up again for the views across the hills.

Another mixed bag of roads followed, some fast flowing, others a bit tight and with the first poor surfaces I had encountered in France, low hills still surrounded me but the adjacent fields had given over from sunflower crops to lavender. Once I had reached Manosque I knew that the Luberon National Park was behind me, but once I had crossed the River Durance I would be entering another scenic area, the Verdon National Park.

Initially the roads were broad and smooth but progress was sub-optimal due to tourist's cars cruising to look at the lavender fields, a quick twist of the throttle here and there when safe added to my entertainment. The town of Riez was not a scheduled stop, but there was a nice shaded central car park and an inviting bar which looked a good bet for a coffee and although I had enjoyed the ride so far I was ready to get off for half an hour.

Under cloudless blue sky I reached the foot of the mountain range and took the opportunity to pull up at the end of the Pont du Galetas which spans the River Verdon at the head of Lake Sainte-Croix. Another drink was taken from the case and a quick photo before starting the ascent of the mountain, through the small town of Aiguines and climbing the Col d'illoire where a belvedere offered my camera views over the Verdon Gorge.

Next up was a 25 minute ride along a twisty road cut into the side of the hill along the Verdon gorge, well above river level with some precipitous drops to my left to make sure my concentration levels were where they should be. A break came when I reached the Pont de l'Artuby, a massive single arch concrete bridge spanning the gorge. After doing the business with the camera I took advantage of a handy kiosk on the car park for yet another drink, I seemed to have a permanent thirst that I couldn't shift.

The next section of my ride was no less pleasurable for leaving the Verdon behind, fast flowing easy roads took me between mountains and valleys and on to the Prealps-d'Azure National Park where at a roadside viewpoint above Gréolières I pulled up alongside another couple of bikes. The Greek riders asked me if I would take a picture of them with their machines and then offered to do the same for me, the result of which is at the head of this write-up. Knowing that I had the built up area of the South of France resorts ahead of me I mounted up and pushed on.
The decent to the Cote d'Azur was an unexpected pleasure, yet another twisty gorge road lead me into the maelstrom of traffic around Nice.  Again, I was having to be very aware of oncoming traffic, some vehicles just seemed to be a bit casual about their positioning, other times larger vehicles were forced into the middle of the road due to overhangs – don't go so fast that you can't stop within the distance you can see...

Eventually the Zumo was taking me through a curious selection of urban back streets, the bike was casting a long shadow in front of me and I could almost smell the Mediterranean when I came upon a major junction. As there was no parking at the apartment I had booked I had noted on Google Street View there were some motorcycle bays by the Colosseum (Horse racing track) which were only 100 metres or so away. "Turn right" said the Zumo, "turn left for the Colosseum" said the signs. I should have gone left but had already positioned the bike going by the Zumos' advance warning and in rush hour traffic a quick lane change would have been a bit dodgy. Needless to say I soon found myself on the main sea front dual carriageway heading for Nice when Antibes was the direction a gentleman about town should be going. I think it was about two miles before I came upon somewhere where I could take a couple of lefts and a right go get back in the right direction.

When I came upon the Colosseum I found that the motorcycle bays had been converted to rental bicycle racks but fortunately I had a Plan B. Another 100m beyond my apartment was a dead end road leading toward the beach with 20 or so motorcycle bays and I just grabbed the last end spot. The problem with it being a dead end road was that there was a regular flow of cars coming down and then having to do a three point turn, as I was unloading the bike I had to jump off the kerb and bang on the back of a hatchback which was just about to reverse into the bike and flatten it. I caught it just in time, it made contact but other than giving the mirror a knock back and misaligning the Innovv camera lens I got away with it. I resolved to get back to the bike as soon as I was set up in the apartment and try and shift it to a better space if possible.

The apartment was on the basic side but no more or less than I expected for what was a (relatively) low rental cost – it would do. I unpacked all of the luggage, figured out how everything worked and walked back up to the bike. The evening was drawing in and the beach must have started to clear as there were now plenty of free bays in less vulnerable positions so I repositioned the bike and continued to walk up the road to the supermarket to get food for three days and a capsule for the washing machine – I had remembered to bring one from home but it had succumbed to the battering it had got in transit.

The last hour of the day's journey had been a bit of a pain but it was easily compensated by the riding I had enjoyed earlier.

A few more Day 9 photos...

WOW, What a great trip/write-up thanx for sharing mate...

Day 10 Nice (c. 20 miles)

I spent my first morning on the Cote d'Azur carrying out the duties of Designated Washerwoman (after sending some photos home of the washing machine controls to obtain guidance from my wife who is a semi-professional in these matters). I lounged around for a while, sometimes under the air-conditioning unit and sometimes on the balcony with cold drink and cigarette but once my clean clothes were in the sun on the rack I decided I had already had enough of beach holidays. I know there are people who sit on a beach or by a pool all day drinking, but it's not for me – I get too restless. I decided I would reassure myself that the bike had survived the night and have a run into Nice.

It would be hard to get lost on this ride, just stay on the coast road with the sea on my right. Nevertheless once I reached the Old Town in Nice that road would take me no further and I suddenly realised it had become an access road to an underground car park. By luck there was a whole row of motorcycles and scooters parked up alongside the ramp so it seemed a good idea to join the throng and take a walk on foot. At least with the paniers now empty I could ditch the jacket and helmet and set off in tee shirt and jeans.

Even so I was extremely over-dressed and it was an uncomfortable slog up the paths past the Tour Bellanda and up to the Colleen du Chateau, a bit of a park with good views over the resort. I wound my way down through the streets of the old town past the cathedral, through a couple of parks and back to the Promenade des Angles where I got a decent sandwich  and cold drink before going back to the area where the bike was parked.
As my jacket had been left in the panniers my phone and wallet were in the camera back-pack which I had been carrying around with me. I dropped the bag in the top case and recall feeling it seemed oddly difficult to close, not thinking about it too deeply I heaved the jacket back on and set about the ride "home".

On returning to the parking area and making sure I was well out of the firing line of turning vehicles I tried to unload the bike. I turned the key in the top case and pushed the button to open the lid, but it wouldn't release. Thee lock was free allowing the button to be pressed, but the button just wouldn't release the catch.  After spending half an hour at the roadside fiddling with it in the unrelenting heat I decided to take off the box completely and carry it down to the apartment where I could be under the air-conditioning and hopefully get a bit more pressure on the button by pressing downwards if it was on its back.

Thankfully the apartment keys were in the pocket of my jeans so I went indoors and poked and prodded for another 10 minutes, then moving on to attacking it with any likely looking item of cutlery I could find in the kitchen drawer. The lid was eventually raised by 50-10mm and I now had a collection of spoons and forks with bent handles and a busted fruit knife – not much to show for my efforts.

I was getting nowhere and some third party assistance was required. My thoughts turned to the breakdown cover included with my Carol Nash insurance policy, I felt it was a "locked out of vehicle situation" and they would surely put me in touch with someone even if it was not covered.

But my phone was in my top case, as was my wallet and all of my documents with contact numbers and policy details... If I was staying in a hotel I would probably have got some help from reception but I was on my own here in a private rental, so what is to be done?

There was a total of eight Euros in loose change in my jeans pocket, so I picked up the whole box with the intention of lugging it across the street where there was a café bar, I hoped I would be able to demonstrate my problem and offer them the bit of cash I had to make a call home where one of the family should be able to pull up the files on my computer and try to sort something out.

It was well into the evening now and I had a nasty feeling the café would be closed, it was really for daytime beach-goer trade, but as I descended the steps with a very heavy case in my hands I met a fellow resident coming up – I tried my luck. Fortunately although a Russian lady, she spoke some English and quickly grasped my problem. As good as gold, she loaned me her phone and would not take my little money, but I was still stuck – no one picked up the phone at home. The problem in these modern times is that very few people carry phone numbers in their head, everything is locked up in your nasty little pocket device, 20 years ago I could have reeled off the numbers for most of my friends, relations, clients and suppliers but not now. Suddenly I realised that I could trawl up my sister's number from the depths of my frazzled grey matter so I want back to my new Russian friend and begged the loan of her phone again. She still would not take my money but did ask if I had any cigarettes as hers had been stolen from her on the beach that afternoon, sadly my packet of Chesterfield was also in the top case.

I got hold of Baby Sister straight away and put my problem in front of her, there was nothing more to be done than wait to see if I got a call back on the phone that had kindly been left with me. I sat down half watching French television at the same time as idly probing the gap between the case lid and base – suddenly it sprang open on a push of the button. I grabbed my own phone from my back-pack and called my sister to tell her to abandon trying to do anything. She replied that she was glad that I had got out of trouble because she was having a right argument with Carol Nash who told her that the Claims Department would not open until Monday so they would not do anything – it's something I will need to dig deeper into come insurance renewal time I think.

I returned the Russian lady's phone and split my recovered packet of cigarettes with her. At least I could go to bed knowing that I had access to my possessions and that there are still some people in the world who will go out of their way to help a stranger. An annoying episode really, usually my phone and wallet would always be zipped inside my jacket inner pocket, the heat had driven the jacket away in Nice, but I won't be locking them in any of the bike's cases in future.

Day 11 - Around the Cote d'Azur (c. 40 miles)

There is a question that is sometimes thrown out; "What one item would you save from your burning house?" It was the opposite scenario this morning, what could I put in my top case that I could afford to lose? Although I had got it open it still didn't feel right and I was reluctant to snap it shut in case I lost access to its contents or lost luggage space if it was empty. It was not a problem for now though, most stuff could stay in the apartment for the day whilst I figured it out. No hotel breakfast was waiting for me so I took the short walk to the café across the road, bagged a shady table and set about getting myself around a coffee and sandwich.

The intention for this phase of the trip was to allow myself a break from riding if I needed it, a relaxed couple of days. Even so, there were still things I wanted to take a look at and I had no problem with saddling up for a short ride.

First up was the road out toward Nice again, but this time my destination was just on the western outskirts. When searching for accommodation in the area nearly every apartment and hotel had proudly proclaimed how close to the Russian Orthodox Cathedral it was, so I was left with the impression that this edifice was a "must see". I hadn't really thought it through though, after fighting through the congestion in the streets around it I realised that Sunday is a bit of a busy day for churches. I managed to cram the GTR into a gap between some cars and take a souvenir photo from outside the fence, but decided not to go any further or get involved with the singing to god.

Next on the list was the Cascade de Gairaut. This is basically a water works, but built in an attractive chalet style with a cascade of water tumbling from below it to a pool further down the hillside. From the cathedral it was a bit of a back-street commute climbing the mountains that sit behind Nice, the Zumo got me up there OK although it seemed an odd choice of streets and I found myself riding through a large steel automatic gate that rather worryingly had a flashing red beacon on the post. No other vehicles were parked at the bottom of the cascade and in fact there was a singular absence of cascade. The chalet was there above me, no water flowing, rocks a dry as bone and an empty pool. Realising there was nothing for me here and being slightly concerned that the automatic gate might have intentions of locking me in, I U-turned the bike a beat a brave retreat.

Two visits, two disappointments – what's next? Stop number three was just outside the village of La Turbie and contrary to its instructions the Zumo plonked me on a motorway as soon as it thought I was not looking. In truth I got over it pretty quickly, it is the fastest way to travel from West to East across here, it was also nice to have some wind around me given that it was yet again 30+ degrees. There was a small toll of a couple of Euros to pay on exit but it was worth it. I stopped in La Turbie as a café seemed to be beckoning me and a coffee was almost due.
The bike was moved off the village street and moved to a proper car park outside my destination so that I could more safely leave it for an hour. But it was not to be – as soon as I walked up to the entrance to the Trophy of Augustus I spotted a sign that even with my minimal French told me that it was closed today for a special event. The Trophy of Augustus is a huge Roman monument perched on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean with a bit of a park around it. I was not going to get to see it close up but I could at least access the belvedere at the end of the car park which offered some stunning views over Monaco. With another visit aborted I had time on my hand so went and had another walk around the beautiful old streets of La Turbie. At least as I left the village I spotted in my mirror that there was a nice view of the monument albeit from a distance so I pulled up and took the shot.

No far away was the Tete de Cien mountain outcrop, I rode in in hope rather than expectation given the day so far and wasn't very shocked when I came to the "Road closed ahead" sign on approach. I flicked the GTR around it intending to play my Stupid Foreigner card if challenged and managed to park the bike just before the barrier and made a start on walking the rest of the way up the road. It may all have been more enjoyable on a cooler day, I passed an old fort that had been converted to some new undefined use perhaps an observatory or radar station judging by the dome, some roofless barrack buildings that could perhaps have been explored further and then up to the headland for more views of the sea and the coastal towns below.
Deciding that the day had been a bit of a wash-out I turned back for the apartment. Naturally the Zumo had been having second thoughts and although this time I wanted to use the motorway it thought I should ride the Grande Corniche past the hilltop town of Eze. Eze might also have been worth a look but there didn't seem to be any obvious parking for the bike so I rode on a short distance and chanced upon a layby that offered views back up to the town and the sea below. It also had the benefit of a kiosk where I got a hot sandwich and a couple of cold drinks under a parasol.

It was to tedious and congested ride back down to the coast road and back to the apartment, by this time I had even abandoned the gloves and I was discovering that sweaty digits did not make for easy clutch control but after the bike was parked up in its regular spot and some of the gear put away in the apartment I could finish the day off with a beer across the street before going back to my air-conditioning and bed.

There had been several disappointments with the destinations and not many miles of really good riding but I reckoned there were probably a couple of decent photos caught of the better bits of the day to reflect on.

...and a few more Day 11 photos...

Day 12 – Antibes (c. 7 miles)

Monaco and Menton were under consideration for a ride out on my last full day on the Med but I really didn't fancy the traffic and the heat. Instead, after a bit of a lazy morning I set the bike off in the opposite direction for the three and a half mile run along the coast to Antibes. For a short run I risked travelling without gloves, abandoned the boots in favour of a pair of trainers and completed the journey with my jacket open to the waist. The aforementioned jacket was wedged into a pannier on the Fort Carré car park and I crossed the road in anticipation of a walk around it. Closed on Mondays – hey ho.

Instead I took a stroll around the perimeter of the fort which bought me out on Antibes harbour. I think this was one of the biggest collections of super-yachts I have ever seen. Presumably there is some serious money around but it's never been in my nature to be envious or even overly impressed and I was happy to walk on by content with what life has given me.

Passing through an arch in the town wall I came into the Old Town area, this was a bit of a pleasant surprise, I had not researched Antibes for the trip so I was unsure what to expect, I suppose I had anticipated it would be beach-side apartments and high end shops but I found narrow back streets full of charming old houses as well as the bars and restaurants in the shopping streets that you would expect. I sat down outside a café bar to a late lunch of pizza washed down with two bottles of alcohol-free beer.

There was an unremarkable ride back to the apartment, although there was a fair bit left of the day I just wanted to get back and start packing so that I could vacate my accommodation quickly in the morning meaning that I could move on to the mountains– the Cote d'Azur by motorcycle had been a bit of a failed experiment.

Day 13 -Villeneuve-Loubet > Eygliers (c.174 miles)

It really didn't take long to clean up the apartment and get everything re-packed on the bike, there was time for a last quick coffee and roll at the café across the street that had served me well during my stay in Villeneuve-Loubet and after taking a precautionary fill-up with fuel I had a very short ride to pick up the motorway, it just seemed the most sensible way of getting clear of the heat and traffic on the Cote d'Azur, the mountains and some cooler air were beckoning.

A few Euros were parted with at the toll barrier just north of Menton and I was straight onto the twisty roads, most of the days ride would be following the Route des Grandes Aples. Not only were the roads a joy to ride but the scenery was also stunning with mountains either side forming a gorge that took me ever northwards.

First up on my route planning today was Sospel. In truth it was only put in as a way point to get me on the right road away from the coast but when I arrived there it seemed like an attractive place to stop, I'd gone an hour and a half since setting out and although it was already noticeably cooler there were still unbroken blue skies above and it was probably not much less than thirty degrees up here so a handy Spar store provided a couple of cold bottles, one to take now by the river and one to keep in the top case if I needed something later out in the wilds.

Leaving Sospel continuing on the D2566, the road continued in the same vein although hairpins were becoming more frequent. I seemed to be sharing the road with very little other traffic and a high proportion of what there was seemed to be motorcyclists and cyclists.  Beyond Moulinet the road surface was a bit patchy in places. It felt like I had been climbing forever but eventually I reached a summit with parking opportunities outside the Hotel des Trois Vallees where I could shrug off the jacket and sit down with a drink and a sandwich and watch other bikes come and go.
What goes up must come down, thus started a period of descent on the serpentine M70, every bend revealing a new and beautiful view. My downhill ride ended when I reached the valley floor where the River Vestubie runs and the bike was turned to follow it upstream on the M2565. This road way curvy rather than twisty and of a more consistent gradient so the GTRs velocity could be picked up a little. Another climb started beyond Saint-Martin –Vestubie and crested just before Valdelore. The zumo seemed to think I should be making a right turn after the village but if there was actually a road to take it was so minor I coudldn't see it. I got the usual demands to U-turn for a mile or so and feeling that I was running blind pulled up to check on a paper map. All good, I just had to follow the road I was on through some hairpins until it dropped into the valley of the Tinée.

Now it was time to follow the Tinée northwards, passing through Saint-Sauveur-sur-Tinée and on to the Isola. As before this river valley road was a much easier and quicker ride than over the mountain summits and the miles rolled swiftly on. In need of another break I pulled into the village of Saint-Étienne-de-Tinée and parked the bike in the town square where I took the liberty of plunging my arms up to the elbow in to town's fountain for a couple of minutes to cool off again in the cold mountain water it was drawing.

My journey resumed with a steep and twisty climb, the trees had now disappeared leaving a much more rugged grass covered mountain landscape and eventually I passed the the ruined buildings of the Camp de Fourches – presumably an old military camp, a large blockhouse stood on a nearby summit, seemingly inaccessible. I seemed a good place to stop for a couple of photos.

The Road continued its upward path for another 10 minutes and I found myself at the point I had plotted into the Zumo as the Col de la Bonette. It seemed a bit anticlimactic somehow, I was expecting a marker, or a café, or some Frenchman jumping out to kiss me on both cheeks and pin a medal on me, but no, nothing...* the bike swung round following the Zumo's course and began a descent but I felt that I deserved to get off again and spotting a bit of a pull-in by some old concrete bunkers I helped myself to a rest and another photo or two.

I had the urge to stop at almost every turn to take photos as I sprilled downwards but largely resisted it in the hope that the Innovv camera was picking up images that I could look back on at home. After one photo stop I found myself re-joining the road behind a Dutch motorcyclist  who was progressing just a little slower than I might have on a clear road, but not slow enough to make me want to overtake so I settled in behind him at a soothing pace and enjoyed the views. After about 15 minutes of this gentle pursuit he pulled over and I heard him call to me as I passed; quickly turning back to him he asked me if I wanted coffee, "do you know somewhere?" I enquired. It seemed that he had everything he needed on the bike including an electric element he could plug into the bike so we saat nad chatted at the roadside for a while before moving on.

The mountain road ended at a junction with the more major D900 at Jausiers and the pace was again picked up even if only for a short while as the Fort de Tournoux called for the attention of my camera. A quick snap later I was back on the bike and turning off to begin yet another mountain climb.

The sun was dropping low now and frequently in my eye-line, at least the shadow from the mountains was making for much cooler and comfortable riding. Another mountain road was crested and then I dropped down through the ski resort of Vars. The road then became faster flowing and I was soon delivered into Guillestre and another 10 minutes on I was pulling into the covered motorcycle parking of the Hotel Lacour at Mont-Dauphin-Gare.

Once I had finally worked out where the hotel reception was (in the bar / restaurant, not the accommodation building!) I quickly got changed and settled down on one of the tables on the terrace for a meal and a drink or two. It had been a perfect day's ride and I was looking forward to something similar the following day.

*In retrospect, when I got home I realised I had missed a loop road that would have given me the summit of the Col de la Bonette and the viewpoint and marker stone that I felt I deserved. All the more reason to go back and do it again one day.

Day 14 - Eygliers > Bourg-Saint-Maurice (c. 155 miles)

If the reception at the Hotel Locour was hard to find the breakfast room was just as much of a challenge but I unearthed it behind a door off the tobacco and lottery kiosk. I had a little to eat and then packed up the bike before setting off north again.

Next planned stop was Briançon, and although there was a quicker more direct route it was my plan to ride the balcony road in the Gorges du Guil and then go over the Col de Izoard. Who wants to get quickly from A to B when there are such promising alternatives?

Another valley road (D902) lay ahead of me, taking me through the Gorges de Guil although progress was impeded by a coach tailing a queue of traffic including a quarry wagon. I was conscious of a group of bikes behind me seeming overly anxious to pass so I pulled off the road briefly to allow them by, They did not really fare any better than me and within a couple of minutes I was back in at their tail once more waiting for safe opportunities to overtake. One by one our time came and we cleared the coach and were able to enjoy the road at our own pace.

I stayed with the D902 to pass through the alpine villages of Arvieux and La Chalp, this section of the road was a gently curving climb and the legal speed limit could comfortably be maintained but soon the bends became tighter and the road steepened, my pace was slowed by struggling cyclists around every bend.

It was a beautiful ride up and over the Col d'Izoard and of course there was the odd roadside stop or two for pictures but all too soon the decent through the hairpins was over and I reached the village of Cervières at the floor of the valley.

Now the D902 turned west and perched on mountainside ledges as it followed the course of the river Cerveyrette and soon Briançon came into view. Compared with the other places I had ridden through since leaving Nice this was a positive metropolis with traffic congestion to suit. I commuted my way through the lower more modern town and to my pre-planned parking spot just outside the gates to Vauban's fortified town that sits atop the hill.

I had a bit of time off the bike which included a walk up to the lower ramparts of the fort to take in the views and then down a couple of the old town streets before winding up outside a café by the Porte de Pignerol (gate) where I sat down with an alcohol-free beer. Yet another place that I barely scratched the surface of and is deserving of another visit in the future.

Leaving Briançon I continued north, now on the D1091 a relatively flat straight valley road with the mountains now pushed out to the margins but perhaps being more impressive for being viewed from a slight distance. Eventually I did a right turn for the Col du Galbier, this road having once again been designated the D902. At the Refuge du Galbier (2556m) I found a café just ahead of the tunnel entrance so I took the opportunity to stop for a coffee and enjoy some of the first cool air I had experienced for a while.

Leaving the café I had the option of the tunnel or a road opposite that would spiral a little higher to the mountain summit. Not being sure how I was fixed for time I chose the tunnel, something that I look back on with a little regret and have now added to the "next time" list. The inevitable twisty, downhill run followed, bottoming out in the valley of the Valloirette where more gentle bends and better visibility of the road ahead allowed speed to pick up again.

As I passed through the Valloire ski resort I spotted a Carrefour mini market and knowing my supply of dinks on board was low it seemed a good place to make a purchase. I swung into the car park flicked the side stand down and dismounted, the next thing I know the bike was coming over on me and pushing me to the ground on my back. I'm not 100% sure what happened, maybe I didn't throw the stand down fully, but it's never happened before. Most likely the front wheel found its way into a pothole as I took my weight of the bike, I had seen the surface looked rough but from my approach angle it didn't look that bad. Looking back on Google Street View from a side-on when I got home it looks more like a wannabe sink hole.

It took the assistance of two Frenchmen and a woman supervising to get the bike back on its rubber. It had picked up a few large scuffs of white thermoplastic paint on the fairing and pannier from the road crossing markings but I reckoned it was superficial and would mostly clean up when I had the means to hand.

I wasn't going to let it spoil my day though, with a couple of cold bottles now in the case I still had mountains to ride. This descent and chapter was closed at Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne where a right turn took me onto the D1006 for a little ride eastwards in order to pick up the foot of the next mountain pass. I indulged in a brief roadside stop to catch a picture of Fort Victor-Emmanuelle which looked very impressive as it spread up the mountainside, but feeling under a little time pressure again I pushed on.

Once again for a while the road was gentle in gradient and curve so I could still soak up the scenery and make good progress. After the village of Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis I left the D1006 for the D902 and began the climb to Bonneval-sur-Arc, as the altitude increased the road became a little more severe and twisty and once more the vegetation had thinned to grassland or bare mountains. I risked a quick stop before the summit but I now realised I was more nervous or parking the bike than riding it, I had now taken to stopping it in gear to prevent any unwanted movement.

I took a little while longer off the bike at the summit of the Col de l'Iseran (2770m) it was probably going to be my last stop before the night's hotel and there was so much to take in including a walk across to the small church of Notre-dame de Toute Prudence.

Dropping down from the Col de l'Iseran gave further stunning views and the road finally started to level out at Val d'Isere, once more following the bottom of a river valley the road being interspersed with tunnels and galleries for a faster ride and so before long I reached my day's final destination of Bourg-Saint-Maurice.

At the Hotel Basecamp Lodges I was given underground garage parking without charge for the bike although cars usually have to pay. The whole building was almost brand new, although the room was a bit on the basic side it would do nicely for the two nights I had booked. The layout is a little strange my room on floor -3 was the same level as the car park which I had to walk through each time I needed to visit the reception or restaurant. The route round the hotel could be a little better signed but I soon got the hang of it and on a couple of occasions over the that day and the next found myself having to direct newly arrived guests lost in the car park.

After a shower and change I walked the length of the town and not finding a Michelin three star establishment anywhere settled on McDonalds before returning to the hotel for a couple of beers on the terrace overlooking the mountains before bed. As I relaxed my thoughts turned to the day's mishap; at home we have a cat, "Ace", when he's tired on a hot day he tends to amble into the lounge and just plonk himself down on his side. Usually at this moment I point at him and go "ha ha, fell over!" I wonder if the GTR was doing the same thing...

A few more Day 14 pictures...

fantastic scenary!

Day 15 Around Bourg-Saint-Maurice (2 miles)

It was always my intention to have this as a "day off" from riding, a little bit of space in the schedule to rest or deal with any maintenance etc. that was required before turning the bike toward home.

I did fancy a ride on the funicular railway up to Les Arcs, the nearby mountain summit but inevitably it was closed for maintenance, so I contented myself with a long walk taking in the town and around the banks of the Isère river which in this location broadens to give the appearance of a lake.

The only time the bike came out of the garage was to visit the local supermarket to pick up some bits and refuel ready for the next day. An evening meal of sorts on the hotel's terrace with its mountain views and then off to bed.

Day 16 Bourg-Saint-Maurice > Le Puy (c. 210 miles)

Although slightly over 200 miles was inked in for the day, a good chunk of it would be motorway – there is no real alternative way go get out of town quickly but at least I would cover some ground in the morning and leave time to linger in the attractive parts during the afternoon.

I left the motorway some way short of Lyon and rode through some unremarkable countryside to Vienne where my first proper stop of the day had been plucked from the guide book. It was a case of carefully riding around the town centre until I could see a motorcycle bay that I could manoeuvre into and this done I set off on foot to reach the Temple of Augustus and Livia, a huge roman edifice set in a square. Having captured my pictures and sorted out a coffee it was time to move on.

Vienne was left behind as I followed the River Rhone for a short while but there was much more motorway and dual carriageway riding to do before I sighted an exit for the Gorges de la Loire near Unieux. Finally I was riding along the beautiful valley of the Loire and looking forward to some more entertaining riding for the afternoon.

A very enjoyable series of roads lead me to Retournac where I parked up near the river bridge for a short walk and a coffee at a handy café. More sweeping bends alongside the Loire took me through Vorey and onward until I reached the small city of Le Puy. Once again garage parking was provided for me at the Ibis Le Puy en Vallee Centre and after settling into the room having a shower and a change I had plenty of time to spend during the evening exploring the city.

I was attracted to Le Puy by images I had seen of three monuments; Rocher Saint-Michel d'Aiguilhe which is a chapel sat on an 82m high spike of rock, another isolated peak in the town is crowned with the statue of Notre-Dame de France and finally, set on another hilltop is the city's cathedral. A walk round the outside of the city centre brought all of these in front of the camera before I ventured into the city's centre for a bit of atmosphere and an evening drink.

Those columns in the building look like they're pock marked by perhaps gun fire ???
Stunning buildings that were made to last imho 👌👌

Quote from: GSXKING on Wednesday, 07 September  2022, 09:34 AM
Those columns in the building look like they're pock marked by perhaps gun fire ???
Stunning buildings that were made to last imho 👌👌

I can't tell you how pleased I am that someone is actually looking so closely at my pictures and ramblings  :smile2:

Someone on the GTR forum threw up the same question, I'd have to look into it more closely but I don't think this area of France was the subject of fighting or even German occupation - I think it fell into the area of the Vicci puppet government during WWII but I may be wrong...

Always enjoying your stories and photos

Snap, I also very much enjoy your write ups & pictures Pete, long may they continue. :onya: :clapping:

Day 17 Le Puy > Le Châtenet-en-Dognon (c.205 miles)

A very roundabout route had been plotted for this days ride, I wanted take in two national parks which I hoped would provide some attractive scenery and roads.
Before getting into my stride there was a brief stop off just outside Le Puy at Polignac so that I could take a look at its castle, albeit from a distance. I've no idea if it is open to the public and didn't fancy the climb up the hill at my age. There then followed an hour or so on the N102, a fast well surfaced road carving through rural France.

I departed this trunk road at Lempdes-sur-Allagnon and so began the proper country road ride through the Parc naturel régional des Volcans d'Auvergne. Information from a guide book told me that the road between Ardes and Le Mont Dore through the landscape of extinct volcanic hills was something the motoring tourist should do and sure enough as the road began to narrow and twist it seemed like a whole new world to ride through.

Yet again I found I was having to resist the temptation to keep stopping and looking around and had to place my trust in the Innovv unit to capture some images. Chateaus, villages, hills and rivers were throwing themselves into my path but I did stop at Ardes though for coffee in a village café before getting any deeper in. The ride across the national park was every bit as good as the guide book suggested, an excellent motorcycling road which lead me to the small town of Les Monts Dore and shortly afterwards out of the park's boundary.

It was only a matter of a few miles though before I entered the Parc naturel régional de Millevaches en Limousin. If the previous park had been like riding through the Staffordshire Moorlands, this afternoon ride was more like the Forest of Dean, with minor roads leading me through acres of woodland. I did pause briefly at Viam in the hope that I could take a rest at the lake shore, but it didn't seem in any way accessible so I moved on.

The road opened up somewhat as my route joined the D940 which was just as well, I needed to pick up the pace a bit. Today was another of the few in excess of 200 miles, partly because the hotel I'd originally wanted had become unavailable due to the one year shift in the scheduling and the only thing I could find that looked tempting and was within budget was somewhat further on.

After Eymoutiers it was back to the narrower country roads and villages but still a very enjoyable ride to the Hotel Chalet du Lac on the banks of the River Taurion which at this point was so wide it looked like a lake. Having presented myself at reception a garage on the opposite side of the road was offered and opened up for me so the GTR was safely berthed for the night. I was then apologetically informed the restaurant was closed on that night but would I like them to order in a pizza for me? A short while later I was in fresh clothes sat on the decking with beer and pizza enjoying the view over the lake whilst reporting in to my current wife and warning her that a week's washing was now only a two or three days away.

I'm always a little hesitant about booking a hotel in a remote location as if you don't like the meals on offer or the bar you are sometimes stuck with nowhere nearby to go. Fortunately not here, the room was outstanding with a lake view and my hosts could not have been more helpful. As well as the parking and organising a meal for me this was the only time on the trip anyone had picked up one of my bags and shown me to the room. It's somewhere I'd be happy to stay again.

All in all a very acceptable day as far as a touring holiday goes.

Day 18  Le Châtenet-en-Dognon > Samur(c. 155 miles)

If the previous day was a day for riding, today would be a tourism day – just over 150 miles on the bike but a four places I wanted to spend a bit of time on the route.  My obligation to breakfast was discharged from a table with a view of the lake and I was already being gently roasted by the sun again as the GTR was rolled out of the hotel's garage.

And so began another day of riding through the French countryside under unbroken blue sky, sometimes on roads considered unworthy of white lining, sometimes on quicker broader roads but after just under an hour I found myself arriving as planed at the Tour de Bridiers. There didn't seem to be a car park so the bike was locked up at the side of the road and I took the short walk past an open air amphitheatre and up to the ruins of the medieval castle where I spent half an hour with the camera and a cigarette.

Upon departure the Zumo chose an intriguing set of back streets through the town of La Souterraine before I was one again heading north on the D912. As I progressed the landscape was once more becoming flatter and more open with arrays of sunflowers for company. After a couple of switches of minor roads I arrived at my second destination of the day, Saint-Savin.
A quiet spot on the east side of the old bridge spanning the River Gartempe was selected to park the bike up. A short circular walk including the old bridge, town centre and new bridge gave me the chance for a few photos and to replenish my stock of cold drinks. The view across the river to Abbaye de Saint-Savin is a particular favourite from that visit.

There was still more to do so I pushed northwards on more enjoyable roads before skirting Châtellerault on a series of dual carriageways and exiting its orbit or the D749 when I saw the signs for Richelieu. For the next fifteen or twenty minutes I was not getting great value out of the steering yolk of the GTR, it was back to the arrow-straight roads that I had encountered during my first few days in France but a steady pace was kept up and I was soon entering the main square in Richelieu and picking an empty looking corner where I could dump the bike for a while.

Richelieu is a beautiful walled, planned town built by the famous Cardinal of the same name and was situated outside the huge palace he had built for himself. Nothing remains of the main palace building, it was lost as a consequence of the French Revolution but much of its parkland and gardens remain including some peripheral buildings and boundary wall and gates. It was this park I strolled toward first and spent a half hour or so taking it all in. I'd earned another drink by now so found a small bar just by the gate where I enjoyed an alcohol-free beer in the shade. And another.

Once again I was leaving another town without exploring as much as I would have liked to. There was not much further to go on this day but it was time to move on once more. More straight roads hemmed in by sunflowers and sundry agriculture lead me to the outskirts of Loudun. The bike was asking for a drink as a reward for its day's work so I headed for the town centre in search of a petrol station, but fate threw me a curved ball. A "Route Barrèe" sign sat resolutely in the middle of the main road and I found myself diverted into the side streets trying to follow the Zumo's re-calculations, but every other junction I came to seemed to have a man in a hi-viz vest with a "no entry" paddle in his hand. I soon realised that I had arrived in the middle of a major cycle road race but with a lot of twisting and turning I forced myself onto the route and then ducked into a handy filling station. Once the tank was full I had to feed myself into a quiet part of the race and followed the satnav until such point that I could break away. Indicating to take a turn for the main route out of town I was stopped by an agitated Frenchman indicating I was going the wrong way – it took me a minute to realise that he thought that I was one of the support motorcycles for the event and it took him about two minutes to realise that I wasn't, and was just some tourist trying to get out of town. Probably 20 minutes wasted in Loudun and to cap it all, even with my 1400cc I only finished 19th in the race and was later disqualified for failing to follow the instructions of a marshall.

Next up was another long straight run to Fontevraud-l'Abbaye. I found my way to the abbey car park and then walked back out of the gate and into the town where a rather underwhelming church presented itself for inspection. I took its photo as that is what it seemed it wanted me to do and then sat down at a small café with a café au lait and wondered why I had included this place in my plans. It was only when I got home the following week that I realised I had given my attentions to the local church and not the vast impressive abbey that I would have found if I had walked the other way from the car park. Yet another place that is going to need revisit next time I'm passing this way.

Around fifteen more minutes on the bike later I was passing the Chateau at Samur and descending through the town to the banks of the Loire and my room for the night at the SoHotel. At least I knew the routine here having stopped at the same place on my way to the Pyrenees some years ago. There's a bit of pay and display parking on the corner which is free on an evening, it's just a case of having to remember to stick an hour's rent for the space on the bike's screen whilst you have breakfast the next morning.

Once showered and changed it was time to reacquaint myself with Samur and try and pick out a few bits new to me. Firstly I walked past the Cavalry Memorial and the headquarters of the French Cavalry which of course is mostly mechanised these days as evidenced by glimpses of green military vehicles though the boundary fence. I looped back around and walked alongside the Loire back up to the centre of town and then up the hill to view the chateau from a direction that I didn't catch on my last visit. A couple of beers at "Le Liverpool" bar alongside the river and another day was done.

Just one last full day in France to look forward to.

Day 19 Samur > Saint-Malo (c. 170 miles)

A very similar routine to the previous day lay in front of me - no spectacular roads to look forward to, but some pleasant secondary road riding and three stop offs that held the prospect of some interesting sights.

The ride was pretty routine – fast, flat, straight, blue sky, sunflowers, the odd Gravellon – but at least overtaking slower moving traffic is easy and in under an hour and a half I was picking my way through the centre of Sable sur Sarthe and rolling into my predetermined parking spot on the bank of the river opposite the chateau. There was time for a short walk, a coffee, seeking out a cash machine and taking some photos before setting about the second stint.

The next ride followed the same pattern as the first; not challenging but not unpleasant and after circumventing Laval there was even the odd gentle bend just to make sure a rider is awake. The beautiful medieval town of Vitrè was soon reached, although it took several minutes to track down a motorcycle parking bay once I was happy the bike was safe it was time to take another walk away from it.

I didn't have much time to really explore Vitrè, my camera picked up a number of ancient buildings and streets as I strolled around, once again I was struck by the number of places that seemed to be shut – I can't really get my head around the French way of closing for about two hours in the middle of the day.

Back on the road again, there was only a short ride on the schedule along the D178, another non-descript French road to my next stop-off in Fougères. I was soon picking my way through the town centre and parking up alongside the moat below the chateau. A few more photos were collected for the album and I finished off my visit outside a quiet café opposite the monument.
And so to a final mundane ride back to Saint-Malo where my French adventure had begun almost three weeks ago. I was booked in at the same hotel that I had stayed in on my arrival so finding my way there and where to park up were easily dealt with and I was hauling my luggage of the bike for a walk in the heat for one final time.

After check-in and a shower I just about had enough fresh clothes left for another walk around town. I'd arrived at a reasonable hour as I'd enjoyed my first evening in Saint-Malo and wanted to dig a little deeper. I picked up a meal at a snack bar and made my way onto the town's walls for a walk around them above the sea and down by the breakwater before strolling back into the town and to the same bar as before for a couple of beers to finish the day.

The riding had not been stunning and there had been a bit of "end of holiday blues" settling on me during the day, but I'd enjoyed the places I'd visited.

What an awesome journey @Rynglieder thanks for sharing it with us 👍👍👍
Pictures are amazing so much history 🧐🧐

Really excellent photos anbd descriptions of the places you visited..
I am impressed you took the time out to post your adventures on here...
What a great adventure you have had (and shared)..
Thank you for taking the time and the trouble to post on here.
S 

Thanks for sharing mate, I like the photos form the bike mounted camera.  Lots of history around that part of the world too, fascinating.  I backpacked around Europe in the nineties and spent a lot of summer time in northern France, was excellent. Your trip reminded me of that time, so thanks for the trip down memory lane.

Thanks @GSXKING @Speedy1959 @Eric GSX1400K3

Just wrapping this up now...

Day 20 Saint-Malo > Stourbridge (c.  160 miles)

Although my hotel was very close to the ferry port I still made sure an a alarm was set on my phone so that I had plenty of time to sort myself out in the morning, mostly to ensure that I would have everything I would need for a six hour crossing in one bag that I could take up on deck with me. I declined breakfast at the hotel, I may as well get something to eat on the ferry –it would kill a bit of time on board as well.

It was a good job that the bike was loaded back up and ready to roll with ample time in hand, as soon as I rolled out of the motorcycle park I was confronted by a matrix sign stating that the swing bridge between me and the port was closed. There was no clue as to how long the delay would be so I decided to try and work my way around it with half an eye on the Zumo's map display but ignoring its directions. It was no big deal, but I confess to a bit of unnecessary panic for a moment.

I slipped through the port without any great drama and as I expected the two other bikes in the queue and myself were loaded on first and I was soon upstairs settling myself into my breakfast in an empty café before the car drivers could smell the coffee. I had booked a reserved reclining seat for this crossing as it was a daytime sailing in order to keep the cost down a bit although I soon regretted not booking a cabin. The cabin prices are quite reasonable for daytime sailings, presumably as there is less demand and I wished I'd forked out the extra few quid. A cabin would have allowed me a change of clothes, somewhere to relax a little better and maybe even a bit of a nap bearing in mind I was going to be late in the night getting home. If taking a group of bikes over I would recommend booking just one and splitting the cost for the extra convenience. As it was I dumped my bike jacket on my reserved seat in the manner of placing a beach towel on a sun lounger and resigned myself to clumping around the ferry in my bike boots and trousers at those times when I was not sat with my paperback.

By mid-afternoon we were rounding the Isle of Wight and soon after disembarking at Portsmouth. Last off of course and even further delayed as the bikes were boxed in by a car with a discharged battery that had to be shocked into life by the ferry crew's defribulator. At least I sailed through the border controls, I think the bureaucrats had considered their working day done by the time I got off.

The trip was finished off by a 160 mile run home along the A34 and M40 broken into four manageable chunks by strategically placed coffee breaks and by around 23:00 I was pulled up on my drive and trying to quietly unload.

Little did I realise that after sweltering for three weeks in France I had arrived back home just at the start of a long heatwave the like of which the UK rarely sees.

Final thoughts

The object of the trip was to get to know France a little more rather than just passing through it to get somewhere else and I think I certainly achieved that.

Going solo for the first time worked out OK, of course I missed the wife and having someone to share the experience with, but there were certainly parts that she would have struggled with - mainly the discomfort from the heat. At least on my own I was afforded the time to explore some places that would probably not have interested her. I'd do it again, in fact I'll probably have to.
The route planning that I had done seemed to work out well on the whole. With the experience I have gained I could probably condense the best bits into two weeks or less for a purely motorcycling experience. The northern part of my trip was not too inspiring on a bike, the roads are too long, straight and flat, for the future I'd leave Saint-Malo and motorway it down to Rocamadour where the fun really started, scratch out the Cote d'Azure and head straight for the alps from Avigon before a motorway blast back from Samur – that would catch all of the best bits. The three days around Nice were originally included to give Carole a break when I thought she was coming with me, I don't recommend it as part of a motorcycle trip but at the same time I have no regrets – having an afternoon ride to Antibes is nothing to be ashamed about, it's all experience.

The hotels all worked out fine, some were better than others but there was nowhere I would refuse to go again even the city centre ones had parking available or nearby and I was surprised by the number of times I was offered secure parking even though I had not booked it.

The GTR performed brilliantly aside from the issue of being shut out of the top case and its impromptu lie-down. Generally it was comfortable enough, any fatigue I had was from the heat, but that's not the fault of the bike. Tue, it's a bit heavy around the mountain passes and city centres but with no one to please except myself I could drop the speed to a level that I could handle.
All of the kit I took was OK, I never found myself in need of anything that I hadn't packed and thankfully all of the emergency stuff I took (hi-viz, triangle, bulbs, tyre weld etc.) remained unmolested in the bottom of the top case. Apart from the one day when I was caught in torrential rain that penetrated the Weise jacket sleeves heat was the biggest problem. If I had known I would not have hauled round the jacket and trouser linings and made a bit more room for fresh casual clothes, but you never can tell.

The Zumo was OK now I have learned some of its tricks when to ignore it. I recall riding though Nice and it directing me off a roundabout into what was clearly a multi-storey car park but having chosen to disoblige it I found myself up the hill at the back end of the car park and passing the exit at another roundabout. I soon realised what it had been up to – enter the car park, buy a ticket go 2-3 floors around the car park, stick the ticket in the exit barrier and save 100m on your journey. It's just a tool, I don't have to use it.

After the disappointment of the Spain & Portugal trip the Innovv camera seems to have worked out well this time. Almost all of the trip has been recorded, a quick check has found just two mornings when it did not fire up at the start of the day and only started recording after my first stop. That's a bit of a result really, if it had been left to me to switch the camera on manually I'm sure I'd have missed a lot more. Over the winter when the bikes aren't being used so much I'll start to plough through it all and edit it down to 45 minutes or so of highlights from each day that I can watch in my old age.

It's been a trip that I will look back on with fond memories, but thoughts are already turning to 2023. Perhaps it's time to go back to the Pyrenees, there's still chunks of Germany that are unexplored and Romania looks tempting if I can afford the petrol  :smile2:

One final photo for you - As I rode though some of the alpine passes I noticed photographers stationed at some of the bends capturing bikers, sports car drivers and cyclists as they passed and displaying their web addresses on banners or the sides of vans where you could purchase their efforts. It's a bit of a vanity thing I suppose and I probably would not have gone there except for my daughters asking what I wanted for a birthday present – as I couldn't think of anything I suggested that they pick one out for me from the two or three places that I had been snapped so here's another image with me in it!

Thanks for taking the trouble to read though this and your kind comments.

Pete.