Tyrol and Italy

OK, it's June so must be time for a trip. As those Alpine passes are all supposed to be open by early June why not a trip down there somewhere? Obviously don't want to venture into Switzerland where the police are a bit rigorous on the speeding thing, so skirting round into Austria and over the Tyrol into Italy could be the answer. And being a bit soft why not catch a train back from Nice - nice Nice overnight trip to Calais with the bikes strapped on a car transporter.

So off we went, down through Pas de Calais on roads we know well, then into unknown territory south of Cambrai, using the Satnav to cut across country to Nancy. This brings with it the usual joys of Satnavs set on 'shortest route' and soon we were sliding about on gravel forest tracks trying to save 20 yards but taking 3 hours to do it! Very scenic in parts but can rather delay onward progress.

Time for some re-progamming. If you're gonna use shortest route make sure you stick in enough waypoints to stay on roads and avoid unmade tracks; and don't believe Tomtom if it asks if you want to avoid tracks - it won't!

You can use fastest route / avoid motorways but then it often misses out the odd waypoint altogether and of course tries to use main roads. This is where the old Navman scores with its variable road type settings.

Now, where to stay for the first night? There were only 3 of us so far so finding accommodation should be easy. Verdun was looking good for location, but we thought it may be pretty horrible - WW1 connotations I guess. Anyway, it turned out to be an excellent place, on the River Meuse and a bit touristy so plenty of hotels and restaurants. No easy parking in the centre though, so we wound up staying a short distance out in the Hotel Tigre and walking into town. Not a bad place, more motel than hotel, but no secure parking.

One thought .. when trying to get back to your hotel late at night and not entirely sober, it's handy to have a Satnav to hand. We had to negotiate a couple of railway crossings to reach the hotel and after a bit of wandering about the Nokia N95 and its navigation facility came to the rescue - without that we'd probably still be walking towards Dijon.

So onwards through the winding lanes of France towards Nancy and the Alsace. Ribeauvillé in the Haut-Rhin area seems to offer a decent number of hotels and is located where we want to be, so we head off there. Turns out to be a very decent historic sort of town with plenty of hotels and a lot of empty restaurants - praps we're getting a bit close to Germany! Nah, not that, it's just early June and Monday night, so not many tourists about.

Everything pretty much shuts about 9 pm but we manage to find the bar .. there's always a bar, but it can take some finding. So a selection of Trappiste beers and we stagger off to the hotel, more than ready to meet the rest of the chaps the next day.

A bit of scamping about in the local area next morning showed the Alsace has some good roads, many with reasonable visibility, so can be ridden quite quickly even when you don't know them. The whole area seems to be a larger version of the Ardennes and would repay a longer visit to check out the possibilities. But that's another trip. So we met up with the other lads and pushed on towards Austria - the agenda was to cross the lumpy bits in Austria and head into northern Italy, savouring the views as we went.

This lowland stuff was all pleasant enough and about 7.00pm we decide to enter a small town to find a hotel. Bad luck here though - there are 7 of us and the town is hosting a bicycle race, so every room is booked.

Not to worry, the congenial proprietor of the hotel phoned his mate up in the hills and got his dad to lead us through the German countryside until we reach a remote village, so remote I don't even know its name. And there we were introduced to the Gasthof Kreuz. So no beers or food tonight we thought. But then a young English speaking chap turns up and immediately asks us if we would like some beer! So we did. And then things got even better - he asked us if we wanted to eat! Seems this small village actually has a cafe restuarant and the proprietress, the delightful Katherine, will be pleased to open up the 'Centre Café' and prepare for us a meal. And the bonus was, she was indeed delightful, so a merry time was had.

Next day we headed off into the Tyrolly bit of Austria. More satnav shenanigans taking us up dead end farmtracks and confused Bavarians' driveways but nonetheless we made some sort of progress and then the rain came.

So waterproofs on, which was just as well as the temperature started to fall alarmingly as we ascended into the clouds and realised that there was an awful lot of snow still scattered around the place.

Reaching some gawdforsaken place called Warth we decided to have a gander at the stunning views, but they were limited to about 100 yards of misty grass with bits of rock and snow on, so we pressed on into the mist, fearful that a few seconds delay would see us lost forever from our compadres.

So onward to Skt. Anton and up to the Arlberg Pass to cross into Tyrol, savouring the distant views as we slithered about in the murk.

Feeling that the Arlberg wasn't nearly high enough at 1,793 metres to get really good cloudy misty rain it was decided that we should head for the Ötztal valley and the Timmelsjoch Pass which is a good 2,500 metres. This would lead us into Italy, where it would of course be warm and sunny. Full of pretty Italian girls. In bikinis.

Unfortunately it didn't quite work out. Sure, the rain and mist was just as good as expected, being very wet and very dense. But the girls weren't there; and neither was Italy. Even though it was now June the Pass was still very much shut. So no going that way today.

Sliding back down the mountain we arrive at Sölden, a ski-resort of note which now resembles a Polish building site. Seems June is the time to shut your hotel and give it a refurb before the summer season starts.

Luckily there was one hotel open, and being pretty much empty they had no problems accommodating the 7 of us, and at very reasonable rates for good rooms. And the restaurant was open, so plenty of beers and some interesting sort of food-looking stuff was consumed, while our leathers steamed themselves gently dry in the heated rooms. Luxury.

But enough of this pouffy warmth, what we really wanted was a lot more cold wetness, preferably accompanied by shiny, slippery roads formed into the sort of crumbling winding pass that any fit young mountain goat would be in fear of.

Where to find such God-given roads? No problems for us, for Mark had his TomTom up and running, firmly set on shortest goat-track and heading for dizzying climbs and death-defying plummets. All we needed now was some nice rain.

Pausing only to get lost a few times, bravely ascend a distant mountain only to wiggle all the way back down the other side and end up 300 yards along the road we started from, we manfully persevered until we reached the worst possible road in the world ... coincidentally christened the best road in the world by Top Gear ... the Stelvio Pass.

At 2,757 metres this bastard employs some 60 hairpin bends and should be avoided at all costs. The only saving grace during our crossing was the dense cloud and rain hid the worst of the four thousand foot drops which lie on the wrong side of the 6" high wall bravely protecting you from tumbling into the next world.

On reaching the summit at least one of our party was heard to ejaculate "What a load of crap". Whether this was directed at the crummy tourist nick-nack shops or the Pass I know not, but I prefer to think he was referring to the Pass.

It couldn't get any worse. But of course it did, thick cloud all the way down reduced visibility to about 4 inches, coating visors with an impenetrable mist. Through the murk one could occasionally see the bike in front, which helped reduce the chances of sudden impact at least.

And suddenly we were in balmy Italy. I say suddenly, but this is a comparative term which ignores the dozens of long empty tunnels under innumerable mountain ranges, with the occasional surreal emergence into driving rain / low cloud before plunging once again into the Playstation world of ton plus speeds in dark empty holes far below the natural world, deep in Gollum territory. Do not lose track of reality in such situations.

Down the ultra-busy SS38 through Sondrio into Milan, swear at Mark for missing the 3" high autostrada signs and backtrack out of Milan onto the A4 to Turin. Entering Turin in the evening rush hour we wander about the backstreets with ever increasing temperature gauges until we spot the Chelsea Hotel. This sign from Leonard is enough and we rapidly fill up the pavement with hot but strangely dry motorcycles while we barter for rooms and a spot of secure parking.

The joys of Italy are definitely the people, the coffee, the food and the hotels, pretty much in that order. You know you're never going to get duff grub, which after a trip through Germany and Austria is knowledge which was deeply appreciated by all concerned.

The following day we head off into Provence and finally leave the big mountainy stuff and swap it for the rolling hills of sunny(ish) France. Well, the rain wasn't quite so hard.

And so to the Route Napoleon, a road much praised by keen drivers and motorcyclists - Great Drives, Best Biking Roads, etc. Well it's OK in places. The northern bit is too open and fast with too many plod to be much use, but the more southern half from Castellane to Grasse is pretty good.

At Castellane we met up with Dave, who lives in Grasse so was well placed to show us some good local backroads winding through the hills. And being local he was also able to conjure up some decent sunny weather, so thanks a lot for that excellent guidance.

And so to Nice and the delights of the train which will take us overnight to Calais. The bikes are strapped on the motorrail carriage, two bikes into a car space, and we briefly retire to our cabins before emerging as soon as the bar opens.

Arriving at Calais it takes a brief continental breakfast before the bikes are ready for collection and we ride off the train to Le Tunnel and home.

A bit damp for much of the time but a very interesting trip, and we got to see a vast range of ski resorts, Alpine passes and long subterranean tunnels. I must remember not to wear a dark visor next time, then I can see even more ....