I’ve been writing this blog for a year now and…. OK, I’ll wait for the applause tae subside, as Arlo Guthrie might’ve put it*.. I’m not proud…….or tired (*17m 06s into Alice’s Restaurant)
I gave blood last week, an’ I got talkin’ to the assistant vampire while she stuck the needle into my arm, as you do. She said she was going to ‘Thunder in the Glen’ next month (22-25aug). A hoggy highland holiday to Aviemore – that brought an image of Peppa Pig on a motorbike to mind. Actually, PP is in Aviemore (3/4aug) at the Strathspey Railway for the young at heart or any porcophiles out there. I used to go skiing in Aviemore every other weekend when I was younger. FYI, Glissading down the icy moguls on The White Lady is very sore on yer bum..so, skiing it was.
Ah took Mrs.P there 3 years ago, up the funicular, (oo matron!) to the Ptarmigan for an en-piste breakfast in the snow.
We also visited Mrs.P’s rellies, Arktos & Walker, and we finished off at Papa Rock restaurant…..mmmm, fffff, food. Yummy. As well as bikey stuff on the walls, They’ve got these wee colouring-in pictures of bikers on the tables, so I gave them one of us.
All of which brings me neatly to the main topic and un-surprisingly, another Annibearsary. 2014 is the tenth (10th) anniversary of the Grand(ish) Tour of Europe by myself (ZZR 600) and my bike buddy Trev (Honda Blackbird).
He’s since gone on tae tak some very nice snaps o’ pussy- cats , deer an’ swans . He was allegedly leaving Fife and emigrating tae Oz. Guess what?, he’s still here! – I think someone’s feeding him and making his life too comfy.
Anyhoo, as I wis sayin’. In those (good-old) days, a direct boat from Rosyth* would take you direct to Zeebrugge and the continent. In the queue to get on the boat, I got stung on the neck by a wasp. Now I know wasps have bikes, but if it thought it could have mine, it didn’t do it for long. Thwack! I hate wasps. I wis also annoyed, cos that was the first time I’d been stung..an it wis nothing. I’d lived in fear of being stung .. and that was it. Really? I felt cheated.
*Memo to First Sea-Lord Salmond – this link should be reinstated once independence is achieved.
This great idea was fermented in the appropriately named Cycle Tavern (not far fae The Sweaty Oxter) over a beer (or possible a tequila), or three. Easy Rider meets ‘Allo, ‘Allo. – it wis never gonnae be straightforward. The original plan was just to start at the top of France and drive straight to the bottom of the map, and likely as not we’d find Spain and a couple of cold beers waiting.
As Burns put it, ‘the best laid plans of mice and men, gang aft agley’ loosely translated this explains why after arriving in Northern France – from Belgium, and spending a night in Bethune we failed miserably, in our efforts to find, let alone follow, our intended route the day after. To be fair, we hadn’t expected to find an Irish pub (The Kerry Yob) pumping out loud music (Zobi la Mouche – Les Negresses Vertes) at midnight in the town square of a small town in rural pas-de-grenouille. All things considered, a good start.
Trying to avoid the roads that seemed intent on herding us to Paris or back to Calais/Ostend, and unable to think straight, we turned left instead. Much as the Germans did in 1914 (oh look, another anniversary, a centenary even) we skirted the Maginot lines of fortification and ended up in Verdun . Just before we reached town, at a toll both, we stopped to help a couple on a bike. Well, off it really cos’ he’d run out of petrol. I gave Fred (that was his name) a lift into town and back to collect fuel, and he gave me the melted rubber of the sole of his boot on my hot exhaust. Trev stayed with the bikers girlfriend, Elaine, a designer of sorts, until we got back. It was nice to be able to help a fellow biker – anything more technical though, an I’d have been stuffed.
My French is rubbish but, it’s better than my Spanish, so ah wis quite pleased that’ “je voudrez une chamber avec deux lits, sils vous plait”, did actually get us a room with twin beds in the Hotel les Colombes. Result. Ditto, “deux bieres aux pression”. Looking back, I don’t remember ordering any food, or eating any meals… so they must’ve been difficult words to pronounce, and we just avoided having to use them. I’d never imagined Verdun would be as picturesque, in my head, mud & gloom, trench warfare and death came to mind. So many places were flattened and have been rebuilt exactly as before and, I have to say, the effort has not been wasted. We’d noticed this earlier in Ypres – another town synonymous with ‘The Great War’. Talking of war, we stopped at one of the many small graveyards (Bethleem Farm West, near Mesen) beautifully maintained by the War Graves Commission for Trev to pay his respects on behalf of friends to their relative. 
Another day and, 200 miles further on, we came to Colmar a busy, and very tourist oriented town. It’s got the Statue of Liberty (I kid you not), and the pretty streets and canals with flowers and reflections make jigsaw-puzzle makers moist. Go there, it’s very nice. In contrast, our hotel, Le Roi Sol – (The Sun King) was a soulless place in an industrial estate, a 2 mile trudge to the north of town.
Oh, while I remember, why do the French insist on telling you how high and exposed you’re going to be, on every bridge you cross. Is it not enough to be hit by cross-winds, without knowing now far it is to the bottom of the ravine. Grrr.
By this time we’d got into our routine.
Get up.
Eat breakfast. …(obviously, we put clothes on) & discuss route for the day.
Pay bill.
Check over bike.
Load bike – mine was extremely loaded and handled like a whale in any crosswind.
Start bike. (Trev has last cig for 100mls)
Put on helmet. Put on shades (no, you can’t do it the other way round). Look cool – it’s a Polar Bear thing
Top up fuel-tank at earliest opportunity. – I’d get around 150miles/tank
Remember the panniers, and not try to be smuggity and try to zip up through queuing traffic. A fat bear on a wide bike ain’t getting’ thru that gap between those trucks.
We’d ride for 3-4hrs (250 miles-ish) to a decent sized place on the map
I led, and Trev kept the Mercs & BMWs off my back. This system worked, mainly because, with my eyesight, I could read and understand the roadsigns. It did mean I took responsibility if I got us snarled-up in any one-way systems. Mostly this was easy. Look for ‘Centre Ville, or Centrum, then usually the i-sign (tourist information) would appear as we got closer to the middle of town.
At the tourist office I’d then try to parlez/sprechen the lingo to get us a room (with 2 beds) for the night while Trev kept an eye on the bikes, had a cigarette and then cleaned all the dead bugs of his bike. It was a very clean machine.
I’m also glad I led, ‘cos it meant I didn’t have to stare at some biker dudes backside for 2000 miles. Not cool.
So, now you know our M.O. The next day it rained, so we just crossed the Rhine to Frieburg in Germany. “Mind the tramcars!” they sneak up on you here. Frieburg was fun. We entered a German pub quiz and didn’t finish last. We also found an Irish bar, the Isle of Innisfree full of Germans doing Scottish country dancing and proved (to Helga & Moos) that it is possible to do The Gay Gordons to U2. All you need is, em,…err,.. timing an’ rhythm, and at least one right foot. Polar bears have a surfeit of left-ness. To put it in context, I tried Ceroc once, and I’m sure I broke a woman’s toe. Anarchy on legs, me. I can remember the first couple of dance-moves then it either gets stuck in a repetitive loop or it becomes a stop/start panicky mess. Like Scottish blokes everywhere, Polar bears generally avoid dancing. Not Cool. – This also why Simon Smith’s dancing bear was described as ‘amazing’
To avoid sitting about eating wurst an’ drinking beer all day (as well as night), we drove down to Basel and an exhibition of Tutankhamens treasure. I stupidly didn’t leave the Autobahn early enough and we incurred a Swiss road tax of €30, which permitted us to use their motorways for a year. Grrreat. We’re here for today only, and heading north now. Still, it added a touch of traveller credibility on the windscreen. That, an’ all the dead flies.
We took the B31 from Freiburg cutting through the Black Forest (Schwarzwald) to Konstanz. This was a fairly busy and fairly smooth, straight road until Oberhollsteig where it started to climb. very tight, steep hairpins. caught us totally by surprise. Weighed down, and wide with the luggage, I came close to putting the bike on it’s side. Just struggled for enough momentum to get round the bends smoothly or quickly enough. I’d love to do this road again without fully extended Oxford luggage scraping the tarmac.
After a stop in Titisee, (stop sniggering at the back of the class) we skirted the lake an took the B315 through rolling farmland then the 14 to Schaffhausen – where we missed the Rhinefalls by about 300m, ‘cos we turned left and took the B34 to Konstanz
We stayed in the A’ppart-Hotel, a former barracks, really spacious em.., self-catering apartment. Then went into town for a couple of beers and some food. I can’t believe we went all that way through the Black Forest without the famous (and tasty) Gateaux getting a mention.
We left Konstanz at the end of Lake Constance (or Bodensee, as the Germans call it) and traversed the Southern, Swiss edge of it. Did I say Switzerland? Ker-ching!! Number 4, in the bag.
A very civilised, neat part of the world. Alps, apples and ‘appy bikers. The sun was out and we made good time. At the end of the lake, we turned south down the E43, one of the main North-South routes through the Alps. This allowed us to visit, very briefly Vaduz, capital of Liechtenstein (& #5). Unless you’re a banker (& there are more than enough of these still going around), Liechtenstein is a familiar name because of Heath Ledgers character (Ullrich von L) in the film ‘First Knight’. Liechtenstein is actually a big exporter of dentures and sausage casings, both interesting facts you can get your teeth into. No? I’ll move on then. I said it was a short stop, short enough for Trev to have a cig. (ie. too short for a whole cigarette!) then we turned and headed back North. 
Österriech, Austria, Arnie-land or that bit of central Europe the Germans rather easily ‘annexed’ in 1938. Whatever you call it, it’s a beautiful country – obviously my judgement is slightly skewed ‘cos they make delicious smoked cheese here. Mmmm…. Cheese. Anyhow, country number 6 came and went very quickly as we’d crossed the narrow end of it (25 miles across), stopping only for coffee & petrol at Hohenems near Bregenz. The floating stage (Seebuhne) on the lake here, was used as a location in James Bond’s Quantum of Solace. Neither of us were aware of it’s existence at the time and consequently, we drove straight past it. Hey Ho.
I love Lindau. Or maybe that should be Isle of Lindau. Sitting at the end of a causeway, this wee gem of a town has superb views over the lake to the Alps in the South. The beers no bad either. (Mrs.P might argue about the food on account of food poisoning on our last visit there) Again, I have no recollection of eating here on this trip… very strange, ‘cos this bear really likes his food.
As we did in Basel, we did try to include cultural/touristy stuff on our travels, so, the following day we stopped at Freidrichshafen – home of Zeppelin . The museum in the old harbour station on the waterfront, tells the history of these great airships and, with lots of artefacts from their heyday, is well worth a visit. On the way out of town we passed the current Zeppelin factory. This was a long day, if I remember…. fuel stop in Ulm (the world’s tallest church spire is here)… then we came off the autobahn a went cross-country, arriving in Rothenburg o.d.T just after the Tourist Office had shut. Rats! I thought. mmm.., maybe that should be Ratz! Anyway, while Trev had a ciggy, I went walkabout and found a sign for rooms at the Café Uhl – right next to a clock-tower. Potentially noisy , but it was a roof over our heads, and they’d parking for the bikes, ooh and if you ever go there, you gotta try the Schneballen…yum. Some scenes from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang were filmed here – the child-catchers mobile cage is here (in the Kriminal museum. The story behind this great film was written by James Bond author Ian Fleming. Continu
ing the Bond theme, we came across a line of Aston Martins (photo) No DB5/6s but still quite impressive.
Bamberg. I’d visited previously, and roughly knew my way about. So, as we were now finding ourselves in the area, I thought Trev would appreciate the architecture etc.Having done a wee bit research back home (on various places, in case we ended up there) I knew I wanted to try Bamberg’s speciality ‘Rauchbier’ – smoked beer from the Schlenkerla Brauerei which just happens to have it’s own pub!! How bearable is that? Great atmosphere/history def.unique beer – had 2 glasses I think then went for a Kebab with horseradish..mmmm
I can’t think now, why we ended up in Marburg…. must’ve just fitted our distance/time travelling requirements (ooh, there’s an idea for a future blog). Anyway, the town sits on a hill with a castle looking down. If Frankenstein (Dr. ,or his monster) went on holiday, he’d feel right at home here
I just love that so many German (or central European) towns bring back all your childhood memories of fairy-tales. Ogres, dragons, witches, sleeping princesses & shiny knights in those grimm, simpler times, where it was easier to identify evil and know the heroic good required to prevail. This must help explain why Shrek touched such a nerve in the shared, collective consciousness of our society – even if the Americans do go overboard with the emotional saccharin. I also like Shrek ‘cos he displays bear-like tendencies (extremely happy being left alone in his swamp, doing ogrey things)..oh, an’ he had a Scottish accent. Uber-kuhl.
We headed south again, avoiding the main industrial cities of Koln and Frankfurt a.M by crossing the Rhine between them, at Koblenz.
We resisted the temptation of taking our bikes round the Nurburgring, and carried on to Trier. It’s got the Porta Nigra, a near 2000 year-old Roman gate, and Karl Marx was born here. (we stayed in the same street)
Talking of Marx, I left a nose print on a glass door. Bear meets extremely clean, German glass door. Only ever going to be one winner. 1-0 Germany. It was invisible and most definitely shut. Iyah! (Stop laughing Trev…. It wisnae funny)
We were now heading back, towards home. Our route from Trier took us north-west. Fuelled-up in Bitburg (BIG brewery there.No.1 draft beer in Germany) Lunch in Luxembourg (#7) was almost an afterthought, but there was no way we couldn’t not go there ‘cos it was so close.
Flemish road-signs then tried to confuse us with multi-lingual destinations. This would’ve been fun if we weren’t now hurrying to get to Antwerp before it got dark, and if we weren’t on the wrong side of the road. From my map, I knew that after Liege the A13 would take us straight to Antwerp. The signs however gave us directions to Lujk/Luttich/Luuk followed by Anvers/Antwerp. Grrr.
We tried, but couldn’t find accommodation in Lier so we just kept going. Btw- Lier has nothing to do with Leerdammer cheese. Now you know.
I remember thinking about the albatross. Specifically, it’s wing span. Most folks, if they know anything about albatrosses (albatri ?), it’s that the wingspan of an adult can reach 12ft (3.7m). However, the wingspan of a bird this size, as it flies into the setting sun (as we were) is only about 6ft 6in. Think about it.
We drove into Antwerp with the low sun in our eyes most of the way and finally found a hotel next to the train station in the diamond district. It was our last night in Europe so we went out for a nice meal and a couple of beers. Belgium does beer. Bears do beer. Probably explains why bears like Belgium.
Getting out of the city wasn’t straightforward. What looked, on the map, like a short hop across the river took us into dead-end docklands, so we were forced to retrace our wheelprints and take a longer (& busier) route. Now heading West, I managed to detour us to Kieldrecht. A quiet wee place. Smallville with cows. Like.., em ‘muchty* but wi’ mayonnaise on their frites. It also has an outdoor volleyball tournament [Asterix] A bit like the Scottish Open in Perth.. but wi’ mayo (oh, you’ve heard that one before). This brings it tae life every 12 months, like Brigadoon but… (no. ah wisnae goin’ tae say that again) but. But it comes alive on a more regular basis (& wi’ more kilts).
Trev.. looked bored. He’s no’ a sporty bod. So we moved on.
Tae keep the shiny biker happy, we took another detour. N376, and right turn, to Sluis, 2 minutes over the border, in Holland. Country number 8. Check. This time we were here long enough for Trev to have a coffee, a cig, and to say he’d been there.
We arrived at the ferry in Zeebrugge and parked up behind a bunch of leather clad, German bikers with m/c club patches and severely short hair, we thought, “uh,oh could be a long night”. Actually turned out to be a whole different kind of ‘night’. The Blue Knights, for, twas they, are a ‘law-enforcement m/c club’ ie. they’re polis (metaphorical shiny armour), and these guys were off to Tulliallan Police College in Scotland. Spent a fair bit of time in the bar with them on the way back. So that was it, all over, 8 countries, 10days… unfortunately I’ve lost the mileage total.. bet it turns up next week.
*Talking of ‘muchty , their festival starts this week [1-10aug], if you fancy goin. I think I maybe mentioned it this time last year.
Also, I should apogolise too. Last blog I was goin’ to include cycling, The Tour d’France an’ stuff. Then I ran out of space…. ironic really, in a blog about space. So I hinted that the next blog (this one) would have bikes…mmm, I think I’ve made good on that.
OK, I lied at the start. I am quite proud of this bloggy stuff. An’ I’m quite tyred also. Spare-tyred. With all the time I’ve spent at the keyboard, I’ve not been exercising as much as maybe I should this past year. Ahh, the sacrifices a humble writer has tae make for the reader’s entertainment. Maybe I’ll write about diety stuff next. Apparently fatness is walrus shaped, so as I’m a polar bear shaped I can’t be fat. It’s been quite fun (well, I’ve enjoyed it) and I’ve learned how much drivel it takes to cover a page. Next year I’m going to learn how to use Twitface more better and be more..em responsive.
Paul R Bear 