The current “project” is a loop from home in Germany through France, across the Pyrenees, down Portugal, back up Spain, into France and around the UK. So far, I have finished the “down Portugal” phase of the operation. I’ve written short updates on the trip along the way on Facebook, although I fear such posts are somehow temporary. So I will recreate them here, if only for my own memories. This is the French part.
Part One – Wackelkontakt and Water
I finished the bike last week, after months of restoration and modification – see previous post – and the weather has been beyond glorious. So I’ve been intensively looking forward to hitting the road for the first part of a two year trip that will take the Poe the DR350 and I from Germany to Morocco, up to the Scottish Highlands and back home – mostly via the TET.
The first step in all of this is to get the bike to Tarragona, where I’ve a place to store it. I’ve generally ridden through France to get to other places so decided this was the time to actually enjoy France itself. So sections 12 and 26 seem the obvious way to go. I’ve already done 22 on a previous trip to the Alpes Maritimes so went down through Switzerland, knowing there wouldn’t be any trails to speak of but it’s a good shakedown for the bike in case anything went wrong.
Which it did. As predicted the weather has not been my friend, but I was dedicated to pushing through that. That Scottish flag on the back of my helmet tells the world I’m more waterproof than goretex. I write sitting in a hotel room hiding from the rain…
Despite a rainy departure the first day was nice enough, a sunny afternoon and I missed a stonking great thunderstorm by pure luck. After which the bike wouldn’t start and none of the electrics worked. Hmm. It has to be the water, thinks I. I knew some of my self made wiring loom was quite exposed, but everything can drain and water shouldn’t affect 12v. The bike runs fine from the kickstart, but more load than an indicator and a brake light and the power fades. That’s either water ingress or a bad contact.
I open the light housing. I check the switchgear. I check fuses. Nothing obvious. I’m getting cold, I’ve not had dinner and the bike does run… so I put my phone on the bars with the light on as a “headlight” and find a place to sleep in the forest. The joys of a bike with a kickstarter and AC ignition. Next morning still no closer to a solution. But it’s light again so I can just kick and go. After a big breakfast I feel up to more diagnostics. I jump the terminals on the starter relay and Poe springs into life and works perfectly. Which makes no sense.
Until it starts to rain again. After a stop in the most male cafe I’ve ever visited – 100% male customer base, Fail Army videos on the TV, view out over a petrol station – no 12v system again. I poke, I prod and eventually trace the issue to the cable between the battery + and the start relay. The same cable feeds the whole 12v system. Tapping and wiggling it causes the lights to flicker. Clearly, just like a table lamp from the 70s, I have a Wackelkontakt. In a 12cm cable. That looks to be in perfect condition.
I resolve to stop at the next independent bike workshop and have a new cable crimped. I stop at the next restaurant for soup and some bread I blagged from the next table, because Switzerland is expensive. Protected from the rain next to a bank I investigate further. It can’t the the cable. Cables don’t just fail like that. Further poking and prodding. The actual battery terminal was loose, held on by a thread. All fixed! Nothing to do with the water after all. Loctite Everything. Always.
But what is to do with the water is that I’ve had no freaking navigation for the last two hours. My phone “has water in the charging port”. The water has been there for four hours now and the phone is long since dead. My trusty Garmin loves the rain, but my Swiss mapping is corrupt. Good thing they make road signs.
But seriously, those of you who rely on phones – how do you deal with this? I found a cafe with a blow hand drier and that dried out my port, eventually. But surely – alongside crappy daylight readability and water “touching” the screen this is a massive issue? Or are you all just fair weather riders? Says I, hiding from the rain in a hotel room…
But, thanks to chronic hairdryer abuse, all my gear is now dry. The rain is beginning to stop, the trailhead is half an hour away. I’ve had two days on the road, been hungry and wet, I’ve been up so high there’s been snow everywhere and solved my technical difficulties. It’s time to man up and get out there. More updates to follow.
Sorry for the lack of photos, my phone was non functional for the best bits so far!
Part Two – Slippery when Wet
After a couple of hours “waiting for the rain to stop” it didn’t. So, after about 100eur worth of hairdryer electricity drying everything out it was all soaked again within an hour. Yay!
Turns out that rain isn’t just wet, it also has this curios property of mixing with soil to produce mud. Which, having now hit the TET proper, I have discovered is rather slippery.
But I didn’t end up on my ass and the bike only fell over by virtue of the sidestand sinking into the ground. Despite some quite seriously tricky terrain. Narrow, single-track uphills over slippery roots – that’s fun. Deep, cloggy mud – fabulous. Rock steps, little rivers… today’s had it all. Plus some nice fast flowing forest trails up keep things moving along.
A lot of this would have been difficult or impossible on the 650, but the 350 is gobbling it up impressively. I’ve been thrown sideways twice, both times I was able to keep upright – the big boy would have thrown me for sure.
The weatherman says things will be better tomorrow, so with luck this will be the last hotel stay needed and I’ll make some proper progress tomorrow!
Part Three – Oh, Such a Perfect Day
I’m settled in for the night in my hammock. No roof needed, it’s not going to rain, the trees around me are silhouettes against the young night sky. To my left, where I just watched the sunset, I hear cowbells jingling. Essentially, it’s been a perfect day.
I woke from a deep sleep in my cheap hotel to find a little thrill outside of my window. A flash of blue sky. Breakfast at the bakery next door, more hairdryer abuse, retrieval of the now dry gear from the heating room… I hit the TET and where I’m headed the sky is blue. By the time I hit the first gravel it’s a perfect spring vista, green and blue in purest form.
Today has mostly been fast, easy, flowing trails. With some slippery stuff thrown in along the way and a river crossing to re-soak my boots for me. Some small, slightly challenging sections but nothing to worry about and everything stayed right way up. Just after lunch a gentleman flew past me on what looked like an EXC, I caught up with him in Lyon – I was right. Never caught up with him again after that, he’s quicker than I am!
It’s been a beautiful day, I’ve had some pleasant interactions along the way and nothing serious has gone wrong – just a broken zip and a burnt up USB cable. Good food, good coffee – including a mid afternoon snack in the cafe of an old people’s home.
More of the same tomorrow, please.
Part Four – It’ll Stop in 5 Minutes
I’m woken by the sound of cowbells, I guess they’re marching off to be milked. A leisurely camp deconstruction follows and as I’m finishing up the cows march right by, sadly I’m in the middle of putting my boots on, don’t want to spook them and miss the chance for some beautiful photos.
As I leave the campsite I notice that the wind is getting pretty blustery. Half an hour later and it’s knocking me all over the trail, something which continues all day – I actually avoid standing quite often so I’m not as much of a sail. The first three quarters of the day pass quickly and mostly unremarkably.
The trails in this central section of 26 are lovely, but they’re also a little repetitive. It’s rather like a less steep black forest. Good, well drained trails keep my hopes up for dry feet at the end of the day. But one bit of forest starts to look and feel very much like the next, with the exception of a few spicy steep/narrow/rocky bits. On one that has all three of these elements an ent jumps out from the side of the track and smacks my right handguard, knocking me down to the left – very inconsiderate behaviour.
The bike is laying on its left side, with the handlebars deep in a rut and the footrest wedged somewhat under a root. I’m 75km into a 500km+ fuel range. Heavy. Again I’m happy I ride a DR350. It’s an effort, sure, but I wedge a foot on a rock and get up to 45 degrees. From here the aforementioned ent, embarrassed by it’s callous antics, takes my hand and I get the bike almost upright – pannier bumping the ent. Start, ride on a few meters, job done with minimal sweat and swearing.
If I was on my 650 I’d have struggled. If I was on an ADV bike I’d have been stuck. Light is right. Luggage rack was bent in a bit, a good tug and it’s back to true.
The day goes on like this, minus any more drops. I skip some sections that seem just to be proforma diversions from the road route for the sake of it. It’s nice, but nothing to write home about. Possibly good fun with mates, tearing up the trails – if that’s your thing. Alone, playing it safe – it’s just a days riding in the woods for the most part. Which is fine.
I’ve been expecting rain tonight, but it starts to rain in the late afternoon. Looks like it’ll be gone again in five minutes. I ride on, it’s still there. But it looks like it’ll be gone in half an hour. I ride to a cafe, it’s still there an hour later. Bugger. But there’s a guesthouse in about an hour trail riding for 23eur and with both increasingly heavy rain and monstrous winds it looks like a winner.
I hit the trails and the landscape changes. It’s Scotland. Especially with the weather. But it’s flat highland terrain and muddy. Getting very muddy. Getting holy crap, boots full of water, slip and slide crazy muddy. Which is fun, but I’m glad it’s only an hour – my energy is fading and my clutch hand is suffering.
Now I’m sitting, in a terribly civilised manner, by the fireplace. Boots drying, rain hammering at the windows, wind gusting down the chimney and my stomach full of three spectacular courses for change from a 20. There only other guest dines with me, a very pleasant hiking gentleman from NL. I’m warm, well fed and in good company. This was definitely the right choice.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
Part Five – Ice Road Bikers
This is not the right time of year. Here I am, in a very hasily erected hammock tent in another sudden rainstorm. Today I’ve gone from Ice Road Biker to superb sunshine and back again. Despite all of that – it’s been a good day.
Up and out from the hostel and the weather looked glorious. It felt awful. Freezing bloody cold awful. But I did have the curious pleasure of riding in frozen snow – the grinding, crunching sound is decadent and the traction isn’t bad.
The trails were decent, if a little repetitive. One monster climb led to drop number three. It’s a steep uphill, rutted deeply on one side. But the good side has a big tree root in the way, three quarters of the way up. I can’t stop to think and a huge slippery tree root is likely to be deflecty-ouchy time. So into the rut I go. But I couldn’t get out, couldn’t go back and had to lay down to turn round and try again. All part of the game.
I reached the end of section 26 and decided to make a rush to 12. Good choice, as it turned out. Google picked a route that was mostly the TET anyway and while it was largely tarmac it was spectacular and reasonably warm.
Today was one of those just keep going, ride mode, days. No reason to stop, just press on. Was there anything particularly, especially noteworthy? Some long trails with jumps galore, one yuge uphill trail with serpentines. One cafe had a hoard of lady bikers, 12 of them no less. That’s not something you see every day on snowy roads. Other than that – nice views, good food, irksome weather.
I’m considering making a dash for Spain and better weather. But I don’t want to. Decisions, decisions…
TET Spring 25 – Out of Air
It’s been a couple of days. Sorry about that, kept getting into conversations in the real world. Anyway. Where am I now? I’m a huge cafe with nobody in it, waiting for ADAC.
What? Me? Finishing a trip with ADAC support? Can’t be. I’ve only been recovered from Iceland, Sardinia, France and Switzerland. Plus one recovery for in Italy due to criminal shenanigans. I swear they’re going to blacklist me now I’ve added Spain to the list.
Why this time? You’d think that, travelling on a bike that I bastled together myself it would be for some grand technical reason. It’s a flat. It’s the third flat in two days. The first one I fixed myself, with a new tube. Lasted 100km. I did check, nothing sharp still in the tyre – so that’s not the cause. The second I had done at the Yamaha workshop that was only 250m away when I noticed. They dismounted the tyre, we both checked for sharps. Didn’t find anything. That tube lasted 200km.
Here we are again. Now, I have a 21″ I could put in. But with 150km to my final goal on this trip it just doesn’t make sense. It might get me there. I might just be stuck again. So I’ve sweet talked ADAC into taking me home, country roads. Or, at least, holiday home country roads.
Honestly, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what the cause could be. I’m a time served motorcycle mech, I do know what I’m doing. I have checked for pointy shit. The holes in the tubes seemed to be somewhere else both times. Am I this unlucky? Is the tyre just fucked from me riding it down the hill flat, so I could get food and a fresh tube before doing the change? No idea. But I do know that I’m putting mousses in the 350 next time. I don’t often go over 80 on the thing, so it makes every kind of sense.
Accepting that nobody will read this far and that my writing is an exercise in filling time and massaging my own ego…
The last two days riding are a bit of a blur. Section 26 had a lot of challenging sections, even considering how much worse the weather was back then – it was rocky, steep, narrow and rutted at points. I’ve been on Section 12 for two and a half days now and I’ve been flying, it’s much more big bike friendly. 26 has more trail, 12 has more road but very long trail sections. Almost no single track or tricky stuff. Some rather dull, nondescript forest sections are a bit of a shame but mostly it’s good, fast, fun trail riding.
The Brits in the South of France cliché is strong here. The last two nights I’ve ran into crowds of noisy Britishers in bars, living the good life in the South of France. They’ve all been lovely and one set even gave me a place to sleep for the night.
One thing I won’t be rushing to again though is France’s thermal springs. One natural one, one developed one. Both carried the hope of warming cold bones. Both were barely above ambient air temperature. Meh.
Soon I’ll be on a plane back home, so the next post is likely be be in six weeks when – if the snow clears – I’ll be up in the Pyrenees.
With mousses.
Next up, the Pyrenees and Portugal.
Very nicely done trip log. Thanks much for sharing! I’m from the u.s. and seeing an adventure ride in Europe is new for me and quite enjoyable. Beautiful country.