As always I seem to be starting with an apology! Sorry to have been “Off Air” for a while, I thought that this retirement game was meant to be about taking things easier, not so yet I’ve been busier than ever, but one day!

This morning, whilst on-line watching a bit of French television, I clocked a weather warning for most of France, une canicule, a heatwave was approaching! The forecaster went on the explain that a period of very hot temperatures and violent storms was expected for a swathe of the country running from The Pyrenees in the South West to the Vosges Mountains in the East.

My mind wandered off to my recent trip . . .

After our success on Col de La Bonette we overnighted in Jausiers. It’s a pleasant little place that nestles in the Ubaye valley, unlike many alpine villages it hasn’t been spoilt by the infrastructure or development of the ski industry. Those visitors that do come are either walkers, cyclists or like me “Motards.” To be fair the choice of accommodation is a bit limited, but L’Hôtel Bel Air did us proud. It’s a two star Logis; basic accommodation, good food and use of the garage overnight for Baby Harls, what’s not to like there!
We hit the road early and stopped a few miles down the road in Barcelonnette to fill up Baby with motion lotion, grab some fresh apricots, peaches and water for me; it was hot already, 26C in the shade! Better get higher up into cool air. One of my favourite roads in the Alps, the D902, was calling and this was one bit that was new to me. Col de Cayolle here we come!
Fuelled with fresh enthusiasm for my delightful mount I really couldn’t wait to get stuck into the bendy bits. To be fair, it was pretty easy on the uphill side. Sure there were a few twiddly sections but nothing that caused concern, or was it our re-found confidence? I stopped to admire a rather interesting rock formation, an anticline, where the strata had been bent and twisted upwards by the incredible forces that are still pushing the Alps ever skywards.Then I noticed the sinister tell-tale signs of Larch Die-back in the forest behind. This almost unstoppable disease is caused by the pathogen Phytophthora ramorum and whilst it can affect number of species the Larch is being particularly badly hit in the Alps. As you can see in the photo the young needles turn brown and drop from the tree, eventually killing it. It’s a big problem world-wide, but I was quite shocked to see just how much was evident in the Alps and the more I looked, the more I noticed.
Riding on we crested the summit which marks the boundary between département, we were now in Provence. At 2326 meters or 7631 feet, the pass is respectfully high and whilst certainly a lot cooler than down in the valley it was absolutely humming with flies!

It’s funny at these summits, if its one of the more popular ones there is always an eclectic mix of people; cyclists, bikers, walkers, car dwellers and it’s always fascinating to me how the groups rarely mingle! Now always up for a challenge and being a chatty sort of person, I like to breakdown some barriers, usually offering to take someone’s photo with their own camera does the trick and today was no exception. Soon I was in conversation with a group of elderly French cyclists from Nice, swapping road stories and generally being nice to each other, good stuff! Whilst I was beginning to swelter a bit in my leathers at least the flies couldn’t bite me, I felt for my new friends clad in their lycra, which was clearly no deterrent to a hungry mosquito!
From the Col the road dropped continuously and through various lovely bends for 32 kilometres to the village of Guillaumes, where we squeezed into the Gorges de Daluis a six kilometre long canyon formed by the River Var cutting through soft red sandstone. It’s a geological treasure trove and I would have loved to have spent more time there, maybe another day. Great scenery, fantastic road, but oh dear, 17 tunnels! Actually they weren’t that bad, really!
After the gorge the valley widens, yet still is quite spectacular and the road clings to the steep side on a narrow ledge.
A quick blast West along the N202 was nice, if only to get some air moving around, the scenery was still ruggedly lovely with a distinct Mediterranean feel, this is dry country at this time of year. We turned left at St Julien du Verdon and parked up on the side of Lac de Castillon, time for lunch, that lovely fruit I bought earlier and to inspect more interesting geology!
Did I mention that it was getting hotter? Much hotter! No, I lie, it was scorching really scorching. The air temperature gauge on baby was showing 39 degrees Celsius, but I wasn’t complaining because the view made up for it!
Growing at the side of the road were squat wild thyme bushes and the scent hung sweetly in the still air. I picked a couple of sprigs and rubbed them inside my helmet, you know you stink when you can smell yourself! Only another 200 miles to a shower and a swimming pool!
Oh the joys of “Une Canicule!”
“This wheel’s on fire, rolling down the road.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Baby and I rolled onto the ferry at Roscoff in beautiful sunshine. Yes I was a little tired, but happy. I smiled contentedly at the deck hands as they carefully secured my travelling companion for the six-hour sea crossing; I know that they know what they are doing, but I always check!

So off to my cabin, ping off the morning post, hit the shower and then sleep for a few hours.

When I awoke the sun was streaming through the window, the ship moved with a lazy motion on the rolling, yet gentle, swell. Actually, I don’t like this particular ship, the MV Armorique, compared to others in the fleet, it’s that lazy motion, but it’s the one on duty so it’s that or swim!

I got up and made a cup of tea, well we were heading back to England, and pondered the trip now nearing its conclusion. By the time we got home we would have covered a snatch over 3000 miles, not bad for a “Getting to Know You” trip for both bike and rider I guess! I have lots more photos and stuff to post about the trip, but that’s for the future and yes I know I’m a tease!

Sitting and looking out at the Western English Channel as the sun began to drop towards it, gave me time to reflect on our experience. As always with anything there were highs and not so highs.

Lets start with basics, The Bike.
Largely only highs to report, except for the concerns about her suitability for the mountains. OK, now I need to come clean a bit; for a few days she was a complete pain in the backside, especially in the wet! Fortunately, as reported earlier, my new friends at Alba Harley Davidson were able to put their finger on the problem. It’s fair to say that she is a heavy maid to throw about on the narrow winding stuff, but by taking my time and understanding her, we both did the job.

On the open road, however, it was a totally different matter. This is where she is in her element, effortlessly mile munching and putting a big comfortable smile on my face. Luggage capacity is pretty fantastic too, plenty of room to bring back a nice selection of French and Italian goodies whilst being able to carry everything that I needed (and to be honest some that I didn’t!) securely shut away in the hard panniers and TourPak box.

Places we visited.
We certainly cut a cross-section this time out. I’ve never included a museum visit in a trip before and will definitely do so again, mind you the Cité du Train was pretty special and there’s more about that to come in future! At times it seemed a bit of a tick list for the great rivers of Western Europe, but hey, that’s geography baby! The mountains, as regular Blogonaughts will know, hold the strings of my heart and I can’t do without them, at least a little bit, on any trip; though you have to accept that mountain weather is at best, unpredictable!

People.
Just simply great, everywhere! Yes I know all societies have good and bad, but honestly I really believe that there are more good ‘uns. It’s amazing what a smile and at least an effort to speak another language will achieve. Obviously the more you can integrate with language and culture the more you get out of your visit; I am thankful to be able to do OK with languages and have the brass to “car crash’ my way through things whatever!

Food.
Oh yeah, there was food OK! It can get to be a bit of a gastronomic tour when Dookes hits the road, but on the plus side this time I didn’t put on any weight at all!

Thank you’s.
Firstly, to Mrs Dookes for yet again understanding her husband’s need to keep rolling and giving me the freedom to express myself through travel. Not only does she keep Dookes H.Q. running in my absence, but the lady has a pretty high-powered job as well! Je toi remercie de votre soutien et de compréhension amour, je t’aime beaucoup!
I’m also very lucky to have such a nice spread of friends across France, people who accept me for who I am and only ask that I do the same with them; but best of all are always pleased to see me. Merci mon amis!

Next, thank you to everyone who reads these random thoughts and gibber, those who I call my “Blogonaughts!” It’s great to have you along for the ride, thanks for the comments and emails, it means a lot, ta!
If you like the blog, please tell others about it and I’m always open to suggestions to make it better.

Did I say that there were some “Not so highs?” D’ya know, I really can’t remember any at all, even when it rained or snowed (just a little on the Arlberg Pass!) or got plain roasting, life was always pretty good!

I finished my cup of tea and took a stroll around the ship, time for a last flourish of the French language with some of the crew, then to get ready for arrival back in the UK.

We disembarked in the Port of Plymouth and took the relatively short ride back home, pleased with the first trip on the New Girl. I couldn’t resist stopping to grab this photo of the cloudy sunset over the hills on the edge of Bodmin Moor, just two miles from H.Q.. They may not be as big as the Alps or the Dolomites, but hey, they’re the hills of home and when you go off on a motorcycle road trip that’s often the sweetest thing to see!

“Take it easy, don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy!”

Catch you all soon. There’s more to come!

Dookes

As has been the case most mornings of this trip, I woke early to bright sunshine and the promise of another lovely day. As I wandered into the breakfast room, still rather stuffed from the superb food last night, Denis pounced!
“Ah mon ami, le petit déjurner, c’est ce que tu aime?” I hardly had time to tell him I only really wanted a coffee and a croissant before he decided that he was going to cook an omelette for me! “Il sera le meilleur tout La France!” Oh dear, this was going to be a challenge.

He poured me a cup of coffee that would have shamed many small buckets and joyfully disappeared downstairs to his kitchen.

Looking out of the window my gaze crossed the lawn to the small lake that forms part of the Château’s landscaping, yes, today was going to be really nice.   

 I sipped my coffee and awaited my super friend’s cooking. In due course Denis returned with his creation and just as he had promised, it was magnificent. How many eggs are in this I enquired, Denis just shrugged in that wonderful Gallic way, “Trois, quatre, cinq, je ne sais pas! Je me suis seul le cuisiner! Bon appétit!”

He swept away and left me alone in the sunshine, to eat and further reflect on my trip, life, the universe and everything. I came up with 42, which was strange!

Denis returned to see how I was doing and we talked of motorbikes, old railways of Brittany and the Tour de France, which starts about week from now. Denis loves his cycling. I told him that when I left the Château that I was going to Mûr de Bretagne to see where the eighth stage would end; there then ensued a wonderful little argument as he assured me that I was wrong, the stage would end in Vannes. I stood my ground, so he disappeared to fetch his cycling magazine. He returned a bit sheepish, I was right! More laughter, more shrugs, more handshakes, more smiles!

Later Baby and I paused at the spot where the day’s stage would end, two elderly French cyclists appeared and we chatted with excitement about the forthcoming visit of “Le Grand Boucle,” as Le Tour is so fondly known. Now that I’m heading into the realms of relative freedom, I hope to pop over to watch the excitement for myself one day; but not this year, Mrs Dookes gives me great freedom, but me clearing off again in just over a week would be a bit too much to ask!

From Mûr we took a leisurely trundle around central Brittany taking in Carhaix, Huelgoat, Morlaix and Carentec, before rolling onto the ferry back to Plymoth just after 14:00hrs. Time now for a shower and a snooze.

“Freedom is a dusty road leading to a highway.”

Dookes

 

Tonight is my last in France, for this trip anyway, I certainly hope it’s not really my last in France ever!

I’m staying in a wonderful Château nestling the heart of the beautiful Pays de Bretagne. It’s a place I know well. 

Today has been lovely, Baby and I have covered 305 delightfully easy miles as we headed towards France’s most Westerly Région. . . and now I feel that I have come home. This is the region where Mrs Dookes imparted to me her love of France, the people, the language and the culture; d’ya think it rubbed off? This Château is owned by our friends Ann and Denis and they work bloody hard to make sure it’s perfect for their guests, but their friends get treated just that little bit, très spécial!

After arriving, I grabbed a quick coffee and headed for the swimming pool to get rid of the road dust.

Later I wandered into the bar adjacent to the dining room and sat talking to Ann when Denis arrived from the kitchen. “Hey Gallois!” He boomed, grabbing my hand, “Ça va?” His open smiling face lighting up the room. “Oui, ça va bien, et tu?”  “Bien aussi, mon ami!”

We exchange further pleasantries, each comfortable in the others company, I hold his shoulder and he grabs me by the back of the neck. Ann laughs and smiles with us.

“Gallois, I’ve got a surprise to cook for you tonight!” He grins and I translate. “No arguments, I’ve decided what you are having and yes you’ll like it; then we’ll drink to the health of the Chef!” We laugh and I know that this is going to be good, not a bit good, bloody good! Denis puts a beer in front of me then sweeps off to his kitchen, filling the air with laughter.

Ann ushers me into la salle à manger, the most important room in the Château and a plate of fois gras with a compote d’oignon is set in front of me! Look away now if you are of vegetarian persuasion. 

 A bottle of Château des Tourtes, a nice Côtés de Blaye, appears. I hope Denis will be helping with that, the days of Dookes drinking much are long gone, but quality over quantity is better. I ask for a Badoit to slow things down a bit, it’s my favourite French mineral water to have with a meal, though I do like Vichy as well.

My cleared plate is whisked away and after a suitable polite pause “Le Plat” appears. Two, shall we say substantial, Entrecôtes d’agneau appear and they are still cooking on a Pierre de Table; a one foot square lump of stone with a spirit burner underneath! To accompany are petit pois, carottes, baby new potatoes, button mushrooms and a delightfully steamed small squash. There’s an échalote dressing to accompany, oh my! An elderly French couple who appeared during my entrée look on enviously from across the room. Oh well better get stuck in I suppose! 

  

Ann bustles by, some guests have chosen to eat outside where the midges and moths are busy distracting them from their food, she smiles at me and I place my index finger and thumb together and kiss them. She doesn’t need to ask if it’s good, she knows, and winks back in the unspoken language of the love of good food.

It’s eight thirty nine now, Denis will be appearing soon. The restaurant is only open until half past, that’s an hour and a half, Denis reasons that if people can’t be bothered turning up early then he can’t be bothered to cook good food for them! Fair point I say, and there he is circulating through the small restaurant, dropping in on the tables grasping a small glass of some sort of fire-water, this is hands on customer service! Now he appears in front of me, ” C’était bien eh Gallois?” “Non, Denis,” his face falls, “C’était le meilleur!” It was the best! We laugh and grasp each other’s hand, it’s a very French thing to feed your guest so well and I am truly honoured. 

I sit pondering the past eleven days, it’s been quite a trip. Rain, sleet/snow, thunder and lightning, then almost too much sun and heat. Then there’s that new girl of mine; I haven’t told you before, but I thought we had a big problem part way into the journey. She began to really misfire badly at low revs and just felt awful, keeping the revs up around 3000 helped but it wasn’t right. Fortunately my mate “Moth” at Plymouth Harley Davidson helped out and hence the visit to Alba Harley in Italy, who found a defective spark plug, e problema risolto! Since then she’s run like the true lady that she is! I’m not going to make comparisons between my two Harley’s, because they are different and so will their adventures be; they can compare notes when back in the workshop at Dookes H.Q. I’m certainly not going to interrupt that! Let’s just say, that the beginning for Baby is right up there with Harls and that takes some living up to, but it ain’t a bad kick off! 

 And then there’s me. . .  Well it’s not every day that you complete a road trip that’s been to celebrate your retirement is it? Yeah that’s right, I’m quitting the rat race! I may be a tad young, but looking at the DNA pool that I come from, there ain’t many real old ‘uns around, well not males anyway . . . the females are indestructible and go on forever! 

So I intend to pace myself and put the emphasis on enjoying life and being around for Mrs Dookes rather than working myself into the ground. I’ve lost too many friends and old colleagues over the past couple of years and eventually you realise that you ain’t indestructible!

We will be on the road again and I hope you are going to ride along with us, but as ever it’s been a blast thanks for your company! We’ve got about 150miles to ride tomorrow and it’ll be, as always, cool to know you are riding with us.  Thank you everyone for your comments, feedback and company during this last trip, it means I’m never alone.

“I’m not looking back, but I want to look around me now. See more of the people and the places that surround me now. Freeze this moment a little bit longer, make each impression a little bit stronger.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Regular blogonaughts will be pretty used to me going on about the wonderful quirky things that France used to make in the past.

I’ve go on about old Citroën 2CV’s an nausium, but until now have not had the chance to introduce one of my absolute all time favourites, The Motobécane Mobylette.

Yesterday, I parked Baby Harls outside a supermarché in Vierzon and popped inside for some basic provisions. Now a really great thing about supermarkets in France is that you can normally park, or as this is France, abandon, your motorbike just about anywhere except inside the front door! So Baby went right by the front door, to be fair there were a couple of French bikes there already.

When I came out, oh delight! Squeezed in between Baby’s front wheel and the wall was this! 

 

Now it may not look much, but this dear old thing is over fifty years old and 100% made in France!  

I love the way it’s been repaired and painted with a not quite right shade of blue and that wooden box held on with bungees, oh heaven! I hardly need to say that there was very little in the way of tread on the tyres either. That rear shock looks a tad less than straight as well, but it still is earning it’s keep!

After I grabbed the shot a very elderly chap appeared and proceeded to show off his fine machine to me. He really liked the way I was into it, but declined the offer of a ride on my Harley!

When I was young I remember seeing the Onion Johnnies riding these machines around so laden with their wares that you couldn’t tell what they were riding. 

So if every you see one of these in need of a good home, think of me and grab it for me!

Merci beaucoup.

Dookes

A few more photos that I want to share. All general views, but you’ll see the road snaking through them, 

 

  

  

Wait a minute, what’s that going round the bend? Let’s zoom in!

 

Oh that’s OK, it’s just a Brit towing a . . . Caravan!  Situation normal, as I said, round the bend! Enjoy.

Dookes

Ok people, as you may have guessed we have good internet access tonight!

After surviving the Biker Point experience on Edelweißspitz we continued up the road climbing higher qand paused just before the summit tunnel.  

 

Looking back, that zig-zag track is the road up to the Biker Point. We’ve just come up the road through the lower tunnel, one to go!

 

I can’t believe that after doing that I was worried about taking her up the mountains!

This fella was clearing snow off the road only the night before. 

 

Then we took the side road up to Franz Joseph Höhe and the Oberwald Glacier. Don’t let anyone tell you that glaciers are all white, this one is decidedly grubby with all the moraine grits! 

 

I hope you enjoyed that brief insight as much as I did riding the road.

Catch you soon.

Dookes

I arrived at the Chambres d’Hôtes to find Claude the builder just packing up. He’s been doing some extension work for Pierre, basically adding a rather swish apartment to the end of the barn. Claude also loves motorbikes, though he’s never ridden one and say that in his sixties he’s not about to start!

Pierre is inspecting the work, he acts tough, but as the two of them are old school friends it’s a bit of an act. Claude appears to look at my motorbike; time to wind him up a bit?

“Vous n’avez pas fini!” You’ve not finished?  I grin at him!

“Pas vous aussi, vous voulez tous le sang de Claude!” Not you as well, you all want the blood of Claude! “Vous êtes encore en vie en dépit de votre moto, eh!” You are still alive, despite your motorcycle, eh?

We laugh and smile. “Ça va?” ” Oui, ça va bien!”

It’s nice, we hardly know each other yet can insult like we have been friends for years.

I start to unpack Baby Harls. 

Did you know that chocolate melts at 30degrees Celcius? I do now, as a big bar of dark chocolate with almonds has run just about everywhere in the right hand pannier.

Claude can hardly contain himself, this is the best part of the week for him! Well almost, he and Pierre were just about to have “Un petit verre,” a little drink.

The chocolate has covered the inside of the pannier liner, my Michelin Italian road atlas, a mains lead and various other bits and bobs! Pierre finds a large plastic bag and we dump most of the stuff in it, I’ll sort it when I get home. 

I’m invited to join them for a glass.

My eyes are gritty from the ride, I’m still in my leathers and I stink; I need a shave and a shower, but these guys won’t take no for the answer. “OK, seulement un café!” Just a coffee! They look at me like I’m crazy, it so hot and he wants a coffee? Yes, but I could do with the caffeine from an espresso.

Pierre arrives with the small cup of dark, almost black liquid. Then from nowhere brandishes an Armagnac bottle and adds a splash to the coffee. “Pour la route et pour le chocolat!” For the road and for the chocolate!

What is there not to like about La France?

Dookes