Tag Archives: France

Interference and Remembrance

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As you all know I really love my old Harls.

Some of you however, will not appreciate that she is also a link to two long departed special people. Today and the previous few days were the anniversary of the passing of Trudie and Andy.

Both taken too young and both missed immensely.

You can read more about them and their link with Harls here.

I was thinking about the two of them today when I stopped at a service station that claims to be to be at the very centre of France on the A71 AutoRoute.

Then when I came to leave all hell let loose!

Harls wouldn’t respond to either of my key fobs and when I tried to start her the alarm went off, again and again!

Strangely no-one challenged me…

I wandered into the shop and asked if they had any batteries for my alarm?

“No“ was the answer; “But if it’s your motorbike, try pushing it down the slope, it happens all the time, it’s the radio antenna!”

OK, known problem eh?

Well, I pushed Harls down the slope and yes there was a blasted great 100 metre tall radio mast right next to the service area, but no she still wouldn’t play nice. In fact she went even more peculiar on me. There were lights flashing all over the place and all sorts of previously unheard squawks emanated from her!

At times like these you need a friendly voice, so I called my good friends at Plymouth Harley Davidson back in the UK.

Luckily Dealer Principle Chris answered the phone and within a few minutes I was talking to Chief Technician Dave – this is Dave who loves Harls almost as much as I do and frequently threatens to take her from me if I don’t look after her!

We talked through the issue and Dave came up with some suggestions, which I went away to try.

Nothing doing.

I really appreciated the effort and support from those guys back at Plymouth Harley Davidson, it”s good to know that you have a friendly, helpful voice at the other end of the phone even if they are 1000 miles away!

Whilst I was scratching my head a car drew up and a chap got out who introduced himself as a local Harley rider.

“That m%#@e mast has got you brother!” he exclaimed, then went on to tell me that lots of local French Harley riders have had the same problem that I was experiencing.

Thanks, but how did they get out of it?

“On a truck!” – Not greatly encouraging…

Then another chap arrived on the scene. He’d been having lunch with his family and had seen my predicament. It turned out that he was an electronics engineer and had experienced similar problems throughout France.

His African-French accent was quite difficult to understand, but he told me that the French are not very good about thinking of the effects of either High-Tension power lines or Microwave Transmitters on other electronic devices when such things are built.

He came up with a suggestion to try with one of my key-fobs; take the power cells out of both and stack them than use a key to make the circuit, briefly press the button and see what would happen.

Bingo! It worked!

I suppose that the extra power was enough to override the interference; I don’t really care, I’m a mechanical engineer and although I understand electronics. They are a bit of a black art to me!

Harls burst into life and sat burbling contentedly.

The funny thing was that for an hour and forty minutes I didn’t get worked up or cross; Trudie was holding my hand and Andy was trying to find a solution – I was not alone.

Then for the next 150 miles they rode with Harls and I, again.

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Movin’ On

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Dear Blogonaughts, it’s nearly 22:00hrs local time.

It’s well over 25ºC and the air is still. Around me crickets chirp and the last birds are calling as the head to roost. Beneath, in the valley, the river gently purrs as it caresses the boulders that stand in it’s path.

I’m sitting outside writing and getting eaten alive by mosquitos and a million other airborne bloodsuckers!!!

This morning I was sad to leave our mountain base. Not half as sad when we dropped into the valley thirty minutes later and the temperature suddenly rose to 35ºC, where it has stayed for the rest of the day!

We ground out some quick and serious miles to Grenoble Airport on the péage autoroutes; tedious, but they get you moving quickly, which was just as well as that was the only respite from the heat I could find.

From the airport we headed for the Rhône valley, crossing the mighty river at Sablons, where I pondered that just nine days ago we had bridged that same river in it’s much more youthful state shortly after it had drained out of Lake Geneva.

Then we vigorously climbed up onto the Massif Central, the high plateau that stretches down the spine of France from Clermont Ferrand in the North to Montpellier by the Mediterranean coast in the South. Specifically we were heading for the Auvergne, one of my favourite parts of France with it’s deep valleys and extinct volcanoes.

Once up on the Massif I relaxed, not because it got any cooler – look, I’m sorry, I’m not moaning about the heat, it’s just the reality of what it was like – but we hit an altogether different sort of road, in a place that has a different pace of life!

Today has been a bit strange. Today the French Government brought in a new maximum speed limit on the ordinary roads of the country, 80kph. This excludes dual carriageway and motorways, but applies to all single carriageway routes. I must admit that for the majority of the time I have been a good boy and stuck to it, which is more than I can say for the majority of French drivers that I saw! On the type of roads that we were on this afternoon 80kph/48mph is actually quite relaxing, but would be a pain if you needed to get anywhere quickly!

Tonight we are in the hills near Ambert, a delightful yet busy little place on the old main-road through the Massif
Even though in the back of my mind I know we have started the run home, I think that tomorrow really is that “Returning Point” moment. That second when the trip that has been so long in the dreaming, planning and execution is now starting to head to its conclusion.

The view from our base near Ambert.


Tomorrow will be a transit day, maybe with a drop in on a Harley Dealership, but mostly it’s mile munching/kilometre krunching time. On the plus side we are heading for the wine-producing town of Bourgueil on the flood plain of the River Loire. The region around the town produces some of the most delightful light red wines in France, that are high on Mrs Dookes “likes” list….note to self…!

The forecast says we may have some showers, certainly it will be a tad cooler, which won’t be a bad thing.

Catch you soon

Dookes

Some Thoughts From a Mountain

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I promised myself that I wasn’t going to interrupt my voyage along Les Route des Grande Alpes with a non stop, blow-by-blow account of where I’d been, what I’d seen and who I’d met. That I told myself can follow later and largely I’ve been true to myself in that respect.

Tonight though is our last night in the mountains of Les Alpes…for the moment anyway. A night spent a reasonable altitude on the flank of Col de la Madeleine, which thankfully gives some respite from the crippling heat that is currently swathing much of France; it is officially “Une Canicule” – a heat wave!

Harls is safely tucked up in the Relais barn and I am sitting in the shade of a lime tree with grapevines threading through the paling fence and hazy views of the distant mountains of Col de la Croix de Fer, life is pretty good; if a tad knackering! (Knackered – old British term for very tired!) Supper is, however, being served!

It’s a good moment to reflect on our trip.

Did La Route des Grande Alpes deliver? – You bet it did!

From the moment we left the Town Hall, Hôtel de Ville, in Thonon les Bains to the evening in Menton when I indulged myself with a paddle in the Mediterranean, the road has been hard, but oh so giving.

Sometimes, when a trip finally starts to happen after months, or in this case years of scheming, planning isn’t quite the right word for this project, it can be a bit flat, not in this case. Life was stupid busy before I left home and in some ways the trip sort of snuck up on me, but once I got moving the excitement hit me; though to be honest, two days of solid slog to get across France wasn’t exactly thrilling!

Then comes a funny thing, something that always get my pulse racing, it’s the first sight of a road sign to some “exotic” place…in this case it was “Géneve” – Geneva and the knowledge that we are really doing this crazy thing! You see Geneva lies at the West end of Lac Leman, Lake Geneva, and Lac Leman is where La Route des Grande Alpes begins!

From the moment we trundled out of the busy streets of Thonon and found the D902, which on an off was to be our “Mother Road” for the next 722 kilometers, the route just continued to deal us delights with every amazing twist and turn.

Once we reached Menton our return path took in some of the alternative passes that the route has to offer.

By my estimation we have we have crested 37 passes, though when I do a more detailed analysis there may be a few that I have overlooked, so the total could rise! Again, when I have the time, I’ll figure just how much altitude we have climbed too, I like statistics like that, sad I know!

Tomorrow we leave sadly the high mountains behind, we’ll cross the mighty River Rhône and ascend onto the plateau of the Massif Central. It wont be hard going there, they are just other parts of this beautiful country that I adore.

The sun has now dropped behind the mighty alpine sentinels that surround our pretty mountain village and the air is cooler with a pleasant breeze stirring the trees. Around me the evening sky is filed with the sound of bees buzzing contentedly whilst pollinating flowers of the overhanging lime tree.

Coffee is being served and though tired, I am happy.

The owner of the “Relais” has been quizzing me about the trip and my writing.

As way of apology for interrupting my meal, which I didn’t mind at all, he has brought me a small glass of the renowned liqueur of the Alps, “Genépi.”

Like many liqueurs Genépi is an acquired taste. It’s made from the Artemisia plant, (Wormwood), that grows wild in these mountains, that is then steeped in spirit alcohol to which sugar is also added to aid the transfer of flavour and colour.

It’s not exactly firewater, but you need to treat it with respect – Floyd would have definitely approved!

Catch you soon

Dookes

Rest day

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Today was meant to be a rest day, a sort of “recharge the batteries” day.

…only one problem, what to do?

I admit, I made a bit of an administrative error staying at a hotel without a swimming pool, but the food more than makes up for that; tonight Magret de Canard, for example!

So what does a long distance motorcyclist do on his day off?

Go for a ride on his bike, that’s what!

To be more precise, go for a lightweight spin up Cime de la Bonette without the encumbrance of luggage, do a bit of exploring and have a nice picnic lunch on the high alp.

All of which came together perfectly.

We got out good and early and managed to reach to summit before the hoards descended. The big Cols often get busy late morning and mid afternoon, so if you want to have a bit of peace either go early or aim for very late afternoon/early evening.

We did a bit of trundling around at altitude and some on-foot wandering around, which at altitude was a tad tough, then found a lovely spot off the beaten track to enjoy lunch.

Not a bad view over lunch!


The altitude thing is interesting and effects people in different ways. It’s generally agreed that doing what I did, going up quickly and then trying to do some strenuous exercise like hike-climbing isn’t a great idea; I can agree with that. You really need more time to acclimatise than I had, my body is used to living at 600ft above sea level in Cornwall, not 9400ft in the high alps!

This afternoon I got Harls fuelled and sorted for tomorrow then planned to have a quiet time doing some writing or maybe having a little snooze, but somehow it didn’t happen and I sort of trundled into supper time…which is where I am now!

The highlight of the evening so far, apart from the Magret de Canard which is incredibly good, has been watching Madame, the hotel owner, giving five German bikers a good dressing down for turning up for dinner in their riding leathers. Then telling them that they smell and sending them off for a shower before she serves them and even then that they must sit outside on the terrace! Priceless!

She winked at me as she strutted past after delivering her instructions; this formidable lady has a sense of humour without a shadow of doubt!

As for the Germans, well they seem to have slunk off for the shower as instructed!

It’s good to have standards.

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Keeping My Word

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Some years ago, I’ve got to check exactly when and it may have been pre-blog days, I took Harls up Col de la Bonette.

We had a great time, but it was slightly tinged with a bit of sadness as we couldn’t quite reach the summit of Cime de la Bonette due to heavy snow.

That day I told Harls that I would bring her back and we would finally reach the summit together.

Call me bonkers if you like, but that motorbike has a personality and trust me, she understood.

I don’t think, therefore, it went down well with Harls when three years ago I took Baby Blue up to the summit before her!

Cime de la Bonette is an interesting place and only in existence due to the wonderful attitude of the French people who saw an opportunity to make their mark on the map of Europe. For some reason the French were not content to just have the highest pass in Europe, Col de l’Iseran at 2770m/ 9087ft, they wanted to go one better and make a totally pointless loop around the adjacent mountain to Col de la Bonette and add 300m to the record!
I love the attitude, though if I had been a French tax-payer I don’t know if I would have been so enthusiastic!

La Bonette itself is a formidable place. From the South, the Nice side if you like, the climb is long and at times tedious, with numerous hairpins and tricky road surface. From the North, it’s one of my favourite alpine roads; sweeping ever upwards though delightful country in lovely geometric curves. You can really get into the groove on this climb, I love it!

On both sides though , as you near the top of the climb the scenery changes dramatically; you could be on the moon! The green high alp gives way to barren frost shattered rock, scree, tortured slates and mud stone.

On top of Europe!


It’s high, cold and sterile, even the delightful Marmots, clowns of the high alps, don’t bother going up here! Get caught on a bad day and you can be in serious trouble in a very short time indeed. Today though was benign.

With altitude Harls got sluggish and I must say that I was feeling it to, sea level to over 9000ft in one go hits you…!

We chugged our way to the summit and I kicked down her side stand.

Silence.

I leant forward and patted her tank, “See, I told you we’d come back.”

At the summit Cime de la Bonette-Promise kept!


This bike of mine is amazing and I’m probably boring you all stupid saying so, but honestly she is.

Then we dropped down into Jausiers and I swear that she ran better and truer than ever before on this trip; I kept my word and as a result, she’s happy!

Let it never be said that I am not a man of my word!

“Well its alright ridin’ around in the breeze, well it’s alright, if you live the life you please.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Hot and Hard

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Today was always going to be tough….

I’d seen the weather forecast last night and all the presenter said was “Hot.”

Well hot is OK, but I knew from experience that there’s ordinary French “Hot” and Mediterranean French “Hot.” – There’s a world of difference!

Mediterranean French “Hot” is like that day in Ax en Provence, when I put my foot down at a set of traffic lights and as we pulled away took about ten pounds of road stuck to the sole of my boot! It’s also when I look at the idiots riding motorcycles in tee shirts and shorts and think that possibly they have a point!!!

Enough of this beefing about the weather, hell at least it didn’t rain, even if the thermometer went over 100º Fahrenheit; which sounds more impressive than 38º Celsius – and yes I was in my leathers!!!!

The detailed report of this final section of Le route Des Grande Alpes will come in the future, but safe to say that Harls and I are happily berthed in the coastal town of Menton, which is reputedly “The Pearl of Le Côte d’Azur!

Harls in Menton, hot and happy!


It’s a strange thing this “Route des Grande Alpes” as no-one seems to know exactly where it ends!

The beginning is easy, there’s a big bronze plaque on the ground outside the Thonon les Bains town hall…but does it end in Nice or Menton? The official site for RDGA says Nice, but the purists say Menton.

My motorcycling mate Marcel, who lives in Thonon says Menton; but also that the bars are better in Nice!!

I don’t mind, we’ll pass through Nice tomorrow. Seven passes today with the highest Col de la Cayolle 2326m/7632ft.

Now I’m happy.

It’s been a tough day and apart from that first enigmatic glimpse of the Mediterranean the highlight was the iconic Turini Pass.

Turini lies in the foothills above the Med. It features regularly in the famous Monte-Carlo Rally and captured my imagination years ago when rally driver Paddy Hopkirk stunned the world in the 1964 Monte-Carlo in a Mini Cooper!

Les Lacets de Col de Turini.
Thanks to Par Anthospace


So what was it like riding the famous Turini?

Well going up, brilliant, brilliant fun! … Going down, bloomin’ awful as the local road gang had decided to “top-dress” the road over three miles with tiny, marble like, stone chippings; almost lethal for a motorcyclist!

That aside, we survived and another amazing adventure with my beloved and fantastic Harls is (half) over.

I’m typing in the corner of the hotel restaurant. Justine our waitresses is clearing table and only myself and four other diners remain. The warm glow from the chandeliers seem at odds with the dusky sunset outside the window.

My Côte de Provence blanc has complimented the meal of Morue dans une sauce à la crème de fenouil/Cod in fennel cream sauce, superbly. Tarte au citron/lemon tarte, for desert is so typical of Menton and the region.

I look outside and Harls is resting in the car park. A local biker thrashes by pulling more rev’s than he knows what to do with.

Harls is happy; I’m happy and tomorrow we’ll point North and head into cooler air.

It’s been some ride, hot and hard, but wouldn’t have had it any other way because Harls and I did it together!

Now I’m alone in the restaurant, the other diners have left, like dear old Floyd said, “Peut-être le temps d’un petit Marc!”

I’ll raise a glass to that Floyd, a glass to Harls and le Route des Grande Alpes!

“So put me on a highway and show me a sign
And take it to the limit one more time.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

It’s All In The Mind – More Highs, More Cols

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I find it very hard to explain exactly what it is that drives me to climb ever more high mountain cols/passes.

Sometimes I’ve been there before; otherwise it’s a new route, new vistas, new challenges. Always there’s that experience of conquering to beast, which must be nothing compared to how cyclists feel; they have my utmost respect!

Whatever it is that drives me, I cannot do it without support. Obviously Mrs Dookes figures high in this as without her support and blessing I couldn’t be here playing in the mountains in the first place! Then there are others.

This year I have to give special thanks to my good friend Polly.

Now it’s a bit hard to say exactly what Polly does; I suppose that in many ways she re-wires people heads…

What on earth are you on about Dookes????

Well, remember Big Baby Blue, that Harley Ultra Limited that I once had?

Basically I couldn’t get her to go round bends!

Then it started to get serious, it started happening with Harls….which was very strange as I taken her almost everywhere and never had a problem! More importantly I wasn’t for one minute going to let her go the same way as Blue.

To be fair, with me on board, a full tank of fuel and luggage, Blue once tipped a weighbridge at 535kg. That’s bloody heavy! In comparison, Harls is a mere 330kg, but I’d started to get problems with her too…

Miss bends like this….? – Col d’Izoard


That was the trigger, I got in touch with Polly.

Together we talked things through and tried to find the root cause of the problem. This in itself was interesting as I am a fully qualified “Incident Root Cause” investigator, but I digress.

I’m not going to go into details, but like many sports organisations these days use psychometric processes to find that marginal gain, I can confirm that Polly did her job.

After seeing Polly a few times I’m riding and enjoying riding “Harls” and my other bike “Hettie” like I never have before. My cornering is better, smoother and quicker than I can remember and my general riding feels much more relaxed. I’m also getting such a buzz doing it too!

I can’t thank Polly enough.

Today’s Cols; Izoard, Vars and Allos are for you Polly…I probably wouldn’t be here without you!

…..or views like this? – Col de Vars


“Shine on you crazy diamond!”

Catch you soon

Dookes

PS Polly, there a bottle on its way to you!

Route de la Grandes Alpes – From the Start

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Some years ago I was in Jausiers, at the very heart of the French Alps with my beloved Harls.

Passing an idle few moments whilst waiting to pay my hotel bill I noticed an interesting leaflet about something called “La Route des Grande Alpes.” Being an inherently inquisitive chap I picked it up and in a fleeting moment my life changed.

You see, here was not only a route map, but a reason to return to these enigmatic mountains again and again!

It was also the start of a mini obsession.

To explain; La Route des Grandes Alpes is a tourist itinerary through the French Alps between Lake Geneva and the French Mediterranean Riviera passing over all the high passes of the Alps within France.

For years, since picking up that blasted leaflet, I’ve pondered over maps planning to one day ride this iconic road and today, dear Blogonaughts, Harls and I have started to do just that!

Of course Harls was always going to be with me, she’s part of me.

I’ve decided to enjoy the whole experience without feeling the pressure to recount every detail each evening on this blog. That will follow when I get home.

For now, each day I’m just going to give you a status report.

RDGA Zero Kilometre, the start.


Today we stood at the Zero Kilometre marker outside the Town Hall in Thonon les Bains, started Harls engine and headed South on La RDGA.

Six Cols later we have paused for the night in a typical alpine hotel near Val d’Isere and are thoroughly pleased with ourselves.

On top of Europe.


Tired too, the technical term is “knackered” actually, but happy, very happy.

Our odyssey has truly begun.

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Pondering through the Miles

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Motorcycling is great, no really it is, even when the weather decides to test you with a bit of rain, or fog, or snow… actually forget those bits about fog and snow, it’s pants then!

One of the things I love about being on two wheels is the time I get to do a bit of thinking. Now I’m not talking real deep meditational stuff, because when I’m riding I really need to keep my mind fully on the road, but I seem to have developed a sort of “compartmentalised” mental ability to grab a thought or idea, place it in some recess in the old Dookes head and recall it later for further processing. Which is quite a handy trick really! It’s how I manage to absorb the day’s traveling, write about it later whilst and able to recapture the essence of what I was thinking when I was out on the road.

Take this morning for example.

The road across Northern Brittany from Morlaix to Rennes is a dual carriageway. It’s not exactly the most stimulating stretch of tarmac in the world, but like many such roads gets you efficiently from A to B with minimum of fuss. It’s also the road that I like to use to get me “in the groove” for Continental Europe travelling. As many people will be aware, those pesky Mainland Europeans, along with most of the rest of the world, drive on the “wrong” side of the road; that’s the Right side, only it’s not, “right” that is!

Which got me thinking….

As anyone with half a shred of historical knowledge will know, the “right” side to drive is the Left. Just like we do in the U.K. and so do Australia, New Zealand, Japan, India and about 70 other “enlightened” countries, which equates to about 35% of the world population, but why?

Well it’s all largely to do with swords, farm carts and aristocrats.

In the days when roads were ruled by the horse, just about everybody travelled on the left hand side of the road because most people are right-handed; if you needed to pull out a sword to defend yourself you had you opponent just where you wanted them, on your right hand side. It also was good manners as it prevented your sword in it’s scabbard flapping about and hitting passing riders as you had it on your left. Plus, ever noticed which side most people mount up on a horse from?

Yep, the left, to keep the sword out of the way!

By the 1700s in France the aristocracy kept driving their carriages on the left, even though the necessity of having to have ones sword free had largely passed, but seemingly they enjoyed forcing the peasants over to the right! Around this time though, farmers in France began using bigger and bigger carts as farming techniques improved and crop yields grew. These bigger waggons often used more than one horse so the driver would sit on the left hand side animal in order to use their whip in the right hand, plus they could then also keep an eye on their cart’s wheels as they passed other road users.

Come the French Revolution one of the many ways that the new French Republic made itself “different” was to make driving on the right compulsory, from 1794. As Napoleon Bonaparte then went on to conquer vast swathes of Continental Europe everyone in his path was forced to conform!

All that to explain why Dookes has been riding on the Right-Hand side of the road today. To be honest, on a motorbike it really doesn’t make much difference except to keep your wits about you and look out for traffic coming from unexpected directions; I quite like it.

It’s always interesting and a bit amusing in the first few kilometres just off the ferry as inevitably you can spot the odd Brit car driver getting it totally wrong at either a road junction or roundabout!

Which is all a long-winded way of saying that I’ve just had a brilliant day riding Harls in warm sunshine on sticky tarmac on just about my favourite country on Earth!…(apart from Wales that is!!!) We’ve covered just short of 400 miles, some of it pretty hard grind, but when I’m on on Harls I never want to be anywhere else in the world.

Highlight of the day was riding some of the famous “24 Heurs du Mans” circuit, around the city of Le Mans. Whipping down the legendary “Mulsanne Straight” hanging a right at Mulsanne then zipping under the Porsche bridge before flicking through Indianapolis and Arnage to the Porsche curves was the stuff of dreams!

Indianapolis Curve, moving a bit!

I took Baby Blue around Monza once, I’ll tell more about that another day, but today beat that hands down as I did it with Harls! Thank goodness I didn’t see any Gendarmes.

Porsche Bridge.

Like I say, you just need to keep your wits about you and give a nod of thanks to Napoleon for making life interesting!

Vive La France, vive la revolution, vive la difference!

Catch you soon

Dookes

Dookes is on the Road Again!

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Well almost!

It’s like this people, the old itchy feet syndrome has kicked in again…!

I though that the idea of this “Early Retirement” stuff was that I wasn’t as crazy busy as when I was doing a real job. Pondering for a moment I realise that actually having a “Real Job” give you structure and boundaries, not having one makes everything a bit blurred.

As a result when someone says to me can you help? I inevitably say yes; which is good and bad at the same time.

Certainly life has taken on a lovely unpredictable path and really interesting things come my way to get involved with, which for a variety of reasons I can’t tell you all about; I know, it’s a cruel tease, but that’s just the way it is!

I do know, however, that it’s definitely the right thing for me at this moment in time.

That said, of late I haven’t been out on two wheels quite as much as I would like.

Which is why I’ve said “Screw It, time to ride!”

This coming Wednesday I’m off to La France and am going to chase down a route that I’ve been promising to ride for years – La Route des Grandes Alpes. Click here to read more about it.

Basically it runs from Thonon les Bains, on the shore of Lake Geneva, to the Mediterranean Sea at Menton, via all of the high French alpine passes. It’s going to be quite some trip!

“Harls” in the High Alps


I’m also taking my trusty “Harls” with me, for lots of different reasons, which I’ll explain more as we go along the route.

We leave on Wednesday, which gives you all time to saddle up and ride along with us on the road, as ever I’d love to have you tag along!

“Dookes is on the road again
Wearin’ different clothes again
Dookes is turning handouts down
To keep his pockets clean”. (With apologies to Manfred Mann!)

Catch you soon.

Dookes