Tag Archives: Roadtrip

A Little Bit of History Repeating

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When I’m off on my little motorcycle adventures, there’s nothing I love more than riding new roads. Actually, that’s what its all about, new roads, new vistas, new places and new people.

There are times though when I retrace my steps. Sometimes it’s because of necessity because there is no other practical route and other times it’s just because I want to.

Now I’m not talking not those grand places that call me back, like for example Col du Galibier in the French Alps. No, I mean those back roads that just need to be ridden at a leisurely pace without a care in the world.

A few weeks back, as I trundled across Brittany heading for the ferry home, I had one of those moments. I wasn’t in a hurry and the D764 road to Pontivy just sort of called me to enjoy a steady trundle across the gentle Breton countryside.

I couldn’t resist stopping to try to recreate a photo that I took of “Harls” a couple of years ago on the same road.
Heres the first picture:

Harls in Brittany 2014.

Harls in Brittany 2014.

And here we are with “Baby” in the same spot two years later!

Baby, Brittany 2016.

Baby in Brittany 2016.

Apart from the difference in the weather and the height of the crops in the field behind the bikes, I don’t think too much has changed.

“Harls” looks a bit dirtier than “Baby,” but that’s probably got a lot to do with her being a naked bike and all exposed to the elements, as I am when I’m riding her!

All I know is that it’s a privilege to be able to own, ride and enjoy two lovely machines such as these and take them to the many wonderful places that I do.

It’s what keeps me sane in this crazy world that we live in!

“Yes I’ve seen it before,
just little bits of history repeating.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

On The Road Again

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Good morning everyone, it's a decent day here in Brittany on the North West corner of France.

The ferry crossing last night would have pleased Mrs Dookes, had she been with me; the sea was glass smooth and the ship had very little motion, a bit disappointing really!

I woke with the first ray's of morning streaming through my cabin window and just had to get up on deck to watch the sun rise out of the Eastern sea.

I had an old dear friend who has sadly "gone on," he spent many years at sea, both in the Royal Navy and then the Merchant Marine; Tony always used to say that dawn was the best time to be at sea on a ship. I think he nailed that pretty well!image

I’m just South of Rennes now, 140 miles in two hours, not bad! Traffic was nice and light until the Rennes Rocard, then we hit the shoppers…

Ok Baby is fuelled and I’m topped up with espresso; screw it, let’s ride!

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Out in the Country

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Every morning at Dookes H.Q. the alarm goes off and persistently calls us out of our comfortable slumber at the crack of dawn every day, yes that’s right, every day! You see our alarm takes the form of three working cocker spaniels; Deltic, Bethany and Bluebell. Without fail, as soon as the light of day gets to a certain level, our four legged friends decide that it’s time to get out of bed and burst into song to join in with the dawn chorus! 
Yes, sometimes it’s a real pain to drag out of a cosy bed, but other days it’s a treat to be outside as the new day gets going. Today was one of those mornings that took my breath away; it was a little bit hazy but had the promise of a good day ahead. Things have sort of got to me over the last few days so I took the opportunity to get a few jobs out of the way and then enjoy some “me time.” 


Now before I get someone saying that taking early retirement is pretty much wall to wall “me time,” let me assure you it ain’t! I just needed a bit of space to get my head reset and yes, it was going to involve riding Harley. 

Actually I had a funny little job to do first. Some time ago I was given a couple of large cobble stones that a former neighbour had picked up on a local beach. The two stones have sat incongruously in our garden for a year or so and every time I’ve walked past them they have began to look more and more out of place; if stones could look sad these did! I knew that they were picked up from Widemouth Bay, so after loading them in Harls’ panniers that’s where we went and repatriated my two pre-Cambrian friends on the beach with their brothers and sisters! You know, it made me feel pretty good too, daft eh?

After riding literally thousands of miles on Baby Blue in recent months, it was really back to basics on Harls; less power, less brakes, less comfort, more wind, more noise….I love it! 

I stuck to the back roads and apart from the odd tractor didn’t see any traffic, with no time constraint it was blissful riding at its best!

There’s been a lot of pretty heavy things processed in the Dookes brain of late and a ride like this was just what I needed. 

Nearing home I couldn’t resist a little diversion to Treburland Bridge on the infant River Lynher. This delightful place is only two miles from the front door of Dookes H.Q., but it’s been a couple of years since I’ve been down the twisting narrow lane that fords the water here. Just a few yards upstream and flanked by the last of the spring bluebells, stands the clapper bridge that gives the place it’s name. 

Clapper bridges are ancient structures often found on Dartmoor, Exmoor and of course here on Bodmin Moor. The bridge is formed by large flat slabs of local stone, here it’s granite, supported on stone piers and resting on the banks. Goodness knows how many centuries this bridge has stood here and how many feet have trod those worn slabs of rock.
It’s just the sort of place to sit, gather your thoughts, breath in the fresh clean air and just enjoy the moment. With the river gently burbling over the ford, a billion gossamer winged willow seeds drifting around on the slack breeze and the tang of wild garlic in the air, it really was quite enchanting and certainly uplifting. What else would you expect it to do for a country boy like me?


You know, it gave me an idea. . . 

I do believe that it is time for a road trip!

Stick around, this is going to get interesting!

“Why don’t you tell them what you’re gonna do? Do anything you wanna do.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Simple Things

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Sometimes it’s the simple things that make me smile.
No, let me correct that, it’s always the simple things that make me smile!

Take for example last Friday.

My old mate G, who you may recall is currently undergoing chemo-therapy for a particularly nasty form of leukaemia, though what form isn’t nasty, called me up and asked if I fancied getting out on two wheels. Do bears crap in the woods? Yeah, of course I was up for a trundle around on the bikes!

One thing you have to understand about my mate G, is that if he didn’t have bad luck he would have no luck at all. Having to endure regular sessions of Chemo-Therapy is rough enough, but the previous weekend G got knocked off his motorbike by an elderly lady in a car who jumped a red light and didn’t stop!
Fortunately G got off pretty lightly with only some bumps and bruises, mostly testament to wearing good protective gear, his Triumph Tiger was similarly lucky as it fell on top of G!

Anyway, the thing was that he needed a good ride with someone he trusted to get his confidence back and I was very happy to oblige!

I had a small errand to run first, dropping in on Lewtrenchard Manor, a really nice country house hotel, that was conveniently on the route. image

I hooked up with G in a cafe on the Northern edge of Dartmoor and after a coffee we trundled off to the delightful old market town of Moretonhamstead.
Following G, I concluded that if his confidence had taken a knock by his accident, well it wasn’t showing as he expertly flicked his nimble bike round the corners leaving me to heave Baby around in his wake!

Mortonhamstead is an ancient town, noted in the Domesday Book in 1086 and granted a weekly market in 1207. It’s one of those places where everyone feels at home and a sense of belonging. Our mission there was to visit the noted butcher and delicatessen of Michael Howard, famous for his sausages and faggots!  

Now before anyone gets carried away and wrongly assumes the modern, Americanised, derogatory use of the word, let me explain something for you!

Faggots are a traditional dish here in Britain, especially in the English Midlands and more importantly, Wales. Do you see where I’m coming from? It is normally made from pork meat off-cuts, offal and bacon minced together, wrapped in caul and formed into fist-size balls with onion and herbs added for flavouring. They were a cheap food of ordinary people and followed the maxim that the only part of a pig not used was it’s oink!image
Today faggots have largely slipped from favour, except in their regional strongholds, but for aficionados such as G and I it’s well worth taking the trouble to hunt out the real thing, such as made by our butcher friend in Moretonhamstead. Not surprisingly I also ended up buying a pile of other tasty goodies!

Now, I mentioned that we were on the Northern edge of Dartmoor and regular blogonaughts will know that this is one of my favourite local playgrounds; 368 square miles of wonderful granite upland peaking at over 2000 feet and with lonely lovely twisty roads. I adore every wild inch of it, so I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Fortunately G feels the same as me about the place and it wasn’t long before I was following him across the wonderful wilderness. The unfenced roads across the moor all have a blanket 40mph limit to protect animals, I like it because it forces you to slow down and take a good look around and just enjoy the view a bit more. image
Riding behind G the best view in the world for me was seeing him on his bike in front of me. The past months of chemo have been tough on my mate and his family and there have been times when our ride would have been out of the question. I’m keeping everything crossed, because it’s looking OK at the moment; G’s test results have been getting better and he seems to be responding well to the treatment. To see him in his element on his beloved Triumph made me very happy and judging by the grin on his face it did the same for him too!

We cut across Dartmoor and through the Stannary town of Tavistock, I must do a post about that place one day.

Soon we were into Cornwall and briskly heading into the vibrant fishing port of Looe, fresh fish for lunch was calling us!

During the summer months Looe creaks under the weight of invading holiday-makers, but last Friday it was an altogether more relaxed place and after a leisurely meal we took a gentle stroll along the quay and enjoyed an ice cream where the fishing boats were tied up.imageThe afternoon was marching on and the light began to take on a golden tint, time to head for Dookes H.Q. across my beloved Bodmin Moor.

Colliford Lake, Bodmin Moor.

Colliford Lake, Bodmin Moor.

Our two bikes roared in harmony as we sped through the clear moorland air.
Yes, the simple things definitely make me smile and riding a motorbike alongside my mate, as he fights his biggest battle, was one of life’s greatest privileges and gave me one of my happiest smiles!

“Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels —
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields.”

Thanks everyone for your support. Catch you soon.

Dookes

The Next Little Trip

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Regular blogonaughts of these pages will hopefully remember the pilgrimage trip that we made last April to the Somme Battlefield in Northern France, in order to trace the footsteps of my two Grandfathers.

As I explained at the time, it was my attempt at making sense of some of what they were both involved in nearly 100 years ago and the sequence of posts hopefully gave you all an insight into what I found.

Now here we are, just over a year later and a number of things have fallen into place for me about those dark, far off, days. Further research has uncovered couple of snippets;

Grandfather William was awarded a “Wound Stripe,” after stopping a piece of shrapnel with his head whilst in action near Nieuport in 1917! The stripe was a metal badge worn vertically on the left uniform sleeve and signified that the wearer had been wounded in combat. The British Army started awarding them in 1916 but stopped after the end of WW1. Some were also issued after D-day in 1944, but were discontinued after 1946. The fact that William was awarded the stripe is a detail that no-one in the family appears to have been aware of, up until now! I have managed to obtain a genuine, but unissued, WW1 wound stripe that I am going to mount along side his medals and insignia; one day it can pass to one of his Great granddaughters, my nieces, if they ever show any interest. If not then the collection can be sold in aid of veterans charities.

WW1 Wound Stripe, out of focus pen for scale.

WW1 Wound Stripe,
out of focus pen for scale.

Searches in the Public Records for Grandfather Charles have also been interesting. I found out that he and his unit of the Royal Field Artillery is recorded as “Entering Theatre, France,” on the 12th May 1915.

Now that got me thinking. . . That’s exactly 100 years ago next Tuesday!

I haven’t been able to find out where Charles first “Entered Theatre,” but you can bet it was probably at one of the French Channel Ports. I can just imagine the scene as men, equipment and horses were all being unloaded from a ship. The more I have thought about it, the more I feel that I just have to be in France next Tuesday; nowhere specific, just in France 100 years on.

I shared my feelings with my oldest friend, known in these pages as “Vifferman,” he gets it and is going to ride with me again. It’ll be cool.

We are going to pop over on the night ferry to Roscoff, have a little ride around, then go pay our respects to some guys from another conflict that never made it home, then we’ll come back. I’ll tell you all about that in another post, be great if you ride with us.

Until then, gotta dash and polish Harley for a special day out!

Catch you all soon.

Dookes

PS Serious stuff this, so no Rock n’Roll.

Triumph and Contrast

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Photography 101. Final Assignment: Triumph and Contrast.

I really had to scratch my head with this one.

I thought of getting back to the motorcycle theme and grabbing a shot of a Triumph Bonneville, but that would have been too corny!

Until today all of my photos for the course have been fresh and newly shot just for Photography 101. I had hoped to go for a full house, but today something kept drawing me back to a couple of shots from previous road trips and on a purely personal level both scream out “Triumph” to me.

The first is the summit marker on Col du Galibier, in the French Alps.

When I was young, my friends and I avidly followed the great cycle race that is the Tour de France. There was no television coverage of Le Tour in the UK back then. We had to get our race updates from the sports pages of daily newspapers, which didn’t always carry much up to date information at that! Our idols were the great Eddy Merckx, Bernard Hinault and Joop Zoetemelk and many other too.

Amongst the magical places on Le Tour that we learnt about were the great Cols of the Pyrenees and the Alps; it certainly did our school geography no harm at all! Greatest, most famous and certainly legendary above the rest was the magical Col du Galibier.

I dreamed of cresting that climb on two wheels, emulating my heroes and just standing where they had passed.

Many years later I was able to do just that, OK I did cheat a bit because my two wheels by then had acquired a great big Harley Davidson engine between them… but I did go there on two wheels!

I’ve been back many times since, each time is special, each time my eyes fill with emotion and each time I give thanks that I’ve been able to return to my special spiritual place; it’s my enduring “Triumph!”

Col du Galibier

Col du Galibier, colourful contrasts.


My second “Triumph” is a shot of my beloved Softail sitting by the beach at Carantec in Brittany, France. Again this is another special spot. It’s the place that I go to at the end of every big Continental Europe road trip, somewhere just to collect my thoughts and memories before getting onto the ship back to the UK and home.

So here is Harley loaded with my travel bags and carrying an honest patina of road grime accrued over a few thousand miles of riding.

I can hear in my own mind the gentle metallic music of her engine ticking as she cools down contentedly, knowing that she has Triumphed in bringing us both back safely again.

Carentec beach.

Carantec Beach.


Oh did I tell you before that I love that bike?

Thank you sincerely to everyone who has been riding with me on the Photography 101 course. I really appreciate your feedback and honest comments and would love you to ride some more with me.

“The river flows, it flows to the sea.
Wherever it goes that’s where I want to be.”

Dookes

Ring Out Solstice Bells

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Well everybody, it’s the shortest day of the year and as is getting traditional, its time to give a blog update! As many of you know, I’m not big into religion these days. but I do believe the ancients were definitely onto something when they celebrated the Winter Solstice; the Season has turned and although we head into winter’s depths the days will begin to get longer, then warmer, ‘cos summer is on the way! I’m really a Celtic Druid!

Scan 20Standing Stones of Stenness Orkney.

Looking back to my blog entry for the same time last year I see that I reported on the building work at Dookes HQ and how it shouldn’t take too long to finish…wrong, very, very wrong! The dining room was finally done by the last weekend of November, but you just can’t believe how much work it took. Got the big thumbs up from Mrs Dookes though, which has gotta be worth a few thousand miles on Harley…

Talking of which, she is currently tucked up nice and snug in my heated workshop, nothing but the best for my two-wheeled friend! I have done one or two little maintenance jobs on her and fitted an ambient temperature gauge, a birthday present from Mrs Dookes, but otherwise she is enjoying a well-earned rest; Harley that is, not Mrs D!

The weather here in Cornwall has been, well… awful; wet wet wet. As regular followers know, I don’t balk at riding in all weathers, but hey if its supposed to be for pleasure and I really don’t need to go out in it, I’ll pass until the sun comes out and the roads are not covered in cr*p! So it’s a good time to dream about days on two wheels under a warm friendly sun, reflecting on trips past and planning those yet to come.P1020218

…and what lies in the future? Well, who really knows. No hard plans yet, just a couple of ideas beginning to coalesce in the old Dookes grey matter. As a clue; fresh Pasta and Apple Strudel could be included in the menu…, but who knows! “I was born a travelin’ man and my feet do burn the ground.”

Its been a blast this year. Thank you all for riding along with me, for all the comments and messages, I really appreciate your support.

I met a lot of great people on the road and as is unfortunately inevitable I’ve lost a few too; so Gerry, Tom, Andy, Bob and David, who all rode on ahead,  this one is for you. Ride free my friends.

Have a great Solstice!

Dookes

“Now is the solstice of the year,
winter is the glad song that you hear.
Ring out these bells.
Ring out, ring solstice bells.
Ring solstice bells.”

 

I’m In Heaven Again!

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No other words for it….

Today Harley and I revisited two of my favourite places on earth, Col D’Izoard and Col du Galibier. Even if I wasn’t on a motorbike they would still rank in my book, but on two wheels they are the pinnacle as far as I’m concerned.

As I warned earlier, I wasn’t planning to stop on the climbs, but I took loads of pics on the tops. Like I said in my post of this morning, the weather was wonderful and has stayed great all day. Tonight we are just west of Gap, but back to the hills.

The climb to Izoard started pretty much from the car park. The first gem is the Gorge of the Combe du Queyras. It’s very tight, the road in places is literally carved into the sheer walls of the gorge. There is nowhere to stop, but I had the video camera running so when I figure out how to post vids or get a You Tube account I’ll put the footage on line. I’m sure if you Google it there will be loads of pictures, anyway it’s pretty awesome.

My beloved D902, the road that links many of the high Cols takes a sharp right just before the pretty village of Chateau Queyras and then the climb really starts. The road passes through a number of small hamlets; one thing I have noticed quite a bit this year, is the number of homemade signs asking motorcyclists to slow down and obey the speed limits. This is bad, for a number of reasons and clearly some bikers must be peeing off the locals with their antics, it ain’t hard to slow down for a few minutes whilst you pass through someone’s world, is it? The French, being fond of direct action and protest, will not put up with being taken for granted or abused. The roads will probably be blocked, probably with cattle or tractors, then we will all get kicked of the mountains, it’s in our own hands! Daily rant now over, thank you for your patience!

Anyway lets look at some pictures…

20130626-200334.jpgSummit cairn, Col D’Izoard, 2361m (7746ft)

20130626-200715.jpgLooking South, we just came up there!

20130626-201053.jpg North.

20130626-201347.jpg The road ahead.

20130626-201651.jpgI’ve seen that bike somewhere before!

Right ho, that was D’Iz, I love the place. Nice brisk ride down to Briancon next, I’ve got some tales to tell about up and down D’Iz, in another post though.

By the way, I think Briancon is an embarrassment to the French Alps. I sure someone who has been there skiing will tell me it’s great, maybe that’s what it needs, a big dump of snow to cover most of it up…to me it’s a dump!

So after getting away from Briancon, we enjoyed the fast climb to Col du Lautaret. It sits on the D1091 which is the main road to Grenoble, but big trucks are banned, excellent, lets play! There are a couple of ski villages en-route, but apart from that its 27km of virtually clear sweeping road…in other words, Harleyland! I think the old girl loved it. At Lautaret, you turn right and are straight into the famous Galibier, spiritual High Alps home of Le Tour de France.

I am deeply and passionately in love with Galibier. I find the place has a spirituality that is hard to define. Like I have said before, I’m not big on religion, but there is something about Galibier that has moved me to tears each time I visit. I have always had a love the high places and over the years spent many days on the mountains. A long time ago I came to understand that some of them want you there and others don’t, it’s nothing personal, it’s just how it is and it can be different to each person. To me Galibier is one of the former and very, very special.

20130626-204024.jpg That’s 8678ft!

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20130626-204321.jpgGotta say that the road can be pretty scary in places, no guard fence, rail or stones…just a drop!

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As you near the summit there is a tunnel that cuts under the Col itself, if you are not going on to Valloire as we weren’t, the trick is to go over the Col and back through the tunnel, which we did.

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At the Refuge du Galibier is a Café and gift shop, it sell some of the most amazing tat that you could imagine, and quite a bit that you couldn’t. It also does the most superb omelettes, so I had to stop, would have been rude not to really!

20130626-210405.jpgTold you!

Buoyed up by that splendid treat, or was it the start of altitude sickness, the Café is at 2556m (8307ft) and that is above the height that it can start and I had been there some time, but I decided to go back through the tunnel; yes I know Dookes+tunnel= ? Well this time it was nearly a big off! Just as I got through the tunnel on the north side I went through a patch of water…wrong, water over ice! I haven’t had the courage to look at the video yet, but it was a biggie! Fortunately, or bloody luckily, I managed to grab the old girl and steer out of it…all that training does work you know! I don’t really know what I did, but I do remember thinking not to put on loads of brake, sit deep and steer like crazy. Something helped us though, maybe it was the spirit that is Galibier, I don’t know, but I will go back, I have to!

Anyway, after that excitement we went back up from the north side and from the summit set off here to Gap.

Mileage today: 151. Trip total: 1476.

Tomorrow, the Rhône valley and the Massif Central; with a little job to do in Valence for my friend Sandra…it’s her home town!

It’s a long way to the top, if you wanna rock on roll…

Dookes

Goldfinger: Day 2

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Good evening everyone from a delightfully warm and dry Macon. Harley and I have just enjoyed a super day romping westwards across France.
The first 120 miles were largely on Autoroutes, not ideal, but hey it munches miles fairly quickly and Harley is just the job when it comes to cruising.
I’ve got to say, that regardless of my comments about Parisien drivers earlier, one of the many things I like about France is the standard of driving that one generally encounters; it’s pretty good! I really feel that it generally knocks spots off the appalling standards one frequently sees back home. For example, lane discipline on dual carriageways and motorways; in the UK lane hogging has now got so bad that a new law has just been passed to try to deal with the problem of the “Middle Lane Owners Club” and the “I’m driving in Lane 2 Because I’m far Too Important/Fast/Lazy to Pull Over Into Lane 1 Club”. Here in France the only time you see a vehicle in lanes 2 or 3 is when they are actually overtaking; oh sorry I forgot, or when an ignorant Brit in an Audi is cruising ingoring everyone else and is too pig stupid to move over, like I saw earlier! Rant over!

So, back to the trip. Chinon to Bourges, autoroute. Then D976 to Nevers. The road passes by Avord Airbase, but some very grumpy looking armed guards persuaded me not to take any photos, but in the nearby village I found this old Mirage IIIB on display.

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At La Grenouille the Canal Lateral-Loire crosses the River Allier.

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Harley and I then popped into Magny Cours Circuit for a nose around. There was a track day in progress for sport bike types but otherwise it all looked like a prisoner of war camp and felt about as welcoming. James Hunt was right, it is just about as far from anywhere that you can get in France!
We took the D978 and enjoyed a super ride through hills and pine forests of the Morvan National Park. The hairpins entering Chateau-Chinon were delightful, shame about the rest of the town though!
Autun is a fascinating place, quite busy with modern, ugly, French apartment blocks rubbing up alongside Roman ruins. There is also a delightful medieval quarter and an impressive cathedral as well. As an example, here is the Roman Amphitheatre, into which the cunning French have put a football pitch! Brilliant, I love it! Perhaps the Romans invented football as well?

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The view over the town.

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Just outside Autun is a real oddity, the remains of what is thought to be a 1st Century Pyramid. What purpose it actually served seems to be subject to some debate, there have been burials found nearby but nothing in the edifice itself. Unfortunately there’s not that much left, as most of the stone has been nicked by the resourceful locals who have used it as a help yourself quarry over the centuries. Still looks pretty awesome to me though!

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Next up was Le Creusot and something I have wanted to see for a long time. Many of you know that a bit of industrial archeology is always guaranteed to get me going, especially when powered by steam. So get a load of this baby!

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It’s a 100tonne steam hammer, last used about 1930 and now mounted on a traffic island on the entry to the town. By 100t, that’s not what it weighs…that’s the force that it could pound metal with! It has a five meter drop on the hammer part as well; it is said that a skilled operator could shell nuts with it, such was the control that was available. I love it! This whole area was once alive with iron works and coal mines, now nothing except a few museum pieces…Funny thing is, I once studied this area as part of my Geography A level; bit of a bugger that I didn’t come here when I was doing it, cos it makes it real and I would have been able to relate much better. Kids should go see the places that they are studying, not just watch videos or read books.
Anyway, we slipped nicely into Bourgogne, Burgundy to the Brits. Wow, it’s lovely! That’s all, lovely and mellow and lush and nice! This is Chateau Birze Le Chatel.

20130622-223836.jpg Harley liked it too!

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Tonight’s billet is Chambres D’Hôtes Clos de Flace, just outside Macon.
Very nice, very traditional French and with lovely owners. Then blow me, along rolls a couple from Ebbw Vale…I ask you, South Wales! Need my mate Greg here, sorry, “year”, to translate valley speak tidy like! Je peux faire face à la langue Francais!

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That’s it for today, you up for it tomorrow? Good, breakfast at eight then.

The roar of the engine I love that sound.
Dookes