The other day I reported that I’d grounded Harl’s rear brake lever when whooping it up climbing Col de la Pierre St Martin.
I must regretfully no apologise for telling a small lie….
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The bottom of the rear brake lever. That isn’t how Harley Davidson made it!
Ooops!
Catch you soon.
Dookes
I’ve come to the conclusion that I really like the Pyrenees and I’m beginning to question why I haven’t been back here more often.
OK, this is the fourth time that I have been here, but it’s really the first visit that I’ve managed to get under the skin of these mountains and feel their life vibe.
Undoubtedly riding on near deserted roads has certainly swayed my view on things and good weather so far has certainly helped. A couple of nice blasts blew away some cobwebs, but all in all, these mountains have a much more relaxed way of life and I’m loving it!
I adore the Alps and as mountains go, in Europe anyway, they really don’t get much grander, but there’s a problem with the Alps, the place is getting full. When I first discovered their delights over 45 years ago, there were a whole lot less visitors about. Then, when I got to start motorcycling around them, again, there were not too many others about.
Fast-forward to 2019 and things are a sight more busy there now!
Yesterday I rode just over 160 miles of stress free lovely mountain roads. They varied from tight single-track twisty stuff to wide-open main routes and they all had one thing in common…hardly any traffic!
The scenery is right up there with the best and the people are lovely.
Then we hit some of the classic Tour de France Cols, plus a few others.
I’ve had a yearning to ride Col du Somport 1650m/5413ft, on the France/Spain border for some time and to, horror of horrors, ride back through the Somport Tunnel as well! Tick those two off and I’m pleased to report that, despite my usual hatred of the things, that the tunnel wasn’t too bad at all!
The blast back down the N134 was fun, except for a bunch of road works, which didn’t really spoil anything.
Next we tackled the Col de Marie Blanque 1036m/3399ft. At that height it doesn’t seem much on paper, but wow, it’s a cracker!
Starting from Escot I was watching the marker boards that the cycle-mad French put on all the main climbs. The average gradient for this Col is around 8%, but for the early kilometres the boards kept saying only 2 or 3%. As the km’s ticked by, still no change, then at 3km from the summit all of it came at once, 8%, 10% and for the final km 11%! What’s more, there are no hairpins to ease the grade, it’s basically a straight road to the stars, goodness knows how hard it is on a bicycle!
We dropped into the small town of Laruns and drew our breath for the first big one of this trip, Col d’Aubisque 1709m/5606ft. This is one of the legendary Tour de France climbs and seems to have featured every year that I can remember.
From Larums it’s pretty cool and a scattering of nice hairpins got us in the groove. Eaux-Bonnes comes after a few kilometres, once a vibrant thermal spa town, but now showing signs that the good days have long gone; it made for a strange interlude on the climb. If I thought that the last Col was steep a 13% gradient soon concentrated the old mind! Over 16km later and through countless hairpins we arrived at the summit, it was tough all the way, but stunningly wonderful and deeply satisfying.
There’s a funny homage to Le Tour at the summit, three massive bicycles, painted Green, Yellow and Polka Dot; that’s the jerseys of the Sprint Champion, General Classification Winner and of course King of The Mountains!
This Col truly is the stuff of Tour de France legend and I was humbled to have ridden it’s hallowed route, but there was no time for self congratulation, we still had more work to do.
From Aubisque the road descends slightly and then turns sharply to the left. If I thought that there were no further surprises, I was wrong, very wrong.
Over the next ten kilometres the road sort-of hangs in space. It’s not really been cut into the cliff; it’s more floating on the outside edge of the mountain. Oh and there’s not really much in the way of barrier either, plus it’s largely single track, so I was glad to have been on the inside!
That line along the mountain face is the road!
Our final challenge was the daddy of them all in Pyrenees terms, Col du Tourmalet 2115m/6938ft, the highest paved French pass in the mountain range.
I know I can get a bit carried away with superlatives when it come to my Col adventures, but seriously, Tourmalet is beyond a legend to anyone who has half an interest in Le Tour de France. I’ve dreamed about riding it for years and years.
The pass has been included in the race more times than any other pass in France, after the 2018 edition it had featured 86 times and this year will also see a stage finish at it’s summit. I
The road winding towards Tourmalet.
“Vous êtes des assassins! Oui, des assassins!’
“You are murderers! Yes, murderers!”
Octave Lapize on the summit of Tourmalet
Just Below the Summit of Tourmalet, the The Star of My Show!
Talking of cyclists, there was a cycling club from Holland making their annual pilgrimage to Tourmalet. It seemed to me that the plan was to ride to the summit and then drink as much beer as possible. To say that the top was a bit noisy and rowdy would be unfair, they’d peddled up there and in my book deserved all the beer that they could handle!
“Proost!”
Catch you soon.
Dookes
Stick with me, you’’ll see what I mean in a few minutes….
I woke early again.
It’s not hard to do when the sun is streaming through you window at four thirty in the morning and one of the farmer’s goats is rubbing it’s alpine bell on a gate post almost underneath the same window!
I quick glance at the clock showed that it was far to early to think about getting out of bed. I couldn’t resist a glance out of the window though.
In a way I wished that I hadn’t, really I wished that I had not done that, because with what I could see outside there was absolutely no way that I could go back to sleep!
Spread out before me was one of my favourite mountain phenomena, cloud inversion.
Normally as you gain altitude the air temperature drops, but during an inversion warm air finds itself held above cooler air so meteorologists say that the temperature profile is “inverted.”
What then happens when warm air lies in a layer over cold damp air is that it traps water vapour in the form of cloud, mist or fog.
The result if you are in the valley is miserable foggy conditions, but if you are lucky enough to be above the division line between the two air masses….well, it’s just magical!
Anyway, enough of the chatter, look at the photos to see what I mean.
I did get out of bed, grab the camera and the results are before you now!
Catch you soon.
Dookes
I think I may just have found a little bit of heaven, but I’m not going to tell you about it because then everyone will want to go there….
Or as the Eagles wrote; “Call some place paradise, kiss it goodbye!”
Regular Blogonaughts will remember our adventure on La Route Des Grande Alpes last year, when we rode North to South from Lake Geneva to the Mediterranean Sea, via all the high French Alpine Cols.
This year we have changed geographical area and are in the Pyrenees, the chain of mountains that separates France from Spain. And this time we are heading West To East on what is locally called “La Route des Cols.”
My French chums claim that this is a tourist route that traverses 34 remarkable mountain Cols, or Passes if you’d rather.
Now, I my mind it’s pushing it a bit to claim that all 34 fall into the “remarkable” category. Indeed as you get past Andorra it’s a little hard to actually identify too many passes anyway, the land just falls away towards the Mediterranean, but top marks for trying.
The Route is a recent innovation to boost economic tourism and is to be applauded for that. It’s origins lie with a much smaller route that was first developed in the mid 1850’s la Route Thermale des Pyrénées which linked together four Spa resorts for which the region is still famous.
My plan is to ride from the Atlantic coast to either Andorra or Ax Les Thermes following the route as much as possible. If you want to follow us on a map, then look for the D918 road, which is largely the route, but it does vary in places.
Anyway back to the riding…
We left Saré this morning and headed straight back into Spain, crossing the Puerto de Otxondo 602m before hanging a left and attacking Col d’Iséguy 672m.
From Ispéguy, the call of the far away hills.
Then, as the day went on and got hotter, a lot hotter actually, the riding just got better and better!
I’d ridden bits of the Pyrenees before, but this was way better than either I remembered or had expected.
The view from the office.
Then there was the road surface, generally very good indeed with no nasty surprise.
Finally was the road geometry and that can only be described as heavenly, really heavenly! Or it could be that I’ve just got better at riding hairpins?
Really, do I have to explain why?
I knew I was really going for it when I grounded Harls rear brake lever going round one particularly enjoyable right-hander…I haven’t done that for years! This evening I’ve still got a big stupid grin on my face after that!
Somewhere down there I rubbed a bit of Harley metal on the road!
Wiggly and lovely!
In addition to those already mentioned, today we crossed the following Cols:
Col d’Haltza 782m
Col de Burdincurutcheta 1135m
Col Heguichouri 1284m
Col Bagargui 1327m
Col d’Erroymendi 1362m
Port de Larrau 1573m
Portillo de Eraice 1578m
Col de la Pierre St Martin 1760m
Col de Soudet 1540m
Col de Layae 1351m
As always, the star of the show!
Catch you soon.
Dookes
The Early Bird catches the worm; so goes an old saying.
In the middle of the Bay of Biscay it’s a little hard to catch a worm, but as reward for early rising and also not drawing the cabin curtains, I was able to see something very special.
I was disturbed from a very nice sleep by the light of a full moon shining brightly into my cabin window. It was 04:30 local. Lying in bed pondering whether to turn over and sleep on, it suddenly struck me that I really should get up and watch the moon set into the Atlantic Ocean and if I was very lucky I might also see the sun rise up as well!
Yeah, I know, crazy, but hey…I got the worm and saw the beauty of our solar system working right before my eyes.
On the Starboard side of the ship, that’s the right to land-based folk, I watched the moon sink slowly beneath the waves and at the same time, sure enough, the sun rose out of the Eastern horizon!
It was beauty beyond words, a little less cloud in the East would have been even better, but I’m really not complaining at all.
As far as I could tell, I was the only person on deck to enjoy this cosmic show and that’s pretty mind blowing when you think how far that light had travelled to be seen by only me! (93,000,000 miles from the sun and 250,000 miles from the moon, to be exact!)
As the book says,
“Don’t Panic!”
Catch you soon,
Dookes
So said Admiral Beatty at the Battle of Jutland in 1916 as the Royal Navy and the German High Seas Fleet clashed in a bloody, yet indecisive battle in the North Sea near the coast of Denmark.
Well…. fast forward to today and again there is something wrong with a ship, my ship!
It’s nothing unexpected, the MV Pont Aven has been beset with problems in 2019. Earlier in the year she suffered a fire in one of the engine rooms and then just as she got back into service a steering gear problem caused an extended visit to dry dock for repairs. She came back into service only last Friday.
As a result of the engineering issues, Brittany Ferries have been forced to modify the timetables for Pont Aven as she’s running at reduced speed.
This is undoubtedly an issue for some folk, but for me, with little reason to rush it’s OK. Our trip across the Bay of Biscay may be taking a few hours longer, but the sea is relatively calm the sky is blue and all is well in the world.
My engineering mind does however ponder exactly what is going on with the ship? Our wake is decidedly “lop-sided” and it seems to me that one propeller is doing the work whilst the other is seemingly along for the ride!
If you look at the photo, you can see where the cavitation (that’s the white frothy water) is stronger on one side than the other; that means that the propeller on that side is working harder. 
Pont Aven is fitted with twin variable-pitch propellers and I would normally expect two prop wakes.
Just a little thing, but I find it interesting!
Catch you soon.
Dookes
Travelling is great, if you love it as I do.
There’s a big BUT that goes with it though and it’s called “The Pain of Leaving.”
I am really lucky, no honestly I mean Really Lucky, because Mrs Dookes gives me the support and freedom to go off and chase my dreams and visions and has done for years now.
Inherently, what I do is selfish.
It’s possibly a little risky too, I’m not saying dangerous, but it is totally self-indulgent riding a motorbike around Europe alone. Many wives or partners simply wouldn’t accept or allow it, but that’s where I’m lucky; Mrs Dookes does.
I couldn’t say that she encourages me to clear off, but she certainly doesn’t stop me either!
In a way, I guess that’s where our relationship is strong, we both respect each others space and also trust each other implicitly. In addition, Mrs Dookes also has the view that without a good bit of “Me-Time” preferably on two wheels, I become, in her words “A monumental pain in the backside!”
Of course the flip side is that whilst I’m having my fill of “M-T” she has her “M-T” too!
To me the journey is the main thing; something to savour, enjoy and at times test me.
To Mrs Dookes, a journey is something to be endured in order to get to where you want to be.
You see the subtle difference?
As I get older, one thing I have noticed is how much more difficult the actual departure gets.
Yesterday, we had a lovely lunch together and I watched the end of the 24hours of Le Mans race until 14:00hrs.
Then I had an hour and a half to kill. Mrs D snoozed after lunch whilst I tried to find something to do.
Check the luggage. Check the ticket. Check the Passport. Check Harls.
Then it started to rain, not much, but just enough to annoy.
Mrs D and I became uncomfortable around each other; there was a tension.
Best go.
I put on my riding gear, made a fuss of the dogs. Hugged Mrs D and told her how much I loved her, we kissed and then I started up Harls.
The first ten miles were the hardest and not just because of the persistent drizzle.
It hurts, leaving……
Then Harls and I clicked; the team was back together.
….and then later, in totally self indulgent mode on board the ship taking me to Spain, I sat reflecting.
I have a De-lux Class cabin, I have just dined on a superb meal and am enjoying an expensive glass of Beaune de Château 2013 Premier Cru Burgundy, I’m setting off on a new adventure.
Yet still the pain of leaving hurts.
The Moon over The Bay of Biscay…travelling again.
Yes. I am a bloody lucky chap!
Catch you soon.
Dookes
I’m getting twitchy…less that 24 hours to go before Harls and I set off again on other adventure.
The same old weird feeling is beginning to grow; apprehension, excitement, impatience.
Harls is ready, bags are packed and I’m killing time.
Killing time watching Le 24 Heurs du Mans on television, possibly the greatest motor race on the planet…well it is in my view anyway!
Located in Central Northern France, the city of Le Mans is a splendid mixture of the old and new and is also a magnet for motorsport petrolheads the world over. The city hosts an annual 24 hour motor race over an 8.4 mile long circuit that encompasses public roads as well as a dedicated circuit section.
Le Mans Bentley Speed 8,
Winner Le Mans 2003
Wow!
Oh my, wonderful!
Indianapolis
Porsche straight
Yeah, I know, I’m a lucky old geezer!
Catch you soon.
Dookes
Tomorrow, Harls and I are off on our latest adventure…a little trundle around the Pyrenees, the chain of mountains that stretch from the Atlantic Ocean to The Mediterranean Sea and largely form the border between France and Spain.
The first leg of our trip will be by ship from Plymouth to the port of Santander on the North Coast of Spain.
It’s all very routine really.
You turn up at the departure port, complete formalities of tickets and passports, pass through security and then roll onto the ship, secure Harls, find cabin, book table in the restaurant for dinner and relax.
Easy.
It wasn’t always like that and today is a good day to remember just how far we have come and how much we take travel for granted.
Exactly 100 years ago today the very first non-stop transatlantic flight across the Atlantic Ocean took place. British aviators John Alcock and Arthur Brown flew a modified First World War Vickers Vimy bomber from St John’s, Newfoundland to Ireland. In doing so they won a prize of £10,000 (roughly equivalent to £1million today) that had been offered by the Daily Mail newspaper for the first to achieve the crossing in less than 72hours.
John Alcock (right) and Arthur Brown (Left).
It was to prove a difficult flight. The heavily loaded aircraft had difficulty taking off and only missed the tops of nearby trees by a few feet.
They recorded in the log that at 17:20hrs their wind-driven electrical generator had failed, depriving them of radio contact, their intercom and heating, which in an open cockpit must have been difficult to say the least!
An exhaust pipe burst shortly afterwards, causing a deafening noise which made conversation impossible and they had to communicate by writing notes to each other.
They encountered thick cloud and for hours flew on blind and without instruments.
Shortly after midnight Brown got a glimpse of the stars and could use his sextant, to check their position, which proved to be spot on course.
At 03:00hrs they flew into a large snowstorm. Ice formed on the wings and twice they nearly lost control and crashed into the sea. The carburettors also iced up. Some reports say that that Brown climbed out onto the wings to clear the engines, although there is no mention of that in their log.
They made landfall in County Galway on the West coast of Ireland and crash landed at 08:40hrs local time, just less that 16hours after taking off. It was unfortunate that the smooth grassy field that they chose to land in was actually a bog and their aircraft was badly damaged as it’s wheels dug into the soft ground, fortunately neither man was seriously injured.
Alcock and Brown were treated as heroes on the completion of their flight. In addition to the Daily Mail prize of £10,000, they also were awarded £2,100 from the Ardath Tobacco Company and £1,000 from Lawrence R. Phillips for being the first British Subjects to fly the Atlantic Ocean.
Both men were later knighted by King George V.
Sadly, Alcock was killed on 18th December 1919 when he crashed near Rouen whilst flying a new aircraft to the Paris Airshow. Brown died on 4th October 1948.
Eight years after Alcock and Brown’s pioneering flight, American aviator Charles Lindbergh made the first solo transatlantic flight. Upon landing in Paris after his own epic endeavour he told the crowd welcoming him, “Alcock and Brown showed me the way!”
Over the years I have flown many times across the Atlantic and as I cruise in air-conditioned comfort at altitudes around 30,00ft, I have often thought about those who flew before me.
The Vickers Vimy aircraft in the London Science Museum. Photo:Oxyman.
“This time tomorrow where will we be?
On a spaceship somewhere sailing across an empty sea.”
Catch you soon, on the road in the Pyrenees hopefully!
Dookes
It’s one of those lovely early summer mornings here at Dookes H.Q., the sun is shining, there’s a gentle breeze and all seems well in the world…until some crazy person messes it up.
Mrs Dookes is out, which means I can play a Jethro Tull album without snarky comments and grumbles; no, she really doesn’t appreciate Prog-Rock!
I’m also studying maps because trip planning time is here, actually that really came long ago, this is more like “Contingency Planning Time.”
This year’s adventure should see Harls and I heading off to the Pyrenees on the border between France and Spain in a couple of weeks, we have unfinished business in those mountains.
There is, however, a slight spanner in the works.
We are due to sail from Plymouth to Santander on Brittany Ferries lovely flagship and one of my favourite vessels, the MV Pont Aven. Unfortunately the lovely white lady is currently dry docked in the port of Brest with fairly major problems in her starboard steering gear.
The poor ship has been a bit unlucky this year, back in April she suffered a fire in one of her engine rooms which led to a spell in the shipyard for repairs. Then, only days after her return to service, this fault in her steering system appeared.
One of the problems with modern transportation companies like Brittany Ferries is they operate on very tight margins, meaning that the assets are “sweated.” In plain language, they don’t have spare ships standing around doing nothing and those that they do have are kept earning revenue with minimal downtime. One breakdown can and usually does cause chaos to schedules. It’s difficult for operators to accurately predict when things are going to be back to normal and putting pressure on the engineers to get the job fixed as soon as possible can be counterproductive; better to do it once properly than to need to return through rushing or corner cutting.
Years ago a late friend and I undertook engineering services for a cross-channel ferry company operating out of Portsmouth. One of the jobs that we did was a repair on a vessel’s steering gear which necessitated a visit to dry dock in Southampton. One day I’ll dig out and scan the photo’s of that and maybe do a retro post about it. The job was straightforward enough, but getting all the parts, labour, heavy-lift equipment and inspection agencies together in one place when the dock was available was a logistical nightmare! I share the pain that the BF engineering team are going through.
Brittany Ferries operate a number of routes across the English Channel between the UK and France, plus serving Spain and Ireland. The impact of this breakdown has reached far and wide.
I have read some affected passengers grumbling that the company has not offered them good customer service by way of alternatives or compensation. From a personal point of view I do not agree.
Yesterday, I called into the Brittany Ferries offices in Plymouth to discus options for Harls and I. Basically, in the event of the ship not being back in service by our departure date, I was offered the option of being booked onto an alternative ferry to France, with costs if I have to travel to a different departure port and then provided with onward travel costs to get me to Santander as well as a refund of the difference in fares; or I could have a complete refund if that meant that I was unable to travel.
This I thought was perfectly reasonable and I’m probably going to accept the former, after all it’s no hardship for me to have to ride Harls for an extra two days!!
I did offer my engineering services as well, I was told to pop home and get my spanners; at least the staff haven’t lost their sense of houmour!
In the meantime, I’m really hoping that the MV Pont Aven is repaired as I do love sailing on her and best of all she has a fabulous restaurant.
Catch you soon.
Dookes
Hogrider Dookes 