Our first journey on our motorbikes. Beforehand we read some articles (especially the German Tourenfahrer of august and September 1996) and looked over and over on our road maps. En route we had to limit our plans. The planned part along the Belgian/French river Semois we skipped. This had to be done in some log weekend.
This report starts in Utrecht, the Netherlands. In the middle of our country and blessed with nearby motorways. The Funduros are not designed for this kind of roads (and luckily I even hate motorways) but the asphalt quickly takes us to the Kempen in the south of our country and the north of Belgium. From Eindhoven we take the N69 direction Namur at the river Meuse. We follow the east bank of the river towards Dinant. The east side guides you through small villages with lots to see. At Yvoir we cross the Meuse and we disappear in the 'deep forest'. At the camping ground in Maredret we take a glass of the beer brewed at the nearby abbey.
The next day early rise. Karin takes the first bend local people take with screaming tyres with too much enthusiasm and throws her bike in the adjacent ditch. This results in a large blue spot, much swearing and a slightly damaged Funduro. Luckily no serious injuries or damage. We return to Maastricht to get advice from the local BMW mechanic. The motorbike is quite all right. Some little parts for repair come from a F650 in the showroom. We put up our tent some time later.
Because we have an appointment in the south of France within a few days we take the motorway to Florenville in the southern part of the Ardennes. The more or less planned route on the borders of the Semois we save for later. Next day we meet two German bikers in Troyes. They came from Wuppertal and rode alongside the river Loire. She rides a Africa Twin and her boyfriend a Kawa Tengaï with 34 hp. Seeing the stuff other people take with them you realise how much you carry around yourself... Fifth stage: from Auxerre to Nevers, where we stay an extra day to visit the city. I never heard of Nevers before but it is a beautiful place. At night the rats steal part of our food supply. The rest of our lives food stays inside the tent.
The following days we ride through the Cantal and visit Vichy, Clermont-Ferrand and Aurillac. The Cantal used to be a region with many volcanoes and everywhere you look you'll see exploded craters and basalt organs. Nature has altered over the days. The long and straight roads and undulating scenery are gone. Hairpins and tunnels come instead. The A75 leaving Clermont-Ferrand is a superb racing circuit. At night the Superbike seems to be nearby. At 90 kmh with my pack bends are somewhat difficult if you are unfamiliar with them. At the square in Murat and elderly Frenchman starts a conversation about our Funduros. This newest BMW is a real eye catcher, he read about it. He rides a 'flat twin' himself, of course a 'BM'. The French always forget the double-vee. At our arrival in Rodez we look for a nice place to eat but on Sundays everything seems to be closed. We walk trough the small alleys and around the cathedral built with red bricks. This huge building was erected during the 13th, 15th and 16th century, noticeable at the lumpish and elegant parts of it.
The Australian next to us at the camping ground rides a K100. He examined our F650s thoroughly... Chain? 'They don't have these in Oz mate!' They have to ride Japanese dirt bikes.
The curved road from Rodez to Saint Pons is great fun. The road is enlarged to three lanes but the extra traffic hasn't arrived yet. Time to do something on my technics of driving curves and leave Karin behind to take an action-photo of her. Just after St. Pons the scenery dramatically changes. We see the first cypresses. Garrigue, stone-oaks and vineyards are the main course. The sun is shining bright.
<--- Enduro-trip on the Montmajou
The ninth stage of our trip is a short 'Enduro-walk' from a base camp. Riding without any pack is a real wealth. The trip brings us to small roads that go from nothing to nowhere, along the unpaved Rue Imperiale with rocks as big as footballs, along vineyards and trough villages where preparations are made for the harvest. The first white grapes are on their way to the cooperation. That evening we meet another Frenchman who had a flat-twin.
The next day we leave and by accident we follow the track of the Cathars to Perpignan. The world seems deserted here. On distant mountaintops the remains of castles can be seen. In Perpignan we buy a new rear tyre for Karins F650. After 5.000 km the original Pirelli MT60 has passed away. Michelin tyres are close to where they are made not really cheaper than at home. The change of the tyre takes place in a garage that won the first prize for BMW maintenance in France. Before handing the bike to us the chef de garage checks if everything is all right and rides around on the premises. He hardly can mount the F650, that seems a huge bike for a man of one and a half meter tall...
We follow the cost of the Mediterranean and with a stop in Collioure we reach Spain. We ride the N260 through Figueras and Ripoll. The view from the mountains is tremendous and we stop to watch and eat blackberries. Via Vic we return to the coast to find a camping ground. After a visit to the local supermercado we sit on the beach. Leather pants, motor cross boots and a bottle of beer on the Playa. In the distance we see Barcelona and the Segrada Familia is higher than most buildings. Next day we reach the city for only a few pesetas by train. The Barri Gothic is a real maze of little alleys, narrow enough to keep the burning sun out. Sometimes it looks like a souk you see on a picture. Spain is totally different from France. Palms and succulent plats are everywhere. Outside the Barri Gothic Barcelona looks like a checkerboard of apartment buildings. At the end of the day we had enough of cities, lets go back to nature and the countryside!
Sunday morning 15 September 1996 we leave Barcelona. When taking the exit of the motorway in direction Montserrat the real adventure starts: we reach the Spanish interior. Montserrat seems to be some touristic attraction. Passing the queue we ride into the mountains. The quietness returns and the curvy road passes hills and mountains. The Monasterio de Poblet is a real oasis in this dry country. We meet an Englishman on a R1100GS. He has two weeks to go from Britain to Grenada and back. Of course you can use this bike for that kind of trips...
Olives and stones between Llardecans and Belchite --->
After a night in Prades we ride along the river Ebro. We ride the first dirt roads. First carefully but soon a lot faster we ride the stony roads. Every break we check the radiators for damage. Some protection is needed here for sure. After some bends the road become very straight. The A 1307 is like you see in the Wild West. We pass Belchite and the remains of Pueblo close to it. This village was shelled by the Legion Kondor in the Spanish civil war and the ruins are some macabre kind of monument. Houses, churches, everything is still there. The sun goes down as we ride through Cariñena and trade the plains for mountains. Near one of many decayed farmhouses we put up our tent behind the stone-oaks. We have to get used to the noise of real nature. Unfortunately the sky is clouded and we can not enjoy the stars. The stars seem to be very bright in this part of Europe because the light of distant cities and air pollution are absent.
At breakfast a farmer passes at 50 meters but he didn't take notice. We leave for Calatayud to buy some food. This city is very alive. Our track slowly moves in the direction of Pamplona. The weather changes and it starts to rain. The nearby hills seem to be copied from Wales and the Scottish Highlands. Traffic adapts to difficult driving and the maximum speed does not exceed 60 kmh. This highland-weather stays with us until France. High in the mountains someone waits in his car for the fog to pass, maybe he is still there... The certainly beautiful Pyrenees and Bask Country has to wait until next time. The outlooks will still be there.
In Bayonne my bike is pushed diagonally half a meter because of the slippery bitumen. Such things keep you alert. We need to adapt to French traffic. Spanish traffic is more pleasant to ride. In the city of Bayonne we get our temperature back in a pleasant cafe. The pastry from a bakers a few meters away gives a finishing touch. Our trip continues trough endless plains with fir trees and holiday-villages with awful mini-roundabouts. The villages at the coast are deserted, people have gone back to work. The campsite is just as deserted. When we want to swim in the Atlantic Ocean beach guards climb their high chairs. Helicopters and Pamela Anderson are absent but the Atlantic waves are spectacular. After ten minutes in the salty water we go back to our tent.
At the end of our trip we visited Futuroscope near Poitiers. On the premises different architectonic wonderful buildings contain cinemas. The 3D cinemas (with these red-green glasses) are wonderful and it appears like you can touch the fish on the screen. The camping grounds nearby are awful and very expensive.
The final two days of our journey we took the motorway back home. The first kilometres we rode national routes but that took too long. At the ticket- dispenser at the French péage our motorcycles were not heavy enough for automatic dispension so we got out tickets reached out by an employee. Paying with credit card (Visa) and riding away swiftly also needs some exercise. At Compiègne we left the motorway to look for a camping ground. In Sommières-du-Clain we discovered a deserted place along the river, with picnic tables to use, squirrels and no other beings. In the morning someone came to collect the fee: 24 French Francs, a lot better than the FF 75 at Fururoscope... The next day we choose the motorway after a few hours route nationale reaching the last test: Paris. Coming from the south the direction Lille is pointed out, otherwise it would be easy to get lost. The next day busy traffic is less busy than expected. The motorway round Antwerp was worse. At this place cars and trucks seemed to come out of the sky.
Back in the Netherlands... Should this be our home? The carefully mowed lawns, everything tidy and silly carpets on the tables in a cafe. The 'Fremdweh' returns... With fites in our stomach we ride the last kilometres and park the Funduros in front of our house. We travelled 4560 kilometres. Plans for next year? Spain. Forever!