Alps Tour

Two fuel stops later and I am already approaching Switzerland, side stepping Zurich. My previous European touring experience has tought me already that entering the big cities just to have a snapshot of you and your bike in the main square can take hours, so I skip that one.

The Austrians managed to spoil this portion of my journey somewhat. They oblige you to pay for a full two months of highway toll even though I am using just a 30 mile shortcut through Austria just once on my way west. A nice way to balance the national debt, I suppose. Huge traffic jams in Basel stop my forward momentum. There is no tangential road bypassing the city and it is rush hour. A deliberate use of trade tricks learnt while working as a bike messenger in heavy traffic see me off the entanglement with minimal harm to my time schedule. A few dozen miles more, and I am in good old France.

Although there is still a long way to the track, the stream of sport bikes heavily loaded with camping gear is noticeable. I join one of the groups, thus saving myself the constant use of the map. Some pleasant surprises lurk along the way. First is that the bikers riding over to the Bol d'or race don't have to pay the road tolls. Cool! Typical biker friendly French policy. The second surprise is the hospitality areas that the French motorcycling association has put along the way. Bikers who pull in get a free visor cleaning, cold and hot drinks, biscuits and even recommendations as where to find cheap hotels.

I decide to spend the next day away from highways as it's time to start enjoying the ride. With a 1:200,000 scale map, I find some nice 'n twisty roads that'll take me to the track. A hilly nature reserve named Du-Morvan, stands between Besancon an the Magny Cours track and I have a great time scraping Effie's footpegs in the superb and empty mountain roads. The surrounding vistas just add to the whole experience. Out of the mountain range, I join the amazing stream of bikes headed to the track and spend the whole day there watching the unbelivably close racing that goes on for 24 hours. Only 50 seconds separated the first two places after some 2000 miles of racing!

At the end of the day I finally start heading to the south, towards Italy and the Alps. I follow the fast sweepers of a road that mimic the flowing curves of the Loire River. Wide open corners, plenty of adrenalin-charged riders and amazingly good asphalt. Need I say more? After a while I hook up to the highway again, just to quicken my arrival to the proper mountain roads.

I am headed now to Annecy, close to the meeting points of France, Switzerland and Italy. By sunset I am almost there, the Alps making their presence felt by casting long shadows on the roads that I am leaving behind. Just a few miles into a mountain road, I find a nice little town called Frangy and pull into an hotel that has quite a lot of bikes parked outside. It's off season, so again there'll be no sweat finding a room. The hotel owner gives me the keys to the garage without even asking. "You'll have a dry seat tomorrow." No better anecdote than this to exemplify the amazing attitude of the French towards motorcyclists. On the road people move over so you can pass safely and, generally speaking, they just adore us. Amazing but true.

Standing on the pegs of Effie, I reach the end of the trail and make the last few hundred yards to the mountain's top by foot. The view of Annecy and the lake from the summit was really worth the sweat.

The challenges are not just off the main road. The deeper I drive into the Alps, the more the roads begin to look like spaghetti twisted on a fork. The nature of the roads draws in sporting riders from all of the surrounding areas. In the little picturesque town of Bourg St. Maurice, I pull into a cafe that has a huge Joe Bar (a hugely popular comic caricature in the back pages of European biking magazines) comics sign to attract riders. A couple of sport riders on R1 Yamahas invite me over to sip coffee. They're Swiss, know the area well and confesse that, in August, this area just gets too crowded with bikes.

I roll off to a more sedate pace and proceed to enjoy the beauty of this road, the one that actually triggered this whole trip. If you have the chance, you must try the N90 road once in your life.

Strangely enough, as beautiful as the road is, it's not the real highlight of the trip. It takes me to a border crossing point between France and Italy, a desolate and high pass called Col du Petit St. Bernard. There, after a coffee break, I realize that an amazing trail climbs up to the huge mountain top above me. I decide to go off road again and hit the steep trail that takes me up to no less than 8,500 feet. The 360-degree vista from the top of Mont Belvedere is breath taking. You could easily be misled to think that you have just landed somewhere on the moon. After taking mental notes of this unexpected highlight, I say goodbye to this living landscape painting in blue and grey, and head down, to the highway.

It is already dark, I've ridden loads today and I still have some 150 miles to my hotel room in Varese, Italy. By the end of the day I collapse in the hotel bed, my head spinning from visual and riding stimuli.

During the next week, I proceed to check out - in greater detail - the Italian Northern Lakes District. But what I came for initially was the Alps and, eventually I would happily head east from Milan towards Verona. My plan is to cross back to Germany by way of Passo de Stelvio, a high mountain pass deep in the Valle di Sole next to Austria. In the winter time, it is a prime skiing zone. But now, at the end of the summer, it might be the last chance to cross this 9,000 foot pass. Just before Verona I turn left and take the toll road that leads to Trento. My only problem is that it's been pouring for the last four hours and my good rain equipment is having a break down. A lardy German rider thinks that trying the Passo de Stelvio is "not good idea," nevertheless, I decide to risk it, leave the safety of the highway behind and head up into the mountains.

At Passo de Tonale, at 6,000 feet, I make the unavoidable U-turn and head back to the highway to Germany. The high passes of south Tyrol will have to wait for another time. But then it's not such a bad thing to end my trip in a more relaxed fashion. I have carved enough turns, seen enough, ate enough. I switch into cruise mood till Munich and eventually head straight to the BMW factory where I consign the keys. The sleepy porter sure has no idea from what sort of trip I have just pulled in. Never mind, though. I do, and all the wonderful memories are safe inside my head and a few rolls of film.

Note: We've all heard about those organized tours that will take you to all the right places on rental bikes. And yes, they will at times really save you a lot hassle. But if you're more the type that just hates following directions or you just plain want to go at it alone at your own pace, Central Europe is an extremely easy place to tour on your own. Quite a few businesses out there are willing to rent you bikes and if you can time your trip after the high season, you shouldn't have problems finding hotels along the way. For those to whom motorcycling equals total freedom, this is the way to go. Try it. Useful phones and links follow: