Day 3 and 4.
Looking out of the bedroom window it was a lovely late Summer’s morning again,
so started off with “their” standard lovely Continental buffet breakfast. Cold meat selection, eggs boiled and or scrambled, cheeses, fresh bread, fruit, fabulous coffee, Christ we coulda stopped there until lunchtime. But no. Time to get going, another good mileage day today . Ramo came down to the bike absolutely buoyant as he’d managed to become “regular” again and in doing so also lost half a stone.
Again, we set off about 10 and headed lower down onto the B500. Again, roads to die for and a nice fast blatt down to the end of the B500 where it joins the “28”. That’s as far south as we could go as we were riding north all day to Adenau and the Nurburgring. Turning round it was time to give the “whole” famous bit of the B500 a go and yes, what a fabulous fast road. However, at this time of day there was still a bit of traffic including a lorry or two and one campervan that spoiled the flow. Dropping down at the northern edge was fun and which I’m sure would be even better riding up it from the North.
So, that was the B500 eh. Good, but maybe we’d been spoiled on the way down as we both thought we’d ridden better roads than this. Down and back through the tunnel and across the Rhine, where with one or two missed junctions we ended up a bit further north than intended. A bit of guessing and wandering around trying to find “those good roads we came down on” and we finally got into France again and some lovely gentle but pacey roads.
With my Garmin back in action with the maps that I had actually loaded we had a decent idea of our route although in my excitement I hadn’t actually planned a route back. Thought it’d be just a case of heading north by north west sorta thing. By now we were getting desperate for fuel ( well I was anyrode cos my consumption was a fair bit more than Ramo’s ). A few spurious SatNav petrol stations later and I’m running on fumes until we found Bad Bergzabern, a beautiful town with quite a few cafes. Time to fill up, coffee, cake, chew the cud and watch the world go by . By now it was about 12.30 to 1.00..
After overdosing on what was probably the best cake and coffee of the trip, we set off and within a few short miles managed to miss the 48 road north. Dunno how, but we just kept heading north looking for a road up and over the mountains on our left. Tried a few roads but always ended up at a dead end a la “aj routing”. Starting to get a bit pissed off we finally got to a town where the sat nav showed a decent road west over the hills. But first we had to negotiate this town, the first we’d actually ridden through. Whilst filtering through a contraflow/traffic lights, some biker pulled alongside us. Kevlar jeans, biking trainers, leather jacket, open face, wrap around shades..a cool dude ha! Oh and what’s the bike? Ahh, a BMW S1000r. Ha! Fekkin boy racer in mid 50’s no doubt
“’Alo”
“orright moosh”
“’Avink a nice time guys?”
“Err, yea , well, we were but we’ve been a bit lost, but we know where we’re going now ta”
“Ver is zat zen?”
“Wll, Nurburgring but before that, over to Kaiseslautern and err, well just fekkin riding really”
“Das ist gut” ( my German language Course was really paying dividends here) “ I vil show you a good vay, follow me”
Hmmm, should we or shouldn’t we...fook it, off we followed. We had a few doubts and nearly bailed out when he took us down some tiny backstreets, back and forth, but over the Senas we decided to carry on a bit. Found out later that he’d taken us that way because the main roads were all up due to a major gas leak. ( shoulda seen Ramos eyes light up)
Before we knew it we were through the town of Neustadt, the birthplace of German democracy according to this chap, and onto good road. This road got better and better, the L499. By fook could this bloke ride, and the BM , well it could have been on fekkin rails. This was another mental ride, with just the rare fast overtake as basically it was empty. On and on this road , seemed never ending until we popped out onto the top at the Hotel Johanniskreuz agin on the 48! Wayheyyyy, we’re back on track. We all pulled in to the car park where we introduced ourselves. The blokes name was Christian and he was just out for a “bimble”.
We laughed at the ride we’d just had and thanked him for showing it to us. A few more minutes talking bollox and then we said goodbye.
“Just a minute, vich vay are you goink now zen?”
“Err well we were fancying skirting north around Kaiserslautern to a place called Hochspeyer which we’d been recommended but we aint sure now cos of time”
“Ahh, fekk it, I vill take you anuza good vey, follow me”
So we did, and what another blast that was . 48 road to Hochspeyer was a blast and onwards north west, taking in a lot of L roads- no hedges. No dry stone walls, although we did observe and comment that Jono would enjoy the plentiful and forgiving ditches We were all on to keep pace with the German, boy could that Bee Emm handle those sort of roads. He must’ve took us 30 miles north of Kaiseslautern before he pulled in and said he’d have to turn back. What a fabulous “guided tour” that was. Swapped contact details and we were on our way again. More fab roads and eventually we started recognising roads we’d come down 2 days earlier. Great, we’re back on track. I honestly can’t remember if we stopped for a coffee from here on, although we must’ve at some stage.
With time ticking away we were having a ball and the weather was still brilliant late Summer.
We eventually got back to the Moselle hitting some brilliant, never ending downward twisties and I don’t think we passed one vehicle in the last hour or two. Bloody ridiculous I tell ya, bloody ridiculous. Filling up at Alf it was a straightforward blast up the valley, a road a lot of us will remember, except me apparently, as half way up I inexplicably turned fekkin left. No problem thought I , I will soon put us back on track! However, I didn’t and we eventually got to the Nurburgring Car Park via a fekkin convoluted route, for 7.05 p.m., just in time to see the last of the exotix stuff leaving the Ring for the day! One Nurgurgring T-shirt later and a couple of pics and it was a drop down into Adenau to the Hotel an der Nordshleife for the night. Unbeknown to me, the owner, Eddie, doesn’t live at the hotel anymore and he was waiting as we pulled in.
“I sort you vernt cummink and voz ready to go home, but velcom here’s ya key now fekk off and enjoy yasselves”
Phew! One shower and change later and we’re out and across to the Italian restaurant across the road. Fabulous large proper Italian mean and several large ice cold biers put the icing on a wonderful days riding again.
A good nights sleep followed by another cracking breakfast listening to the racing cars in the background. It was Racing School day again and they were out in force at 8.00 in the morning. A gorgeous morning too. We had a walk up the side of the Ring and spent some time watching and listening to the cars as they raced down from the forest towards the bridge and the hotel. Fekk me, were they fast.
Well, mid morning and it was time to kit up and head for Zeebrugge. We took the scenic way but by lunchtime the weather had turned to drizzle and with one or two missed turn offs we were on a northward bound dual carriageway which was what we didn’t want. First chance we got we were back onto good roads all the way to Spa where we stopped for coffee overlooking the main drag. Spa is a beautiful place to just sit and chill .....
which is what we did until an orange coloured car turned off and rolled down behind us to the Radisson Hotel nearby. Fekk me, that was a McLaren. So off I walk just as the “test driver “ in orange overalls and clipboard got out and walked into the hotel.
Wondering whose it was I took some pics and see on the number plate that is is “Roman’s” The Chelski bloke? What a machine.
Time to go again, this time plotting a nice little off the beaten track road bringing us out onto the E40/42 and a straight blatt to the ferry. After filling up, this went Ok until a slow responding satnav took me off route twice. With a few more picture stops .........
we lost more time and when we finally jumped onto the slip road for the motorway and realised it was for eastbound fekkin traffic and not west, my arse started to nip up. A mad blast east to the next junction before we could turn around and then it was open the taps and go........until we hit traffic that is, Friday afternoon traffic ! It made Friday traffic in Sheffield pale into insignificance. Fekk me 4 lanes all chokka as we approached Brussels. Then it cleared, ooh thank fook, then it built up and then it stopped. Keeping tabs on each other was getting difficult what with concentrating on what’s ahead, filtering and looking behind. Ramo shouts up to just get going and we’ll see each other at the ferry as we were just slowing each other down as we were.
“O.K” says I and orf I bloody well went. The next couple of hours was the worst and most stressful riding I think I’ve ever done. Losing time and then trying to get it back at ballistic speeds when chance arose, all the time watching the clock, speedo and mileage dropping not quick enough and the fuel gauge droppiing like a stone; it was all very alarming. Aiming for 5.30 last board it really was touch and go and with 25 miles to go my reserve light came on. Oh bollox, 30 miles I have got in the past before running out. If i stop now, I thought, I’m going to lose that much time...”oh fekk, what to do?” carry on regardless I thought and with that I enetered the last couple of mile entrance straights to the port. Just to fekk my head up completely i entered one underpass and came out the other side to the heaviest short downpour I really have seen. Fekk me Betty, I could see us parked at the port for the night, soaking fekkin wet and too fekked to try the tunnel. What a disaster!
Fortune favours the brave however and I arrived at the port entrance kiosk for 5.30. Parked up with a sigh of relief as there was a queue of traffic. The Customs chap told me not to worry as many people were late due to the traffic and boarding would be allowed up to 7! Now he fekkin tells us !
It wasn’t long before Ramo turned up, having been taken under the “wing” of a “local” ‘Wing rider or was it a Pan, whateva, and who proceeded to filter through the motorway traffic at 60+ mph. With lights flashing and arms gesticulating it was like Moses parting the Red Sea according to Ramo.
Crisis over, it was a straightforward board, shower, change and a few cold beers to finish off a brilliant few days.
One last sting in the tale was waiting for me in the morning though. As I said, my reserve light came on 25 miles out of Zeebrugge so first thing in the morning once on dry land, I needed fuel.
Saturday morning arrived and a straightforward disembark. Straightforward included not losing or misplacing any fookin keys, I might add. Off we set, looking for the first fuel sign. Couple of miles through Hull and my arse is twitching. Ramo in front as we approached a slip road and overpass and my engine spluttered. Another 20 feet and I’d have fooked it, so without further thought I just took the slip road which ran down to a roundabout. Last message to ramo was “I’ve fekked it with fuel” Bottom of slip road and that was it, splutter, dead. With the Gods on my side, I pushed the Bird across the road twenty yards to a Texaco fuel station. – Fekk me what luck.
Fuelled up and off again I soon caught Ramo up and from there it was a blatt on the M180 where we parted company, Steve onto the A1 and me the M18. Home for Saturday lunchtime absolutely fekked.
Never satisfied, we came to the conclusion that mebbe we rode too many miles each day from accommodation to accommodation rather than mebbe stay at one place a bit longer and explore, knowing that we could pack it in for the day whenever we wanted. Mebbe we coulda done with a few more days. Mebbe not, as after 3 days riding hard, and that’s all I think we both wanted to do at the time and woulda kept riding but for fatigue another few days woulda just seen me ligged out in bed/ in the bar/ lookin ‘round. Hmm, that sounds good but it means a longer time from home and consequently major Brownie Point initiative. Ya can’t please all of the people all of the time, only some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time.
Oh yea, before I forget, the miniature Schnapps that Mr Williams at Seebach gave to each of us as a token apology for the booking cock up wasn’t the only thing we got. I received an email from them on the way back, again apologising profusely and also adding that should we venture down that way again and if we chose to book with them again, the first night in the Bridal Suite would be “on da house”
Fekkin result eh. Great end to a truly great thousand mile ride. Ramo, ya a coont.