Day 14 Thursday Northern France (Patrick)

Refreshed I set out for a walk around Nancy at 7:15. The sun is starting to burn off the early morning mist and everything is looking enchanting.  I have been struck by the absolute difference between Germany and France and its not a gradual change but immediate. One side of the Rhine everything is clean on the other slightly grubby. On one side the is a universal conformity in building styles covering old with a lot of wood and flowers, new bland, and contemporary modern; on the other there is old with lots of stone, carving and wooden shutters, new bland but a  different sort of blandness, and very little contemporary (in Nancy anyway).  One side has no drunks or beggars, the other rather too many.  Is France having some kind of slow burn destruction or is it just that I am in a city and perhaps the German social security is better; but I suspect that it something to do with personal/national pride and character.  Also, driving styles are different. In Germany everyone is fast but courteous, waiting patiently; in France, I has better keep my wits about me as things are a little more erratic.  Jony says that the old priorité a droite has finished but I think not and certainly the lady who drove out in front of me thinks the same!

After a few hours of looking at some magnificent and grand buildings I get the hankering for zipping round a bend or two. Continuing my way towards the Channel I find myself near the top of the River Semois which was our first great ride of the trip and so I do it again but backwards this time. You know what I mean.  There is hardly anyone about and so I go as fast as I dare for about an Hour and then it is back on 'normal' roads. I have been known to remark that French roads are now better than ours. Well, I can now say that this is not always the case as I find I am on some atrocious surfaces. Sometimes I wonder if my fillings will stay in; but the best is where someone appears to have taken a harrow and left furrows all along the surface. Second to pure gravel this is one of the things that bikes, or more correctly, I hate.

I travel alongside the Meuse river and canal for many kilometres and pass many war cemeteries.  The landscape of Northern France is  not inspiring and as I pass many war graves I feel sorry for those inside who must have wondered why here and why now. Has the EU prevented another war or has the effect of 2 World Wars fought over the same territory meant that we have learnt our lesson; albeit only temporarily?  As I ponder on this I start to feel that the EU as such has probably not had much to do with it when one considers the effects of international travel, the media (albeit with a strong USA bias), and more recently the web.  And, although the Euro is no doubt convenient when travelling between the different countries in Europe, it does appear to be having a considerable destabilising effect. My conclusion(for now) is that the countries that make up the old EU are different but connected by history. Lets have a common market and so far as talking shop where we can make as many common understandings as possible; but I am not convinced by the undoubted aim of a federal Europe anymore so when one considers the non core countries now forming a queue to join. Again, a common market for all is desirable and it is through this that peace and understanding should be possible. Now, what about religious differences?  Thus far for me on this subject at the moment. Why not make this a two way conversation?  I don't know how. Jony, can blogs be interactive?

It seems along way but eventually I get to Cambrai which we passed through en fete on Day 1 and which looked rather enticing. Today it is not enticing and I can find only 2 hotels neither of which tempts me in and so I go on to the next city which is Arras. I have learnt not to expect lovely auberges in this area. 

Arras starts badly as I see signs for an Ibis Hotel and after my very positive experience last night I want to go to this. Rather shamefully as I should be trying a quaint and authentic French hotel. I see many signs to the hotel all of which tell me to go straight on but it is never there. I ask to policemen who I have passed twice already and who are obviously on the lookout for dodgy drivers. This is a dangerous strategy given that I have to keep the bike revving hard when at standstill otherwise it will die. Fortunately they decide to give me directions rather that the third degree; unfortunately their directions are completely wrong.

When I do find the Ibis Hotel after asking 3 other people (what was that about having a GPS,Jony) it is full!  Now I have a room in the Hotel Moderne which is moderne as in the 1950's are modern but it is a room and I am glad.  I have walked up to the main square in Arras and the sun has been setting behind the extra agent tower of the town hall and the square is very well lite and I am having some good Leffe beer and a very good omelette and so things are looking rosy (in both senses of the world). Tomorrow I should be getting the ferry to England.  How will it look? Indeed will I be able to see it as a traveller which, as Jony said, is what I have become or will it just be unexceptional?

Until tomorrow. 

D.G.

Day 13 Morning meanderings at Menaggio

I probably need to fess up and admit that our route-finding yesterday was not quite as smart as we had thought. I found a map in the hostel last night and, perhaps unwisely, took a look at where we had been! 

For electronic reasons of its own, Charlie's satnav brought us quite a long way south once we had crossed the border into Italy. The fact that the mountains lay behind us should have clued me in but I was so gobsmacked to be in bright sunlight after the dreadful weather forecast that I allowed my usually razor-sharp direction finding, hem hem,  to bask in the summery sun. 

However, even I noticed Lake Garda shimmering unexpectedly on our larboard and we took a sharp right at the airport, narrowly avoiding Milan until we got to Como after an exhausting and far-too-long ride of 250 miles or so. 

We then discovered there were two Via Novembre 6's in the area and that the Ostello Juvenales was at the other one, in Menaggio, another 35km up the lake. Yes, yes, I know that Patrick would not have made such a schoolboy error but sometimes you just have to make your own mistakes in life. Charlie took it like a man and we had a large, silent beer immediately on arrival.

This is a picture taken over the breakfast balcony where we're staying. It shows one of the ferries that ply their trade across Lake Como, which is very long and highly picturesque. Also packed with tourists who pay a fortune for a lakeside view when they could get the same view plus added communal snoring in a mixed-sex bunk room for a mere €20!

Day 13 (Patrick) Across the Rhine

> I have a bad night. First the original owner of t he room returns from who knows where and he is obviously surprised that his private domain has been invaded. There is a lot of German muttering which wakes me up and the only word I can tell is "Jesus". Eventually he retires with much restlessness. I too am restless but do doze off only to be woken again by key turning in lock and lots of bag unzipping. I assume it is my friend but in the morning it turns out that we had a 3rd guest arriving late and departing early. In fact, I just catch him as I get up at 7am and he is packing his rucksack. He is a rather small and earnest looking young Japanese man who does not care for hearty German breakfasts as he is nowhere to be seen n the short time it takes me to hit the groaning table. My night further disturbed by a very loud annoying and persistent mosquito.

>
> It is raining lightly and so on with the waterproofs and it is good that I did park the biker at the top of a hill as it refuses to start and dressed as I am it is unlikely that I could push the bike far. About half way down the hill the bike eventually fires up and I am off with no great desire to stop until the engine has warmed up.
>
> I do the 500 road again for old Lang sagne (sp?) and once I get halfway up the hills the rain clears and the road is dry. Great! Although, when I look across over the valley towards France all I can see is cloud. This certain sky has 50 shades of grey which i have no intention of reading but believe is rather into S&M which is what the bike riding will be like.
>
> I stop at a huge lock on the Rhine and watch as 3 large barges are lowered the 50-odd feet from upper to loader level. I store the procedure for possible future canal holidaying. Surprisingly, the cloud is lifting and by the time I enter France it is sunny and I need by Top Gun sun shade which is built into my helmet. I had thought this an exclusive feature but earlier in the trip both Jony and Charlie show that they have exactly the same feature in their helmets.
>
> I have chosen to go into the very hilly and forested area to west of Strasbourg along windy, yellow roads. First to Mont Sainte Odile then to the Col du Donon. The riding is good but road surfaces are not too great and my head starts to ache. I expect this is the influence of last night's poor sleep and the fact that one's eyes and brain are doing a lot of work - where is the road leading, how tight is this next bend, is there a cow or tractor just round the corner, will the bike slip on the road surface, etc, etc. After about 5 hours of this, my head is not getting any better and I decide to make for Nancy and a hotel so I can get some rest.
>
> I have recalled that my brother in-law, Clive, has said that Nancy is very nice. I stop by the canal in the centre of town and book into the first hotel that looks reasonable in both senses. It is then that I crash. No, don't be alarmed, not the bike, me, on the bed. I have just got up had a long soak in the bath and realised that I am exhausted. I have not yet found out whether Nancy is nice but will venture out for a quick walk around now at 8:30pm and also tomorrow am.

Day 12 (Patrick) Homeward bound

The eagle-eyed reader will note that I have left out Sunday and Monday.  This is because I want to catch up with myself and so send today's blog today. I intend to do Sunday and Monday next so sorry if you were hoping for a break!

Today the Boyz break up and we get up relatively early to do a last scenic road together. This is the Obersalzburg ring above Berchtesgarden which Tillmann has recommended and it looks good on the map. After one 'wrong' turning where we find ourselves at the top of a mountain (the Kehlstein), we find our selves at the infamous Eagle's Nest but we do not dain to give it our presence and instead find the toll road which goes up and up until it runs along what appears to be a fairly narrow ridge with Germany on one side and Austria on the other.  I say appears as in fact we are in cloud and so are unable to appreciate the views but we do appreciate the atmosphere and the mountains which come and go around us.  The toll road used to be used as a race track and I expect was built after the first WW.

Irrespective of Hitler's brooding presence, the Berchtesgarden area is a national park with some truly awe inspiring mountains and would be a beat place to revisit.  It is the end of the German Alpenstrasse and I thoroughly recommend the trip from Landau to here. It is a great biking road so please leave your motorhome at home!

At the junction to St. Johann inTirol, J&C take this road to go over the Alps and onto the Dolomites and Jony's blog will tell you what happened to them.  I am sorry not to be joining them but should be thinking of going home and going south (and into Austria) is not the way.  I feel that I have had enough of the mountains for a while and so get on the Autobahn for Munich.

It is strange to be travelling so fast in a straight line and German Autobahn's are not for the faint of heart.  Everyone, including large lorries, go like the clappers and you need to keep a sharp lookout in the wing mirrors for Porches and the like doing well over 100 mph in the fast lane.

I get round Munich somehow navigating through roadworks and rain and then carry on the Auobahn to Stuttgart and I have a short break and study the map.  The bike was very tricky to get started this morning and keeps stalling at low revs at stops and so it is rather worrying and I have to keep the revs up which is aggravating; however, it restarting at petrol fill ups and so I keep my fingers crossed and decide to have a little pressure after the efficient but I pleasurable motorway riding.  I head into the northern part of the Black Forrest and despite some run have a series of great roads as there is hardly anyone about. (J&C for your info, I came in via Nagold which is SW of Stuttgart and road due'ish east, including by mistake a white road which had just been newly gravelled and so interesting, the north along the 462, otherwise known as the Schwarzenbach Strasse, and then yellow road up onto the 500 and north into Baden Baden).

I find the youth hostel at Baden Baden easily which is a pleasure compared to our arrival there a week ago.  I have chosen this because a) I know where it is, b) I am hoping that the user-friendly Uwe will be on duty (he is), c) I can park the bike in a garage and so hope to keep it dry and d) and possibly most importantly it is at the top of a hill  which should help if the bike proves difficult to start tomorrow as I suspect.

I am sharing a room with an unknown person but whom I suspect is a teacher with the group of school children who are noisily all about.  The teacher, if that is what he is, must be young as a large bag of toffees are strategically placed by his bed; unless, of course, he has confiscated them - a delightfully old fashioned idea, Goodbye Mr. Chips and all that - I suspect confiscation has gone the way of prep and 'lines'.  Whether teacher or not, I expect a frosty reception when I return as no doubt he thought he had the (4 bunk) room to himself, but this is not the way of the youth hostel!

I am having a dunkle (dark) beer as I write this in the bierregarden at the bottom of the hill.

And so to supper....

Day 11 or possibly 12. Allein ohne Patrik

For our many fan who fear that Patrick's return to Blighty will be swiftly followed by a decline in the quality, regularity and clarity of this blog, prepare to be totally vindicated. With the departure of our map king and uber organiser, Charlie and I have been swiftly reduced to following our instincts, guided by occasional promptings of the satnav which, hurrah, appears to recognise Italy - just as long as you want to go to Rome.

With my political antennae bruised by visiting the Berchtesgarten area of Germany, where Hitler went to play heidi hi with Eva Braun, a prolonged visit to Austria didn't appeal so we rapidly trans Alpined along some pretty smashing roads, tunnels, and overpasses towards Italy, weaving in and out of the showers.

En route we encountered a short section of brand new S bends, the sort of thing that bikers dream of. It was only further down the valley that we saw the reason for the rapid road building - a section of highway that had been destroyed by a mega rock fall1

We entered Italy late afternoon and instantly noticed the changes: rubbish roads, older cars, less of the neatly cared for Alpine scenery and everywhere people chatting to each other! National stereotypist? Moi!

What little Italian I can remember has been temporarily swamped by our total immersion in deutsche kultur of the past two weeks, so Charlie and I have a pointing-type of meal and retreat early to our hotel where the room price is to be agreed in the morning - very Italian!

Tomorrow they're forecasting heavy rain and even snow up at higher altitudes, so we might try to tuck ourselves away for a day before going over to Lake Como and then on into Switzerland to visit family.

Phew! How did I do Patrick?

Day 9 (Patrick) In which we get into a pickle

Today Tillmann leads on a trip of the southern lakes and roads. We pass some lovely buildings but do not have time to take pic's. We go through Bad Tolz where we were the night before and which we go through again on the following Monday and which I fear I may go thorough again on Tuesday. We go alongside a lovely river which would be very good for canoeing down (it is the Isar from Achensee for future reference), then along a lovely toll road to the author Walchansee and we all have a swim in the lake. Not a bad temperature and I for one come out feeling rather refreshed and virtuous. After a stop for iced coffee and yoghurt we go a along the west so of Starnbergersee and stop at museum that Stella has been to. Then a storm hits us. Black clouds, very strong winds and lots of heavy duty rain. I have left my waterproofs at home as it seemed such a nice day. The rain is so bad we can hardly see and the situation is not helped by the fact that every one else is leaving where they are and going homer in their cars. In fact, it is very dangerous conditions. Then disaster strikes. Tillmann does a u turn, I follow. Tillmann asks me if everyone is ok and i say yes as I can see Jony turning behind me and I know (or think I know) that Charlie will follow as J&C have radio contact. in fact it turns out that they do ot have the radios working because of the rain. Tillmann goes off and it is then that I see that Jony has hiss hazard lights on. There is a a problem. I flash my lights and sound my horn to try and get Tillmann to stop but he cannot see or hear because of the conditions (wearing glasses makes the rain even more difficult). I stop expecting J&C to catch up. They don't. I turn round and go back to where I last saw Jony. He is not there and the rain is bucketing down and the traffic is furious. Jony shows up. He saw Charlie go past but not make the u turn and has tried to catch up with him. No dice. I call Tillman and he comes back to where I am. Meanwhile Jony goes off to find Charlie. Unfortunately, the road quickly becomes a motorway and we assume Charlie may have got onto it. Jony goes after him and gets tangles up in Munich. Jony's phone is starting to play up as it does not like getting soaked. We are in a pickle. Tillman & I Make our way to where we agreed dot meet Jony. No Jony. By this time well over an hour has elapsed and the rain has not let up. Tillmann and I are soaked to the skin, evening is coming on and we are getting very cold. We have to go home and get dry and warm, then we can call police if necessary. We do this and at the same time manage to establish that Jony is in the town but he cannot find where Tillmanns house is. W go out in car and find him and guide him back home and while this is happening Charlie arrived at Tillmanns which he has eventually managed to find. The police are stood down. All is well but it has been traumatic and it will be many hours before my leathers are dry!

Lessons learned? Know where the end point address is and the phone number. Ensure you all have each others contact details. Make sure you all keep in sight in tricky situations. It turned out that Charlie had been stopped by red lights (German traffic lights go red very quickly) and so had not been able to see that we had done u turns.

And so to bed!

Day 8 Rest day (Patrick)

Tillmann has gone to work before I get up and after a while Petra goes off with a friend to walk barefoot in the Alpine pastures as part of her (big?) birthday treat. I hope that someone has raked the path and that there are no cows about. Later, Jony and I agree that it would be unlikely for one man to ask another man to do the same, even if it was a big birthday.


We go into Munich by train to give the bikes a well earned rest. J&C go off to do the Deutches Museum and I take a tram to the Neue Pinakothek to look at early 20th century paintings. It is as much funds it sounds. On the way back I walk through a grandiose square where the National Socialist party liked to march it's troops. Nearby a museum is being constructed which will document the NS (Nazi) - hopefully in a 'how not to do things' sort of way. It opens in February 2014 in case you are interested.

I bump into J&C in another art gallery, this one recommended by Tillmann & Petra which is showing works by Nordic artists (Aus Dämmerung und Licht which I thinks means from twilight and light - doesn't sound so impressive in English does it). It has some rather good paintings.

We are now back at Tillmann's and will shortly go off to meet Andreas & Sabine Gerathewohl, partly as they said I must visit them when next in Munich (as they have stayed with us in Norfolk) and partly because I am curious to see their house which they have had built in his mother's garden by the lake. I am expecting posh.


We arrive at Andreas & Sabine's despite my leaving the motorway too early and we manage to follow our noses right to their house without having to ask anyone. We are greeted by Andreas and his elder daughter, Theresa. Charlie is very quick in introducing himself; I wonder why but it is not hard to work out as Theresa is very attractive and 18! Sabine joins us and this time it is Jony who is quick to introduce himself! We have a quick tour of their house and garden with Jony asking questions about the build (it is a wooden house made off site and then erected very quickly) and Andreas and I discuss pruning of their apple trees. Then off to a very nice restaurant on the water front of Ammersee. We appear to have the best table and can watch the paddle steamers come in from the lake in front of us. A good meal which reminds me of the corporate meetings we used to have.

On the way back Jony, who has not come on his bike so he could have a drink (which turns out to be literally one glass of wine), rides on the back on my bike which is the first time I have had someone of even moderate weight on the pillion and the steering is somewhat light! Charlie comments that my headlamp is rather bright - not surprising considering the angle of the bike!

101 European Geography

Good morning everyone. Today we're going to review our understanding of european geography, with particular reference to 20th Century historical events. Let's start at Calais and head south east across northern France and the Immaginot Line, ha ha, to the rather pleasant Ardennes Forest. OK so far? This is almost entirely cheese-eating surrender monkey territory, although you may encounter the odd Belgian if, like the Germans, you stray over the border. Famous Belgians at the back? Very good Hergé.

Things get a bit complicated if you continue south east because, when you reach the corner of France you obviously get to Germany, though if you have Baker's map reading skills, you might pass through Luxembourg to get there, isn't that right Baker? Anyway once you have sorted out any consequent misunderstandings with the local polizei, you turn right to head south down the left hand side of Germany through an area called the Black Forest.

Where else do we know which is foreign and forested? Yes, Jones Wales. The land of your fathers. Well the Schwarzwald, as they call it out there, is not quite as big as Wales but the locals do drink a lot of beer and there are some lovely hills similar in size to Snowdon and even more popular with motorbikers than the Black Mountains, though they're covered in pine forests, so the rugby is rubbish.

You'll know when you reach the bottom of Germany because you run into the Alps and Switzerland, where they still think cuckoo clocks are something special. So turn left again and head east to Europe's biggest lake, the Bodensee or Lake Konstanz which is really every bit as nice as Windermere where Miss Smith and I enjoyed the school outing last year. Mmmm. Melanie...

Where was I? Ah yes: Bavaria.. You have now reached a particularly difficult bit of Europe where countries like Lichenstein and Austria are jostling for your attention. However, they never come up in exams so you can safely ignore them and head slightly north east across at the bottom of Germany until you reach Munich.

Heard of Adolf Schikelgruber, Schmidt? Well the good folk of southern Germany liked him rather a lot. Munich was where he had what's called his powerbase, even though he came from Austria which goes to show what broad-minded people the good folk of Bavaria were. Always ready to welcome outsiders.

How's the mental map going, Descartes? Yes, you're right, it is confusing. We're all good europeans now so what do these borders matter? the fact is that, whether it's the Tyrol or Tonypandy, the Black Forest or the Black Mountains, local differences in culture, dialect, beer and wine are still massively important. People want to celebrate where they live, even, god help us, if it's Luxembourg.

Next week, we'll look at what happens on the other side of the mountains: that's Austria, the Tyrol, Italy and Switzerland for those who actually need to pass this exam. We might mention France too. Or maybe not. Now where's my Toblerone?

Day 9. Allein

For most of yesterday, I was feeling remarkably positive about the lakes of southern Germany. Not sure if it's actually called Bavaria but that's what I think it is. Really lovely countryside, full of farmers raking up their hay, gently ploughing or stacking, in wide sunlit valleys where big-eyed cows graze silently and time seems to move very slowly.

After half an hour of pottering along some perfect river valley you might feel the need for a kaffee or alkohol-frei bier which, as likely as not, will be served by someone from the 19th century. Lederhosen are a common sight and even the odd Meershraum pipe smoker. Everywhere healthy people are out hiking or cycling, picnicking on the banks of the many fabulous lakes that litter the area south of Munich, half an hour's drive. You get the picture.

Like many mountainous areas, the weather can change quickly. Every year an experienced sailors regularly die on the Ammersee as a storm blows up. Over-ambitous bikers have been known to throw off their leathers and plunge unwarily into the crystal clear waters of the Starnberger See, never to re-emerge.

After a fabulous day touring we were strolling round the grounds of a lakeside museum (built to the memory of Das Boot author ???) when the sky darkened ominously in the distance and occasional flashes of lightening had us scattering back to the car park. By the time we had thrown on our waterproofs the wind was buffetting our bikes and we set off in a hurry to hit the motorway back to Munich.

Oddly enough, you can see better on a bike when you're zooming along because the wind whips the water off your visor. We were crawling through the evening traffic and visibility was dreadful. So it was hardly surprising when, at a busy, dangerous junction, where we had to nip over some lights, double back on ourselves and hop over down a side road, we lost our tail-end Charlie.

It's not a big deal losing someone. We just pull over and wait until they catch up. But, in a moment's confusion Charlie rode on by in the opposite direction, headed towards who knows where, , and we did not see him again for many hours.

I won't go into the details. Suffice to say that a long, wet, miserable search followed. I managed to find my way back to Gemering, where Tillmann lives, though I was so anxious by this time that I could not find his house. Despite having no address, no phone, no maps and no money Charlie did eventually find his way there, thanks to a bit of luck, a lot of common sense and clever use of his satnav to re-trace the previous evening's excursion.

He arrived ten minutes before me and I'm not ashamed to say that tears of relief were shed (by me, natch!). In my heart I know that my monster son is more than capable of looking after himself in the big wide world but I wasn't quite ready for him to prove it to me just yet!


Jony

Day 7 Munich (Patrick)

> The bunk bed has not toppled over and I am feeling very refreshed after a good night's sleep disturbed only by Jony shouting at me during the small hours to stop snoring - who moi? I had offered ear plugs to J&C but they declined maybe not next time.

Charlie blending in on the approach to the BMW  experience. 

> Charlie and his sat nav take us in on a very good route into Munich and to the BMW HQ where I do the 'Premium' tour which takes in the museum, the plant unt der BMW Weild (world). The latter is a little too over the top - we are not that keen on BMW's even if they are BMW Mini and BMW Rolls-Royce. The latter is represented by the most ugly thing you ever saw - 1000 & 1 nights special edition - but has been sold, presumably to a sheik or, more likely nowadays, a Russian. Going round the plant was interesting, very mechanised with robot arms doing intricate manoeuvres with only human activity putting all the innards together, wiring looms, seats, etc..

P looking cool outside the ubercool museum

>
> We have a walk around the Olympiapark after which Jony dams with faint praise saying that it is not bad for 1970's architecture (I thinks it is great but must admit that it is looking rather tired and it is mainly unused). The presence of a fun fair in the middle also doesn't help the artistic appreciation.

There's this great big hill in the middle of Munich, right by the Olympic Village.
According to Patrick, they dumped all the rubble from the bombed city here.
Not sure if that was a practical move or some kind of  symbolic gesture -
like what Patrick is doing here.

>
> We meet up with my German friend, Tillmann, outside the head office of the Munich Reinsurance Company with whom I have been dealing for many years. I don't think the Herr Direktors would want to see me come in through the front doors in my present, unkempt, biker state. Tillmann leads us make to his house where we will be staying until Monday. It is a lot further out than I remember and there are more traffic lights than you would think possible but we get there and after a quick reviving cup of tea we are into a Bavarian meal washed down with Bavarian beer, apart from Jony who asked for German white wine on the pretext that Charlie should try some as it was a favourite drink of his grandfather's (possibly, grandfathers') but manages to try a lot for himself!

This stunning example of Bavarian kitsch was spotted in Munich.
We didn't get to see the owner but I wouldn't be at all surprised
if she was wearing the full Heidi look - square-cut black pinnafore dress with long  white  apron.
We've seen a surprising number of people wearing traditional costume without any hint of irony. 

Day 6. Camping it up (Patrick)

Not half bad: Bad Tolz hostel

I did not sleep the sleep of the just last night (so think of that what you might). Firstly, when I got back to my tent after the schnapps I found that a German entourage had arrived and pitched 2 tents, one extremely close to mine. Whilst I went straight to bed, they carried on making a lot of noise for a lot of time, possibly made worse as I couldn't understand a word of what they were saying although I distinctly heard reference to 'der englisher'.  My complete lack of knowledge of German meant that I was unable to remonstrate with them so I tried to ignore the noise.  Semi- successful in that but, unfortunately, my hope that the road noise would abate was only partially granted as throughout the night what sounded like angels of death whooshed down above my head and on into the night (read lorries).  Also lack of a decent pillow did not help.

I get up at about 7:30am ablute and quietly as possible pack up the tent and all.  The ablute reference is important (even though probably misspelt) as Jony's view is that decent showers are one of the benefits of camping.  My experience so far (1 and only) is that this is the case; I am unable to confirm Jony's other stated advantages but suspect there aren't any.

I have internal debate between devil and angel, the one suggesting that I start my bike up and generally make as much noise as possible to pay back my neighbours (who have not stirred, except for their rather nice dog - maybe they have some redeeming features, and they kayak as well), the angel says this is purine and I should do as I would be done by.  The angel wins and set off for the Zeppelin museum at Frederickshaven (sp). I find this very interesting - it appeals to the engineering geek in me.  J&C turn up after a while having tried to find me at another Zeppelin museum in the town they were staying in.

We set off quite late (10:30'ish) for the German Alpinestrasse and once we get onto it after Lindau it is wonderful. The scenery is truly great and would be lovely to contemplate if we were not doing about 70mph on windy and somewhat narrow roads (apart from where we get stuck behind motorhomes on hairpin sections). I try to show Schloss Neuswanstein (sp) to J&C but the crowds a defeat us. Instead we go into Austria and up to Simonsee (I think this is the name) which is beautiful and which Stella and I saw when we were touring around. J wants to bike up a mountain and although plenty around the roads all go up the valleys!  I stop at Garmish to show a skiing centre but it is not very interesting and so on at grande vitesse for thrills.

Wancansee (or as I prefer to call it 'I'm not saying lake') looks really lovely and I must go back some time and spend some time there. We drop downhill (up map) towards Munich and having learnt our lesson yesterday we have booked a room in the youth hostel at Bad Tolls.  It is new, the lady at reception speaks very good English and is helpful. The fancy wet room is questionable as I find it near impossible to operate the automatic tap in the basin. 

Personalised setting for breakfast: these Germans are so efficient. And nice.

The hostel is not near the centre but in what appears to be a new business park and we walk to a nearby bar which probably does a good trade by day but little by night; however, we have some good beer and Charlie evens goes to the bar to order seconds in German. This is mostly successful, Charlie and I get our beers but Jony gets sweet wine rather than red and dry - Charlie says the barman got it wrong.  Our food is what we need, I can say no more and so to bed. Although that should be the end of today's entry, I must point out that this is another first - 1st youth hostel, 1st campsite, and now first time in the top half of a bunk bed. I remember that in 'Porridge' Fletcher,aka Ronny Barker, had the bottom half - this makes me the younger and somewhat fay lad (whose name I cannot currently recall).  As I heave myself into the bunk from the top of the ladder I wonder whether it has been designed to take the leverage.

Day 5 Lake Constance (Patrick)

The Germans do have a sense of humour but not a lot of irony. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm as keen on my kilt as the next man.
If you've got a national costume then why not sport it?
But carrying a cuckoo clock on your back? And not in a funny way...

I awake to the sun shining through early morning mist straight into our cell. It is lovely, as is breakfast. Maybe Neustadt is not so bad after all. However, rather than waiting to find out we set off for a long circular ride around the southern half of the Black Forrest. The weather is good, t he views are good and the road is good. We feel good but are not good as we are well over the official speed limit most of the time. However, we ride well and eventually get to Konstanz.

Unfortunately the youth hostel is full, the camp sites are full, Konstanz is full. Don't we know that it is high season? Well it was too in the Black Forrest and that definitely was not full. I conclude that the Germans prefer the beach to the mountain trail. After several telephone calls we track down that the campsite at Markdoff to the north of Lake Constance has room and we get the ferry over. This illustrates some advantages of biking in that there is a longish queue for the ferry but we are waved to the front and get the last space on the boat. Ha!

On the ferry Charlie puts his foot down over camping as he is still in some pain after his prang and this will not be helped by the fact that he does not have a camping mattress. Blow me, we didn't call the Meersburg youth hostel and yes they do have space - for 2. It is only right that J&C take the 2 places (besides who knows who they will have to share with - and I have heard stories of amorous Frenchies) and I head up to the Markdoff campsite which I find no problem. I get the tent up on second attempt so not too bad. I think that this is another first - I have not stayed, let alone camped, at an official campsite before. I suspect that I have not hit the jackpot so far as campsites are concerned. Firstly, it is packed with only 4 tent spaces left, secondly it is high season and so it is nearly all happy families with many children running around and causing mild mayhem, thirdly my site is next the the road which is noisy. I am hoping that the road will quietness down later and I am sure that, once it gets dark and I go around making creepy noises, I should be able to get the kids to shut up.

As the site has its own bar and restaurant, I decide not to get not the bike again to find the equivalent in town and instead have a dunkle (dark) weissbiere and zander fish supper al fresco, as it is getting cool i go inside and have a mirrabelle schnapps and very good it is too. Now I shall repair to my commodious pavilion, read a little, listen to a podcast and, hopefully, sleep the sleep of the just.

This is me writing the blog. Not!
On the way to Munich we stopped at Garmish Partengarten to admire the ski jump.
And spotted this guy sitting in his garden, slowly leafing through a photo album.
Not a great picture but a rather touching moment.

Day 5. Homo Ludens (Jony)

Look, I know I've gone on about this already but the more time I spend on the motorbike, the more similarities I find with skiing and the fewer with what I get up to on Larkspur, my other set of wheels.

Don't get me wrong: I'm a paid-up supporter of bikeling. Pedal power is the right way to get about. Full stop. Whether you're exploring countryside, shopping in town, clearing your head or exercising your muscles, yer actual pushie remains my no. 1 choice.

But there are limits. I don't like the wind or the rain. And maybe it's because I'm a Norfolk boy but hills and cycling don't really bring a smile to my face either. No-one likes going up hill and I can even get quite irritated when I'm hurtling downhill at high speeds since I know that, just around the corner is another punishing uphill slope, usually matching the one I've just come down. Why did god invent hills?

Perhaps he's a skier. Or a motorcyclist. We have spent the day happily exploring the hills and valleys of southern Germany, mixing speed with fresh air, carving corners with whoops of pleasure, drinking in the absurdly beautiful alpine scenery - but for the lack of snow we could easily be skiing!

There's even the same physical motion of transferring one's weight as you change direction and the satisfaction of finding a decent uninhabited stretch of piste/tarmac where you can link up a series of turns and begin to convince yourself that you've finally 'got it'.

One difference. Skiers don't wave at each other; bikers and cyclists do. Bigtime. I'm still getting the hang of the continental motorbike salute, which involves extending the left arm downwards, often with the index finger pointing at the oncoming biker in a kind of 'you're it' gesture. I've given a couple of worryingly limp wristed waves by mistake as I work on the fine detail of what's needed here!

Day 4. Die SchwarzWald (Patrick & Jony)

Thank heavens for a really good night's sleep!  Some heavy rain in the early hours but clearing as we have an extremely good breakfast (included in our €20-odd B&B).  I ask Uwe about the weather, he looks a little vague and says no more rain. Unfortunately, meteorology is not his thing as it starts to rain after a few hours but we have an excellent introduction to the E500 and Black Forrest before it starts.

In fact it is while we are looking at a not very impressive waterfall (it is August after all) that it chucks it down and we take shelter for a while. It clears sufficiently for us to get back up the hill to a restaurant an the top so a ski lift where we all have different soups even though I was expecting a burger!

The rain clears while we are eating and so we have some good riding but slightly worrisome due to the wet road.  We arrive at Titisee where the lake is famous and ruined by massive overdevelopment for the tourists. Note: according to Jony we are travellers, not tourists, but the map says our motorcycle road is a tourist route, not a traveller's way!

I manage to get separated from J&C but make my own way back to the youth hostel just before a very windy storm arrives. J&C have stopped and been travellers,posing as tourists, by Lake Titisee.  The Neustadt youth hostel is not up to Baden Baden standards but does have its own swimming pool (yet to be investigated).  I feel that the architect was more used to designing prisons, certainly our room has the feeling of a cell, the double trap (and unisex) toilet is not ideal, but the double (and unisex) shower opens up a field of possibilities that remain undiscovered!  The prison effect is heighten when during the night I need to visit the double trap toilet and when I open our cell door the very brightly lit corridor flashes onto Jony sleeping as he is in the upper bunk by the door.  He gallantly says over breakfast that he was not woken up by this. 

J&C return and we walk down into Neustadt which is dead and depressing. Nothing is open except 3 pizza places but we finally find the local hotel/restaurant and get a reasonable meal but again what we get is not what we expect.

Day 4 (Jony)

Alles gut: breakfast feast

Day four dawns grey and overcast. We eventually arrived at the Baden Baden Jungenherbergen in the rain yesterday. To be honest, the weather has been less than perfect for the past couple of days. Wet roads have put a bit of a damper on things from the biker's POV, quite apart from having to ride defensively, it means putting on a  all sorts of fancy overgear which makes one look even more like a michelin-man. 

However, there's always food! We have descended today after a much -improved night's sleep to find a veritable continental feast awaiting us. Patrick has limited experience of hostels and is seriously impressed! We all have limited experience of how the Germans do things so a big breakfast spread, with many different teas, breads, jams, meats etc creates a great impression - and it's all served with a 'but of course, don't you always have five types of bread for breakfast'-attitude! 

Bit of a mixed day's riding with further wet stuff dampening our best efforts to show off our cornering skills on what is generally considered to be one of europe's top biking roads - the A500, which runs pretty much north to south through the Black Forest and which we happily followed to our next hostel close to the very scenic lake Titisee. 

Alles nicht so gut: where to stay?

Deciding which cake to have, which perfect bit of tarmac to follow, which of the many beers on offer to try each day...life on the road can be tough. Toughest of all, however, has been finding somewhere to lay our heads at the end of the day, especially when those heads are wet and tired. Patrick does a brilliant job of navigating from town to town using good old fashioned maps but the process of getting to a particular address can be really wearing when it involves repeatedly getting off the bike to find someone to ask, failing to understand the directions, getting lost in back streets and going round in circles. That's my contribution.

Step up Charlie! Although it can be unpredictable, hard to charge and impossible to read through two layers of wet protective plastic, Charlie's satnav has been invaluable on the last couple of miles through deserted back streets up which hostels are often situated. 

Big sighs of relief and much back patting follow our damp and slightly anxious arrival at the large, empty Jungenherberger (and, no Jony, 'hostel?' is not the right word)  that are open to jungen and not-so-jungen alike and where breakfast is a big deal. As I write, the heavy overnight mist looks like it might be lifting to reveal a blue sky. Hurrah! I'll go and rouse the sleepers. The A500 awaits!

Day 3. Dangerous games (Jony)

I have written elsewhere of the adrenaline high of powering down a black ski run, turn after turn, concentrating like mad as you focus on staying alive,, always pushing yourself as near the edge as you dare. It's madly exhilarating and, to be honest, it's the main reason why one goes back year after year, even though it's increasingly hard to find the right slope with the right snow on it and the right amount of  people, ie none!

After a couple of days in the saddle, to be honest, it seems to me that the attraction of motorbiking is very similar. Straights are for straights. Towns are tedious. But bends...the right bends...that's where it gets interesting. Yesterday, we found a cracking series of downhill bends - about 20 minutes of tightly turning, consistent, tree-lined bends that had us all working like crazy to try and get some dirt on our 'chicken strips' - those are the un-used bits of rubber along the very outside edge of most bikers' tyres, where they never get to lean over! 

I won't comment on my and Patrick's skills. But Charlie is by far the best of us, whether due to better reactions, youthful courage, whatever. He leans over far more than either of us old fogeys and generally seems to know what he's doing. 

Which made it all the more surprising when he had a spill today. It was a nothing fall: just slid over on some gravel as he was coming to a halt in a lay by, waiting for his old man to catch up. Could have happened to any of us. But we were all rather shaken as we picked him up, taped up a couple of tears in his jacket and eyed the superficial damage to his bike with silent anguish. 

   

To add insult to injury, ten minutes later, as we were picking our cautious way towards Baden Baden on damp roads, both Patrick and Charlie encountered a very slippery bit of white paint that caused them both to lose control for a couple of seconds and further dented Charlie's confidence. 

Tonight, after a couple of beers and a substantial pizza, we're beginning to talk about what lies ahead again. But it's been a salutary reminder that our gravity-defying games can sometimes have serious consequences.

Day 3. Metz to Baden Baden. (Patrick)

A terrible night!  Extremely hot and close and so none of us have slept well. I wake with a sore head and stagger outside to try and freshen up. I am offered drugs by nice man outside the hostel but only ibroprofen will do. Holding my head and moaning gently, I go into the cathedral past 2 elderly beggars who refrain from pressing me too hard as I appear to be slightly mad and in a worse looking state than themselves. The cathedral is impressively big.

Back at the hostel we are informed that we have missed breakfast by 10 minutes and shove off. Breakfast by 8 am on a Sunday in a youth hostel?  The whole of Metz takes Sunday morning very slowly but we find one bakery open. 

We depart Metz and have some pleasant riding through open countryside to Bitchie, a place I spotted on the map and just had to go to. It also happens to be at the start of a good-looking road. Bitchie has an impressive old citadel, currently French but which appears to be capable of use both ways. The area to the east of Bitchie is curious as we cannot tell if we are in France or Germany - many villages have what appear to be German names but obviously French post offices and maries.  Later we ride into Germany over the old bridge over the Moselle which still has railway tracks down the middle of the road to catch unwary motorcyclists and for the quick movement of armaments should the occasion arise. 

Before Germany, however, we have the good-looking road. Well it is a good road slightly marred by the fact that it is drizzling and that it. Is a Sunday and most of the bikers in the district are also 'doing' the road mostly in groups of 20. I go slowly and am constantly be passed by flashier and more capable riders. Towards the end of the road we emerge from the forest and a huge plain is laid out below us, the Moselle valley, and the Black Forrest hills are in the distance. At the end of the road Charlie has the misfortune to find a patch of gravel and the bike goes over trapping Charlie under it. No explosions so all ok. 

Day 3 continued:

It has been raining since before we go over the Moselle bridge and gets worse as we head in to Baden Baden. Arriving anywhere while it is raining and you cannot find where you are going is never good. It is not made better by aggressive driving by the inhabitants who appear fractious and I start to thing that the place is so bad they named it twice. After quite a considerable time we find the youth hostel at the top of a hill and things improve.  Uwe, who is manning the desk, is very nice and helpful, the room is good and shower is hot and extremely powerful!  We walk downhill to the nearest pub or is it stubel and have a refreshing Weiss bier with motorcycle racing on the tv, then pizza and home again.

Day 2. Ors to Metz (Patrick)

I am awoken throughout night by lack of decent pillow am sure will have cricked neck in morning. Then the nearest and sounding very near cockrel starts up along with his more distant cousins and his friends the geese and all sorts of other things. The peace of the countryside!  I rise at 6:30 and walk along the canal next to which we are camped at. A plaque tells me that this is where Wilfred Owen was killed on the canal towpath in one of those WW1 battles. We win the canal against strong German opposition. One canal in exchange for Wilfred Owen was not worth it.

As we pack up a local lady is walking her dog and says we should have a camping permit. J tells her we are English and she gives up but takes a friendly interest. After rather indifferent coffee wake up at Avesnes, we have really great ride on twisty roads following the river Sermois upstream. Many people are kayaking down and this looks like it would be good when a bit more water running down.  Lunch is dejeuner sur l'herbe by the river then more twisty roads.  Finally we leave the river at Bouillion which deserves going back to see the impressive castle.

We head east and have a terrible time trying to find petrol near French/Belgium(?)/Luxembourg border. A blighted area ready for Betjeman's bomb and I swear never to go back there and I swear also.  We blast down a near motorway and eventually arrive at Metz hot and bothered. The youth hostel (ha!) is fine though and at €20 each including parking is super fine.

Metz has some rather fine buildings in attractive honey coloured sandstone and a magnificently tall cathedral with what appear to be much needed flying buttresses. The question of who buttresses the flying buttresses comes to mind as they too appear to me on the move out wards. We don't do justice to Metz sights but do have beers in the main square and admire an old French motorcycle. A late supper in square close to the hostel and we retire at about 11:45 which is rather late seeing as we did not sleep well last night.