Switchbacking up to Passo Gardena. Photos by the author.
Every organized motorcycle tour worth its salt has interesting roads, captivating scenery, tasty food and comfortable accommodations. That’s what you’re paying for, in addition to experienced and knowledgeable guides and the convenience of having a motorcycle waiting for you when you arrive. All you have to do is show up and ride.
The sign at Passo Falzarego was remarkably clean. Signs at most of the passes are covered in so many stickers that it can be hard to read them.
Every tour also has a hook, something that catches riders’ eyes and convinces them to lay down a deposit and clear their calendar for a week or two. In the case of Ayres Adventures’ Switchback Challenges, the hook is short, intense tours that promise riders more hairpins, chicanes, kinks, sweepers and high passes than they can count.
A short break at Passo Gardena, only a few kilometers from our hotel.
Covering seven days, with two travel days bookending five riding days, these tours are reasonably priced (starting at $2,975), offer mid-level accommodations and, by staying at the same hotel during the riding days, require less hassle than tours that go from hotel to hotel each night. Ayres offers four Switchback Challenges–the Pyrenees, southern Spain, central Alps and the Dolomites.
Many valleys in the Dolomites are crisscrossed with twisting roads and ski lifts.
Lofty terms such as motorcycle “heaven” or “nirvana” are often used to describe the Alps, a huge, diverse mountain range of unrivaled beauty that, because it’s located in the heart of Western Europe and has been fought over and occupied for millennia, is densely packed with narrow, steep, winding roads, some in the most unlikely of places.
Descending from Passo Falzarego after taking a cable car to the top of the mountain. Even in late summer, a snow storm dropped several inches of snow on the Dolomites days before we arrived.
Even within an area as exceptional as the Alps, the Dolomites manage to stand out. Designated a World Heritage Site, Unesco describes the Dolomites as “a mountain range in the northern Italian Alps [that] features some of the most beautiful mountain landscapes anywhere, with vertical walls, sheer cliffs and a high density of narrow, deep and long valleys.”
The Dolomites are made up of nine distinct formations that rise up from the green valleys that surround them. BMW’s R 1200 GS Adventure is a big bike for such tight roads, but it handles well and its low-end torque came in handy.
What gives peaks and ridges in the Dolomites their distinctive jagged appearance–and the mountain range its name–is sedimentary carbonate rock with a high percentage of the mineral dolomite. Spread out over more than 550 square miles, the Dolomites are made up of nine distinct, enormous formations that tower high above valleys that weave between and around them, like giant gray teeth sticking up through green shag carpet.
Fresh asphalt and stunning views on the way up to Passo Sella.
With 18 peaks at or above 10,000 feet, parts of the Dolomites are blanketed in snow and glaciers year-round, the run-off from which crashes down steep ravines and creates dramatic waterfalls. Popular among skiers in the winter and hikers, bicyclists and motorcyclists in the summer, the Dolomites region is riddled with jaw-dropping vistas, tangles of asphalt and picturesque villages.
But first we had to get there.
Our tour guide Axel carving a fast line at Passo Nigra.
For convenience, Ayres’ Dramatic Dolomites Tour begins and ends in Munich, Germany, since its airport is a major European hub (I flew there nonstop from Los Angeles). Our affable guide, Axel Papst, with 18 years of experience leading motorcycle tours all over the world, picked me up at the airport and drove me to the hotel–a courtesy extended to all tour guests. After a tour briefing and giving our motorcycles a once-over, we walked to a local restaurant for a proper Bavarian dinner.
Passo Fedaia provides exceptional views of glacier-covered Marmolada, the highest peak in the Dolomites, and the crystal blue waters of Lago Fedaia, created by an enormous dam.
Over tall glasses of German lager, our small group–just four solo riders plus Axel–got acquainted. There was Tony, a retired executive from Indiana and a veteran of several Ayres tours–one being the Alps Switchback Challenge that he completed the week before our Dolomites tour. There was Jeff, a retired business owner and professor from Indiana who’s a riding buddy of Tony’s. And there was Lou, an engineer from Massachusetts. We quickly fell into easy conversation and shared lots of laughs, which continued throughout the week.
Our crew on the first day, during a lunch stop in Innsbruck, Austria.
On our first day, after taking the autobahn around Munich, we followed Axel on back roads through villages, forests and fields, heading south through Austria, and then into Italy via Brenner Pass, a major route through the eastern Alps that’s clogged with train tracks, a freeway, a local highway and an outlet mall. Having paid our dues for the sake of efficiency, we were soon rewarded with a steep climb up and over Passo di Pènnes, our first proper alpine pass. Even though it was the last week of August, the air was cold and windy and the mountains were dusted with snow. Weather can be unpredictable in the Alps, so it’s best to be prepared with rain gear and extra layers.
Tony, always easy to spot in his bright yellow Aerostich Darien jacket, rounding one of many hairpins on the way up to Passo di Giau.
As we would be for most of the tour, we were in South Tyrol, an autonomous province in northern Italy that was once part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Since more than 60 percent of South Tyroleans speak German and most of the rest speak Italian, signs typically list cities, passes, etc. in both languages. Most houses, hotels and barns are built in the alpine chalet style, with white walls, wide roofs, carved woodwork and large balconies, the railings of which exploded with colorful flowers in full bloom.
Known as Wolkenstein in Gröden in German and Selva di Val Gardena in Italian, this scenic ski town in a lush valley was our base camp during the tour.
We spent four nights in Wolkenstein, a charming ski town tucked in one of the Dolomites’ lush green valleys. Our home away from home was the cozy, recently renovated Hotel Comploj, run by a family that all but adopts its guests. The father is a gourmet chef, and he impressed us each night with freshly made soups, pastas and local specialties.
Located in the heart of the Dolomites, Hotel Comploj provided comfortable lodging, delicious food and charming hospitality.
Three of our riding days were spent exploring the best the Dolomites has to offer on loops averaging 150 miles. It was a garden of earthly delights, with the sort of smooth, winding pavement we all dream of delivering us to high-alpine pass after high-alpine pass, an up, down and all-around rollercoaster with a stunning backdrop everywhere you look. The list of passes we summited is long and glorious–Gardena, Valparola, Falzarego, Giau, Cibiana, Duran, Campolongo, Rolle, Valles, Cereda, Costalunga, Fedaia, Nigra, Pinei, Pordoj, Sella, Staulanza, Mendola and Erbe–each one unique, as are the roads that slither up and over them, and we lucked out with blue skies and cool temperatures.
With its countless hairpins, riding in the Dolomites will put any rider’s skills to the test.
Our daily mileage may seem modest, but when measured in terms of quality rather than quantity, our cup overfloweth. At the end of each day, as we hoisted celebratory beers back at the hotel, exhausted and exhilarated with sore shoulders from so many tight turns, no one complained of not riding enough. A Switchback Challenge, indeed.
Ayres Adventures’ Switchback Challenge tours run from August-October 2019. For more information and the full calendar of tours, visit ayresadventures.com.
Cathedral Mountain and Mount Stephen are twin 10,500-foot peaks viewed from Kicking Horse Pass on the edge of Banff National Park. Photos by the author.
“So, what’s in Yellowknife?” asked my doctor while he examined me after I informed him about my upcoming plans.
“Well,” I responded, “it’s an isolated city on the Canadian Shield in the Northwest Territories overlooking the Great Slave Lake. It’s also far enough north for excellent viewing of the aurora borealis.”
“But what else is there?” he emphatically demanded.
Fearing that he was missing the point I responded, “As a touring motorcyclist I look forward to the trek to a distant place at the end of the road,” and let it go at that.
And so I set forth to discover what, indeed, there was of note in Yellowknife. My numerous rides west from Albany, New York, follow a familiar itinerary: Albany to Conneaut, Ohio, the first day for 466 miles. Thereafter, I turn north out of Toledo, Ohio, to Bay City, Michigan; then Bemidji, Minnesota; Williston, North Dakota; and Shelby, Montana. From there I head north into the Canadian Rockies.
Sunwapta Pass on the Icefields Parkway marks the boundary between Banff and Jasper national parks.
In Mackinaw City, though, I picked up a riding partner during a lunch stop at a hot dog stand that seemed a convergence for motorcyclists. Gene is from Windsor, Ontario, aboard a Suzuki Bandit bound for Edmonton, Alberta, to visit family. He was content to follow my pace and schedule as we followed U.S. Route 2 west. I’ve always been a lone wolf during my 53 years of touring, because seldom do I encounter a more compatible riding companion. It certainly made the long slog westward more tolerable.
In Williston, North Dakota, we met two Honda ST1300 riders returning to their homes in Edmonton after a visit to the Black Hills. We were invited to tag along entering Montana, but their pace left us a diminishing view in their rearview mirrors. “Albertans seem always in a hurry,” Gene would later inform me. He and I separated outside Calgary. He directed me to Alberta Highway 22 through the picturesque Turner Valley. Many motorcyclists were enjoying the route, and each waved, including the high-riser Harleyists.
Bow Valley Parkway marks the beginning of the Banff to Jasper route through the Canadian Rockies.
Riding the Banff-Jasper route on the way to Canada’s Northern Territories is an imperative. During my last tour through here on my way to Alaska three years ago it was rainy and 48 degrees. This time around the Canadian Rockies unwound like a Technicolor film reel. Kicking Horse Pass led me into the heart of them, and a hanging waterfall plunging 1,250 feet.The Icefields Parkway glided by ragged peaks lapped by glacial tongues.
Takakkaw Falls is a two-stage plummet of 1,250 feet, reached via a steep, dead-end, 12-mile climb up Yoho Valley Road near Kicking Horse Pass, in British Columbia’s Yoho National Park.
Alberta Highway 40 out of Hinton is billed as the scenic route to Alaska. It plows through a large watershed for a lonely 325 kilometers to Grande Prairie. Signs warn of potentially dangerous encounters with caribou. Grande Prairie itself is a crossroads where one splits northwest to Alaska, east toward Edmonton, or due north for the Territories, as I do. The colorfully striking suspension bridge over the Peace River suddenly looms against a backdrop of calendar art. Within an hour I arrive at ground zero in Grimshaw.
Indigenous wildlife to watch for in these northern Canadian wilds.
The granite mile-zero marker of the Mackenzie Highway in Grimshaw may not be as famous as Mile 0 of the Alaskan Highway 125 miles due west of here, but the town makes the most of it by providing an extensive park with a lot of informative signage. The highway is named after Alexander Mackenzie, a Scottish fur trader who explored the Northwest Territories and traveled the full course of his namesake river, approximately 2,550 miles. I only have 600 miles now to Yellowknife, according to the marker.
Reaching the 60th parallel on the border with the Northwest Territories now means I am halfway to Yellowknife along the Mackenzie Highway. There’s a very nice visitor center here with a campground. But it’s raining, and I wouldn’t camp anyway because it appears the Northwest Territories is prime bug-breeding ground. They swarm me at every stop, a phalanx of horseflies, blackflies, dragonflies, yellowjackets, mosquitoes and midges. Occasionally at speed a fat one would ricochet off my helmet like a pistol shot. Flagmen at road construction sites wear mesh hoods. Alaska was never this bad.
This section of the Mackenzie passes through an extensive Bison Management Zone, and they are given free range, which means they occasionally amble onto the road. At one point I encounter an entire herd alongside the highway. They display their indifference at my passing. I test the antilock brakes on the BMW when I see a baby bison leaping across the road ahead like a deer. Remain alert, I remind myself.
Hay River Gorge below the torrent of Alexandra Falls (below) near Enterprise, NWT.Alexandra Falls above the Hay River Gorge.
Near Enterprise, Alexandra Falls thunders into the Hay River Gorge, and kayakers have risked their lives plunging into its raging torrent, so says my whitewater-running eldest son, who assures me he has no notions himself of attempting the feat. Another low octane fill up at Enterprise, all that’s available up here. But I learn to top off where I can because fuel may not be obtainable at the next stop.
Completed in 2012, after four years of construction, the Deh Cho Bridge crosses the mighty Mackenzie River at Fort Providence.
The Deh Cho Bridge frames the horizon on my approach to the mighty Mackenzie River, Canada’s largest watercourse and the second largest river system in North America. Considered an engineering marvel that took four years to construct because of extreme weather, the Deh Cho (indigenous term for the Mackenzie River) was completed in 2012. Previously, ferry service was provided and an ice road was maintained during the winter. I thread its intimidating isosceles pylons over the Mackenzie and into Fort Providence, where I fill up for the next 200 miles into Yellowknife.
Pylons of the Deh Cho Bridge pierce the sky on my approach to its highest arc above the wide Mackenzie River.
The last 60 miles of road into Yellowknife are the worst I encounter. I’m carefully negotiating numerous gravel sections, bouncing over buckled pavement and dipping into whoop-de-dos. Seeing the “Welcome to Yellowknife” sign is a relief, but it’s elevated on a hillside, making getting the bike into the picture a precarious undertaking.
I locate my B&B, the Bayside, in Old Town. This is where Yellowknife was originally settled when gold was discovered in the 1930s. Diamond mining is the new gold standard for this city of 20,000 and capital of the Northwest Territories. To gain a perspective of the city I climb the steep, zigzag staircase to the top of Pilot Hill, otherwise known as “The Rock,” an escarpment of bedrock forming the Canadian Shield.
This view from Pilot Hill in Yellowknife’s Old Town shows an inlet of the Great Slave Lake and the exposed bedrock of the Canadian Shield in the foreground.
An obelisk monument here pays tribute to the bush pilots who mapped the area and brought supplies to the fledgling settlement. Colorful houseboats cluster in the bay, while seaplanes skim the water like dragonflies, leaving broad wakes as they take off and land. Great Slave Lake sparkles in cyan radiance to the horizon, perhaps because it’s the deepest lake in North America.
Located in a restored heritage building, Yellowknife’s oldest restaurant is noted for serving bison burgers and bison poutine.
My B&B provides a delicious breakfast, and has its own restaurant called the Dancing Moose that serves gourmet fare. But to experience an Old Town tradition I am directed to the Wildcat Café, Yellowknife’s oldest restaurant located in a log heritage building. Bison burgers are on the menu, and so is a variation of a Canadian standard, bison poutine. Just up the road is quirky Bullock’s Bistro, offering wild game and the “freshest fish in the Territory.” But you’ll pay handsomely for it. I have my best repast on my final day at the Woodyard Brewhouse–a decadent charcuterie and cheese board washed down with a flight of NWT suds.
The quirky Bullocks Bistro in Yellowknife has a reputation for the best and freshest seafood in the Territories.
Riding out of Old Town toward downtown I squirm over Ragged Ass Road. This lane is so-named by the gold-rush era prospectors who had gone stone broke (ragged ass), and so built their ramshackle cabins here. The road is in no better shape now, as noted. Nearby is a rock face carved and painted with cultural symbols representing the indigenous Inuit, Métis and Inuvialuit.
This nameplate appropriately describes both the road and the Yellowknife neighborhood of former gold-rush prospectors.
In downtown Yellowknife I locate a mural that depicts Northwest Territories themes, including a colorful aurora borealis. Given the nearly 24-hour daylight I was not going to actually see them on this trip. I had learned the best time to view the northern lights was before the spring equinox, or in the dead of winter. Hmm, the first time period was too early to risk a motorcycle ride, and forget the latter option. Regardless, there are many variables that affect the viewing of northern lights. The aurora is a magnetic storm caused by the capricious solar winds, so predicting and timing their ephemeral nature is a veritable crapshoot.
Regardless of the disappointment, I was content to ride this deep into the Territories, especially feeling smug having learned there is not a single road between here and the Arctic Ocean yet to challenge. I had seen few touring motorcyclists, and perhaps only two local riders. I got to thinking, the Mackenzie and Alaska highways both have deep territorial reach, but the Mackenzie is half the length of the Alaska. Why aren’t there more brethren exploring its terminus? Organizers of the Iron Butt Rally should take note.
Maybe I found nothing too exceptional in Yellowknife, and the northern lights didn’t display themselves, but I return home with the satisfaction of achieving yet another distant horizon, which should be the goal of any adventurous touring motorcyclist.
A map of the route taken, by Bill Tipton/compartmaps.com.
Riding in Montana is big: big skies, big trees, big rivers and big fun. Photos by the author.
It’s with a nod to the late, great music show host Lawrence Welk that I start this ride spanning a couple of Montana’s scenic blue highways. The bandleader’s famously accented musical lead-in is doubly relevant for this trek. First, this ride will begin and end with music. Second, it will encompass rolling on Montana’s historic Highways 1 and 2. So, without further ado, “Ah one, an’ ah two….”
Map of the route taken, by Bill Tipton/compartmaps.com.
Rockin’ the Rivers and Rollin’ on Highway 2
While it is most certainly true that it’s “about the ride not the destination,” having something entertaining to do before and after a ride adds spice to the adventure. With that in mind, my trek starts at the Rockin’ the Rivers Music Festival near Three Forks, Montana. It is not an accident that I found this event in my ride planning as it sits directly on the first of the routes that attracted me to the area. So as I sit listening to the classic rock of the Grass Roots and then Tommy James and the Shondells, my mind wanders to Montana State Highway 2.
The Grass Roots echo in the grasslands at the Rockin’ the Rivers Music Festival.
As I leave the festival, my ride on Highway 2 leads me almost immediately to the entrance of the Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park. While I decide not to do any spelunking, I stop long enough to read about the caverns and the fact that the Lewis and Clark expedition camped very close to the cave.
Rolling out of the park, the riding fun begins. The 20-mile stretch of Highway 2 that leads to my night’s lodging in Whitehall, Montana, is a great series of curves that follows the Little Pipestone Creek through an impressive river canyon. It is a nice precursor to what I will experience the rest of this ride.
This ride is dotted with historical sites, many of which document the Lewis and Clark expedition.
After a night’s sleep, I gas up in Whitehall and head northwest on the remainder of Highway 2. I roll past farms and ranches through big, sweeping curves. As I continue north, the grasslands morph into high chaparral. The road tightens into some entertaining hairpins as I gain elevation into a pine forested stretch. This is clearly great three-season motorcycle country.
The motorcycles in Montana are as diverse as the music.
Ultimately, this pine forest gives way to rich grasslands as I approach the historic mining town of Butte. Before grabbing lunch in a local diner, I ride through Butte’s well-preserved historic district. Amazingly, there are more than 10,000 miles of abandoned mine shafts and tunnels beneath the city. The wealth attained in those mines earned Butte the moniker “The Richest Hill on Earth.”
Rivers like the Little Blackfoot make the area around Missoula a fly fishing paradise.
Carving Highway 1 to a Jam in Missoula
A short stretch on Interstate 90 after Butte leads me to the exit for Montana State Highway 1. Signs tell me that Highway 1 is also known as the Pintler Veterans Memorial Scenic Highway and it certainly lives up to that “scenic” designation.
The first thing that catches my eye as I head west on the highway is a huge smokestack in the distance. It turns out that smelter stack is the most notable landmark in the town of Anaconda. It also turns out that the town’s name is prophetic. After leaving Anaconda, the road begins to coil into a serpentine motorcycle playground.
The road west of Anaconda clings resolutely to spectacular crimson canyon walls.
As I climb into the Anaconda-Pintler Mountain Range on Highway 1, I stop at several interesting historic sites. Montana does a great job of providing well-written and informative signage for its historic markers. Just as Lewis and Clark’s exploration is well-documented on the route, significant mining windfalls are also highlighted.
The author does a bit of map study beside yet another interesting historical marker.
I stop beside the deep blue waters of Silver and Georgetown lakes, which spell the approximate midpoint of this ride on the scenic route. After the lakes, the road coils again as it passes through pines, grasslands and crimson canyons. It’s a very entertaining ride indeed, and the number of motorcycles I meet on the road indicates it is not a secret to riders.
Blue waters and blue sky converge at Montana’s high-mountain Silver Lake.
The Pintler Veterans Memorial Scenic Highway ends at Interstate 90. However, I have found that it can pay off in spades to travel frontage roads rather than the nearby interstate. The long frontage road on this stretch of I-90 to Missoula is just such a find. The beautiful tree-lined Clark Fork River separates the interstate from the frontage road, making it seem worlds away. Like so many of the rivers in the area, the Clark Fork makes me think of Norman Maclean’s Montana-set literary masterpiece, “A River Runs Through It.”
This frontage road is a nice alternative to riding on the interstate south of Missoula.
When the fun of the I-90 frontage roads ends, there is just a short stretch of the interstate that leads to Missoula. Like Butte, Missoula is a town worth an extended visit. The historic city has a bustling charm that is enhanced by the vibrancy infused by the University of Montana.
Pearl Jam rocks the beautiful University of Montana football stadium in Missoula.
As I sit in the beautiful Montana Grizzly Stadium listening to Pearl Jam and watching the sun set on the rolling hills just past the stage, I can’t help but reflect on a great ride. To steal a few song titles from the band, the “Even Flow” of the ride certainly made me feel “Alive.” Or, as Mr. Welk might say, this Montana tour was “wunnerful, wunnerful.”
In the Alps, a motorcycle is the best means by which to explore the rugged terrain, twisty roads, cafés and summer snow fields. And a tour company, such as Beach’s Motorcycle Adventures, makes it all possible. (Photo by Gretchen Beach.)
A motorcycle trip in Europe’s Alps is likely on your bucket list, but such a trip is daunting. You’ll have to arrange for a bike, book hotels and, possibly, convince others to share the experience with you. Finally, if anything goes wrong during your trip, who would you call? Well, traveling with a motorcycle tour company solves all those problems at once.
Last July, I took a Beach’s Motorcycle Adventures tour of the western Alps that attracted 20 participants, 18 of whom were veterans of previous Beach tours; this percentage of repeat riders speaks volumes about these tours and the support that tour leaders Rob and Gretchen Beach provide for their customers. Most members of our tour group had flown into Zurich, Switzerland, and converged upon nearby Baden. All were from the United States except for a delightful couple from New Zealand.
An impromptu cruise on Lake Lucerne revealed views of gorgeous homes, hotels and mountains.
When our bikes arrived, we were introduced to the BMW motorcycles we had reserved from Beach’s rental fleet. Besides saddlebags, each was equipped with a GPS unit programmed so that we could ride one of several recommended daily routes or explore on our own. Rob instructed us on how to use the GPS units, and we were on our way.
Our 12-day tour through Switzerland, France and Italy began with a Tuesday ride from Baden southwest to Ornans, France. We first passed through an industrialized area with a good deal of traffic, but the Europeans often utilize roundabouts rather than stop lights so we kept moving regardless. The tour book we were given was filled with all sorts of historical and practical information about our two or three daily suggested routes, along with a map, all loaded into the GPS. They were often on small, local roads we would not likely have found on our own.
In Gruyères, Switzerland, we were treated to a dinner of its famous cheese fondue in an outdoor setting.
For weeks prior to the tour we had been receiving correspondence from the Beaches enlightening us to such considerations as foreign currencies, tipping, overseas phone calls, use of ATMs, credit cards, dress codes, packing tips and more. Then a month prior, here came a beautiful luggage bag for each participant, embroidered with the Beach’s logo and our names! The strong suggestion was to pack no more (other than riding gear) than what could fit in this bag. On traveling days we would set this packed bag in the hotel lobby, then van driver Henri would transport it to our next hotel and the bag would be waiting in our rooms when we arrived.
Soon our trip settled into a pleasant rhythm. European hotel breakfasts usually consist of sliced meats and cheeses, with croissants and breads, plus tea or coffee. Breakfasts and our varied, delicious dinners were included with the tour price, except for two dinners when we stayed a second night at the same hotel. This allowed us to explore the local restaurants.
Dinners, such as this salmon plate in Moustiers-Saint-Marie, France, were universally impressive and delicious.
On our first Wednesday we rode to Talloires, France, where our hotel overlooked Lake Annecy and a distant castle across the water. This was followed by a free day on which most of the riders went off to explore the countryside, while our passengers stayed in town to explore the local shops.
As we gathered for breakfast Friday morning, we found Rob at a table surrounded by a stack of GPS units. We learned that the Tour de France bicycle race was passing near our intended route, roads were closed, and we would have to re-route if we hoped to reach our next hotel at a reasonable hour. Now Rob was hard at work programming a new route for our convenience.
The old bridge in Lucerne, Switzerland, lured us to take a stroll.
Our route took us to Rencurel, France, passing through several tunnels and a stunning gorge in which the road actually undercut the mountain. When riding in the States, I spend most of my travel time in fifth and sixth gear. In the Alps, however, I spent most of my time in second and third gear. As a result, a 150-mile ride in the U.S. that takes three hours may take twice that long on the tight, twisty roads and first-gear hairpins of the Alps. Most of our riding days here were four to six hours, plus stops. Also, summers can be hot in the Alps and most hotels here–though delightful–do not have air conditioning.
Did someone say something about tight roads? At times I could swear I saw my own taillight in front of me!
The Alps involve very tight, technical roads that will test your slow-speed riding ability on multiple series of hairpin turns. Some were so tight that, on several occasions, I swear I could see my own taillight in front of me! For these tight mountain roads you don’t need a big bike, but something more agile. I had requested a BMW R 1200 RT for my passenger Frances’ comfort, but had I been solo would have preferred perhaps an F 700 GS.
Our hotel in Moustiers-Saint-Marie, France, offered a charming view of the mountains.
That Sunday we came within sight of Moustiers-Saint-Marie, France, a town set high against the backdrop of a massive gray wall of rocks, the buildings painted a complementary shade. This was to be our stop for the next two nights, and we found our hotel situated next to a beautiful arched bridge, below which flowed a steep, narrow, powerful waterfall. Its pleasant whoosh would be the backdrop for our sleep those nights.
The Grand St. Bernard Pass offers food, lodging and spectacular views.
Our next travel day, Tuesday, we headed for Auron, France, and were soon immersed in the sweet fragrance of lavender fields and the sight of acres of sunflowers shaking their yellow heads in the light breeze. Now we began to enjoy the ultimate mountain experience as we rode over some of the Alps’ highest passes. All the way up Cime de la Bonette, the highest at 2,802 meters (9,193 feet), were cars, motorcycles and bicycles, then a plaque at the top. I was feeling quite a sense of accomplishment for having ridden here…until I met a bicyclist from Chicago who had pedaled his way to the top.
Rob and Gretchen Beach were our amiable and informed guides.
On the next Thursday, from Sauze d’Oulx to Courmayeur, my co-pilot Frances and I encountered Rob and Gretchen who asked, “Do you want to have a picnic?” When we enthusiastically agreed they led us to a small specialty shop where we bought bread, sliced meats and cheeses. Then at an ancient bridge on the Col de l’Iseran (9,088 feet) we hiked past an old block building where, on a rocky, flower-strewn hilltop, Gretchen produced our repast as the far-off mountains shone with a necklace of glacial snow.
Narrow roads and tight turns indicate that a smaller bike may be preferable to a larger one in the Alps.
In Italy we were also fully immersed in the Alps experience, riding through small villages with streets barely wide enough for a car…or a wagon when they were constructed centuries ago. We encountered people strolling, flower boxes on windows from which emanated the fragrance of cooking or pipe tobacco. There is usually a war monument or two, sad reminders of those lost. Permanent glacial snow fields slump in the mountains, sending waterfalls rushing beside the road, sun so brilliant it can make you cry, rain so hard the pavement looks like a shag rug.
The interior of the Atrium Hotel Blume in Baden, Switzerland, was inviting indeed.
These tours allow one to interact with the locals on pre-selected routes. Rob led us to a restaurant in Courmayeur, where over dinner the friendly owner sang and mingled with our group like the uncle I used to have.
I want to stress that the Alps with their narrow roads, hairpin turns and changeable weather can be daunting, but Rob, Gretchen and van driver Henri went out of their way to care for their tour participants. When one rider had a mishap four hours from the hotel, Rob and Henri drove out to retrieve him and his bike. When some had trouble understanding the GPS, Rob conducted a mini seminar in addition to the group seminar. When Frances needed a backrest, Henri rigged one up for her from a step stool and rear seat from the spare bike. Not confident finding your way around? You’re invited to follow Rob and Gretchen to the next hotel.
Our tour members quickly coalesced into a group of riding friends.
In short, during our Alps experience with Beach’s Motorcycle Adventures we were well informed and cared for, our bikes pre-arranged and we gained many new friends with whom to share the experience. With nearly 200 tours under his belt, Rob Beach has the details dialed in. And when we returned home, we found that Gretchen had posted a 23-minute video of our tour that we could show our friends via the Internet. In all, a thoroughly enjoyable time.
The Beach’s Alpine Adventure West will run August 25-September 8, 2019; for more info visit bmca.com.
Map of the tour route, by Bill Tipton/compartmaps.com.
On the Blue Ridge Parkway at milepost 101, the Ducati makes me look better than in real life. In the background is the Quarry Overlook. This dolomite quarry was started in 1916–twenty years before the Parkway. Photos by the author.
Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains in autumn are a place of unique beauty not to be missed, especially from the open cockpit of a motorcycle. From my home in the northern tip of the state, the Virginia border runs diagonally southwest for more than 300 miles, parallel to the ridges and valleys of the mountains.
In the southwest corner are my two ride objectives: the Back of the Dragon, a 32-mile run of elbowing blacktop crossing three mountain ridges, and The Crooked Road, a collection of live music and historical venues along scenic motorcycle roads showcasing the regional specialty: bluegrass music. I also plan to make use of the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway, but only when my ambitious schedule will let me travel at the Parkway’s reduced speed limit of 45 mph.
Cars first rambled through this stone tunnel on the Blue Ridge Parkway south of Montebello in the 1930s. I’m sure it didn’t take long for the first motorcycle to follow!
It takes a day to get to my start point of Wytheville, but not without a midday detour along the Blue Ridge Parkway from near Montebello to Buchanan. I share the view at numerous overlooks with other riders, then enjoy lunch on the shore of Abbott Lake beneath the Peaks of Otter. There’s no wondering why the Parkway consistently rates among the top five motorcycle roads in the United States. A rider’s dream, the curvy ridge-top road runs through stone-arched tunnels and next to lakes, campgrounds and lodges–all completely devoid of traffic lights, stop signs and large trucks. Free for public use, the Parkway is open all year except in icy conditions.
Next morning I wake up in Wytheville to a steady rain lingering longer than forecast and wind gusts flexing the glass of the hotel window. I decide to motor circuitously and enter the Back of the Dragon at the north point to allow time for the rain to move out. I take U.S. Route 52 and enjoy a satisfying and twisty climb to Big Walker Lookout, elevation 3,405 feet. Here I find the Big Walker General Store and take a short break to enjoy the terrific views under overcast skies.
A group of riders with camping gear rolls along the Blue Ridge Parkway north of the Peaks of Otter, no doubt heading to one of the Parkway’s many campgrounds.
From there U.S. 52 curves downhill, then runs over rolling terrain alongside Interstate 77 for 20 or so miles—then suddenly joins the interstate and punches through a mile of mountain rock at the East River Mountain Tunnel. I then head west on U.S. Route 460 to Tazewell and turn onto State Route 16–the Back’s north entry point. Thankfully, the rain has stopped and the road is mostly dry.
There are neat, steady curves across the first ridge before dropping more than a thousand feet for a two-mile cruise through a gorgeous, Shire-like valley. The road then winds up the face of the second ridge and slices behind towers of leafy kudzu. Then come mile upon mile of pleasing twists along the second ridge before switchbacking downhill into the second valley, a nice break before the final 1,500-foot climb.
My growling and nimble Ducati Multistrada eats up the twisty climb and we loop through bursting autumn colors that surround rocky crests. The road surface is mostly excellent, though I did encounter a little gravel in spots.
U.S. Route 52 north of Wytheville takes one last dip to the left before twisting its way to Big Walker Lookout. The excellent road surface seen here is what I encountered on every mountain road on my trip.
State Route 16 continues south through Marion and later connects with U.S. Route 58–I’m now officially on The Crooked Road. Designated by the state of Virginia in 2004, The Crooked Road uses U.S. 58 as a central conduit but includes connected roads leading to festivals, museums and live music sessions, all associated with the heritage of bluegrass and country music.
I’m committed to being at the Floyd Country Store for the Friday Nite Jamboree, so I shortcut there on U.S. Route 221. Time permitting, I recommend an alternate route using the Parkway to Floyd and stopping by the Blue Ridge Music Center near Galax for the live music each afternoon.
To get a seat at the Floyd Country Store’s Friday Nite Jamboree you have to get by Barb and Beverly at the ticket counter–I think the five spot is a bargain just for their smiles and friendly company.
The Floyd Country Store is a crown jewel of The Crooked Road. A modest cover charge of $5 gets me in the door. After an initial set of bluegrass gospel, folks are clearing away folding chairs and dancing to the fast-paced syncopation of Katie & The Bubbatones. Many “flatlanders” like myself are simply tapping our feet, but it’s clear that this lively music is still an important way for local folks to unwind after a busy week. On my way out I bag a pastry at the store’s bakery to have with next morning’s coffee.
The sun rises to a chilly but crystal clear morning as I depart Floyd’s cozy Pine Tavern Lodge, a clean and updated hideaway that has continuously served travelers since 1927. A peaceful winding ride on State Routes 8 and 40 takes me through elevated meadows and rolling farms, across small wooded creeks and finally to the Blue Ridge Folklife Festival in Ferrum. You’ll find such festivals along The Crooked Road almost any weekend from June through October.
At the Blue Ridge Folklife Festival, metal meets metal and sparks shoot forth when Billy Phelps brings the hammer down. Billy is a Master Blacksmith who has given live demonstrations at the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C.These experts fix the cap arm on a moonshine still. They taught me a lot–alcohol boils off at 172 degrees (a lower temperature than water) so the cap arm catches the alcohol steam for condensation into moonshine.An Amish group set up a donut operation that was nonstop busy. I ate the best donut that I have ever eaten–or will ever eat.
I decide I need a final cruise on the Parkway so I get there by U.S. 220. Once on the Parkway, two groups of motorcyclists are going my direction, and we leapfrog along the Parkway as we take turns stopping at different overlooks. I exit the Parkway for good on State Route 43 for the small town of Bedford, a place that possesses the tragic distinction of losing more residents per capita in the D-Day landings than any other American community. Bedford’s D-Day Memorial is a good, quiet place to reflect on how fortunate I am to be able to traverse through Virginia’s natural, cultural and historical sites before continuing on home–back to the flatlands.
Map of the route taken, by Bill Tipton/compartmaps.com.
Riding high above the Gorges de la Nesque in Provence on one of its many “balcony” roads carved into the rock canyon walls. Photos by the author and Genie Tuttle.
Would you travel halfway around the world for an 11-day motorcycle touring vacation that promises fantastic roads and scenery, delicious food and drink, interesting foreign culture, fun and camaraderie every day? Of course you would.
What if each day’s route was a secret, and you had no idea where the tour is going other than the arrival airport, not even the hotel names? Signing up seem a little nuts?
Well, it probably is, but that hasn’t stopped Edelweiss Bike Travel’s Mystery Tour from selling out both times it has run, partly because of the company’s solid reputation for delivering everything in the first sentence above and partly because of repeat customers, from both the original Mystery Tour (now called the Life is Beautiful—Alpine Wonderland tour) and other Edelweiss motorcycle tours.
The tiny village of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, with its narrow streets and vaulted passageways, is considered to be one of the most beautiful in France.
When my wife Genie and I committed to the “MT” starting and ending in Nice, France, in June 2018, it felt like agreeing to do a trust fall with a stranger—you know he or she is probably going to catch you, but there’s always that tiny bit of doubt. We knew we’d be in good hands though, if not on good roads, since the MT is the one EBT tour led by Managing Director Rainer Buck and his wife Gaby, who may not know exactly where we’re going but have lots of company credit cards.
Rainer was assisted by guides Michael Goebel and Pablo Piferrer, who between them have nearly 20 years of experience guiding EBT tours around the world and made the 17 of us riders and co-pilots from the USA, Austria, Mexico and Switzerland feel like family.
Limestone cliffs form the walls of the Ardèche Gorges; their most famous feature is this 197-foot stone arch called the Pont d’Arc.
Canyons, Napoleon and Beautiful Villages
Once rescued from the row upon row of private jets and wall-to-wall resort high-rises surrounding Nice airport on the French Riviera, that afternoon we sipped prosecco in celebration of a rider’s birthday while “rookie” guide Rainer, or RR, gave the first tour briefing on the veranda of a lovely hotel in Vence, in the foothills of the Maritime Alps above Nice.
The Mystery Tour is different from other EBT tours in that—since only RR and the guides know each day’s route—the group stays together the entire time, with no riding off on your own. It’s also one of EBT’s Royal Tours, so all of the meals are included, even lunch on all but the rest day. Each of us also received a crossword puzzle, the six clues for which were printed on RR’s fresh T-shirt each day. Complete the puzzle correctly and you might go with RR on a special bonus ride on the penultimate day—more on this later.
With no clue from RR where we were headed except his daily dubious cry of “North!” we left Vence in the morning and instead headed west, over the 3,159-foot Col de Vence (Vence Pass) in the Maritime Alps. The endlessly winding road rising up through a green forest and imposing dolomite-type rocky mountains set the stage for the rest of the tour (rated a 4 out of 5 for difficulty among EBT tours), since we spent very little time on the center of our tires, or even in fifth or sixth gears.
The Sénanque Abbey was founded in 1148, and monks have always lived there since except for a few decades, growing lavender and tending honeybees.
Quite happy I had chosen an agile BMW R 1200 RT for Genie and me, as we explored an 11th-century church at the first of many coffee stops, I was also thankful for the mesh riding apparel we had brought for the warm temps in Southern France.
Picking up the Route Napoléon, which the emperor took on his return from exile in Elba in 1815, we zoomed around its smooth cambered corners through the diverse landscapes of Provence at a fun, brisk pace set by RR and most of the group riding BMW RTs, R 1200 and 800 GS models and Ducati Mutltistradas, with a guide in back sweeping up the slower riders.
Wildflowers were everywhere on the June tour.
Detouring onto snaky roads far above gorgeous valleys and down alongside turquoise-green rivers, lunch was at a 9th-century chateau perched high above the verdant scrubland. Our first of many deep gorges and the tunnels and arches along amazing “balcony roads” carved into the canyon walls high above were on the dessert menu as we rode along the spectacular Gorge du Verdon in the afternoon—at 15.5 miles long and up to 3,000 feet deep it’s aptly nicknamed the Grand Canyon of Europe.
Clinging to the cliffside in the Ardèche Gorges.
This part of France is also famous for its endless “blue gold” lavender fields, and the afternoon coffee-stop village of Moustiers, voted the prettiest in France—which is really saying something!
Briefly rejoining the Route Napoléon, it took us into Château-Arnoux-Saint-Auban for the evening, the end of a 162-mile riding day that was about par for each riding day of the tour. The chase van driven by one of the guides and carrying our luggage and a spare bike was rarely more than an hour away from the group, yet somehow always managed to beat us to each night’s hotel.
Many of Europe’s highest passes are in the French Alps.
Hotels on the 2018 MT ranged from, as RR put it tongue firmly in cheek, “zero to five stars,” which really meant that the one lovely auberge or inn on a bucolic farm in the Côtes du Rhône (the famous wine region in the Rhône Valley), my favorite, simply didn’t have a Michelin rating. The rest of the accommodations were equally or more wonderful, whether it was a castle, modern hotel with a river view, in a historic city or the base hotel in Vence.
Sustenance on the Mystery Tour was delicious, varied and frequent, and the vin superb.
We dined like kings as well, sometimes on French specialties like pâté and veal but more often on meat entrees with truffle-infused sauces and farm-to-table vegetables and salads, sumptuous fresh baked bread and a wide variety of cheeses. RR is passionate about wine, too, so he made sure that a nice selection of local vin rouge and vin blanc was available each evening and treated us to a special tasting one night as well.
Southern France is also home to the Carthusian monks who create the intoxicating neon green liqueur Chartreuse, which some of us enjoyed one night with Cuban cigars to the smooth sounds of Michael’s folk guitar and vocals. One really can’t say enough about guides Pablo and Michael—their efforts and camaraderie helped make the tour magnifique.
The River Tarn formed 33 miles of spectacular Gorges du Tarn flanked by limestone cliffs as much as 1,640 feet high.
Gorgeous Gorges, Endless Passes
The food, hotels and culture stops, such as the Caverne du Pont-d’Arc in the Ardèche Valley with its 36,000-year-old cave paintings, sprawling 12-acre Bamboo Park in the Rhône Valley and historic villages and towns with their lovely old French architecture and genuinely friendly people all made for a deliciously rich experience during our regular stops, lunches and evenings. It’s truly amazing I didn’t gain more weight, or run out of camera memory cards. But the raison d’être of the Mystery Tour is the roads and riding, made all the more fun by not knowing exactly what was in store each day.
No wider than a walking path through its arches and tunnels in places, the magnificent Combe Laval is virtually suspended from the side of the canyon.
Southeastern France is laced with deep gorges carved over the centuries by impressive rivers like the Verdon, Nesque and Tarn, and the ride connected the many gorges with the beautiful valleys, mountains, plateaus and national parks of Provence, the Languedoc region and French Alps. We crossed one of the most extraordinary areas in France, the Cévennes, on the Corniche de Cévennes, a wide sweeping road originally built in the 1700s by the Huguenot army that this day was nearly deserted and like a racetrack through the forest flora.
The 2018 Mystery Tour group enjoys a “boot” beer (we’re done riding but still in our boots) in a hotel parking lot in the Côtes du Rhône.
Our rest day—yet another riding day for many in the group—was among the spires and massifs of the Gorges du Tarn on the Tarn River, where some of us hiked, swam and kayaked before ascending and circling the Causse Noir and Causse Méjean on the bikes, giant limestone plateaus of rich farmland surrounded by gorges and strung with more exciting balcony roads and tunnels. If there was a problem with the roads and scenery on this tour, it was not being able to look away from either….
Looking down from 8,688-foot Col du Galibier.
From the Parc des Grands Causses we made a giant U-turn back toward Nice and the Côte d’Azur, but some of the best riding was yet to come—the French Alps. Over the next several days we conquered a dozen passes lined with snow in places, including the 2nd- through 5th-highest in France, and briefly crossed into Italy over the 9,003-foot Col Agnel to have a refreshingly different lunch of pizza and pasta while the three crossword puzzle winners enjoyed a helicopter tour with RR of Mont Blanc, at 15,777 feet the highest in Europe.
Descending from yet another pass in the French Alps.
After returning to France, the finale was a twisting ascent up to La Madone d’Utelle for a tasty picnic lunch skillfully prepared by Pablo at this hilltop sanctuary with a 360-degree view over the French Riviera. How he got the big van up—and down—that crazy road I’ll never know. Just one of the wonderful mysteries of the Mystery Tour.
Picnic time at the sanctuary of La Madone d’Utelle, high atop a mountain with a view of the French Riviera.
The 2018 Edelweiss Bike Travel Mystery Tour is now called the Life is Beautiful—Magical France tour and will run next June 6-26, 2019. The arrival airport for the next Mystery Tour is Athens, Greece, May 3, 2020…but shhhh, it’s a secret! For more info visit edelweissbike.com.
Travel from Yuma to San Diego via historic U.S. Route 80 and the wood Plank Road, and you’ll see how unforgiving the desert can be. Photos by the author.
Picture a scene in which hearty travelers traverse barren and windswept sand dunes on roads of rough-hewn timbers. I am not talking about some prehistoric time nor am I forecasting a dystopian future. No, my friends, many still-living Americans could tell you of this strange and fascinating tale set in the American Southwest.
I recently happened upon a magazine article that mentioned a wood plank road that spanned the sand dunes linking the southernmost portions of California and Arizona. With my interest piqued, I dug deeper and discovered that the Old Plank Road was operational for more than a decade and was ultimately displaced by a paved portion of U.S. Route 80 in 1926.
Almost four decades later, U.S. 80 succumbed to Interstate 8. Now, the Plank Road is a fascinating, crumbling relic of the early 20th century; however, long portions of Historic U.S. 80 are still passable as an interesting alternative to I-8 from Yuma, Arizona, to San Diego, California.
That was enough for me. I dug deeper into the history of the Plank Road, researched Historic U.S. 80, charted my course and packed the bags on my BMW R 1200 GS. I was off to discover the Plank Road and ride as much of Historic U.S. Route 80 as possible from Yuma to San Diego.
The Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Bridge is the impressive opening act to the Yuma to San Diego trek. The bridge spans the Colorado River, and its 1915 completion date coincides with the Plank Road. Its name indicates its importance in the nationwide, transcontinental Ocean-to-Ocean Highway.
Yuma to El Centro – in Search of the Plank Road
The sun-drenched starting point of my ride was the history-rich city of Yuma, Arizona. Now snowbirds in massive RVs converge on the city in winter like their winged migratory counterparts. However, Yuma was once a centerpiece of the Old West, and has been a transportation hub of the Southwest for more than one hundred years.
I began my trek west at the Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Bridge, which spans the Colorado River in north Yuma. Now on the National Historical Register, the bridge was completed in 1915, which coincides with the early years of the Plank Road. The area directly surrounding the bridge is home to a cluster of historical sites. The Yuma Territorial Prison, which sits directly adjacent to the bridge, was an intriguing walk back into the rough-and-tumble Old West. The close-by Colorado River State Historic Park dates back to the late 19th century and preserves a small number of the Plank Road timbers in a display.
After riding over the Ocean-to-Ocean Highway Bridge, a quick left turn placed me immediately on Historic U.S. 80. The road took me by crumpling adobe structures, over the All-American Canal and through the sandy desert. Whereas nearby I-8 is smooth, wide and boring, Historic U.S. 80 is narrow, cracked, undulating and entertaining. It requires attention and a bit of slaloming to avoid jarring reminders that it is a historic route. The long suspension on the BMW was tailor-made for the unpredictable road conditions.
A ride on Historic U.S. 80 requires vigilance. Sand drifts, potholes and crumbling margins speak to its relegation to secondary status.
After this opening act of my Historic U.S. 80 tour, I rejoined I-8 for a bit. Portions of Historic U.S. 80 are relegated to spur status–they “spur” off of the interstate but terminate without rejoining the new route. One such spur is Grays Well Road.
The Grays Well section of the original route is now a well-paved ingress into the Imperial Sand Dunes portion of the larger geological feature known as the Algodones Dunes. These dunes are what made the Plank Road necessary in the early 1900s. After enjoying a short, beautiful ride through shining sand hills, I came to the site that contains the longest and best-preserved portion of the Old Plank Road.
What I found was a stretch of the Old Plank Road that spans the equivalent of about five football fields in length. The road is protected from potential damage by off-road vehicles with metal, sand-worthy barriers, but visitors can touch and walk the Plank Road section. The road is intriguing. It has weathered and rusted into a heaving work of art.
One can almost hear the rhythmic thumping of Model T tires when visiting the protected section of the wood Plank Road. The vast majority of nearby interstate travelers have no idea that this historic relic even exists.
So why was the timber road ever built? Quite simply, it was commercially important to have a direct route here from the growing and thriving San Diego coastal area to the west. While asphalt and concrete road building techniques of the time worked reasonably well on the harder surfaces of the area directly east of the coast, the shifting sands of the Algodones Dunes posed a huge quandary for road builders.
San Diego businessman Ed Fletcher was the driving force that ultimately led to the construction of the Plank Road. That bumpy, ever-changing, maintenance-intensive endeavor continued as the transportation solution for crossing more than six miles of the dunes from 1915 through 1926.
I walked, touched and studied the Plank Road in solitude. Not a single soul even drove by in the substantial time I spent in the surreal dunes. When I finally pulled myself away, I took another short ride on the interstate before jumping back on Historic U.S. 80 toward the California towns of Holtville and El Centro. The long, straight stretch of the historic road gave me time to ruminate on the Plank Road and the challenges of early travelers.
Much of Historic U.S. 80 runs parallel with and in close proximity to the interstate, but it is worlds apart in terms of traffic and fun. There are remnants and ruins of structures that were left to languish in the desert heat when traffic was rerouted to the newer and faster interstate.
Historic U.S. 80 runs through the hearts of both Holtville and El Centro, as both were supremely important to the commerce and trade of the time. Either of these cities can serve as a gas and food stop on this route; I found a hotel in El Centro just off the Historic U.S. 80 route.
The Cleveland National Forest spans 460,000 acres of desert and chaparral.
Ocotillo to Laguna Junction – on the Winding Road
While fascinating and historically rich, the prior day’s ride was, for the most part, straight. Motorcyclists, by nature, love curves and that is what this next leg of my ride on Historic U.S. 80 had to offer.
After a breakfast of huevos rancheros in El Centro, I made my way to Ocotillo. After rolling through the town, named after a type of cactus, I rode a nicely curvy stretch of I-8 until I came to the exit for the Desert View Tower. The tall, eclectic stone structure, which dates back to the time of the Plank Road, sits on another Historic U.S. 80 spur west of the interstate.
After a short visit to the tower, I crossed the interstate to the south onto a long, intact loop of Historic U.S. 80. The road is instantly winding and remains coiled for miles of highly entertaining riding. The little desert oasis town of Jacumba Hot Springs is home to its namesake spring, a few colorful buildings and a clothing-optional resort. I am sure to everyone’s delight I opted to stay clothed and keep riding.
The GS is right at home with several brethren outside the Jacumba Spa Restaurant.
At a few points along the route, the tall international border “wall” could be seen to the south and there were sporadic signs warning that the region is subject to illegal drug trafficking. However, from the rolling perspective of a motorcycle saddle, there is a slow-paced calm to the area.
I rode through several small clusters of humanity and miles of unspoiled nature toward the Campo Indian Reservation and the Cleveland National Forest. The road conditions are variable and there are sections of concrete as well as reasonably maintained asphalt. However, from a pure riding perspective, I found this to be the most entertaining stretch of the route.
The Jacumba section just north of the U.S./Mexico border is the most curvy and entertaining of the ride.
Laguna Junction to the Beautiful Balboa Park
At Laguna Junction, Historic U.S. 80 runs north of the interstate for a while as it winds to the west. I passed through the small towns of Guatay and Descanso Junction, and the increased elevation of 4,000 feet brought with it a nice mix of oak and pine trees. Where Historic U.S. 80 melds back into I-8, I could see several now impassable portions of the old road in the mountains to my right.
From this point on through Alpine, El Cajon and La Mesa, Historic U.S. 80 flirts with and becomes the interstate and other roads intermittently. The ride in this stretch was much more frenetic and filled with traffic than the rest of the route, and rolled through historic commercial districts and residential communities as the ride became increasingly urban.
The entrance of the stunning Balboa Park is an impressive foreshadowing of the treasures within.
After several miles of this suburban jockeying, I rolled to the end of my tour as I entered the stunningly beautiful Balboa Park. The “Jewel of San Diego” spells the approximate end of the Historic U.S. 80, and a perfect end to the ride. The lush natural environment combined with fantastic museums and entertainment venues like the Old Globe Theater make Balboa one of the most delightful parks in the Southwest.
My final stop was the San Diego Automotive Museum in Balboa Park, which houses a nice collection of historic motorcycles alongside vintage and unique cars and trucks. Fittingly, the museum features a creative display dedicated to the Old Plank Road, which brings it to life and provides a fine overview of this significant part of transportation history.
The San Diego Automotive Museum in Balboa Park features a current exhibition that brings the Plank Road to life.Historic photos and staged exhibits in the museum show the wonders and challenges of crossing the Imperial Dunes.
Riding Considerations
Being a desert region, this ride is best made from fall to spring. The summer months are sweltering. Road conditions are extremely variable as there are sections of both asphalt and concrete. Potholes, sand and some broken tarmac should be expected. For a detailed series of route maps, visit americanroads.us/ushighways/ushighway80.html.
After a final dinner with the McWilliams family it was time to head for the Belfast docks and join the long queue for the late overnight ferry to the port of Douglas on the Isle of Man.
Waiting for the ferry from Belfast to the Isle of Man
Luckily, the night was not too cold and there was only a very slight bit of occasional drizzle to dampen the spirits of the hundreds of riders as they waited patiently with their motorcycles in the open air of the Belfast Ferry Terminal at Albert Quay.
As far as docks go these are quite pleasant. From the waiting area you look across the inlet to the blue lights of the Titanic Belfast building. Its leading edge designed to resemble the prow of the infamous ship itself. The Titanic was built in Belfast and launched in front of over 100,000 spectators on May 31, 1911, thus the homage to the ill-fated passenger liner.
Albert Quay, Belfast
While a lot less grand, I was hoping our Steam Packet Ferry across to the Isle of Man would perhaps prove a little more successful in being able to reach its destination.
Get Routed generally book dozens of tickets to ensure his clients have space for both themselves and their motorcycles. Dave also books a few houses on the Isle of Man to put his clients up during the TT fortnight.Some prefer to take tents and camp out in one of the many campsites which spring up for the TT. It’s a cheaper option.
Get Routed had organised our unique package to my requirements. I didn’t want to do the straight-up regular ferry from Liverpool and back from the mainland like most TT goers. I had come a long way and desired a much more diverse itinerary to make the best of our few weeks away.
Triumph Tiger 1200 XCa – Jurassic Coast, Devon
I wanted to tour the southern climes of Great Britain and Wales before the TT.I was also keen to do some riding in Ireland, including a dirtbike tour up in Donegal, before then catching up with the McWilliams family in Belfast for a good craic.
To cater for this Dave had advised us to book a ferry from the Welsh port of Holyhead across the Irish Sea to Dublin.Then our ferry to the Isle of Man from Belfast for the TT fortnight, and also sourced us ferry tickets that after race week would take us from the IOM across to Liverpool. Where we would then continue our motorcycle touring to take in England’s Peak and Lake Districts before returning our Explorers back to Triumph’s Hinckley HQ. It was a somewhat complicated plan of attack, but Dave had sourced the required tickets and just made it all happen. Obviously he did this over 12 months in advance.
As we waited in line for the ferry from Belfast we realised that we were probably the only first timers onboard for the trip across to the 572 square-kilometre island that has been made famous around the globe due to the 37.73-miles of tarmac that snakes its way up and down and around the central parts of the Isle of Man, the fabled ‘Mountain Course’ IOM TT.
Ferry port at Douglas, Isle of Man
The ferry was jam packed, seats were at a premium. Predictably, there was a little argy-bargy involved in order to try and get a reasonably comfortable spot. The trip itself is around a three-hour affair, and you also spend a good few hours standing around with your bike at the terminal waiting to board. In fact you spend almost as much time dicking around at the terminal as you do on the bloody ferry!Check in closed at midnight but you are advised to get there well before that, despite the ferry not departing until 0200. It is a bit tedious, but the excitement in the air is palpable and makes up for it, we’re going to the TT!
I got to talking to a group of Irish fellas who were long time TT goers. A couple of them clad in full leathers complete with knee-sliders, eager to lap the mountain course themselves when ever the roads are open during TT Practice week and to a lesser extent race week. The roads are generally open most of the time, you can cut a dozen laps or more during TT week without too much bother if you are keen.Doing laps of the TT circuit also affords the time to seek out good viewing spots for when the real speed demons hit the circuit.
These Irish fellas I had got talking to, likely in their early 30s, so ten years or so younger than myself, were seasoned punters and knew the score. They had lost mates themselves at the TT. However, they were all proper Irish motorcycle nutters that had grown up around road racing, it was in their blood.
Their childhood heroes the likes of Joey Dunlop, 24-time winner of the Ulster GP and 26-time winner at the TT. Joey ‘Yer Maun’ Dunlop was a national treasure, awarded both an MBE and OBE before his tragic death while racing a 125 in Estonia in 2000.Conversely enough, Joey died on a closed course rather than ‘on the roads’.
Death is a part of the TT. It always has been, and unfortunately, most likely always will be.You always hear about the deaths of the famous riders losing their lives on road courses, Joey’s brother Robert lost his life on a 250 at the Northwest 200, Robert’s son William passed away this year after an accident at Skerries.
Scores more lives have been lost that never made any headlines. Almost every year a number of racegoers lose their own lives, crashing their motorcycles while on the Isle of Man to enjoy the TT fortnight. These crashes rarely make the news, its just part and parcel of what happens on this pretty patch of dirt in the middle of the Irish Sea.
I don’t wish to be morbid, but it is a simple fact of life, the Isle of Man TT also quite often involves death. It is what it is….
Douglas, Isle of Man
Changing tack somewhat…It was a glorious morning in Douglas as our Triumph steeds turned their wheels for the first time on the Isle of Man tarmac. Dave from Get Routed was there to meet us as we rode off the ferry. We followed him out of town and down towards our digs at the southern end of the Isle, the picturesque Port Erin. That first morning though we were not up for seeing much of anything other than bed!
Port Erin
The next day saw almost perfect weather unfold after a crisp and clear morning over the delightful sheltered harbour of Port Erin. This trend of sun and warmth continued for our entire time on the Island.
Port St. Mary
We were lucky enough to enjoy what was possibly the most glorious weather ever encountered over an entire TT fortnight. Later in the year Classic TT goers were not quite so lucky…
Port Erin
I was taken aback at the beauty of the Island. I guess my thoughts surrounding the Isle of Man had never gone beyond the tarmac of the Mountain Course, and the men that lay black lines of rubber on it. But now my eyes were opened to its beauty and I was keen to drink it all in.
Port Erin
Dave had situated us down on the southern coast of what proved to be a much larger island than I had imagined. We had motorcycles to explore it on, and better still our motorcycles were adventure bikes, thus we could also venture off-road when it suited us.
Isle of Man
The beautiful landscapes and myriad walking trails got me to thinking that it would not be a mistake for someone to bring their family to the TT.
Port Erin at night
There were days where we never even ventured near the mountain course to take in practice sessions, instead hiking our way along the picturesque southern cliffs, which at some points look across to the Calf of Man.
Hiking from Port Erin across the cliffs to the most south-west of the Isle of Man and looking across to the Calf of Man
The much needed exercise also made me a feel a little less guilty for indulging in the fantastic ales and awesome pub food that we encountered pretty much everywhere we toured throughout the UK. I am salivating at the memory!
Much beer was enjoyed!
And of course the first pub I visited on the Isle of Man I bump into a group of Aussies, some of which I had crossed paths with before.
First pub I go to and it is full of Aussies!
We had got so lucky with the weather, the lush rolling green hills were picture perfect and the surprisingly brilliant clear blue of the Irish Sea sparkled in contrast, a backdrop good enough to paint.
Port Erin
The visibility in the water was remarkable and allowed us to spot plenty of sealife from afar. Basking Sharks the most common sight visible from the Port Erin Harbour or the clifftops above.
Isle of Man
Clearly, there is a lot more to enjoy on the Isle of Man than just the racing.
Most places around the Isle of Man put on some entertainment of an evening during the TT fortnight, like this temporary stage set up at Port Erin
It was once a favoured holiday destination for much of the UK, but with these days of cheap flights to the warmer climes of Spain and the Greek Islands, it has fallen out of favour as a mainstream holiday destination for Brits.
Plenty of interesting places to explore on the Isle of Man
The island comes alive for the TT though, and the TT (and farmers exporting rare breed bull semen), is now what keeps the island alive.
Isle of Man
Race week saw new records set. Peter Hickman’s final lap to win the Senior TT was epic, his speed across the mountain section in particular was breathtaking and an outright lap record.
Peter Hickman on his way to victory in the 2018 IOM TT
Racers that specialise on the ‘real roads’ circuits such as the IOM and the North West call traditional career motorcycle racers ‘car park racers’. Reflecting on the fact that they race on circuits with only a dozen turns, as compared to the hundreds found on the mountain course. The speed of Hickman and Harrison at this year’s TT though showed just what a dedicated season of speed on a Superbike or Superstock bike in BSB now brings to the table as speeds continuously rise and new records are set at the TT.This pair regularly race in the tight cut and thrust of the British Superbike Championship, and look set to dominate TT proceedings for the foreseeable future.
Dean Harrison – 2018 Isle of Man TT
I got a couple of laps of the Mountain Course in myself onboard the Triumph Explorer 1200. One of the days I was stuck near the top of the mountain section with hundreds of others riders, the road had been closed due to a rider making a fatal mistake that would prove his last. Strangely, there was still more excitement than sadness in the air, riders were keen to press on again as soon as the carnage had been cleared and the roads were open again. This is the TT, this is how it is.
I shot down a skinny side-road back towards town before turning my way back up towards the course along another farm lane that eventually met the course again only a few hundred metres from where the other hundreds of riders awaited the road to open again. Here though I was amongst only a few dozen waiting at the police manned barriers.I quizzed the officers as to which barrier would get lifted first, ours or the one I could see just a little further back up the road, they said likely ours. I was keen to get the holeshot, keeping my helmet on as I wanted to get out ahead of the pack.
I sneaked around this traffic block to get out ahead of it when the roads were opened again.
It turned out just how I had planned, the barrier lifted and I launched that 1200 Explorer hard out of the hole to beat everyone else on to the circuit. This was it. I had a clear run over the final few miles of the mountain section and if I went fast enough, I would keep the hundreds of sportsbike riders behind me at bay due to their delay in getting away.I did not want to get mixed up in that bunch of nutters so I had a crack.
It was glorious, two lanes of perfect blacktop to myself as I sped past landmarks that I had only seen before on TV.Flying past Kate’s Cottage and then flat out down towards the tight right hand bend in front of Creg-ny-Baa.I was still leading and could not see anyone in my mirrors as I sat up to brake for Creg-ny-Baa. Hundreds of onlookers out the front of the pub let out their cheers of congratulation as I lofted the front wheel past them on exit.
Dean Harrison – TT 2018 – Kate’s Cottage seen in the distance as Harrison rounds the bend outside Creg-Ny-Baa
Of course that last bit about the crowd was all just in my head, I think the people drinking at Creg-ny-Baa were really just thinking, ‘look at this fat bastard on an adventure bike reckoning he is John McGuinness’. Of course, when the real racers got at it later in the day I would have looked like I was at walking pace in comparison.
I didn’t care, I was on the Isle of Man, I was riding a motorcycle pretty fast, passing milestones and landmarks that I had only before seen a thousand times on TV, and it was glorious. It will stay with me for a long time. Hell, I think I might go again next year, care to join me?
Isle of Man
If you want the chance to enjoy riding the Isle of Man then get the low down from Dave Milligan as to the ins and outs of how you can go about it. The old bugger can seem a bit ornery at first but once you get to know him he has a heart of gold.Get Routed have been taking people to the TT for over 20 years. Dave is a font of knowledge and if he can’t help you, he will no doubt put you on to someone who can. Give him a bell on 03 5625 9080 to find out more.
