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Reports
Stella Alpina Rally 2002
ON THE FIRST PART OF THE JOURNEY The thunderstorms are crashing all around as I look through my Stella pics and I am reminded of the big storm we had shortly after arriving in Bardonecchia. A few of us hardy souls had a grandstand view as we sheltered under the balcony overhangs of the Hotel, supping on cold beer watching the lightning blazing about us. But I digress,,, Wednesday afternoon at the Ferry and at the final head count many new smiley faces were there to compliment the many timers , along with familiar faces from other trips. Infact all points were covered from Scotland (Stu) to Wales (Paul A) to Hull(Alex) to err, the Sarf with Adam an` Robert holding their ends. Onto the ferry without a hitch due to Pc`s seamless transition plan of small groups boarding. Cabins settled and beer ,food etc consumed, some early to bed, some a lot later and before you know it, time for breakfast.
SOMEBODY`S CALLING MY NAME Off the Boat to sunshine and the steady grind thro` the flatlands begins,. The tight formation required around Lille and the North gets stretched but, hey, the sun is out and we are on our way. It was a hot and dusty journey and I could hear the first beer calling me from as far away as Dijon. Off the peage and I had to have a gallop to the hotel while the Musketeers kept a steady pace. After all regrouping and beers with Paul ,Paul&Sam (whose not bothered if you swear a bit, cos` I asked her) Robert, Eric ,Chris and Guy food was partaken and social intercourse was enjoyed by all on our first proper night abroad.
RIVER DEEP, MOUNTAIN HIGH Friday started with Carl leading off a quick run/race? that didn`t stop where PC had planned. We had a few good dices as the sports bikes were mixed in with the big trailies and honour had to be upheld. It`s always harder to pass so let the one behind try and overtake. We were all fairly well matched out of slow speed corners, so doing the opposition on the brakes going in was much more fun.The group funnelled down into Geneva, dropping off the last man, a couple of re-groupings and we were on the way to Bonneville for the first big Col of the day , the Col de la Colombiere, followed by the Col des Aravis Fantastic scenery and weather. I had my "go faster" head on.You either ride the road or look at the scenery, but not both.Way too scary! On top of the Aravis ,Eric of the 3 musketeers noticed a leaking master cylinder on his GS1100 and with no fix available it was game over and back down the mountain to find a BM dealer.The other two musketeers accompanied him and that was the last we would see of them today.Or so we thought,,, but serendipity proved us wrong. On we carried through the Gorges de l`Arondine where the dappled shade made reading the road difficult. I gave the front tyre some serious abuse whilst finding out that a big trailie with Fireblade brakes is a match for a Fireblade with the same front brake. The fun ended in Flumet, as the back man system came into play, then before you knew it the Col des Saisies had gone and we were in Beaufort for lunch. We joined Robin&Theresa for a pavement cafe view of the world as the Celsius soared into the 30`s. When the others arrived back it was to find Paul&Sam`s GS 80 had blown it`s fork oil seals so they set off for a night in Grenoble whilst the repair was made. The next pass was the highlight from last years ride down and I think it was the same again this year. The Cormet d`Areches has an unsurfaced stretch over the top, but the views of the green lake and the snowy peaks is breath taking. Some with road tyres went round another way to regroup for the Col de la Madeleine. Adam was doing the Fraz substitute, taking pictures a plenty , then living his dreams roaring down the dirt road to join the others at the bottom of the hairpins where the tarmac started again. Onto the valley bottom after numerous hairpins, and the heat slowly building as we dropped, then a quick main road run before Madeleine. After the last man drop system I ended up with a clear road in front and behind so decided to take a steady run to the top.All was going smoothly till Carl started appearing in the mirrors and the pace upped considerably. No way could I let him past!! Off we charged , before we knew it Paul A and Neil were in the sights , then Paul C, who waved us passed , so we all charged , fast as fury, to the top.We were well hyped as the helmets were pulled off and the tales of epic derring do were recounted as the others arrived. Coffee and Cokes were enjoyed at 2,000 metres, before the party split into the Jellystone group and (soft) tunnel group. A much smaller group did the Col du Galibier, one of my favourites, and with mist swirling all around you felt very small in a big landscape. A group photo was taken to show the hardy souls that did the full day ,then a dash to Briancon and who should we meet near the Col du Lauteret ,but the 3 Musketeers, lead by dis- orientated Eric who was leading them the opposite way!! It would have been a near midnight arrival at Bardo taking his route. So joining us, we all went via Jelly stone and once again stern warnings were issued to the new first timers about the legendary storm drains across the road. These were heeded and we arrived an hour before that big storm I mentioned at the beginning.
ROCKY MOUNTAIN WAY Saturday dawned sunny and bright, but instead of getting off, the 3 Musketeers and I wandered around chilling out, looking at Bee Emm`s and so on. We bumped into Paul and Robert, and over coffee decided to do the Sestriere high level route, leaving at noon. I did it last year in brilliant weather and was looking forward to a re run. We met at 12 and after the Musketeers decided to go their own way we ended up as Paul A (alleged leader), me , Jason, Alec,Baldrick, Stu, and last but definitely not least, Big Steve. At the beginning of the road with clouds gathering, but with the words " Fortune favours the brave" in my head , I remembered I`d left my over trousers in the hotel room. No worries! A great route with magnificent scenery appearing out of the clouds, then at a photo stop Ted appears coming the other way. A quick chin wag and weather report and off we go, the cloud swirled , the rain held off and we all got to Susa for a coffee. Every one was impressed by the many hairpin bends on the way down, but one or two showed signs of fatigue. After all, we still had The Stella to do tomorrow! The group split, some taking the direct way home and others to do the fort , or at least as far as the famous tunnel , at Mount Jafferau . We met Paul&Sam on the way up, after they had repaired the fork seals on the GS. After going through the tunnel and back a hasty retreat was beaten , in typical Italian fashion, back to Bardo as the cloud and rain rolled in and chased us all the way back up the Valle di Susa.
CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN. Sunday dawned bright and beautiful, not a cloud in the sky,ooops, no that was last year, I`ll start again. Another grey day greeted us, but it wasn`t raining and you could see the mountain tops when we set off. Tarmac turned to gravel, then back to gravel, as we climbed. We all got to the tent for the awards easily enough, but as the weather was holding I carried on to the top. A lot of the guys followed and we climbed up the serious hairpins which had been out of reach last year. I let out a silent "YES" as we reached higher then I had seen, and carried on. It really is a fantastic bit of trail as it flattens then climbs, then a bit of tarmac, then more hairpins. As we got nearer the top the ground was slowly turning white. Yep, overnight snow had made a slippy slush but we were undaunted. Well, one or two wimped out, but the majority carried on. Big respect to Sandy on the Suzuki 650 roadbike, little handle bars and rearsets and all, definitely in the spirit of the Stella. We all chose a mutual place to stop and survey the snow. One or two had had minor get offs and the general feeling was that no disgrace or jibes would befall us if we went no further. Allen Mitchell looked around and said "But will we get a Stella badge if we don`t get to the top?" The news was gently broken to him that we were about 2 miles and 2,000 ft higher than required for a badge!!!!! So at our "summit" were, from left to right, (back row) Eric,frozen Adam,Robin,Sam & Paul, Robert,Sandy, (front row) Jason, Baldrick,Rickanne,Jim,Neil, then Paul came up too late for the group photo moaning about "all you buggers leaving me". Marcus was there aswell, but heading for the summit. The true hero`s included Marcus, Jim, Robin and Paul.(of Paul&Sam) Young Adam set off with much gusto ,but within 20 ft was bleating for help to turn his bike round as it was all too much for him.Obviously missed out on boarding school and some character building. Shame on you Adam`s dad. As the cold got to us we returned down to the tent to get our badges, T-Shirts, etc, then some carried on to Bardo while others hung around the tent soaking up the ambience.The surrounding snow covered peaks and crashing water falls make it a spectacular place. As the drizzle started it was time for a.....
LAZY SUNDAY AFTERNOON. Have you ever been stuck at home on a wet ,miserable Sunday afternoon watching a GP from a hot and sunny european country and thought, yeah I`d like to do that? Picture the scene. Us, all crowding round the telly on a wet miserable Sunday afternoon in ITALY watching a hot and sunny GP from England. Doh! The anticlimax of the Stella struck home as Rossi crossed the finish line. What do we do now?? Well, the tough went shopping ( me and Adam`s dad, Paul,) for prezzies, booking restaurant tables, and just promenading up and down the streets like typical Italians do on a Sunday afternoon. Then food and beer , then hunted down an unsuspecting group of others at a bar where we drank Guinness, then staggered off into the night because tomorrow was the ride to Marmora and another (wet) adventure
MANDY LIFEBOATS. Monday morning carried on from where Sunday left off, yup, rain and lots of it. It all felt like a scene from "The Titanic" with people saying goodbye to others, as Adam and Jason went one way, and others going different ways, and Paul insisting that everybody put their life jackets on before the epic voyage.
It really was a case of battening down the hatches as we set sail, sorry this is getting all nautical, but it was wetter than a very wet thing. By the time we arrived at Mamora I`d seen freshly caught fish that were drier than us. But I'm jumping ahead of myself.
Over Jelly Stone and dropped downed to Briancon, the sunniest town in the Alps, according to the signs on the outskirts, the last man drop working perfectly, and then onto the climb towards the Col de` Eddy Izzard, where we all tried to regroup in what looked like a bus shelter, but only the early arrivals got out of the rain.
On we pressed, not pausing at the Col but straight over the top, so unlike last year, where every Col was in full sun, and down, down, down to Chateau Queyras before the next climb. A chill was in the air (as well as rain) and by the time the top was in site a steady sleety snow was falling, turning the road to a slippery white snake. If it was only rain we would have been fed up but the novelty of snow on a tarmac road in July kept morale high. Team Photo Stop compulsory.
Now in Italia and with Italian rain to keep us company we plunged down into the valley, where we followed the swollen Varaita River. The road was flooded in places and the river thundered by our side. I spotted a tree being carried down stream and paced it at a steady 25 mph, just out of journalistic accuracy, you understand. Did I mention how wet it was???
We regrouped again in Sampeyre, then started the climb back into the hills, towards Elva. This is a small bumpy single-track road, which was made more interesting by the leaves, gravel and other flotsam and jetsam washed down by the heavy rain. Once again, not stopping at the top, we carried on to Elva, where I was eagerly looking forward to the gorge with its stunning views. The road is carved on a ledge into the cliff side, sheer rock rising on the left, and a sheer drop, of two or three hundred feet, to the right. Six or seven small tunnels and avalanche shelters are incorporated in this feat of engineering. To make it extra safe, there is a low three railing iron fence and where this is broken, string is tied across,, It does look like strong string though.
Somehow I arrived first at the metal barrier blocking the way, with Paul C a close second behind. We stopped, looked at the barrier, looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, then I got off my bike, pulled the barrier aside and waved Paul through.
I don't know how many othe's realised the road was closed due to the conditions, but, well, you do now! And you also realise now why we had to ride around a barrier at the lower end of the road!
It really was a bit scary, with the road awash in many places, large lumps of mud in the road and small stones pinging in the wheel spokes as they bounced across the road. Many of the avalanche shelters had a curtain of water across the road, or a mighty waterfall cascading across the top and free falling down to the roaring torrent below. Everybody agreed it was a very special moment, which would remain in the memory banks for a long time, Ace.
Past the aforementioned barrier at the Ponte Marmora end, and a quick ride to our destination.
I got fixed up with Paul A in a delightful bijou room overlooking the square, and in no time at all the place looked like it had been ransacked , with wet gloves, socks , clothing etc scattered over radiators and hanging off coat hangers in the shower room.
Paul was looking a bit sorry for himself so I got us both a coffee with a double Cointreau chucked in it. Ummm, you could feel it go all the way down. After a wash and change we strolled across to the bar and squeezed on to a table with Sam and Paul. We bided our time by looking at maps, route planning and tying to decide what to do if the weather stopped the way it was.
By the time food was served the whole group was pretty chilled about the days events and the meal was second only to the "Elva gorge experience".
Seven courses of wonderful food and as much vino as you wanted, with an excellent cheese board to end with. Marvellous. Then down to the serious business of prising information out of Paul C on routes and horse trading on other people's ideas of destinations. I had heard of the Col de la Bonette in the Alpes-de-Hte-Provence in France as being the highest road in the Alps. Others disputed this but one of the Stella old hands had local knowledge. It seems the Col de la Bonette was not the highest at one time, but the local government wanted something to attract tourists to their quiet region. They hit on the idea of the highest road. So, in 1961, where the road originally reached the Col they engineered a loop up and around the neighbouring peak, and re- joining the original road a hundred feet further along. No matter how contrived it may seem , the road had to be ridden. Tomorrow.
THE ONLY WAY IS UP. Over breakfast the movers and shakers voted on the options. A majority verdict was to stay put for another day.
So it was that a group of eleven on nine bikes headed out towards the Col di Valcavera and the rapidly clearing skies above it.
Let's have a roll call. There was , in no particular order, Paul C, Paul A, Paul & Sam, Marcus & Michelle, Robert, Roberto, Alex , Jim ( Fogarty ), and me.
Now , I never did the road to the Colle di Valcavera last year , but , what a beauty. A winding switch back , bumpy tarmac rolled over the road. Up to 2,416 metres we climbed , into the wispy cloud , then back out and after a photo stop at the Colle we dropped down to the Valle Stura and a petrol stop. Alex had to do a little fettling to his back brake as it kept going soggy. A quick bleed with some fresh fluid and we were off up the sweeping roads following the Stura di Demonte in the valley bottom.
MARMOTS STOLE MY RACING LINE. Soon after Argentera the D900 does a few mad zig-zags ,(about 7 or 8), to reach the Colle della Maddalena and a nice little cafe that did a good line in Ham sandwiches , (pronounced sondweeches). Paul was leading , but on seeing the road rearing up above us I had to "Go For It". I overtook Paul on the brakes into the first hairpin, swung round it gave it full WFO to the next hairpin. I noticed in my mirrors that Paul was hot on my tail , so tried a bit harder. On the 3rd hairpin I out psyched him by pointing to the Marmots scurrying across the road at the apex. I'm sure one was waving a yellow flag. We both cocked up the bend a bit and ran wide on the exit and I showered Paul with gravel from the edge of the road. It made me laugh it did.
Coffee, Hot Chocolate and sandwiches were had by all at the cafe, and as we munched , who should turn up but Robin & Theresa , whom we had just said goodbye to that morning. Another quick hello and they were on their way, and so were we.
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD Down to Jausiers then the mad, mad climb to la Bonette . The route was created as a military road by Napoleon 111 and is lined with forts of various sizes and the accompanying barracks at strategic locations. No time to stop, and we made the top in clear weather .YES!!!. Views awesome, Team Photo compulsory. And what a lot of smiling faces are on it. Well , all but Jim's' who looks like he's reflecting on the damage caused when he dropped it near the top of the Stella. Ooops, sorry, I wasn't meant to mention that, was I, Jim ??
We savoured our few minutes at the dizzy height but as we saw the clouds fast approaching , we hit the road one more time. Soon we were in thick cloud on our way down to a Isola before a left turn saw us climbing on a super smooth racer road to the ski resort of Isola 2000. Err, super smooth that was , except for the gravel bits through the unlit avalanche shelters. Scary hitting gravel at 70 mph, believe me. As the old motor started labouring a bit I knew we were getting towards our Col and back into Italy.
I don't know who decided to do it but the next thing I see is a few brave/foolhardy souls driving along a 3 ft wide path to an old gun emplacement. Of course, I followed , but it was only when I got there that I thought , " How the H##L do I turn the old bus round??" I got my trusty Mag-Lite out of the tank bag and off I went exploring. I bumped into the others in a black dank tunnel some where in the mountain. The fort was two gun turrets joined by a labyrinth maze of passages and steps, all with a drainage channel next to them. As I was the only one with a torch I then played at usherettes, guiding the others back through the passage from one turret to the other. Time was not on our side, so we had to keep moving. Luckily the ledge opened out enough to turn the bikes around, and we were all soon on our way down the mountain and re-tracing our tracks back through Demonte and over the Colle and on to our digs.
OOOP'S, I TOLD YOU SO. As mentioned earlier, Alex had been suffering back brake problems, so we tried to sort the problem together.
Rickanne : "Right, I'll pump the brake pedal, you open the bleed nipple" Alex : "
OK, tell me when" Rickanne: "Open"
Alex: "Open"
Rickanne: "Close"
Alex : "Closed"
Rickanne " Somethings not right here, the brake hose flexes under pressure"
CRACK!!, fluid dribbles from hose end.
Rickanne: "oops"
Alex: "oops"
Rickanne : "your brake pipe has split from the olive. Who made the hose up? Give 'em a bollocking."
Alex: " I did"
Rickanne: "Ah" Time for tea and Alex goes back the flat way tomorrow. Sorry, Alex.
U F O ( Unidentified Furry Object ) Spotted. The fat was chewed over another seven courses, and Paul C let it slip to Paul A and I that he had been hallucinating, or had one too many tabs, as he admitted to seeing a large 4ft tall rabbit at the top of a mountain pass. It didn't answer to Roger or Bugs, but Paul was adamant he had seen it. And we trust him to map read???
Much piss taking followed, and the wine and beer flowed and every body was pretty happy. I gave a toast to absent friends, and we all slowly drifted off to bed mindful of the trek North tomorrow.
TOMMOROW NEVER COMES. Bright shafts of intense light forced their way through my sleepy eye lids and pierced my subconscious. Bright... err,, Light,...err, SUNSHINE!!!!
Yes, a beautiful Tuesday 16th July greeted us. The enthusiasm to pack and get on the road was noticeable through the group. Brekky demolished, and we were gone. Back through a now dry Elva Gorge, and up to the top for a group photo with the sun shining and snow capped peaks in the back ground. Isn't life wonderful.
Back over Col Agnel ( it's over) back over the Col d'Izoard , ( it's over ), through Briancon, (it's over ) and on to the Col du Lautaret for food. The holiday is over I keep thinking, but it's not. Heading for home brings a tinge of sadness, but it's not over.
Do you take photos.? When you get them developed do you suddenly realise you have big gaps, or, never took any on the homeward leg ? That was me.
The journey back to the Gay Pensioner had many eventful incidents. The road blocked by a rock fall at the pass of the Croix de Fer, a U-turn and a long grind down to Grenoble. No photos.
Marcus having to do some roadside repairs.
Heavy showers. Horrendous car crashes.
Hanging around, regrouping, petrol stops, peage, and back onto the side roads to circumnavigate Geneva .No photos.
Through the misty woodland of the Monts de Jura, and a mad dash to the welcome sight of the Gay Pensioner. All safe and sound , or so we thought, except Jim tries his hardest to bin his GS 1150 on some road markings right outside the Hotel. Luckily he fails and we all retire for a pleasant evening's entertainment. But, still no photos. Strange.
Paul, of Paul & Sam decides to sort the GS 80 out as it has been playing up and is rewarded for his efforts by the flesh eating garage door ripping his fingers as it moves unexpectedly. Oh dear. Luckily history tells us that it all ended OK, but, that was holiday over for them . The Three Musketeers weren't there when they where meant to be. A communication breakdown meant they had cleared off a day early, but, hey, it gave us something to talk about. Beer and bed and the weary party hit the sack.
THE ROAD GOES ON FOREVER. Early start , got to cover big klicks. The weather is kind, no one is stressed, these things happen. Big, Big miles pass on the AutoRoute and we arrive a bunch of happy bunnies at Zeebrugge. A fond farewell is said to Stewart as he is catching the Scottish boat, and ( amazingly) the Cumbrian lads are there, one Tad Lad is there and all the other lads who said they would be there, are there. The look of relief on Paul C's face is palpable to all.
We all board and find our cabins.
Suffice to say, we all lived happy ever after and the proof is in the pictures. Roll on next year's Stella.
Rickanne
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Stella Alpina Rally 2002
"Last year"
It's difficult in a trip so full of contrasts not to be constantly referring to "last year" so I'll apologise now and just get on with it.
I thought "last year's" trip to the Stella Alpina would probably be my first and last. What with having to save enough leave from work and indeed cash for a family holiday as well, I would be pushing my luck with my wife Sue to go expect to go two years on the run. Luckily she's a diamond and knew how much I wanted to do it all again.
As the big day approached I bought the new tyres, got the bike serviced. I packed, unpacked and re-packed. Experience should have told me how much stuff to take, but you're bound to need all of those 9 shirts and 3 pairs of shoes aren't you? Consequently, I once again carted loads of unused kit halfway across Europe and back. My trip from Chester to Hull was wet but uneventful and I arrived at the Port in plenty of time to meet and chat to some of the old and new faces before we boarded for our 7-0-clock sailing. We all met up on the rear deck for a chat and a drink and we watched the sun setting over the picturesque Immingham and Grimsby docks before we were all summoned to the Captains table for dinner. I was a lamb to the slaughter, £14.95 for an "as much as you can eat trough". In the company of such hearty eaters as Paul C and Carl I don't think I managed to eat more than a fiver's worth, anyway… I'd know better for the return journey. I had vowed that after "last years" alcoholic over indulgence and skirmish in the disco with the Dutch national female gurning team that I'd have an early night and a moderate amount of beer. Hopefully this would make the run down not such a gruelling affair in the morning. Surprisingly, I kept my word and retired at about midnight.
Foreign soil
We disembarked in a cool and grey Belgium and headed south for the French Autoroute. The motorway trip was again uneventful and we finally hit the twisties into the Jura mountains at about 5-0-clock . Delighted to be off the peage I had a brilliant scratch with Carl Blackburn for the last 20km or so to Les Rousses and managed to surprise both myself and him by hanging on to his back wheel all the way! We duly settled in, and Jason and I hurried down to the bar for a well earned drink, Adam said he would follow. An old mate of mine now lives and works in Geneva so I was really pleased when he and his family arrived to join me for dinner. After we said our goodbyes and he set off back down to Geneva I re- joined everyone outside for a night cap . A bleary eyed Adam had just woken up, and having missed his meal had managed to persuade the patron to rustle him up an impromptu salad. I had a wonderful nights sleep with a double bed all to myself. The two young pups were in bunk beds next door pillow fighting.
Mist rouge
After breakfast we all set off for Geneva and Carl, Adam and I had another great ride on the twisty N5 over the Col de la Faucille and out of the Jura. Geneva, as usual was very, very, very hot , but we traversed it reasonably quickly without losing anyone then hit our final short stretch of Autoroute before the Alps began proper. Neil Hampson from Cumbria had brought sports bike riding mates Dave, Rich and Sandy along with him. As we neared the start of the climb to the Col de la Colombiere I was aware of them champing at the bit to get to the front. Within the first mile Neil's GS1150, the Blade ,the SV650 and the VFR had nailed me on the straight, but around the bends they didn't seem to have so much of an advantage. I realised that I didn't seem to be losing any ground to them. Now I'm not usually one for racing but I couldn't resist. I tagged on to the back and gunned my Africa after them. The Col de la Colombiere luckily, consists of short straights and lots of tight bends which don't seem to give the sports bikes much chance to utilise their superior power. When we reached the bottom of the descent in Le Grand-Bornard I was trembling with adrenalin, or was it fear? After 25kms of road, 150 metres was all that separated Paul C in the front of the group of 6, to me at the rear. The next climb was the Col des Aravis. My boy Adam said "I'll race you to the top Dad"! I said I wouldn't, but followed him as he made his way to the front of the pack then sneaked through past him on the inside of a hairpin. I could see him bristling with indignation as he immediately overtook me again. I chased him right down the other side until it dawned on me that I'd probably just used up eight of my nine lives and we hadn't even got to Bardo yet! Next was the Col des Saisies and a slow run down into Beaufort for lunch.
Tunnel vision
After lunch we did the Col de la Madeleine where we stopped at the top for coffee. Those of us with buttocks of a more delicate nature chose to wimp out at this point. Carl led a dozen or so of us on the shorter route to Bardonecchia via the Tunnel de Frejus whilst the hardier types followed Paul C over the Col du Galibier and "Jellystone". The "Summer" so far this year should really have given us an idea of the weather to come, but we were abroad, weren't we? We were 5kms from the safety of a dry if smoky tunnel when there was a huge flash of lightning followed instantly by a crack of thunder and rain like you'd never believe. It all happened so quickly no one had time to put on their waterproofs. We tumble dried ourselves through the hot tunnel and luckily when we emerged on the Italian side of the mountain it was dry….for now anyway. Adam , Jason and I booked into our sumptuous suite in the Hotel, then for me it was… beer, pizza, wine, more beer, station bar beer and bed. In that exact order.
Trufflemania
Saturday morning in Bardo for me means a stroll around the market to buy the gourmet goodies to take home. Truffle flavoured olive oils, goats cheese with truffles, preserved porchini mushrooms etc. We signed on for the Stella and a few of us planned our afternoon's ride along the 46km Testa Assietta trail from Sestriere to Susa, there was myself, Rickanne, Jason, Alex, Stewart, big Steve and Dave from Wigan. What a brilliant trail, it runs along a ridge crossing seven or more colles . Unfortunately due to the unsettled weather the low cloud/high mountain? meant visibility dropped to about 10 metres in places. Amazingly we met Ted near Colle Bourget, he was doing the trail in the opposite direction. After a coffee stop in Susa, Alex, Rickanne, Jason and myself were so hyped up we thought we'd tackle Mount Jafferau on our way home, we happened across Paul Vernon and Sam half way up, they joined us and we all carried on together. We went into the 900 metre unsurfaced tunnel and turned our engines and lights off in the middle as is the custom - spooky!
'Aint no sunshine
Sunday, Stella day. I thought I'd better get some petrol as I was nearly empty. I just got a few litres because the last thing a 5 foot nine Africa jockey needs is 5 gallons of sans plomb sloshing about at chest height. Adam delayed me by asking me to get him some ciggies from the station bar while I was passing. I'm not really sure if I should be encouraging him to smoke?. By the time I got back to the Hotel Paul C and Carl informed me that my mates, and even Adam the fruit of my loins had all buggered off up the mountain without me. I followed alone sulkily. I arrived at the big rock about 300mts from the very top where all the mere mortals were stopping. The summit may as well have been 300 miles away as far as I'm concerned , I just couldn't get any traction out of my T66 rear tyre. Only 4 of our boys made the very top, Paul Vernon, Robin Dawson, Jim Dobson on a now customised GS Adventure and Marcus Perie. Heros all.
Big problems
Big Steve Bond was in BIG trouble. His Varadero was playing up at the altitude and he was having to rev at 4000rpm and slip the clutch to get any momentum . The inevitable happened and the clutch gave up the unequal struggle. We managed to push, tow and generally manhandle the bike ( including a crackpot scheme trying to cool the engine in a river) back down to Bardo. A post mortem revealed a dead clutch . Steve's trip was effectively over. The rest of day was spent packing kit ready for Monday's departure to Marmora.
Anchor's away
We donned our waterproofs and set sail for Marmora. It was wet….flippin wet. The Col d'Izouard came and went unseen due to cloud and lashing rain, by the time we reached the stunning 2744 metre Col Agnel it was snowing hard. One thing about the wonderfully glass smooth grippy French tarmac, is when it gets wet it's character changes to being seriously slippery, with the white lines having all the grip of wet algae. We crossed the over the Colle and down onto the impossibly sheer sided Elva road. There was a barrier across the road with a sign which when translated from Italian read .. "only suicidal knobs use this road in rain like this". With the barrier duly shifted, off we went down said road. This road is a scary place in the sunshine but, Oh my Lord!….. What a truly spectacular, terrifying trip. There were mudslides, rockslides, waterfalls and rivers all happening as we rode along it, I'm not exaggerating, this is one place where "you had to be there". When we arrived in our digs in Marmora our first priority was to get rooms and dry our kit.
Hare today , Gone tomorrow
The next morning Paul C held a vote. To move on elsewhere and look for the sun, or to stay in Marmora and defy the weather. So we shook our fists at the clouds and headed for Europe's highest road, the 2802 metre Col de la Bonette. Above Isola 2000 we explored a small fort/gun position. With only one small torch between us the passage ways were absolutely dark and seriously spooky. I didn't realise I was standing right behind Jim "lush locks" Dobson and I don't think he did either because when he turned his head, his hair brushed against my face . My scream ensured that we both sh!! ourselves!. In all we had a brilliant day out. That evening during our fantastic seven course meal our leader Paul C confessed to having seen that morning " A four foot tall hare…as big as a child ….in't middle of t'road ! " We all nodded kindly as Roberto led him firmly but gently to bed. It had, after all been a very long day.
Land ahoy!
Wednesday morning amazingly, dawned dry. After a hearty breakfast we set off north back over Col Agnel hoping to take in a new route over the Col de la Croix de Fer. Sadly we were foiled as the police turned us back when a rock slip closed the road in front of us. Time was pressing on so we decided to head straight for Les Rousses. Paul Vernon had been having problems with his bike and had had to ride the last 30km without a clutch. After dinner he was investigating the problem in the "Pensioner's" basement garage when the over sprung garage door gashed his fingers. His injury was bad enough to require an hospital the following day. Paul and Sam's holiday was now over, They flew home from Geneva with their bike due to follow a week or so later. Problems like this really do impress upon you the wisdom of having good holiday insurance. The following morning we slipped out of the Hotel before breakfast for an early 7-0-clock start. The trip back to Zeebrugge was uneventful. The last problem of the trip occurred on the ferry when a woman opened our cabin door and was confronted myself and Rick in various states of undress, we were in the wrong cabin! We apologised profusely and hurriedly hurled all our gear out onto the gangway floor. She was very nice about it really considering Rick had used her shower and abused her toilet. Well that's about it, another brilliant trip over. Thanks to….. Paul C for organising it all, to Adam and Jason for being great company, to Rickanne for making me laugh, to Carl, Rick, Adam and the Cumbrian lads for the scratching, to Paul and Sam for smiling in the face of adversity, to Jimmy Quinnan for managing (just) not to knock me and my bike over, and to all of the other people I've forgotten, for all of the things I've forgotten.
Paul Atkin
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Big thankyou Paul for a great holiday. I hope everyone got home safely. ( Sam, let us know how Paul got on with his hand, when you read this ). The evening run down to Mamora was quite stunning , it was a good job it rained else we wouldn't have had the water falls to ride under !!! Thanks for everyones company and help getting round and up ! I'll try putting my pictures on the internet when I get them back on Tuesday. Especially the one with me near the top of the mountain!!Thanks again everyone. Take care.
ALLEN
