Friday, August 27, 2010

West spain and portugal

After reuniting with the tiger I headed south. Through some nice windy roads and onto Lyon. Next stop was the Pyrenees. The weather turned and it started raining heavily. I stopped for refuge under an avalanche shelter over the road. I felt like the sheep sodden and with backs to the wind. The next way was perfect sunny and warm. I headed West following the range down on the coast and stayed the night near San Sebastian in Spain.

pyrenees

I rode into the beautiful Picos de Eurpoa, an amazing national park with some incredible scenery and roads. Some of the roads were sculpted out of shear cliff faces. One cliff accessible only on foot has a 1000m shear drop.

roads in the picos

In some small two horse town on the back roads to Salamanca, there was some kind of fiesta on so I stopped for some lunch. Lunch consisted of a full side of ribs and some crusty old bread. I seemed to be a curious oddity and attracted some inquisitive looks.

roadside lunch spanish style

Next stop was Salamanca, after getting stuck in the pedestrian only section of the old city I found a hotel to stay. I did a day ride down in to the supposably poorest region of Spain, once again beautiful scenery with the hills lined with olive trees and the odd forest.

local roads

I was once again mistaken for an Austrian, this time by a German lady riding a Guzzi. We swapped stories and good routes over some majitos, cerveza and tapas, finished off with some music a local Spanish band. Next day I headed west towards Portugal.


Portugal.


I took a route over the boarder that has only recently opened up, It was deserted and free of traffic. The country was mountainous and rocky. Granite was the rock of choice. There had been recent bush fires which left the landscape reduced to scalded rocks and blackened remains of grazing lands with the odd stone or mud shelter. As I headed further west towards the coast the dry and blackened country side transformed into a mixture of cultivated hillsides of olives and crops and large pine and eucalypt forests.

fires in portugal

I arrived I Lisbon on the eve of my birthday. After walking about for hours trying to find accommodation that was not fully booked out, I resorted to a travel agent to find accommodation in the city.

I headed out for some dinner. I found a nice place with tables blocking the street. I was seated next to an Irishman, an Englishman and a Mexican, they were just returning from a business trip to Nairobi and were discussing the unpleasant experiences they had had with some dodgy prawns. Interesting entertainment for the evening. After eating ¼ of an octopus I was off to find some live music… all I could find was some buskers, they were good none the less but it was time to turn in.

Thanks for the phone calls and messages of birthday wishes. Today was my birthday and what better way to spend it than riding in Portugal. I kept heading south towards the south coast through small villages who relied on cork for income. The trees were stripped and the fresh bright brown bark exposed below.

cork trees
I stopped in to an old windmill once used to grind corn and chatted charades style to the 3 old men who seemed to be responsible for the maintenance.
windmills


I arrived at the coast at Albufuria a beautiful town packed with tourists and holiday makers form all over. Had a dinner of fresh shellfish and some local green wine.

Israel

After a spur of the moment decision to head to Israel, I was a train to Frankfurt to fly to Istanbul then onto Tel Aviv. Unfortunately the flight form Frankfurt was over an hour late so consequently missed the connecting flight to Tel Aviv. Since I was now officially staying in turkey albeit two and a half hours in a Hotel, I was required to obtain a visa…. more waiting and more lines. It was the second time in the passport control lines I developed a deep hatred for lines.


The Hotel boasted 4 stars however what these stars meant was anyone’s guess. At reception I was greeted by a man who had his dirty white shirt unbuttoned and looked greasier than most. The room had no windows and was dank with smoke. In the bathroom I expected to see a body in an ice bath, missing a kidney. It was that kind of place. I left with my kidneys. After a few hours to nap I was picked up and taken to the airport for some more waiting in the waiting lines.

Arrive Tel Aviv - Israel
The erratic ride in the taxi of speeds up to 120 in 80 zones and cutting across 4 lanes of traffic, left me wondering if I should be paying for the transport service, or some wild new adrenalin sport. Or just ensure my life insurance is up to date.


I hired a car and drove to the north into the Golan through the Druze villages and stopped for delicious Druze pita. The Druze people are apparently very traditional and have a secretive ancient religion. Some traditions brutal and quite shocking.

The north still shows signs of the most recent conflict. Tanks still are at sitting silently high at their positions. On the flats the remnants of twisted trucks and tanks are not far from the memorials left for the killed soldiers. Tanks trenches, barricades and bomb shelters are never far away. Many abandoned buildings have pock marks or walls blown out. Land mines also are common in the northern areas. This is not a place to accidentally ride onto a firing range.

Land mines

We drove to Ein Gedi near the dead sea and went for a swim in the salty waters. The small waves seemed to travel much slower and the water appeared and felt oily. The water was hot and stung like hell if it got into your eyes. The only vegetation in the area is the occasional date farm or the odd oasis. We had dinner at a Kibbutz which is similar to a commune but a little less hippiefied and more of a communal farm.

riding at the dead sea

I had a look around the old Jerusalem and saw the usual tourist sights. Road blocks were common around the west bank and Jerusalem and security seemed high. There were metal detectors and bag searches at all public places, shopping centres, bus, train stns etc.

spices at market


I had dinner with a lovely family who’s father is metal worker who is a holocaust survivor. He worked in Auschwitz as a blacksmith. Up until recently still producing metal sculptures. I went to see cars and bikes at the weekly car club gathering. Not the place I would expect to see such a gathering of corvettes, dodges and others.

Leaving Tel Aviv. I arrived at the airport earlier than needed as I had been questioned and security was tight and lengthy on entry a week earlier. This was fortunate as I was taken aside and integrated for over an hour about purpose of trip, who I met where I went, If I had accepted any gifts/packages. Etc. My apparent lack of luggage and reason for light travelling seemed to be particular interest. I was x-rayed 3 times and my luggage more. My shoes got special attention and were taken several times. The first time they were swabbed the machine got the attention of 3 security guys. Not sure what the reading produced. I was taken to a small room and questioned once again by a “supervisor“. I was asked to take and show photos to security. The carry on luggage was taken as it apparently required extra time for examination and arrangements were made so it was available for pick up in Frankfurt. Once they established I was not a threat I was personally ushered through the passport checks and security and onto the waiting plane. Security is tight in Israel.

Italy and around

While the bike was in for a service and some work, I met Sarah in Paris. First up was the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triumph, the Musee Dorsay (of water lilies fame) and the Notre Dame. All very nice all bar the hoards of tourists and stifling heat. We spent a day in the Louvre which was spectacular to say the least. We went to la duree for some macaroons and wandered the streets.



We caught a train up to Reims and took a champagne tour of GH Momms and another, the name escapes me (too much champers maybe). We spent a few nights in a nice B&B before catching a train back to Paris.


From Paris we flew to Venice. On the plane we realised the Campervan we were supposed to pick up from Venice was actually outside a small town about 150 km away - Vicenza. Close but no cigar. So a Bus, taxi, train then taxi ride later we arrived at what was to be our home for the next few weeks in Italy.

the camper

We headed south via Modena (place of balsamic fame) over the mountains through small villages not suited to a camper but perfect for a bike (had to remember not on bike but in a 6m long camper) then onto marina de Massa (Carrara) famous for its white marble quarries of which are thousands of years old. I did a tour of marble museum. Pretty much anything that could be made of marble was. The town square and fountain was marble, gutters - marble and aggregate in the bitumen also seemed to be marble.


We walked the full length of the cinque terra which took us through the 5 villages basically along the rugged coast.

surveying the terre


Then drove to Florence via Lucca to see the birth place of Puccini. We hired some bicycles and cycled around the city walls.


Arrive Florence. Once again (in typical Italian style) the motorbikes and motor scooters siphon through the lanes of slow or stoped traffic trickling out over the white line ready to explode onto the empty space once the lights change. No incidents but some close shaves.

The campsite was situated in an old olive grove. The trees were old and gnarly and heavy with fruit. We spent the next few days at cathedrals and galleries all which were impressive.

Next up we left the camper on the mainland and headed for the Island of Elba. I hired a 150cc scooter and took a look around island. It was no Philip island but I did manage to get the scooter up to 90km/h, down hill, with a tail wind.

I swaped the tiger for this?


Next stop Rome. But not before Savano, Sorano and Pitigliano with the Etruscan tombs. We looked at the main attractions did a night tour and had a tour of the with an Australian priest. He was still pretty ocka with the “yea I dunno if we’ll get down there” and was keen for news from home.
rome

Swiss guard at the vatican

medieval village
in the palace gardens

Next up we headed towards Tivoli to see Hadrian’s villa but on the way had a small accident. We were heading around an “oblong about” and a Getz tried to cut across in front of the van. Van-1:Getz-0. Van damage- smashed mirror, indicator and some panel damage. Getz damage - smashed windows, doors and front guard, wheel that looks like a pie with a piece missing and some suspected suspension damage. 2 Police arrived, then 3 more-one of which could speak English. I wrote a statement, we had some confusion with some insurance papers,( at one stage my papers had been given to the other driver by mistake). We had some tears from Mrs Getz, the tow truck came, some reluctant group hugs with the police and we were on our way again.

group hugs


Stirred but not shaken we headed to Pompeii, Paestum and hiked up Mt Vesuvius.

Pompei

We drove back up the east coast to drop the camper back then caught a train to Venice. Ate delicious pizza and some of the best clams and muscles available to mankind. We took a tour of the glass making on the island of Morano and went to a Vivaldi concert in the evening.

tide rising in the square in venice

We caught a train to lake Como and stayed half an hour out of town up on the side of a hill with lake views. I tried finding the Moto Guzzi museum/factory but was let down by unreliable public transport. We were waiting for a bus back to the train station and the chef offered us a ride with her mother who was headed in. We folded ourselves into the Getz like some circus performance as grandma chef reclines her seat back to lock Sarah’s knees firmly into the back of her seat. No seat belt required.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Alps, Meditarian and equine cusine.

The weather finally cleared and it was time to head towards the meditarian coast. The rough idea was to take some back roads over and through the Swiss and French Alps making my way South West to arrive at the French/Italian boarder where it meats the ocean. Taking advantage of the fantastic roads and villages the Alps have to offer.



From here I chose some high roads with some high passes. One of which was closed due to snow totally obscuring sections of the road, it was a long ride back over the slush, mud and rocks to get back down to the main road. but saw and heard many “marmuts” a small alpine mammal that looks la bit like a squirrel/guineapig with a high pitch whistle.

Snow blocking road

I came across an abandoned holiday resort complex beside a creek, complete with 7 stories, a basement level, swimming pool, slides and high diving board. It appeared it had been abandoned for 50 or so years and in a state of decay. Some floors had collapsed and the roof was gone. I investigated its depths, including some small tunnels which appeared to be concealed exits that lead to a door in the side of the hill. I foun spent ammunition shells and clips and other bit’s a pieces including a burnt engine block. When I found a headlamp exactly like mine smashed amongst the shells and spend fire extinguishers I decided it was time to move on.
resort in ruins
I rode on upwards into the mountains and the road narrowed into a track and I passed some old fortress ruins. Didn’t see another soul for the next few hours of riding. The tracks offered football size rocks protruding through the gravel surface waiting for a lapse of riders concentration. I reached an old fort that had been inhabited by a diary goat farmer, who legally or otherwise had set up a rather primitive diary shed in and around the fortress. The milking took place over the old draw bridge and the tower was used for storage.

High in the mountains
 I later learnt I had passed through a large military firing range hence the absence of people and the oddities i came across.
 
Now onto the French Alps and what they have to offer. After a few false starts up roads that remained closed due to snow or land slides, I headed for the regular bitumen passes. Atop the Galibier I met some friendly Dutch bikers who thought it was a novelty to have a picture taken with an Aust registered bike and Aussie rider.



I stayed at a pub in Barcolenette before heading off for what was to be one of the best days of riding yet. Barcelonett to the Mediterranean. The roads wound out of the snow capped alps and into the maritime alps. Medieval towns clung to the sides of the mountains while the roads with an excess of hairpins were carved out of the cliffs below. The temperature picked up and olive groves started lining the mountains until finally emerging on the Mediterranean coast.


The light fresh air and smell of trees changed to dense humid air filled with the smells of traffic and fish. I had reached Ventimiglia, and the weekly local markets were on selling things from fish to curtains. The traffic seemed like absolute chaos. My indicators had stopped working earlier that day and I was concerned it may cause some confusion. As it turned out indicators were purely optional, we went round one lane roundabouts 4 abreast. No indicators no worries.

I caught up with Jen, a friend origionaly from Eulo who was working for the Devia family in Italy. The lovely Devia family let me stay in their beautiful home overlooking the ocean for the few days I spent exploring the local area. We did some day trips into the mountains to Dolce Aqua and Pigna meandering around the streets and sampling the local cuisine. I even had some horse, best had with a drizzle of lemon juice.

the village of Pigna


After being overtaken in the slow traffic one too many times by prepubesant girls on scooters, it was time to adopt the Italian riding style - if you fit through there ride there, quickly. I was told kids can ride up to 125 cc once they turn 14.


One night while in San Remo we went to a local festival “festa dei popoli”. It was in the old part of town in a small town square created by a WW2 bomb that levelled the buildings in the vicinity. The band sported 2 didgeridoos.

Church in the Maritime Alps

I did a day trip into Monte Carlo. My impression of Monte Carlo - many casinos, many big boats and fast cars and many women wearing not many clothes. Not the place to go if you’re on a tight budget.


It was time to say good bye to the coast and the lovely people I had met and head North East for the Dolomites.



I visited the Bolzano and the Reinhold Messner mountain museum. Set in the ruins of a castle looking towards the dominating Dolomites, the Museum is a part gallery, part museum, part shrine to the mountains honouring great climbers past and present. Suitably inspired to summit some peaks but lacking fitness and equipment, I rode some passes and took in the scenery.

The Dolomites


The Dolomites are absolutely amazing and the roads that wind through them are perfect for a bike. Many of the roads have numbered hairpins, many had in excess of 30 up each side. Endless fun. No wonder I only got 7000km out of the rear tyre.

Hairpins in the Dolomites


From the Dolomites it was back to Blotzheim via lake Konstanz and the Black forest. The tiger is left at a Triumph dealer for some repairs and maintenance while I travel with Sarah for a few weeks in a Campervan.