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.