We leave Walsall on a cold dark morning at 7am on the long journey to the channel tunnel. We arrive bang on time - 10.30 - and a friendly assistant directs us to collect our Euros with only 10 minutes to check in. We are ushered on board the train. We are behind a man in a Lotus who seems to have a friend in another carriage. They swap places and the friend dons gear a biker would be proud of and bizarrely jumps into the open-top Lotus! The train pulls into Calais and engines start to rev as we climb onto the bike and press the starter, ready for our long hike to Italy – but nothing happens. The bike doesn’t start and we look at each other in amazement. After pushing the bike up a very steep access ramp a friendly French recovery man arrives to our aid and eventually tows us to the garage outside of the Euro tunnel.
After consulting the manual (yes, always take one with you), we check the fuses and lo and behold! one has blown. A quick swap around soon gets the bike started with gasps from us both. We ride without incident until the next fuel stop, when after filling the tank the fuse goes again! We change our last spare fuse and promptly stall the engine, with the obvious result.
Now there is a choice of waiting for the French police to ‘recover’ us from the motorway or risk using the ‘full beam’ fuse and ride on just low beam. We opt for the latter and decide to get off at the next motorway exit. After leaving the motorway we travel on low beam through unlit winding country lanes as we head for lights in the distance where we eventually find Laon, which seems to be a very pretty town even though we can’t see most of it because it’s so dark. More by luck than judgment we find a quiet hotel in the old quarter and settle down for the night with some welcome French cuisine and a very hot bath.
Day Two
We awake refreshed and armed with details of a local motorcycle shop and confident that all will be solved, only to find that motorcycle shops in France are closed on Mondays. Lady Luck takes a shine to us and the shop cleaner arrives, he does a quick search of the workshop and hands over four fuses – free of charge.
We are well behind our planned timetable, yet confident that we now have enough fuses to last out the journey to Puglia and stubborn as mustard we decide to try to make Dijon. After two fill-up stops and no incidents we are starting to relax and enjoy the ride, even though Sarah has christened the bike Carrie because she thinks it’s possessed.
The bike has obviously been exorcised as we arrive in Dijon with no problems, where we quickly find a reasonable hotel. We both decide that Dijon, even in the dark, looks fantastic.
Day Three
A new day, a new journey, as we decide we can definitely get on Italian soil today and plan to make our next stop after the Frejus tunnel in Torino. This part of the trip proved to be the most scary with an early morning start in mist and fog, on a motorway with lots of big articulated lorries, which when combined with very strong side winds proved to be exhilarating to say the least! As midday sun burns away the fog and the wind drops we have a very enjoyable section of gently winding mountain road (complete with computer-game-style tunnels) flashing by our visors. The views on this section are amazing and our only frustration as photo-graphers was that we had no time to stop and take full advantage of it.
Before we knew it we were on the gateway to the border – the Frejus tunnel. We emerge into the daylight and Italy. Actually the border is in the tunnel somewhere but I don’t remember seeing any signs. The mist and cold have returned and we realise we are in still in the mountains. WHOOSH! We have been on an Italian road for precisely one minute 30 seconds and an Alfa Romeo with Milan plates nearly takes my front wheel off as he cuts in front of me, despite there being at least two miles of two clear driving lanes ahead.
We wind our way down through the mountains and into the sunshine and our first petrol stop on Italian soil, accompanied by one of the best pastries and strong coffee I have ever tasted (Mad Alfa man is instantly forgiven!). We realise that we only have 80 miles to get to Turin and it will be the first time we have ever stopped our journey in the daylight – or so we think.
It’s 4.45pm, we’re two junctions away from our exit and only eight miles from our hotel, brilliant! Then a red light comes on for water temperature, we pull in at the side of a three-lane carriageway and go in search of water. A park next to us supplies our needs thanks to a very nice chap in a bar who hands over a litre bottle of water for no charge after he finds we have travelled all the way from Inghilterra on an eight year-old V-twin bought on E-bay four weeks ago...‘Bravo Signore!’.
When we finally arrive, we discover from the hotel reception that tomorrow is a festa, a public holiday. Our new best friend the concierge says to park the moto on the pavement outside ‘It is not a problem.’ The more you visit Italy, the more you realise that this is a phrase you will come to love.
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