Terry Arnold
After another circle-round on a 5 road junction with trams and tramlines and traffic lights, we were once more back on the road. It’s a shame we didn’t really see anything of Besancon because it looked like a very pleasant place. Another time maybe.
Today’s route took us down through the Jura mountains skirting Geneva and towards Annecy. Around lunchtime, as we were needing a stop for food and to re-fuel, we concluded over the intercom that a service station could be a very agreeable solution. Another wrong turn took us on the a peage route (buggerations) heading in totally the wrong direction, but most fortunately, 2 miles along the autoroute was a very welcome services area where we refueled man and bike. It was almost as if we had planned it Another 2 miles further and we left the autoroute to recover our route at Annecy.
As we left the peage toll-booths, Clappo radio’ed that he had problem, his oil pressure light was on. We pulled over, checked the oil level and stood looking at the bike – like you do – and decided to continue as – at that time – the light went off above 1500 rpm. All went well for minutes, and when trying to regain the route, another wrong-turn took us into an industrial area (buggerations again). Seeing our route on a raised road above us, I reasoned that the little old disused stub of a thing might still be connected to the road we wanted. Sure enough there was a 4′ wide gap in the edge at the end of the lane, and with a little off-roading we were once again on route.
Annecy, with it’s huge lake, at 1500m altitude is a busy recreation area and we rode along the lake shore watching the various ways of enjoying the water. Clappo the suggested we try to take a swim, which was stupid enough to be interesting so we led the others to a sailing centre, where we hoped to gain access to the water. I was not to be, unsurprisingly not everyone was over-enamored wit this idea and we gave it up as a bad lot.
Now we were at the foothills of the Alps which we could clearly see towering up ahead in the distance. Our route took us up over the Col Du Galibier (2600m) via the Col du Telegraphe and the Valloir valley. This is motorcycling heaven, the reason we came. Mile after mile of beautiful fast flowing roads with sequences of hairpin bends and curves with stupendous views everywhere you look. I waived Colin through as I knew he would relish these roads and off he went, followed by his trusty shadow Paul.
45 miles of biking nirvana.
The highest point of the Col du Galibier was open that day and we choose not to use the tunnel which runs a hundred metres below the col, so we achieved the greatest height, rode over the top and down the other side of the mountain.
The run down that side is a particularly strong memory for me as, in 2003 I rode it for the 1st time with our friend Adrian. Bends and sprints aside, there is a point where it is possible to look across a massive glacial valley and see a long section of the road you are about to arrive at, clinging to the side of the mountain in a seemingly straight line, descending gently for miles. In fact, it is a series of fast flowing curves where you can also look across back to other traffic travelling in the apparently opposite but actually same direction.
This the leads you gently down to the Col du Lautaret and the onto La Sestriere, through a long snow-tunnel and into the Serre Chevalier Valley. This being a wide, smooth, fast road down into Briancon itself. My memory from 2003 has it that this was deserted and for us alone. It is busier now, but once the urban areas are passed though, it remains a magnificent road.
We easily found our accommodation for the next 3 nights, a lovely, well-equipped ski-chalet down a very steep winding driveway. The hosts were very friendly and helpful and allowed us to park our bikes in the secure garage. Rooms were bagsy’ed and showers taken.
That evening we walked up to a bar (probably the least good of the trip) but still most welcome. The beer was particularly ‘odd’ – some ‘orrible even, but most of us found something to quench our thirsts. The food was OK->agreeable but not the best. You win some, you lose some. There was definitely some drug dealing going on in the doorway beside the bar, judging by the comings and goings and furtive behaviour, not to mention the dreadlocks.
