Category: 2022 Tour Description

Terry Arnold

Like so many others, we had been waiting 3 years to tour again in Europe as a group, and I don’t remember being so excited for a very long time. The final week before departure dragged on slowly, sleep patterns were affected and then the day finally arrived.

Gareth and I rode to meet Clappo, Colin, Will and John who had assembled at the Brentwood services near the M25 and then we set off as a group. Almost immediately we hit a queue and filtered through near stationary traffic for 7 miles on the approach to the QE2 bridge before gathering Paul and then on to the Eurotunnel terminal at Folkstone.

(Gareth had only come to see us off – as he was forbidden from joining the tour in case he injured himself ahead of his daughter’s impending and equally delayed wedding). Adrian was absent also because he had taken the tough decision to join a cycling tour (St.Malo to Nice in France!) with conflicting dates.

After a trouble-free late afternoon crossing we were soon heading down the A26 autoroute towards Saint Omer. A budget IBIS hotel (with a good car park) was a popular stopping off point for brits judging by the various decorated cars (1 a pirate ship, another a London Taxi heading east for charity).

Drinks were taken in a very pleasantly refurbished old town, and we moved next door for a meal. Colin proclaimed the steak tartare the best he’d ever had, and we certainly all enjoyed our meals. early bedtime as we were losing an hour and had a long day’s ride ahead of us.

Terry Arnold

A petrol stop as we set off, our first reminder of the unmanned fuel stations and the rigmarole of ‘sussing’ out the machines and hoping they would accept our credit cards x 6 as we all queue and shuffle to the pumps.

The route took us a little way further down the A26 to Cambrai, where we stopped for a coffee (or a proper english tea for Clappo), and the headed east to the Belgian area known as the Hautes Rivieres. We stopped by a roadside cafe lunch only to find that they were only serving meals not snacks, so after refreshments we headed out again.

This was to become a theme of the tour, struggling to find somewhere to eat or drink during the daytime. It’s fair to say that our routes are off the beaten track, but the almost total absence of people or cafes or bars or shops or anything open was pretty frustrating.

This was always going to be a long day, time and miles, but so it was. The weather forecast was for some rain late afternoon and we had been riding between 2 big storms, clearly visible, when at last it started to fall on us. I pulled over to don my waterproofs and promptly lost my footing and down went me and the bike onto the roadside earth (1-Nil to Terry). Thanks for helping me up guys.

The approach into Metz was meant to be a bit of a joke, a steep hill will hairpins (practice for the next day’s riding) leading down to the city. In truth, the joke fell flat as we were already tired. The satnav route gave my following friends the impression that I was making it up as I went along (not unknown), but when Colin indicated that we had just passed the hotel we quickly doubled back, ignoring the ‘no entry’ signs through a pedestrianised area- we were extremely pleased to have arrived.

After check-in and a fast shower, we were soon back outside the hotel and walked just a matter of yards to the 1st bar with outside seats. 6 beers were ordered and the relaxation began.

Another theme – Strange Beer. It was sold as IPA, but not as we knew it! Very strangely tart in flavour, but the 2nd and 3rd pints went down very easily. Some young lasses on the adjoining table brought some polystyrene boxes to their table which turned out to be kebabs. The bar owner was happy for us to eat at his tables while drinking – so that’s what we did!

Terry Arnold

Leaving Metz, I/we (my wingman Clappo) made our biggest routing error, following the autoroute down towards Nancy. We were chatting away on the intercoms, when after about 50 miles I realised I wouldn’t normally choose to use the autoroute for so long. Both our satnavs had sent us down the main road when I knew there were spectacular routes we should be following. After a discussion we agreed that Colin would lead us across country to pick up the proper route. We stopped for fuel at a garage that didn’t have any, satnav led us to another that had been demolished before we eventually found fuel and were able to resume. All very tiring indeed.

Eventually we were back on course and headed towards the Vosges mountains. Now we were entering the more scenic areas of our tour. The Vosges are truly wonderful, densely wooded mountains and valleys, beautiful smooth and winding roads with little traffic.

There were a high number of weekend bikers on the bigger roads and when approaching a large bar/rest-stop biker destination, we came to a wide, open downhill T-Junction. All of a sudden, I could hear a loud scraping type noise and I immediately checked my mirrors, expecting to see a motorbike sliding along the road and bracing myself for the impact. Apparently, all of us did exactly the same! Then, over the intercom, Clappo shouted that a military jet had flown very low overhead and had then banked away, disappearing without trace. Our hearts were all pounding from the shock of the moment and took many minutes to calm down.

A roadside chalet-style restaurant looked promising for lunch so we pulled in. I checked and they claimed they were full, I felt that they didn’t want to serve us. As we mounted up, I lost my footing and down went my bike again, onto tarmac this time with some light damage to the bars and a pannier box. (2-Nil to Terry) Just a few miles further on at 1500m alt. we stopped for photos at a fantastic view of Geradmer and its lake. Just a little further again and we stopped for lunch at a scenic cafe with a deck at Schlucht. Cheese and ham platters and beer – very welcome. Motorcycles passed by in large numbers, clearly a popular road.

Another theme – late arrivals into our destinations. We arrived into a modern IBIS hotel just outside the Besancon city centre, exhausted again. This evening we didn’t even venture outside apart from putting the bikes into the underground parking. We elected to stay in for food and were very pleasantly surprised by the standards of the meal, and no-nonsense quaffable beers.

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.

Terry Arnold

The morning started with Will and Colin kindly heading out to bring in supplies for breakfast. Supposedly a few hundred metres away, they hadn’t realised that that was the altitude differential not the distance! Anyway a fine breakfast was delivered, John cooked everyone a lovely omlette and we we ready for the next trial.

We had discussed which of the 4 ride-out route options to use and it was agreed that we would first use the shortest (a mere 116 miles) but which also included 30 miles of dirt tracks plus a whole load more of curves and hairpins ascending and descending to 2400m. A walk in the park – almost a rest-day.

The intial climb started at Fenestrelle (15) and rose via hairpins to point 19, where the road turned to fairly good loose gravel until point 22, where tarmac restarted.

At one point Clappo spotted some useful guys on KTMs speeding towards us in clouds of dust. “Terry they are all standing on the pegs! We’ve got to be doing the same!” he shouted – Up we stood. We stopped at an old military fort to admire the views and have a stretch.

The road then rose up to and ended at the Colle de Finestre (2500m). Here we paused and considered our options. At that point we could look down at the road descending rapidly with tight hairpins and deep large gravel. We watched a Husqvarna 250 go down and he was struggling so we concluded that way was too treacherous for us. Instead we opted to go back to the side road that led to the Strada Dell’Assietta as that was said to be easier – by the the Land Rover Defender Expedition driver we spoke to!

We descended and took an immediate coffee break at an enterprising mountain farmer’s cafe, before setting out again. The Assietta peeled off from the tarmac quite soon and was seen to be deeper gravel than the first ascent but OK and nowhere near as bad as the Finestre. We needed to space out a fair way so the the bike-ahead’s dust would clear and we could see the way forward and to limit the filth that was covering every part of us.

Well – if we had known then that it would be 30 miles before we saw tarmac again we might have had second thoughts and turned back. Clappo’s oil light would now only go off over 3000rpm and he considered baling, but bravely (foolishly?) pressed on.

It quickly became apparent that Paul was demon-quick on the KTM and was much faster than us, so we waived him forward to go enjoy himself. Being a kind and considerate soul, he frequently stopped to let us catch up and then would speed off creating a huge cloud of dust for us to penetrate. FFS.

We passed many mountain bike cyclists, and multi vehicle Land Rover expeditions, most of whom moved over to give room to pass. However, one lady driver in particular believed that just driving slowly by the rock-wall and leaving us 4-5 feet of road to overtake with a sheer drop and no barriers – was perfectly acceptable!!

On and on the road/track went winding round rock outcrops, 8 feet width of track and then nothing but a sheer drop, no visibility of oncoming traffic around the tighter headlands, it was all pretty testing/scary.

“Wow – look at that view Clappo! – “I’m not looking mate, just watching the track, I hate heights!”

After a while we realised that Colin and Will were no longer with us. We paused for a while, but it really was a difficult task to turn a bikes round with the gravel, the slopes, passing vehicles and the limited width, so we reasoned that they were together and we would wait for them as soon as we could stop safely.

Yet still – on and on the road/track went on winding. Up and down some pretty steep rises, some with hairpins and deep gravel and faster way more competent riders overtaking. At one point a guy came past two-up, the pillion sitting passively as he stood controlling his GSA round the bends. Clappo announced he needed fuel and took to asking bemused cyclists if they knew of any petrol stations.

Late on, the gravel started to include some pretty sizeable rocks (at least one of which made a loud bang as it kicked up and hit my sump guard) and we rode over a bare jagged rock outcrop – and then, miracle of miracles, a grass field appeared with a ski lift and a hotel and bars. “I’ve been here!” exclaimed John “I’ve drank in that bar!”. And so did WE!

Amazingly, after about 10 minutes the very welcome sight of Will’s snow plough (RT) plus Colin greeted us as they rolled down the road towards us.

“!! I really could have done with your muscle and toolkits back there!! ” – Will not unreasonably assertively addressed us – Fair-point, sorry, have a beer.

It transpired that Will had unfortunately dropped his bike (2-1) on the gravel and had broken off his top box. A Land Rover driver came to his rescue and they raised the bike, lashed the top box on with straps and they gamely pressed on.

Will said that riders standing beside the track at view points were looking on aghast as an RT purred past them, some even clapped and saluted. Respect.

After a fine sandwich lunch and refreshments, we set off again only to find that the tarmac disappeared and there was another 3 miles of dirt road! With zero miles of range left on Clappo’s dashboard we pulled into a petrol station and normal service was resumed. We had a relatively gentle ride back down via fast hairpins to Briancon, but now the task was to buy supplies for dinner as we had elected to eat-in.

Food and drink was purchased at the same Carrefour that Colin and will had been to and then we battled the busy traffic uphill caused by roadworks, in 28deg, before collapsing into chairs with a beer at the Chalet.

Dinner that night was a subdued affair, we were all extremely tired. Paul, John, Will & Colin did find the energy to make use of the pool and bar-football tables. but an early night was taken.

Terry Arnold

For Breakfast, Colin and Terry went to fetch bread from a bakery we’d spotted and we enjoyed beautiful freshly baked croissants and pains au chocolate.

We had chosen to ride longer route again as we’d come this far to the Alps, we may as well see as much of it as we could. At around 210 miles, this was going to be another taxing day, especially with the nature of the roads we would travel.

Leaving Briancon we briefly got seperated when Will’s bike wouldn’t start, but thought nothing of it and set off (this was to come back at us later). An early objective was to get a team photo at the top of the Galibier. This time taking the the peak bypass tunnel as the col road was being maintained. Lovely photos were taken and amazing views admired before setting off in the opposite direction to the way we had first arrived. We were snapped by a roadside photographer, where some of us later purchased his photos. Clappo had seen him and announced “I’m going to do the shiny side up salute…”

Once back down to the valley beyond, we stopped for coffee and struck up a conversation with a Dutch couple who were Harley riders asking about our experiences touring there. They were impressed we were from the UK.

A short stretch of autoroute and the we were ascending to the hills once again. I was surprised by my own route here, the Col de la Madelaine was a super road and pass. I had heard of it as it is a Tour de France route, but it really was pleasant. Mont Blanc was visible from here. We stopped at the col and we got another good team photo – and decided to grab some lunch. Only meals were available not snacks, but they were very nice and dragging a protesting Colin away from the dessert menu we set off again.

We headed for Val d’Isere climbing to one of the highest areas in those parts and mid afternoon, stopped for a coffee, only for John to point and exclaim once again “I’ve stayed in that hotel!”. From Val d’Isere the road winds further up to the Col de L’iseran along yet more wonderful snaking roads with breathtaking views. At 2,764m this was the highest pass we would cross and once again we stopped for the views and a third team photo of the day, probably a record for us. From the col we could see 3 mountaintop glaciers and the road took us down past these monsters, getting close-up views as we went.

Further on, as the day was starting to draw in, some light cloud was forming on the next high range to cross and as we crested the col du mont-cenis (1665m) we could see what appeared to be the sea ! Not what you might expect at that altitude. Fairly strong wind was creating small waves and with the reduced visibilty it was a very strange and beautiful sight indeed.

Dipping across the border into Italy here, the road wound down the hillside for about 10 miles. It was brand new, smooth, wide, almost totally free of traffic and it was EPIC. Myself, Colin and Paul rode together at a very pleasing speed, banking side to side with the curves for ages. What a wonderful bit of road.

Re-fueling in Susa, we had the same gentle run-in to Briancon that we had the previous night. Once again, we called in at the Carrefour and bought more supplies.

After a quick shower Paul, John, Colin, Will and myself wandered up the hill to the old city in search of a beer. Finding it harder than we anticipated, we did enjoy a pint as a bar packed away its chairs and tables around us, before wandering through the old time in search of a sticker shop for John. He wanted to adorn his GSA in the manner of other global travellers we had seen. Success! some stickers procured, we spotted Clappo who had made his way up to meet us. A bar with some outside seating was chosen and some more refreshments taken before wandering back to the chalet for another charcuterie platter and an early night.

After packing up all our luggage, stripping all the linens and delivering the rubbish and recycling to the street-side containers, we left the chalet, following the same route out of town as the day before. This time we did not turn right for the Galibier, but continued on for the col du lauteret towards Grenoble.

The route took us right into the centre of Grenoble, and after a bit of navigating on the fly, ably assisted by wingman Clappo, we turned up a smaller road into the hills to the north. These roads were narrower and a bit damp and I was concerned that it was an awfully long way to go (~300mi) on such roads, but they soon opened up to being wide and good progress was being made. A chance stop was made for coffee at a cafe/hotel in newly refurbished street scene. Here Colin announced – “I came along here with my caravan last year!”, “….we turned off at the same little junction back there!” Amazing coincidences.

The bends just beyond here had been resurfaced and sprinkled with tiny gravel beads. This made cornering quite interesting for a few miles with both wheels drifting sideways at times!

We rode for mile after mile, 2 hours or so, through lovely deserted rural undulating countryside without seeing much sign of mankind at all. At each rare hamlet we passed through, I span my head roud like an owl looking for anywhere to get drinks and or food. Eventually I spotted a furled red parasol down a side road and we went round and back into the village, only to see a lady going into a ‘bar’ and shutting the door. I dismounted and went to ask if she was open, when Clappo radioed “mate, she’s putting out chairs round this side.” The sum total of the food she could offer was – 2 portions of tiramasu!! So we cleaned her out of those and others made do with ice-cream – and beer of course.

It was here that we learned of the very poor health of our dear Queen Elizabeth II. Will had a message from a colleague in government which gave an early indication of the seriousness of her health, with the family being called to her bed-side. We only learned of her passing when we reached our overnight stop at Beaune.

In the afternoon, we became separated again when Will’s bike stopped running. At that time it was thought that bad fuel was to blame, but that wasn’t convincing because we had all filled from the same garage tank. Clappo’s oil light was still coming on under 3000rpm.

Again we could not find anywhere on our route for refreshments, so we pulled over to stretch and pee and drink bottled water we had. John ingeniously improvised with a bottle of red wine he has carrying and we all took a self congratulatory slug.

The run in to Beaune was easy and the satnav delivered us through the very attractive golden stone town to a pleasant hotel right in the centre. We left our bikes outside the hotel, reasoning that the pavement was wide and we weren’t in anybody’s way. The hotel receptionist though it wasn’t ideal, but we were to tired to move them and they stayed there overnight – with no problems as far as we were ever aware.

We walked out into the town which was bustling with tourists, there were loads of bar/restaurants with outside seating in the warm summer air. The bar TVs were showing news bulletins of the passing of ‘La Reine Elizabeth II’

At one bar I asked the person seating customers if we could seat 6 people, pulling together a ‘4 + a 2’. “Non, pas possible”. We drank a couple of pints next door.

Moving round the corner to a square, the same thing happened. I asked why that was and he replied – I am the owner and I say so! The neighbouring bar was more than happy to seat us !? F*** You mate. We enjoyed a very pleasant meal with rather too much of the wonderful red wine the town is famous for. Will, Colin, Paul and John stopped in at the bar beside the hotel for a nightcap. Will Colin ever spot the connection between this and his very grumpy mood at breakfast the next day?

Only 217 miles today. We’d left the stunningly beautiful scenery behind now but there we still many lovely roads and views to be experienced. Several huge forests were passed through including one where the french resistance were holed up in WWII hiding from the germans. Forest roads were named after the resistance and Les Anglais and others.

The weather forecast was correct, the rain did start as predicted, not too heavy and we pushed on. Unfortunately, late morning we got separated again as Will’s bike had refused to keep running. When we re-united as a group we pulled in for fuel. The RT refused to start again and we gathered round it for inspiration. Clappo mentioned that some BMWs suffer a problem with the side stand cut-out and on investigation, it was indeed very loose and ‘waggly’. Out came the tools and a few minutes later, the RT fired up as normal and the problem was solved.

Soon after, I spotted a Intermarche supermarket, where we might be able to finally purchase some refreshments and doubling back at the next roundabout, Clappo said he had seen a restaurant just before the store so we pulled in there and parked up and removed our helmets. 2 bikers were sitting at an outside table and as we approached they called out that it was closed! They had bought food at the store and were just using the benches. We walked the 200m to the store only to discover that in those intervening 10 minutes, the store had CLOSED. Quoting Mickey Flannagan “FFF***ing French! Lazy Bastards!!” Even the 2 french bikers admitted that the lack of facilities is crazy and very annoying.

Crestfallen, we kitted-up and remounted, and amazingly back at the roundabout we first went right round, there was a huge banner announcing ‘Boulangerie, Patisserie and Snackery’ – How the hell did we ALL miss that?! Inside was a modern, super bakery with very friendly staff and a lovely selection of inviting sandwiches, cakes and decent coffees. What a contrast.

As we left, I noticed that Will was slow away again and tried to turn the bike round in the road to see what was wrong. Nothing, as it turned out, but with weight of the bike, luggage and a full 30l fuel tank, throw in some tiredness and I toppled over onto the road on my left side (Terry 3 – Will 2). It hurt. I had landed with my elbow tucked by my side and it dug into my rib cage as I hit the tarmac. I had damaged the other-side ribs in July and this was a very familiar pain. I lay there for a few seconds, I could see approaching cars coming to a halt for me. I radio’ed Clappo that I couldn’t help pick up the bike this time and Colin kindly rushed over to help lift the dead weight. It felt OK to sit on the bike holding the bars, so we set off again.

The route took us through increasing numbers of cemeteries as this had been an area where tens of thousands of troops perished in the 2 world wars.

We stayed on the outskirts of Verdun in the most budget place yet, but it was surprisingly good. The plan had been to walk 20 minutes into the old city for food, but it started to rain and we chose instead to eat a nearby restaurant. Once more we were delighted with the quality of food that was available and had a very happy evening. (we even dodged the boring English biker who had latched on to us at the hotel.)

A light rain accompanied us as we set off from Verdun. The satnav was not leading me in the direction I was expecting so I ignored it’s suggestions and headed down into the old city hoping to view some of the fine old buildings and features of a city that has previously been ravaged by war. We did see rather more of the town, not necessarily all the best bits, but certainly some of them. What the satnav understood better than me was the nature of the one way streets, so after we had crossed the river for the 4th time I eventually hit upon the way out I needed to the south-west. Soon we were ‘making progress’ passing more roadside cemetries.

We were heading to the Champagne area, first towards Chalons-en-champagne and then on to Epernay. I had visited Epernay before, the last time just in April with Gareth, Dave and the our wives, and I knew the guys would appreciate the look and feel of the lovely town. We rode slowly down the Avenue de Champagne where many of the world famous champagne houses are located with their extensive cave networks tunnelled into the chalk hill far below. Pol Roger, Moet & Chandon, Mercier and several others – all very smart now having been dressed in recent years for the high-end luxury image they present.

We found parking and a pleasant cafe in the town centre and strolled a little, having removed the waterproofs, before moving on again. More fuel, then out of town and into the gentle hills that are covered with vines and the houses of dozens of smaller champagne estates, following the tourist scenic route. At the time we rode through the grape pickers were at work.

Roads were rural but fairly direct now, we passed through areas of the Somme valley with more cemeteries and monuments to fallen heros. We reached Laon, which is another notable town set on a steeped side high hill rising out of the plains of northern France. Again, I had been there in April on our Champagne trip so I knew a scenic route in, up hairpins and around the battlements of the old walled fortress to reach a carpark right beside the huge austere church. (we did have to go round twice using a higher circular road when I was confused by some roadworks, but the view out over the distant plains were worth seeing again). We walked over to a bar/restaurant where I have rested before and put down our gear on a table under large canopied area.

The owner came over to seemingly to take our order, but instead he announced that we could only have drinks outside but not food. As people were visibly enjoying food inside and we were a little embarrassed by our casual attire, I politely enquired why that might be. He looked at the clouds in the sky above and said that his staff refuse to work outside if there is a possibility of rain! He was not happy with the situation and apologised but he could not change it.

We moved on down a lovely side street of shops with oversized lampshades hung at high level. Past another bar that had stopped serving food at 1330pm and looked at some lovely cakes in a bakery window and stood wondering what to do next. At that same moment, a bar-keeper opposite was opening up and setting out his chairs and parasols. He summoned us over and with great enthusiasm and insistence, he suggested we buy sandwiches from the bakery and eat them at his tables and buy his beer. An offer we couldn’t refuse and that’s exactly what we did. He admired John’s pizza and when John asked if he’d like a piece, without hesitation he tore off a slice and wandered off saying he was normally too busy to eat lunch. He was quite a character and was really friendly, he told us he rides bikes and there was a small one mounted in the bar. We took photos with him and left a BTBM sticker with others on his front door and left as grateful friends. Strange how another poor starting episode turned out ending so well.

Entering the outskirts of Arras, our route was blocked by a road closure for a fete and the satnav wouldn’t offer alternatives, so I chose another roundabout exit in order to force it to recalculate another route in. We took the opportunity to fill-up our tanks so that we could save time in the morning when we would be heading for the port. After filling and being desperate for a pee, I buried myself into a large bush for privacy and promptly got stung on the hand by a bee. As I had had a wasp sting earlier in the week, I knew the anaphylactic reaction was going to result in more severe swelling. Not wanting to go to a hospital in France, I consulted our tour medic Will and I started taking the – by now 2yrs out of date – steroids and antibiotics that I had retained from the 2019 Spain tour. (postscript – They worked fine)

The Ibis in Arras was only a 5 minute walk into the magnificent medieval city with countless former merchants’ townhouses set around 2 huge squares. Whilst having a drink at the hotel bar the receptionist kindly recommended a fish restaurant on the sunny side of one of the squares and we walked there for the tour’s last night’s dinner. The waitress was very friendly and helpful and joined in with our jokes and general silliness and recommended some dishes and wines that were indeed very good. Final tour group photos were taken and we made our way back to the hotel, some taking a slower and more zig-zagging route than others. Will and Colin had a final duel on the hotel’s bar football table and we retired for an earlyish start to ride to the tunnel the next day.

Breakfast was at 7.30 for ‘wheels-rolling’ at 8.45. The sunday streets were quiet and we quickly and easily left Arras with fairly thick fog hanging in the air. Once we were on the A26 autoroute the fog started to thin and was gone by 9.30 with the sun breaking though. I had hoped to catch a view of the massive Canadian war memorial at Vimy Ridge which is close the the A26 at Arras but the fog put paid to that.

We cruised along steadily and were soon at the Eurotunnel check-in. We had no problems or delays and took-up the option of a slightly earlier train. Time for a final photo with the bikes and soon we were loaded and heading into the tunnel. With little traffic we were quickly onto the M20 and amongst the notably poorer lane discipline of drivers in the UK. Many of these same drivers had been behaving so much better on the autoroutes only an hour or 2 earlier but had soon reverted. Paul peeled off to the southbound M26/M25 and the rest continued to the north. The traffic was busy entering the Dartford tunnels as usual and we re-gathered as a group on the north side. Terry turned off at the A127 with the great fortune of being the nearest to home. Colin, Will, John and Clappo continued on round the M25 and on to the M11 & M1 to their respective journeys home.

So came the end of another fantastic tour. Great experiences, great friends, great memories. Time to start thinking of destinations and options for next year now!