In Trieste I bought new front pads as the brake had just begun to make a scrape sound! I headed for Venice and a campsite I knew from 20 years ago. Got to Fusina Camping and of course it was shut for the winter. Nipped into a restaurant for some real nutritian as I hadn't had a meal for many days. The entrees were £9 to £12, I turned the page and my heart sank. I flipped the next page and found pizzas at about £6. Italy was to prove to be pricey. My pizza hardly added up to the meal I wanted and needed. OK, make some distance if the campsite's shut. I vaguely aimed to pass Milano or drift northwards towards the Dolomites. At about midnight, on an Autostrada I pulled off the truck parking area, behind a concrete block and bivi'd.
At about 8am I left after yet another snack and espresso. Today I rode up to Trento, having an espresso in a cafe with a Moto Guzzi Spada 1000 resting outside. Comforting for me. I headed west and went over an Alpine pass that headed towards Mandello di Lario and the Guzzi factory. The pass looked innocent enough on the European atlas! It finally flattened off and began to descend after passing the freezing line. This little Beemer, heavy as it is, has prove itself to be capable and versatile. I was VERY cautious on the snow and ice and got through back to a thawed out world. Too chilled to warm up a sleeping bag I went to a hotel. Serious money problems now though. I had a full tank, 20 Euros and 10 Euros in my bank--that is up to my overdraught limit. I paid the 30 Euros and ussed the room as a drying room. Boy was I going to pig out on the included breakfast!
Uno Duplo and damp brioche in plastic was breakfast in this ski serving hotel! Grumble! I powered off into the morning chill, wrapping my hands around the heated grips. I forgot to say that in Montenegro I lost my gloves and still had bare hands now! I made Lecco after midday and cruised into Mandello with expectant heart. This is Guzzi heaven after all. It's an idyllic little town. Thank Allah, God or who/whatever but I was allowed to use the camp site for three nights and pay on leaving. The next payment into my account would be in three days. Three long, very hungry days! I sat in the camp site and pondered actually living through the days without food. To the washing block and drank a camel's worth of water. Wow! I had been dehydrated. I changed a £10 note from my wallet and made it till day three. Linzi.

The next section went to the ether. Seems there's a limit of volume or time involved. I'm tired now. I'll continue later. Linzi.

Nice stories. Thanks for posting. I can't wait for the next update.

__________________
Not Ted Simon since 1970!
http://nokilli.com/rtw

Hi, I must find out how to post the story in detail because I think some people would be interested. I was treated in a homely way by so many people in Montenegro that I have a desperate desire to go back. It's difficult to know though whether to stick to brake fluid etc type material or cover the relationships side. I can hardly wait to get the disc from the photo lab on 02 Jan and see what I got through the lens--before I dropped the camera and killed its electronic brain! In Montenegro the little Beemer got absolutely filthy. I hand cleaned it in Italy and then realized the wheel colour is alloy! I have just this minute come inside as it gets dark here having given it a better cleaning. Tomorrow I'll take off its body panels and treat it against the corossion that the UK specializes in on bikes. In a minute I'll nip down to the laundry and test the machines to the max! It's funny to look at a BMW F650GS towering over a Moto Guzzi 850 Le Mans. Ciao, Linzi.

Keeping it short- In a cafe in Mandello I had made significant eye contact with the owner. Lovely, creamy bob styled hair. Round the table and note her figure. Hm. I returned the next day and chatted with her. For some reason she took me to be German. This is how we chatted- she had learnt her German in Basel as a chamber maid. I wondered, and wonder still, if I should have suggested I spend the night with her. Why didn't I? That would look good on a headstone!
I was aware of the coming of Christmas, the chaos in shops and that I'd still be on the road. I intended to go north along the shores of Lago Como, breathing in its corners and saunter up to the mighty Stelvio Pass but--2 metres of snow there now! At the local Guzzi dealer I am informed of an imminent plunge in temperatures in Europe. This provokes some thoght! I opt for a 2litre bottle of orange rather than an espresso next and as it disappears realize how dehydrated I've become. I was thirsty! It seems sensible to head for home pronto. I've not got enough money for this lark in Europe and its going to get seriously cold. OK head through expensive Switrzerland and get a hotel room over the German border. 3pm I depart Mandello--bad planning indeed! I purr through to Como and find there's absolutely no border between Italy and Switzerland any more! It's now dark when I'm flashed from behind. That'll be the back light not working. Yep. I'd notice it before. I remove the lens, take out the bulb to check it. Ouch! Bugger! Smash. There's a garage 35 metres away. It's got a money change in it too. Change a wad of Euros to Franken, buy tow bulbs and a chocolate bar and off. Ticino in the dark is not too cold as I approach the long St Gottard tunnel. In the tunnel's 17km it is lovely and warm. Good place to bivi in some ways! Nice and warm in the tunnel, that was about to change somewhat. Linzi

Another into ether. So I'll type faster: The cold air trapped in central Swiss valleys is forced into the mouth of the St Gottard tunnel and envelops the approaching Beemer from 400 metres. The full realization of how cold it is hits me along with the Night air as I emerge. Narnia in winter! The road is totally free of moisture but it must be very much frozen if tarmac can freeze. I metre high bank of cleared snow has frozen into an armco like barrier along the right side. Beyond it in the dark looks like a frozen mountain cliff. Probably is as this is central Switzerland. My first out breath in this canton mists my visor and it freezes. I stab the button and swing the visor open to better appreciate the bite of freezing wind.I slam it shut and wipe it with my glove. My next breath fogs up. I have to continue with the visor partly open to be able to see. It is damn cold on my face and the chill speads round my shoulders. My hands, looking ever so stylish are numb. My feet are very cold, toes numb. OK so it's nowhere near frost bite but I,m doing 50mph in this air! I decide to stop at the first rest area. Where is it though. I don't remember how far it was but I obviously made it. Let me update a bit here. I set off without the benefit of special clothing. The boots don't quite meet my trousers. My leather trousers stretched badly after a total soaking earlier and hang below my jacket! Oh and the zip broke on first use and Rade sewed across it so it comes up leaving an open air scoop! My jacket is done by waist strap only under my goretex jacket. All the neckers etc mean that the goretex jacket doesn't close at the neck. I've got two pairs of thick fleece trousers on and three on top but it only delays the inevitable and too much of me is acting as radiators. I haven't begun to shiver so its not desperate yet but the rate of heat loss is simply too fast. Linzi.

I stand rigidly on the welcome mat staring hungrily at the mouthwatering food displayed before me in the rest area. Hot air is blasted onto me from the overhead heater in the doorway. As I step forward pulling my saggy jeans up a bit, a young Swiss man comments on the idea that it might be somewhat cold here, now on a bike. It's bloody freezing, I say matter of factly. It seems I may have a yet unrealized career in Switzerland as a stand up comic. But it was only meant to inform. After a meal-like "sandwich" and yet another espresso I decide that staying any longer isn't going to raise the temperature of my boots and clothes. I MUST get to a hotel in Germany tonight. I am simply too cold to bivi. That must also explain why I forgot to get some of the easy to reach heat pads as I rode off. At least this time the Respro mask was in perfect position and I could ride with the visor down. Glory! I pressed on at 55 mph till I arrived at Basel on the wrong side of midnight. The Beemer didn't turn into a pumkin thankfully as I need it to get to a hotel room. What a pity that I turned into Basel before the border because I was then unable to pay my autobahn vignette. Damn.
However, in Lorrach over the non exisrtent border all the hotels were closed! Linzi.

I had a big problem now. I looked down at the bikes clock--imagine, a clock! Such luxury! Yikes it's half past one in the morning! Quick decsion. I have to get off the road fast I am just getting colder by the minute. I ride up an agricultural road a short distance, park on leaf mould and get off. Helmet off, mountain cap on, quuick look around. It is absolutely beautiful here. Dangerously clear sky, Iced up farm machine over the road, wide, frozen ploughed land stetcheng into the dark. Beneath my feet the hard frozen leaf mould looks like chocolate cake decoration dusted with icing sugar. Oh I wish. I inflate my mat till it's very stiff. It'll go down a lot as my hot breath cools. I puff up my sleeping bag but it's been tied on the back of the bike and is "ambient temperature". I stow my boots in the lid of my bivi bag to stop them freezing and insert myself into my cold bag fully dressed, rapidly pulling it tightly shut and rolling to face down. I make sure that there's bag above all of me and my mouth opens below. I won't get any sleep but I'm just minimizing heat loss till sun up. My clothes are chilled. I've never tried this fully dressed in cold clothes but I daren't remove outer clothes as I'd lose too much heat. I must have slept after about five hours of not sleeping. It was still dark when I awoke. My side next to mat was cold, rest of me was just OK, it had worked. I stretched my legs out and the foot of my bag was icy cold-inside too! I pulled back up into foetal position and snuggled up again. The air outside was seriously deepfreeze like. Later I awoke and it was light. A car passed on the road 50 metres away. Cat Stevens song came to me, Morning has Broken. But make no mistake it's cold outside and I'm about 25 minutes ride from Freiburg and any certainty of an open cafe or shop. Linzi.

The whole bike was frosted but I was pleasantly surprised to find that I wasn't clumsy from the cold. I had actually warmed up in the night. I made short work of getting off and purring down the short road to the real road. I let many cars pass me on the way to Freiburg. Bikes are so obviously vulnerable to ice. As I approached Freiburg I was puzzled that I didn't recognize anything. I knew the road I must be on but even within 800 metres of the old centre I didn't recognize any of the buildings. Then there is the main railway station. My God I WAS on the right road---it's all been redeveloped! I turn right towards the central pedestrian areas for a cafe--and some familiarity. A row of scooters is reasuring to park alongside. Should be OK. I walk smartly and choose from the large range of cafes etc. Ein Tasse Cafe bitte. My accent is poor, partly due to the cold though. I order a chop, salad and local noodle speciality to remind me of days in the past. I have to bite my lip and pretend to wipe my face as I remember one particular girl from this town. Where she is now I have no idea but she sure cut deep.
I think about the vast redevelopment that has gone on and it reminds me why I left- I have nothing in common with these people when it comes down to it. What was wrong with Freiburg before? Nothing, but they just have to keep developing. I look at the healthy, well fed students and muse that they don't take a very wide view of the world. I never felt the camaradery of Montenegro when I lived here. Ho hum. I get directions from the waitor to an internet place and off I go. I email Tony, check all my spam etc and lose a report to HUBB when the shop just close down the computer. I state that I won't pay then, quite simply. The youth hostel is closed for a week too-should have expected it. I am tired of Germany already. I ride west, towards France and mave goodbye to Germany as I cross the rhine. Churchill used to wave roughly like that too. Ponder how my mood is changing since I was in Montenegro and genuinely regret being back in EU. Linzi.

It's just as cold in France of course but I at once feel freer somehow. I know from past experience how less hectic Alsace here is than Germany just over the river. Ah, there's a Lidl store. How ironic to be stopping to fill the panniers at a German store in France! As I park the Beemer a Frenchman getting into his car calls over cheerily, C'est tres froid pour les mains, non?
My French covers such a statement but as I point to the handle bars and say, Mais ces sont electrique! I am covering up the fact that I can't say that my feet are nearly frozen and my hands are no problem at all. In the store the people smile and chatter to one another. Yes, I have always found the people of this area of France to be calm, open, friendly and generally all round pleasant people. With no limits at all on what to buy why do I buy some things that I don't really want to eat and other things that I can buy in Lidl in UK? I can't really complain later as I did the buying but I came to curse some of the purchases.
I ate some food in the car park then got on with the serious business of getting home before the real deep freeze set in. West, ever west I rode. I had 25 Euros in my wallet and another 180 Euros in my bank account. I thought it safer to have it all in my wallet just in case-you never know. At an ATM I am told that I have insufficient funds. No sweat, been there before. I know I've got 180 Euros, I'll try another ATM. So that is how I came to be parked at a service area in Alsace assessing my position. Day before Christmas, quarter tank of fuel, 25 Euros in wallet. Nothing in bank account. The latest ATM had said I'd reached my daily limit--of 250 Euros. Well I hadn't used my card at all today! So someone else had! Next money in my account in three days. This is what pilots call "a situation". I had at least a pile of scraps and biscuits in one pannier but the holiday means I can't contact my bank. I need to sort this out myself. I ask at the counter how for to the next exit? Ten kilometers. There are police there with internet. Hm, that doesn't help really. Think what if the bike had broken down, Breakdown recovery would take me home. A quick look at the insurance clears that up--insurance only-no recovery. Do some maths and calculate that if I do the impossible for me so far and cross France with no wrong turnings at very economical rate the Beemer could reach Dieppe and the ferry. I had three days to do it and some scraps to eat on the way. That then was the plan. The women at the counter gave me some croissants and coffee before they knocked off and we wished each other Bon Fete! I locked the bike and laid out my goose down bag now less than totally dry but OK. Linzi

I was woken on Christmas day 2009 by the women going to work checking that I was OK. I went in to the loo feeling bloody scruffy. In the mirror I got a shock! I'd been riding the whole day before with the visor up or partly so. There were huge bags beneath my eys and my lids were swollen as if infected. I'd aged about 30 years! At least they didn't know how beautiful I normally was and wouldn't be shocked! I dabbed cold water pathetically on my face but to no avail so out I went smiling sheepishly. I was greeted with real smiles. I like Alsatians. A piece of cake and a coffee were placed before me. I couldn't really ask what they'd done as it would have rubbed it in a bit. I am very grateful to the friendship and support they gave me.
I set off about an hour later for the police in the nearest town. On approaching the square I spied an ATM. I appreciate how silly and pointless it was but I went to try it anyway. I withdrew 180 Euros which is more than the money due in three days showing that the problem yesterday had been a system fault. Merde! Life's like that sometimes. I filled up with petrol and then thought that just out of curiosity I'd ride as if I had to get max efficiency and see if the bike could make it.
So the loaded F650GS one up did 210 miles on 13 litres at 50mph. I calculate that to be, scientifically speaking, a hell of a good performance!
I've now misplace my diary but I think I calculated 27kpl or 73mpg, about 4 litres per 100km It's got a reserve but I didn't explore that. I am very impressed with the Rotax engines's fuel consumption. This is one very useful little bike. Linzi

hehe what fun to read, sitting in my warm home. I didn't expect such an epic story ;o))

I thought you'd post 10 lines about picking the bike up and racing through Europe, but then its winter and with no money !!!

PS If you risk loosing any text, just every so often, mark the text and copy it with Ctrl C, then if you have been logged off, just log in, open a new mail and paste your text in, Ctrl V

__________________
Poul
May you enjoy peace and good health !

10 lines, no I had written out 39kb in Word which only covered to first bivi near Podgorica. I really want to post that but while it's saved it won't appear on HUBB. I think early next year I'll try a trip report in another section of HUBB with as many photos as are good enough. On the photo side I need to wait till 02 Jan to get a disc with them on it. I had trouble getting gaps in rain to keep the lens free of water. Regards Linzi.

To calculate the fuel consumption I'd ridden till the little orange light came on telling me to go straight to a petrol station and not pass go. In crossing northen France I should have known this would have been in the middle of nowhere! Had it not been so cold I might have filled a water bottle with fuel to carry. Really officer? Petrol? How lucky for me that you noticed! I might have drunk some without your help, merci beaucoup!
I throttled back to 40mph wondering just what revs give best economy-torque must come into it as well as throttle opening. I looked forlornly at the passing, frozen forests and kept telling mysself BMW would provide a really good reserve--wouldn't they! At a remote roundabout I made a decision between two insignificant town names. Gulp, talk about dumn! Right then, purr, Purr. The little Beemer cruises on. I come to a small town. I cruise slowly looking for a fuel supply. I do a u turn. Oh dear, must be something here. On to the next town, close by thankfully, I find a petrol station. Phew! Engine off I realize you need some kind of card at this unmanned supply point. Yikes! Out onto the road, over the road to the other station--it's shut. Ooh dear. ALong the road and pull in at a large Peugeot showroom to ask. Oui, 2 km! Yes. I knew it would all end OK. I went 2 miles according to the Beemeer which doesn't talk metric. Onto a faster, less economical road--at 40mph. To a complex of retail outlets, roundabouts and French people who all knew exactly what they were doing! I went into a shop and said, J'ai besoin d'essence s'il vous plait. The confused reply was that they sell furniture! I know dear, I MEANT, "Where's the nearest petrol station?", but can't say that en francaise. this time 3km and it was. Real petrol that the Beemer gulped down gratefully. Linzi

Out onto the road ever westward. Damn, in the open, out of the wooded area it is cold and very windy.I can ride faster now but set the speed at 4000rpm or 95kph/60mph approx.
The landscape is open and very big. Good tank country I note! Ah well, onward we go. A sign surprises me. Verdun. I hadn't realized how far east the First World Fisty Cuffs had spread. Now I see something that really surprises me. Off to the right ,about 400 metres from this main road across the open, wide plain, they've built a wind farm! Oh my God. How mad. The cross wind that it causes has the little, loaded bike weaving. They should have put the farm somewhere else. If you should doubt me then how is it that three more times that cold day I had really bad problems with wind and each time I spied a wind farm off to the right. They are a menace.
The effects of the wind chill and 1C or 2C temperature that day were bad. I pressed on for Rouen only because the distance didn't seem to be too bad but with my clothes, in those conditions I should not have been on the road. I got to Rouen and went in for a meal, cafe au lait and warmth. I thought about how a Rakji would get my circulation going rather well now!
Somewhat warmer, or just used to the bitter cold now, I zoomed off to Dieppe. I hit the coastal ferry port about 3pm. The ferry goes at 8pm which is pretty good for a shot in the dark. Back at the main parking area I parked the travel stained, purposeful Beemer by some streetfighters and a scooter.
One of the cafes, the one I chose, had a gas fired stove to heat the glassed extension. Sitting right infront of it, legs apart, I asked for un grand cafe au lait, which in Dieppe comes in a soup bowl--great for warming cold hands by! I walked the narrow shopping streets looking for a cheap place to eat. A butcher's window looked good. What! Foie Gras. 96 Euros per kilo!
I settle for a kebab and 2 litres of juice.I know, I know it's wrong. It's France and you have a kebab--I have no defence. As it happens the crossing didn't agree with me and I could have saved the money!