Well yesterday was a nightmare but today was worse. I started esterday just outside of Paris and had to get to milan by 9.30. It was possible but let's be fair, it was never going to happen. I had some firm words with the GPS and we came to an understanding, it seemed to be fairly ok following major highways and I needed to use them to make up for the massive lost time the day before. With that in mind I set off for Troyes. It all went wrong straight away when the GPS warned me of an imminent turn off in 1.3km and then told me I had missed my turning. So I decided to let the pink arrow point me in the right direction and just head off into the countryside. I'm glad I did, the French countryside is amazing. It's like England only bigger, cleaner and just... nicer. The roads were well maintained, people are friendly and the driving standard was good. Paris was none of those things but then all major cities suffer from the rot of over-population. I made it to Troyes eventually and plotted my way on to Mulhouse. With my success at Guestimation-navigation I was spurred on. This next leg was going to be a tough call so I stopped for a sandwich, filled my tank and headed off. A big guy cleaning the car-park at Lidls came over for a chat. It was an odd chat but we both established that we spoke almost nothing of the same language but he still seemed intent to chat about it. The low point was when my camera made a break for it and crashed out onto the road. I went back for it and luckily enough it was ok... then a van went over and after that... not so much.
By the time I was outside Mulhouse exhaustion was taking hold. I was aching all over but the scenery was keeping it worth doing and I was making reasonable time. I stopped at a petrol station, topped her up and made some new notes on my piece of scrap paper which has become my prefered method of navigation. I had a chocolate milkshake and bought more water. The sugar helped to perk me up. I usually dont eat sugar so it does have an effect on me. On getting under way I felt ok. The saddle was killing me and that was refitted with a gel comfort-pack. In standard trim it would have flayed the flash from my arse-bones by now. Now it was just slowly sapping the will to live. I can go on without that.
Once you cross the Swiss border you have to wonder what just happened. I followed the signs and as you get closer you start to notice that a lot of German drivers start to appear on the roads. They are not as friendly or as well mannered as the French. French bikers rule. Every one waves, every single one. I was dead impressed.
I approached another toll. Went through without having to pay and then realised I had actually crossed the border. 2 checkpoint so far and nobody has looked at my passport.
Suddenly everything was different. The lazy, laid back friendlness was gone, the archetecture, cars, everything was different. It was an instant difference, like switching on a light. Switzerland was, at first very nice but then the ghost of a mountain appears shyly in the distance. Just a vague sillouette poking through the mirky light, still as white as the cloud with the edge of a shadow cast on the face but no mistaking this is something imposing and with a real presence a puny Human could never aspire to. Slowly the mountain becomes real as i barrel along watching my milage, my guidance arrow and the conditions on the road while this thing bears down on me as if nothing I thought was important really matters in the wake of this reality of nature. Suddenly you're surrounded by them, mountains everywhere, tall and austere with a fearsome beauty carved from the elemental force of nature. There are elegant and subtle wooden and red-brick structures everwhere but they are in harmony with the surroundings, living in the shadow of these giants like humanity is permitted to exist in its tiny, insignificant way so long as the planet permits it. It's humbling to see the sheer scale of this and it was like driving for 5 hours through a picture postcard. I had to quicken the pace, I didn't take any breaks as I was fighting to outrun the sunset. Eventually I couldn't but I outran the weather, clouds and greyness came and passed as I travelled across countries. That was fun to see.
Every time you pass through a tunnel you seem to go higher. It was a daunting experience for someone with a genuine dislike of heights and not knowing what to expect was unsettling but in the end the height is only enough to reveal glimpses of the spectacle of man trying to carve an existence in this inhospitable landscape. It was a truly memorable time and I'm glad I did it, even though it was hard. The weather cooled too. One minute my BMW jacket was fully vented and the next I was having to seal it against the dropping temperatures. Another memorable but difficult part was a tunnel over 10 miles in length around Gotthard. After the growing cold the heat and stifling conditions were making my throat tight and made difficult conditions outright dangerous. After you finally exit it's like walking out of the shower into a cold room but that was still very welcome.
Eventually it became warmer and villages became towns but by then my speed had crept up and my patience was waning. It was dark by now and I still had a lot of ground to cover. The Italian border had one officer waving everyone through without exception and I was in Italy. Three countries in one day.
Italian driving standards are poor. Everyone drives as fast as they can and their skills do not match their enthusiasm. Entering MIlan finally I was hot, tired and ready for bed. I had to meet my partner by 9.30 and it was already around 11.30. I finally found the airport and stopped at a random hotel to ask for directions. I had a feeling that there would be some disaster so on checking my phone I found a message telling me that my partner had missed her flight. I swapped texts while asking for directions to the hotel and found out that, in fact the hotel and airport were not in milan but 88km back in the direction i had just come. I also found out I had left my HID lights on and the battery was drained and the bike wouldn't start.
All part of the adventure.
I was lucky enogh to find decent people to help out and was presented with a set of jump leads. I stripped the HID power leads which were directly connected to the battery and she fired straight away. I left her running while I packed the gear and she was fine. You make these mistakes when you're so tired, I guess. I headed back out to the main road and found signs to this other airport and headed off. My tools headed off in a different direction.
By the time I stopped twice more for directions I found the hotel. My number plate was smashed. I had fitted a Motrax unit which shook itself to peices and wrecked both new Oxford tail indicators at £30 a pair. I thought it would be easier than making one myself... wrong. I bodged it back on and the rear is now made of cable ties, insulating tape and yellow bungie cords.
Today... well my other half turned up on a morning flight and it was revealed our second night was in Milan central. That meant a mad dash back to check out and 5 hours of following plain wrong directions to find this hotel... which is nice but lousy too. Milan is not a nice place. The fashionable facade is typical Italian thinking. The whole country is built on style over function. There is a typically low quality to everything, they want it to look nice and be bright and pretty but don't care about anything else. Italian cars and bikes are built on this principal but it's everywhere. The people too... Everything is polished and all done for show but get talking to them and they just can't do anything. Even guide you to a street 100 yards away. We met and chatted with a Portugese group who were looking for directions and saw others looking blankly at maps. The city, likewise is a stylish facade thrown haphazardly over a crumbling infastructure of aging decaying buildings and tired workers who just do not care. These are just initial impressions, of course.
We found it using my partners I-phone much to my dismay.