The oft layed plans of mice and men.....

Sitting in a remote car park in France, with all the luggage off one of the bikes trying to diagnose an electrical  problem only an hour or so off the ferry in Roscoff on the first day of our trip......this was not part of the plan at all. This was a trip that had been more than a year in the planning, part of my 50th birthday celebrations, greatly looked forward to...and it was going wrong at almost the earliest stage possible.

 I've been friends with Jeff for more than 19 years, we share a love of food, real ales, and Moto Guzzis. As I was turning 50 in 2016 we started to plan a trip that would be fitting of that occasion. We decided that a trip to the Pyrenees would fit the bill.

Jeff rode down from Newcastle to Plymouth on Friday night, and Saturday was just spent fettling the bikes, a fry up, packing, and last minute purchases. Rode 8 miles to Plymouth and then we were on the ferry. Then the bar, a beer, and back to the cabin, but not before we saw a great full moon over the black sea..

Up in the morning and sea air was bracing, soon enough arrived at Roscoff, and next thing we were riding in France! High spirits prevailed and I noticed lots of bikers, all waving, very friendly. There was no plan, just head to Pau as best we could. Just after the first fuel stop Jeff's Norge blew the "big fuse" but this was no problem he had ten spares. What was a problem was the starter would not fire/turn. It was now pretty hot, so it was off with the luggage and jackets and we push started the Norge. The idea was now to find a workshop to look at the bike so we continued to head south aiming for Angouleme, a long day of mundane riding. We got there about 1830 and checked into a Formule 1. Over dinner at La Boucherie (Meats R Us!) we worked out there was a local dealer that did repairs. We would visit them in the morning.

Monday was warm even at 8AM - Jeff set off for the dealer on my bike only to find it closed, and we later learned that most bike shops in France are closed on a Monday!! Bump started the Norge again and headed for Toulouse through the Dordogne, via Perigueax, Bergerac, Agen. Quite good riding and the occasional castle and tower and château. Had lunch in Perigueax, (a litre of water and a bag of crisps).  It was over 37 degrees and we were both boiling, so a few miles down the road a fateful decision was made - jackets strapped to the bike and riding in t-shirts - first time ever for me. In that temperature, you get used to it. Agen was terrible - just a mass of ugly buildings and traffic lights. Eventually found the bike shop in Toulouse - CLOSED!! This was 6PM but due to not setting our clocks to French time we were late…. Just shattered we found another Formula 1 (worse than the last one) , showered, and had a great Vietnamese meal and hit the sack.

Next morning I stayed at the hotel while Jeff nipped the 1 mile or so to the Guzzi dealer. They were great, looked at it at once and pronounced the starter solenoid was deceased. They could get one in TEN DAYS. Jeff came back and there was a short discussion; we would push on, with me push starting the Norge every time. We had waited too long for this. A short while after leaving Toulouse a saw the mountains rise up from the horizon and just get bigger and bigger....we stopped for a break in Foix and we were already in the foothills. We hid out in an airconditioned burger joint as it was more than 30 degrees outside... Then up the road past Aix -ax Thermes and the scenery got truly epic. Deep gorges rising to towering heights, then we started the real climb up the Pass de la Casa. This is what we had come for, and despite the troubles we were really here! The pass is a series of perfectly paved switchbacks populated by sports bikes, supercars, and cruisers.  The top of the pass was at 7900 feet and a cooler 18 degrees C. Then it was down into Andorra where we encountered a culture of money, cigarette ads, banks, and too many traffic lights. We could not get out of there too soon (Andorra la Vella).

Leaving Andorra and entering Spain the Gaurdia Civile looked bloody serious chaps, but one of them smiled as we waved to him so they do have a sense of humour (or perhaps he rides a bike?).

At Adrall in Spain we turned onto the N260, one of the worlds great motorcycle rides. Through deserted villages higher and higher until we were in the cool air again, flipping left and right until cresting the pass and then dropping down into Sort. 40+ kilometres of excellence.  We ended up along the valley in Rialp, a ski town but with some lovely old houses too. Very atmospheric. The hotel we found, Hotel Victor, was a great improvement from any Formule 1, and the owner moved his car so we could put the bikes in his garage. In the night it rained very heavily, and we hoped it was not a sign for the next day....

Turned out it was a sign for the next day. We left Rialp at about 10AM and headed towards Llavorsi and the Val de Aneu, the idea being to reach Vielha and turn towards France and Bagneres de Luchon and eventually "do" the famous Col du Tourmalet. We climbed the valley then took a sharp left just after we had passed the snowplough.....just climbed until we were in the clouds not able to see 20 metres in front of us. Quite testing riding with sharp drops down into the valley, in the end I just kept the white line a metre to my right and rode at 20mph. The snowplough overtook us of course - he knew the way!! Finally wet and a bit frazzled we dropped down to Vielha. We needed pastries and hot drinks to warm up, and have a rethink. It was decided we would head south further into Spain, a great decision as it turned out.

 Leaving Vielha, we went through wonderfully convulsed geologic country after a longish tunnel, then turned onto the A1605 just before Pont du Seurte. This was a magnificently twisty, dry, deserted road. As we wound our way uphill there was almost no traffic, and the mountain villages clinging to the hillsides looked ancient and incredibly romantic. We climbed the Pass du Banaiguia and at the top near an abandoned mine, we parked the bikes and brewed up tea of course!

 The only sound was the wind in the pine trees... This was truly great motorcycling country. We came down off the pass and went past more old villages, contorted landscapes, bald mountains, and wild land before coming to the town of Graus with its monastery on the hill like part of Minas Tirith (a city in Lord of The Rings). There we found a parade...men firing blunderbussess in the air, wild dancing, bagpipers, and everyone happy smiling drinking and eating. It seemed a symbol of the northern  Aragonese spirit. 

A few miles past Graus we headed north towards Ainsa on a fast flowing ride, again, no traffic to speak of. We rolled into Ainsa about 6PM and found a great hotel, they even had a place for the bikes under shelter, and  the manager said "there are some German bikers here for you to drink with". We freshened up and took a stroll up into the old town of Ainsa to find a fiesta going on. Climbed the parapets of the castle and saw in the distance Monte Perdido, the highest peak in the Pyrenees. We generally had a fine old time listening to traditional music, looking at traditional dancing, and just soaking up the Ainsa vibe. I think these people have the work life balance right, and we don't. This was one of the high points of the trip, no doubt.

In the morning we were sad to leave Ainsa, it had made a big impression on us, as had all of Aragon we had been through.  The idea that day was to leave Spain and make some distance into France, via the Col du Portalet. Yeah...that didn't work out. Instead of the main road towards the A136 we thought we would try the A1604 starting just past Boltana. Bad move. It was a bumpy , corrugated, twisting mountain pass road through the wilds and it took us 90 minutes to travel 50 kilometres.  Perfect supermoto road though. It was cold on top and the view was outstanding. We finally came down off the mountain and hit a main road, where we turned due north. Oh yeah did I mention Jeff had a hole in his exhaust???? . We took a break at a service station and using a drink can and jubilee clips, fixed that. We pushed on but got confused trying to find the correct turn off for the Portalet. Maybe because a bird of prey swooped down on Jeff, and just missed him. We had a brief stop at Canfranc to just reflect on Spain and the mountains.The railway station at Canfranc is magnificent.... but deserted. Up over the Col du Somport where we were treated to giant ramparts. And then we were back in France - at this stage I certainly felt that soon all the really good riding would be over, and it was a sad moment. Down the other side through awesome scenery into a green valley and past the Fort du Somport built by one of the Napoleons. The signs said this was a "bear area" but we didn't see any, but we did see about 30 vultures circling off a very high cliff near Cette - really impressive. The villages we were passing through were picture postcard type places, but these gave way soon enough to the flatlands. 

Then there was an interlude of boring riding through endless fields of sunflowers on straight roads with no time to stop as time was getting on, so we pushed on to the coast through endless straight roads in pine forests. Light was fading when we found Hotel Atlantis, and our refuge for the night. Again we struck it lucky with accommodation, the manager spoke English and a room was had that was good for our needs.

 We set off in the morning into the endless pines and flat lands, and soon it was raining pretty hard, so hard the rain came down and then went UP again for a few inches. . Typically I had not put my waterproofs on, so just suffered.  Eventually we reached the ferry over the Gironde to find it was 2PM, the café lunch was over, and the ferry didn't leave until 1530!  Eventually the ferry arrived but Jeff's bike would not start - so he wheeled it onto the ferry and explained to the crew the problem. Some were "le motos" enthusiasts so understood we needed help. When we got to the other side the stout lads push the bike back, one of them helped me push start it, and we were on our way! Bravo!! Past the airbase at Saintes, with a Mirage III on a plinth slightly hidden from view. Finally when it was getting late we pulled into a village looking for anywhere to stay. Asking at a boulangerie we were pointed to a gite 50m down the road. What had been a disappointing day, turned wonderful. We had a luxury converted stable to ourselves, for a great price. Then dinner with the other guests at 18 euros a head.  2 home made aperitifs, wines, salad with avocado (my first ever), main course, cheese board, fruit, Far Breton, and of course endless breads of 3 types.....I speak little French, Jeff a bit more, but the wine flowed and we all had a fine old time.

Our last full day in France started with a nice breakfast followed by having to tow start Jeff’s bike - not fun. A day of boring riding on straight roads again, I was missing the mountains!  We crossed Brittany towards Morlaix, via all sorts of roads, including goat tracks, but when we got there it was full.  We ended up in Roscoff, dumped the gear, and then down to the sea front for a meal. There was a parade with pipers, people in historical costume..all rather nice as a send off from France. 

 Next morning it was on the ferry and home to Wembury for me, Newcastle for Jeff. Not before Immigration detained me for an hour…then apologised and admitted that yes I could enter the UK.

I'd go back to the Pyrenees tomorrow, and if you have never been - GO!