I will miss Germany, for sure. Germany is cool. A different cool than Detroit, which I have missed for the past 3.5+ years.

I will also miss the TÜV. Germany’s much maligned inspection authority is not really the end of the world. Sometimes, it’s the only way to get things done.

Last month, I was back home in Detroit and needed to visit the tyre shop. Two of my snow tyres were leaking air, and I wanted to get them checked out and probably remounted. I’ve been using this shop for more than ten years, and sent countless friends there. I don’t know how many tyres I’ve bought from them, it’s a large number. The techs remember me, even though I haven’t been around (or buying lots of tyres) for the past three years. However, they refused to work on the car at all. They added air and sent me packing with no technical assistance whatsoever. Why? Because I run spacers up front to correct the offset on the wheels I use for winter driving.

The VW OEM Classix wheels I use require 10mm of additional offset to clear the suspension on my B5 Passat and keep the steering geometry properly arranged. I use a nice set of H&R hub-centric spacers and proper-length bolts. The rear wheels, which do not require this modification, do not run spacers, and they were the ones leaking. I fully understood that the shop would not touch the fronts, but for sure the rears…. Nope. No way. The car has spacers, no touchy. Now I have to find a new tyre shop. One that is not averse to properly setup cars. One that can get beyond panic attacks when  customer shows up with something out of the ordinary. One that can measure bolts and add.

In Germany, this would not have been an issue. I would have showed up, handed over my paperwork, and gotten the repairs done. My paperwork would (and does) consist of a stack of ABEs – allgemeine Betriebserlaubnisscheine – the documents that say, yes, this is approved for general use on one or another cars. A matching set of papers for my wheels, spacers, and bolts, and no problem, because the tyre shop would have written proof that everything was in order and therefore safe to work on. For as much moaning and groaning as the Germans do, there are far far far more officially modified cars as a percentage of the general population in Germany than in the US. Nearly every car owner has a set of extra wheels or tyres or so on that requires papers. And once you have papers, you have papers. End of discussion. Just keep track of them. You’re going to need them at the tyre shop, but so will everyone else. My German colleagues, right down to the least-car-aware of them, were shocked that I would run into such an issue in the US, because who needs papers over there, right?

The truth is that the TÜV serves as a backstop for just about everything. Not sure where to place blame? Ask the TÜV. Better yet, ask for TÜV papers. Have them, and you are golden. Nope? Maybe sweat a bit, and go get them in a hurry. It’s really far less of an issue than anyone makes it out to be.

Of course, I always have papers.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a new shop that does motorcycles tyres, too. I am going to need some of them. And maybe they will even accept my ABEs….

My uneventful visit to Kent was doomed by a UK holiday weekend and some incredibly crappy weather. So, as I found myself awake at my normal time (that being 0500 in England), I decided to hop the ferry and spend the rest of the day poking around France, Belgium, and then getting home before dark.

I hit the internet to book a P&O ticket. The Peninsular and Oriental Line is the largest ferry operator in the world, and runs ferries between Dover and Calais and Dover and Dunkirk. The Calais route was a bit cheaper and 30 minutes shorter, so I selected that one. I chose an 8.25 departure – I’d surely make that, and perhaps they have the same deal as le Shuttle – arrive early and leave early when possible.

The Port of Dover is nothing to mess with. It’s huge, with four ferry operators moving mostly freight across the English Channel at all hours of the day and night. P&Ois the largest with the most ships and two berths. The arrival process is virtually identical to that of the train – first clear your ticket/reservation, then immigration and customs. I was not checked out of England, only checked in to France, and customs was again a wa(i)ve through. After finding the right lane – as you leave customs, you must find the lane for the ferry you have chosen and the type of vehicle you are driving – you receive a hangtag with a time on it, and a slip with a lane number. You then are signed through the port along a snakey route to your departure lane.

From the departure lane, you enter the ferry. Freight boards on the lower deck, cars, caravans, and bikes on the upper deck. I was on deck seven. Riding up the ramp made me quite happy to have my little billy goat of a bike – it’s a bit steep and steel. Bikes are strapped down over the seat at the rear of the ferry – there is room for up to 24 bikes on the Spirit of Britain and its sister ship, the Spirit of France. Both are among the newest and most up-to-date ships plying the Channel waterway. It is the rider’s responsibility to insure that the crew have secured the bike. Within minutes, the crew was uncoupling the ferry from the dock and we were off, but not before the crew had shooed me upstairs – unlike le Shuttle, the rider does not remain with her vehicle. Once again, the last to load, this time by mere minutes.

Upstairs, the boat is quite well-fitted out. Several cafes, a room full of video games, another room full of slot machines, a food court, a Club Lounge, a family area, and a reserved area for freight drivers all compete with the ubiquitous duty-free shop. I was disappointed again to find no stickers for sale. I spent most of the time out on the rear observation deck, watching the cliffs fade into the distance. The 90 minute trip is just right – time enough to explore without getting bored. The ship is well-maintained, and like all good ships, contantly being cleaned and observed by the staff. I was not prepared for the drinking Englishmen – it’s 9AM, people… even the Germans are not in the beer that early.

Disembarkment was the reverse of loading, with the exception that riders can scoot off behind the first lane of exiting cars. Like in Dover, the Port of Calais is simple to navigate on the exit. I stopped in Dunkirk to see the belfry and St Eloi church, and on the way into town could not resist snapping a pic of a very silly restaurant. It was market day, and the entire downtown was crowded with shoppers.

The next stop was an architecturally interesting rest stop, which like so many other things in France, was not functional. Pretty to look at in a weird 80s way. I headed over to Brugge to grab a Belgie sticker. My trusty Garmin navi then took me on a bunch of backroads, where I found that whereever Donk is, it wasn’t there. I had to ignore it for a while on the next leg, as it was trying to route me around a  traffic jam. I wanted to stay on teh highway, as the lanes are wider and easier to split. The 32 minute posted delay was more like a five minute delay for me. My last stop was the Circuit Zolder in Belgium, where a testing day was taking place. Then it was into the ridiculous rain and wind and on to home, with a few more countries on the bike, and the Channel crossing complete.

I decided to take a ride to Kent, UK. No real plans, but did want to try out the Channel Tunnel train and the ferry. Here is a brief bit about how to cross the English Channel relatively stress-free.

The first step is committing to go. All ferries and the train are cheaper if you book at least a week ahead. But even as a last minute rider, you can still take advantage of one loophole in booking – book early for the latest passage you think you’ll make, and you can take whatever is open up until then.

I booked le Shuttle, the French name for the train that goes under the big gash, for a 13.50 departure. The Euro Tunnel trains are priced in two-hour intervals, so I booked the latest train in the interval in which I planned to arrive. I arranged my riding to bring me to Calais a full two hours earlier to allow for some stops if I found them necessary. The Port of Calais has a rather nice shopping area, but do not count on buying postcards or stickers, there are none available. The shopping is focused on the old-school duty-free mindset of buy as much alcohol and perfume as you can.

When you arrive, you come first to a booth which asks you to either buy a ticket or check-in. I punched in my reservation number and was advised that I was early and could choose any one of the three remaining shuttles in my booking window. I picked the next one and received a hangtag for my mirror printed with the shuttle code “L” and a receipt. The next step was customs and border control. The UK is not Shengen, so one must get one’s passport stamped after answering the usual questions. As an American living in Germany, I had a few more to answer, but nothing profound. I passed first through the French border station, then through the UK station, then through Customs. Motorcycles are typically waved through Customs, how much could we be carrying anyway?

Once through the paperwork (about 15-20 minutes), you are directed to a parking area near the shopping/food court.  A large LED board shows the calls for trains, and you wait or shop until you are called. Then it is off along a winding path to the boarding area. One goes up the ramp over the train tracks, then down to board. Bikes are pooled up to board last. All bikes board on the lower level – the cars are sent up and down. Unlike the AutoZug, there is plenty of clearance to ride in comfortably and walk around inside of the cars. Apparently the last two cars are reserved for bikes. I was the only rider on my train, so had an entire compartment to myself. You enter the train over a steel “bridge” and then ride in. I was wisely advised to avoid the metal strip in the center – it’s not the stiffest piece of metal – and stay to one side. Bikes are best ridden in on the right side, then turned across the way at an angle and parked with the front tyre up against the left edge. Out comes the sidestand, and that’s it. You’re loaded on. A few safety checks, intercomparment doors are closed, and you’re off!

Each car is equipped with a bathroom, but that is it. No amenities for the 35 minute trip that is 35 minutes. No longer. It’s barely enough time to snap some photos and notice that the train is moving. I was able to scarf down the sandwich I’d brought with and chat with the steward for a few moments, but it seemed like no time at all and we were back in the light. le Shuttle, as it’s called in French, is clearly designed to remain in motion.

We arrived at Folkstone and began the disembarkment process. About halfway out of the train, I looked back and discovered that they were already loading the next cars. Leaving the train, one can see the forward section that is full-height and used to move freight trucks. As immigration and customs were completed in Calais, one simply rides out of the terminal, up a ramp (the inductive sensor did not pick up my bike and I had to cross against the light), and into a right turn. Into the left lane. Then, a traffic circle. Ok, may as well get of that out of the way quickly. There are seemingly hundreds of signs scattered at the road side up to 50kms from Folkstone reminding people in four languages to drive on the left. I’d purchased a smallish windscreen cling that showed the driver on the left of the road and how to navigate a traffic circle. I kept it in my map pocket stuck to its white background paper – it was a good reminder. Conveniently, it can be reversed for use on the continent.

I visited the White Cliffs Nature Park and Canterbury Cathedral. Then off to Margate, which I was completely shocked by. Having spent some time at the Jersey shore, I was floored to discover that its twin exists in England. In fact, throughout my short tour of Kent, I was continually amazed to discover that there is nothing particularly special or unique about the Jersey shore, or larger parts of New Jersey and Southeastern Pennsylvania. They are little carbon copies of Kent, without the cool stuff like Canterbury and Sandwich. Unfortunately, it was a holiday weekend in the UK, so I have no cool BnB story to tell – just a PremierInn that wasn’t afraid of a chick on a bike, and had a clean and comfy (if noisy due to floor squeaks) room for 65quid.

I promised, here they are:

Fully planned route

As-ridden route

1. Would do again. Over and over and over.

In the words of the guys from Grand Rapids “Get out! Go outside! Do something!” Check, check, and check. The goals of the trip were achieved and fun and adventure were had. This, as Gatsby says, is living! With hope, more adventure will ensue, even if it means renting bikes on one continent or another.

2. Pre-trip planning paid off huge.

We began serious planning four weeks out, prior to that, it was just “hey, let’s ride some passes” over coffee/tea/ice cream. We used two guidebooks and a found map of the Alps with passes marked. 100 Alpenpässe mit dem Motorrad and Pässe XXL. We are searching for a copy of the map, it was excellent, but now nearly destroyed. While the two books often differed in observations and ratings of the various passes, we were able to get a general idea of what to expect. We began by assembling the list of interesting passes and then plotting them on the map. From this, we assembled a route that would touch them with minimal transit time. I used both Google Maps and BaseCamp to visualize the routes, settling on BaseCamp as planning proceeded. Prior to departure, an overview map was created using GPSvisualizer.com.

The general idea for the trip was to focus exclusively on ascents and descents while minimizing transits. This is how the AutoZug got slotted in – it shaved an entire day of transit from the trip. We spent roughly ten hours discussing and plotting the route on the map (four significant revisions) and I put another ten+ hours into BaseCamp. There were two significant versions of the .gpx fileset prior to departure. Two changes to the fileset were made underway, most noteably the transit of Julier in place of Albuela. The Landeck loop was not set in the proper direction as loaded and needed to be reversed in the unit. The final version of the route as ridden is available by email request. Too late, we discovered that Garmin speaks more characters than TomTom, which would not load files with non-base-ASCII characters in the names (umlauts!). Once the umlauts were removed (after the trip), the files loaded without problem. How American.

We established through internet and social contacts that 200 to 300kms per day was realistic, this assisted with route planning and expectations. We were in this range or exceeding it all days, at the expense of photos on the higher mileage days (end of trip). The non-pass (effectively transit) stages were not as well documented as the pass stages.

We checked with assorted sources to look into hotels and found that we could expect to find places without stress along the route. This proved to be quite true, and with the exception of Switzerland, we found the prices quite acceptable. We estimated 100€ per day for all expenses and this was sufficient without having to worry about money. In retrospect, we would stay at more pass hotels, as this almost guarantees a traffic-free trip up at the end of the day and a traffic-free trip down in the morning. Travelling without fixed hotel plans opened up many options for distance planning and allowed us to flow with the ride each day. This is a very good thing.

3. Should include human aspects in the pre-trip planning.

Pair an introvert with an extrovert and eventually there will be friction. We mediated this by choosing single rooms when available. We were able to handle it in stride for the most part, but would recommend that people have this discussion up front. It can save some stress on the road.

4. Gear planning is critical.

Considerable back and forth about leather versus textile occupied the three weeks prior to the trip. Textile won out and happily so. Washable underlayers were the winners. Socks need to be upgraded. You can not unpack and repack enough times. All Dainese boots leak eventually. The Vario boxes from BMW are much tougher than people make them out to be. They don’t break, they collapse, which means a few clicks and they are back to normal.

5. The bike was awesome.

Whatever worries I had about the bike are not there any more. What a super performer, even with the engine having a whopping 600kms on it prior to going out. I could have packed fewer tools, but was quite concerned about issues. NONE. Not a one. Big thumpers are in their element on steep descents. The compression braking is formidable. I could run whole descents in second gear and need no brakes. Amazing. The single item is a possibly worn-through chain guard, which is being supplemented by a piece of plastic binder right now. If the noise comes back, I’ll know what to replace. No surprise as I was running slack on top due to the engine braking.

6. Postbusses

I would be remiss in not mentioning the Postbusses. In most of Austria and some of Italy, the public transit is run by the post office. They have to deliver the mail anyway, so why not deliver a few people while they are at it? To a one, these are some of the most professional, courteous, and skilled large vehicle operators I have ever encountered. Where tourist busses were clogging traffic and taking up space, the Postbus drivers were following the road and holding impressive lines. Riders should take note that there is nothing to fear from a Postbus. Everything else? Be afraid. Be very afraid.

1. Sudelfeldstraße/Tatzelwurm

2. Pass Thurn

3. Grossglocknerhochalpenstraße – Fuscher Törl

4. Grossglocknerhochalpenstraße – Hochtor

5. Kreuzbergpass

6. Passo San Antonio

7. Passo Tre Croci

8. Passo di Falzarego

9. Passo Fedaia

10. Passo Sella

11. Grödner Joch (Passo de Gardena)

12. Passo Campolongo

13. Passo Pordoi

14. Passo Sella (again!)

15. Mendelpass

16. Gampenjoch

17. Ofenpass (Passo del Fuorn)

18. Flüela Pass

19. Julierpass

20. Berninapass

21. Forcola de Livigno

22. Passo D’Eira

23. Passo di Foscagno

24. Stilfserjoch (Passo dello Stelvio)

25. Umbrail Pass

26. Reschenpass

27. Silvarettahochalpenstraße Bielerhöhe

28. Brandnertal

29. Flexenpass

30. Arlberg Pass

31. Kühtai Sattel

32. Holzleitensattel

33. Fernpass

34. Engpass

35. Gaichtjoch

36. Oberjoch

The Almabtrieb, as it happens.

We leave the Alter Posthof after a solid breakfast and head north on the B327 to pick up the A61  at exit 41. Yesterday’s transit stage has worn us out a bit, but we are looking forward to some fun in the Eifel, the driving and riding playground of Germany’s Rheinland-Pfalz, and home to the famous Nürburgring. I’ve planned a 75km loop north of there that I’ve stolen from the Eifeldiplom Classic route – the upper section of the popular day tour.

We detour from the straight route to the start of the loop on the to grab some extra curves, exiting on the B412 and riding to Kempenich where we pick up the L83 and L85. A favorite farm road of mine is now closed to traffic, and we have to continue north to Bad Neuenahr on L84. We see many wine festivals and pilgrimages on the way, but are focused on the home stretch, so no stopping for pictures. It’s the Eifel, we’ve seen it a hundred times before anyway. We backtrack from Bad Neuenahr on the B257, follwing signs for the Nürburgring until we get to Dümpelfeld. We turn onto the L73 and follow it to our destination, the Haus Waldfrieden, a popular biker stop with a large parking area, hot tea, and good food. After a quick snack, we head back out. Photos from prior visits.

The loop begins on the L73 and picks up the L74. That is, the real L74. I identify a bug in my Garmin nüvi – it wants to cut the route short by cutting subloops off. We backtrack and get going in the right direction. The ride cards would have been easier here, but I do not have them along. We turn off on the K11, following it to the K13, and turing north on the L165. Turning off on the K55, we pick up the L165 again in Esch, where we tank up – I remembered a fuel station, but expected it earlier. We add 267.2kms to the clock, for a total of 24. . A short distance on Römerstrasse lands us on the K50 which turns into the K25. A right turn puts us back onto the L73. In Schuld, we turn onto the K16 to begin the third and final subloop.

The final stretch includes several Kehren descending into Fuchshofen on the K17. We take the L73 back to Haus Waldfrieden and relax with lunch prior to heading home.

Going home is getting to the Autobahn:  we retrace our steps on the L73 and B257 to the A61 north, A1 north, A57 north, and A46 east. This brings us into the city of Düsseldorf, where we hit the Rheintunnel and then pick up the B8 back to the house. The final count on the odometer is 159,7km, for a total of 2573,7km. Somehow, the trip odometer readings and the main odometer readings are off on both bikes, we assume some BMW magic is at work here. The final main odometer talley is 2599km on my bike. We strip and clean the bikes in the drive, and take a look at the stickers collected. After that, it is time to eat dinner and sleep, work calls in the morning.

Adventure complete. At least, for now.

We fish the bikes out of the carport they are in, but dawdle in Sontfhofen to shop. We’ve found a trachtenmode shop and it opens at 0930. As we are in the heart of Tirol and close to Bayern, it seems we should be able to get some deals. I score with some short black ladies’ Lederhosen with edelweiss embroidery and a pink dirndle. My riding partner picks up a new leather wallet. I have my goods shipped and we head out.

First stop is fuel. This adds 289.8kms for a total of 1799.0. Much to our dismay, a valve stem on my riding partner’s bike disintegrates as she checks her tyre pressure. Quite a bit of phone calling ensues, along with a wait. In the absence of rain, this is not so bad. Eventually, it’s Euromasters to the rescue. They pick up the bike with their TireTruck – with a full wheel shop inside – and we head over to the workshop where it is a bit easier to work on bike tyres. The tech and I banter about the superiority of shaft drive while he works. He has a new stem in and the wheel balanced very quickly, and at 1300 we are finally on the road.

We head north on the B19 and join the A7 north to points Stuttgart. It’s a day of a lot of distance, and not much real excitement. We’ve finished the passes in unexpectedly short time, completing all of our “long” loops and extensions aside from the closed Faschinajoch and the inaccessible-due-to-said-closure Hochtannenberg Pass. Having previously discussed the possibility of some Eifel riding, we head north and west, picking up the A8 east,the A5 north, and the A61 north. The A61 is the backbone of the Rheinland and is the scenic alternative to the east A3 route. We stop for fuel at Dannstadt, tacking 347.8kms on, for a total of 2146,8kms so far.

Exiting the A61 at 43, we take the L215 and L214 to the B327, which we follow while looking for a place to stay. We land in Ehr, slightly south of Boppard, at the Landgasthaus Alter Post. We are directed to the guest house across the street with the instructions that it can be used as a double room or two singles as we see fit, all for 35€ per person. It’s lovely, and we are very happy with the quiet. The bikes are stowed in a private parking area near a large barn, and we unpack. Dinner in the main house is very pleasant with a nice wine and spirits selection. We recommend Alter Post if you are travelling and want to get off the main road. You won’t be disappointed.

It’s raining again as we pack up and leave the Wilder Mann. I find a Golf plastered with the worst of America’s VW scene offerings – impolite stickers. I want to scrape the rear window, but there are passes to ride…. We head back to the same Shell station and this adds 293.1kms, for a total of 1509.2km traveled. Retracing our steps to Landeck, this time we head north and pick up the 171 through Imst. We turn off onto the 186 to Öztal and then onto the L237, the route over the Kühtaisattel.

The ascent does not disappoint at all. Küh is German for cow. There are… more cows. When we arrive at the top, the sun peeks through for a few precious moments. Clearly a ski resort only town, Kühtai is mostly closed. We are able to get stickers and postcards, but find nowhere to warm up or grab a hot tea. On the way down, we spy a longhorn, watching us patiently. The descent along the L13 includes a 1.2km stretch of 16% grade, the steepest we have seen in Austria.

We connect to the 171 with the L11. From the 171, we pick up the 189  and cross the Holzleitensattel. Then, onto the 179, steadily proceeding northwest. Traffic increases, but not significantly at first.

The Fernpass nearly does us in. Packed with holiday and commercial traffic, it is slow and miserable. The rain is increasing steadily and we are getting very wet. My experience with GoreTex leads to a few tricks that keep me somewhat drier than my partner, but either way, we stop at top of the Fernpass to warm up and eat up.

After a bit of rest, we soldier on through the heavy rain. I leave about fifteen minutes before my partner as I am starting to get stiff and want to avoid a repeat of Stelvio. The avalanche galleries in Lermoos offer some respite, and on exiting, even a bit of sun. I pick up the 198 in Reutte and the 199 in Weißenbach. There are no markers for the Engpass, and the Gaichtpass has only a sign for the nearby bar. I do find one of the many warning signs to remind riders to slow down – this one says “give your guardian angel a chance”. The 199 becomes the B308 in Germany and leads to Oberjoch. At Oberjoch, the pass is drawfed by the ski town nearby. After a mixup sending me up the B310 and A7 to Kempten, we meet as planned in Sonthofen and find refuge at the Gasthof zum Löwen.