I had booked TT fortnight as leave, but took fright when I saw the insane £147 that the Steam Racket were charging to smash up your bike this year. Last year the rocker box fins on my R80 fretted a hole clear through a GPZ fairing lower on the return crossing. It was a bugger getting all that red paint off.
Consequently Sealink returns were bought for Newhaven-Dieppe, at a much more reasonable £50 or so, and it was back into France, though this time on my newly acquired BMW K75C. D reg it cost £2900 from a local Suzuki emporium. Though five years old it had less than ten thousand miles on the clock and was standard except for Krauser panniers instead of BMW's cases. It looked mundane, not helped by the ugly plastic pannier frames. However, over 50mpg on unleaded and a stainless steel exhaust system promised considerable savings compared to the boxer.
Before leaving I fitted an injector cover and rack, both from Ultimate Source and had to buy a new tank bag as magnetics obviously won't work on the alloy K tank. The new bag came from Baglux in Abergale, and jolly splendid it is too. After a couple of weeks trolling to work and back on the K to get used to it (and to give my MZ a rest) it was considered fit for the task, loaded up and pointed down the M40.
As Newhaven-Dieppe is a four hour crossing, plus and hour lost due to French double summer time, not much of the day was left, so it was at Evreux in Normandy that we spent the first night. After a comfortable night and an excellent breakfast at the Hotel De L'Orme we promptly got lost. After a bit, though, we found our way and headed south until we came to the Loire near Blois which we followed west for a while before heading south again for La Rochelle.
It was at this point we nearly ran out of petrol. This is a seriously bad idea on a fuel injected bike, as the injectors, once they get air in, do not necessarily self bleed, even if they should! The K75 had no fuel gauge (or temperature gauge, both serious omissions), just a light which is supposed to come on when four litres are left. Don't you believe it! Despite a steady 55mpg, which should mean forty miles after the light comes on, mine is a spluttering cripple after 20 miles. Eventually, after 25 miles a petrol station came into sight and the K cut out as I pulled up at the pumps.
La Rochelle is a really impressive fortified port; however, Gillian and I were glad to see the back of it by next morning. As it was late, the only hotel we could fins was unimpressive, then Gillian fell over a bollard at the harbour and clouted her knee, which became swollen and stiff for the rest of the holiday....to cap it all, next morning the K was found to have fallen over on its side. Damage was limited to two cracked indicator lenses, a bent brake lever and some scratches.
Next day was a long ride to our campsite at Messanges in the Landes forest, a short ride north of Biarritz. The last 100 miles south from Bordeaux is a dead straight dual carriageway lined with trees, and very boring it is too. The K75 proved to be slightly inferior to the boxer in comfort. The riding position is great and vibration non-existent at touring speed (about 80mph) but the seat is too hard - it's necessary to get off to walk around for a bit at fuel stops. It must be said, though, that we tended to stop quite a lot, anyway, to look around towns, take photos or simply to sit outside cafes drinking expensive coffee and smoking cheap Gauloises.
The campsite was excellent, in a very rural location. The only disadvantage was that the local vehicles and driving habits are throwbacks to the sixties - old bangers held together by lord knows what, and priorite a droite still practised, in which people appearing out of right turns still have priority. Madness!
Biarritz itself is a very regal, nose in the air town and shockingly expensive (three quid for an ice cream). It was obviously at its height early this century when frequented by royalty who went for the exclusive hotels and bracing Atlantic air. These days it's favoured by tourists and surfers.
Though much of the week at Messanges was spent in an alcoholic haze, we did sober up long enough to spend a day in the Pyrenees. Though the roads are comparable to those in the Alps they are by no means as well kept, so not so much fun. Going crazy when piles of gravel and pot-holes appear on the apex of bends is not recommended. This type of riding showed up the softness and relative lack of damping of the K75C suspension, particularly the forks. If pushed too hard it would understeer into oblivion; an RGV250 would have been much more fun.
We visited Pau, centre for the remarkable Circuit des Pyrenee road race, which affords splendid views of the mountains, still snow capped in June. We also visited Lourdes. It's hard to describe. On one hand all the junk souvenir shops and cheap hotels are very crass, on the other hand the shrine is distinctly moving, even to secular types like myself. The visit didn't cure the slight oil leak on the K's timing chest, so the thing obviously isn't a catholic.
The nearest beach to the campsite was about half a mile away, but the sea was far too rough and cold to swim in except for the very brave. It was also naturist - don't get too excited, unless you actually like looking at fat naked Germans!
As ever it was all too soon time to return home. The weather had been mainly dry, but cool and breezy throughout the holiday, the only heavy rain was encountered coming home through England. After the drag up to Bordeaux we headed towards Poitiers via minor roads, as the N10 is a major trunk route with heavy traffic of large lorries and lots of police. The parallel route of R roads hopped from village to village and was gloriously relaxed riding. There are some fine chateaux in the district with names recognisable from supermarket wine shelves.
We spent the night in Chauvigny, which has an amazing medieval citadel perched on a precipitous hill in the town centre. The hotel Lion d'Or in the town is heartily recommended. We dined in the restaurant, set menu £7.50; excellent value. We were able to translate all the menu except the starter, which turned out to be spinach pate. It tasted great, but I did green jobs for two days afterwards.
We had to go through Rouen, it's difficult not to when headed for Dieppe. The Michelin map appears to show an autoroute through Rouen but it just ain't so, and by god it needs one. Roadcraft and reactions at ten-tenths or the whole town seems to be hooting at you. The wait for the ferry was enlivened by the arrival of fellow on a battered K100RT. He had dropped it in Rouen and again in the ferry. The crossing was rough and most people, fortunately not myself, were seasick. The restaurant was closed, the duty free deserted, and the outdoor deck awash with vomit. I slept through it all and we disembarked into rain.
As I had not taken any waterproofs I bought a cheap two-piece in Lewes. It was 6.00pm. Although we had used 70 pence worth of autoroute in France (to come through Tours on the return journey) I filled the tank and set off for home via the motorways. The rain came on down. The M23 came and went, and the yuppie car park (M25) came and went also. The M40 went on and on and I needed a toilet. There wasn't one. Then the M42. Now I needed petrol too, but nothing came up. M6 next and I knew where I was, and knew also I had damn all chance of getting to the next services near Wolverhampton.
We came off the motorway at Wednesbury and a very helpful lady at an all night Shell station let us use the toilet, freshen up and unwind a bit. We did 191 motorway miles without passing any sort of services whatsoever. I wrote to Christopher Chope, the roads minister, about this when we got home. He never even bothered to reply.
Compared to last years trip to the Alps and Cote d'Azur, there was an alternative air to this. The Atlantic coast is much quieter and far less full of tourists than the Med, and has an old world feel. The K performed without fault. The total mileage was just over two thousand. It averaged 55mpg and took a couple of millimetres off each Phantom. It used no oil. Range is around 200 miles.
Jon Everall