About the Author

Apprentice trained with an HNC in Mechanical

Engineering, the author served as an Engineering Officer in
the Royal Air Force for 27 years and travelled extensively.
Since leaving the RAF, he has worked for several years as
a motorcycle holiday tour leader and now works part-time
for a Triumph motorcycle franchised dealership in Cardiff.
He has ridden motorcycles for over 50 years and is married
to Dee, who also rides motorcycles and shares his passion
for travel.

Christopher Robert Finch

Copyright Christopher Robert Finch (2015)

The right of Christopher Robert Finch to be identified as
author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance
with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior
permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation
to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution
and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the
British Library.
ISBN 978 1 78455 125 4
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2015)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LB

Printed and bound in Great Britain

4

PREFACE
So many of the motorcycle travel books in the bookshops
today attempt to justify the undertaking of a long motorcycle
journey as some panacea to break the tedium of a life which
has become stuck in a rut, where a career has come up against
the buffers and the daily routine of life can be predicted with
almost absolute certainty: In other words, a solution to the oft
coined mid-life crisis. The trips in this book were never
needed for that reason; rather, they were made for the sheer
enjoyment of motorcycling and to expand the motorcycling
horizons for my wife and me.
I have been riding motorcycles on the public roads for 50
years and on private roads for several years before that.
Indeed, I would help my elder brother clean and repair his
motorcycles from the age of around 10 years old, the reward
for which would be the occasional ride on the back of his
BSA A10 Road Rocket to Brands Hatch and the nearby,
infamous Johnsons Cafe on Death Hill near Wrotham, Kent.
Motorcycling has been in my blood for as long as I can
remember and, as any motorcyclist will know, once its in
your blood it just wont go away.
As is the case for most people, family commitments
reduced the opportunity for me to pursue this hobby as much
as I might have wished, but in 1983 I met and married my
second wife, Dee, who was keen to ride pillion on a
motorcycle. A posting to Gibraltar for three years with the
Royal Air Force provided the opportunity for countless trips
on our Yamaha XJ900 into Spain, Portugal and Morocco and
re-kindled the desire for motorcycling of all genres. Off-road
riding and track days were relished, as were touring holidays
around many parts of Western Europe.

It was the off-road riding that changed the rider/pillion

relationship between Dee and me. She was clearly envious of
the amazing places that I could reach along roads used as
public paths (RUPPs) and byways open to all traffic
(BOATs). This led to me buying her a voucher for an absolute
beginner to attend a Yamaha off-road day in Llanidloes, mid
Wales. However, fearful that she might be shown up by a
bunch of schoolboys, she asked me to teach her to ride my
off-road bike before she attended the event. The rest is
history; she took to it like a duck to water and passed her
direct access motorcycle driving test within a matter of weeks
at the ripe old age of fifty-seven. I gave up full-time work in
January 2005 at the age of fifty-seven and took part-time
employment with my local Triumph motorcycle dealership in
Cardiff. At the same time, I worked part-time as a motorcycle
tour guide for four years, taking parties of motorcyclists to
Bavaria and Italy several times each year.
My duties at the Triumph dealership required me to set up
and run a riders club for Triumph riders. This combination of
tour guide and riders club organiser worked well and I was
soon able to plan and organise tours for the Triumph riders not
only within the UK but, between 2006 and 2010, I was also
able to include annual 2-week tours around southern Ireland,
Scotland, Spain, the south of France, Corsica and Sardinia.
Additionally, in 2007 Dee and I completed Enduro India
through the Western Ghat Mountains of south-west India on
350 cc Enfield Bullets and the following year we rode from
the top to the bottom of Thailand on hired BMWs. These
motorcycling adventures left us wanting still more touring in
places where we had not ridden before and so, with our good
riding friends Fay & Martin Silk, we spent two consecutive
annual holidays in 2009 and 2010 riding around Arizona,
Nevada, Utah, California, New Mexico and Texas on hired
Harley Davidson motorcycles. In 2011 Dee and I spent several
weeks in eastern Australia with an old school friend who
settled in Australia many years ago; he has three classic 1960s
British bikes and the three of us covered many miles on these
bikes around Brisbane Forest Park and the Lake Somerset area
6

to the north of Brisbane. Then, in 2012, we hired Harleys for a

3-week, 3,200-mile self-planned trip around Wyoming, South
Dakota and Colorado.
So, you might be able to see a pattern here; no sooner had
we come back from one trip of a lifetime, than we were
beginning to plan something that would stretch our
motorcycling experiences that bit further. That was the case
when we returned from the trip around Wyoming and
Colorado at the end of July 2012. The riding had been so good
we doubted that we could improve upon it. Thus the challenge
was set and we decided upon a self-planned, self-guided, 3month tour of Canada and USA for the summer of 2013.
This book recounts five of these trips. The first trip
recounts the highs and lows of a group ride over the French
Alps to the south of France, whilst the second recounts a
group trip down to Corsica and Sardinia. The remaining three
trips are set in North America and the first of these is a tour
around the canyons and deserts of Western USA, followed by
a 3,200-mile ride around Wyoming, South Dakota and
Colorado. Both of these trips were done on hired Harley
Davidson motorcycles. For the final trip, Dee and I shipped
our two Triumphs from UK to Halifax Nova Scotia and rode
for 11,500 miles across Canada, then south east across the
USA to the southern states of Kentucky and Tennessee, before
turning north-east over the Appalachian Mountains and
through New England and Maine, back to Halifax NS.
Over the last few years I have avidly devoured travel
books written by a number of overland riders; additionally, I
have organised several such travel authors to come and give
talks about their travels to the motorcycle club that I run in
Cardiff. These characters inspired us to push our motorcycling
boundaries still further and were very glad that we did. In
case the trips recounted in this book inspire you to do
likewise, I have included the actual route cards that we used
on four of the trips; this will save hours of planning. Indeed,
many of the route cards include the names and telephone
numbers of the hotels that we used and, in the case of Trip 5,
each route card lists both campgrounds and nearby hotel
7

accommodation at the end of each days ride. There are no

route cards included for Trip 3, as this was the only trip
undertaken as part of a tour companys planned and organised
ride.
I hope you enjoy reading about the trips as much as Dee
and I enjoyed making them.

Trip One
The Highs and Lows of a 2-week Tour of
France ~ Summer 2009

I had been working at Robert Bevan Motorcycles in Cardiff,

where part of my responsibilities required me to plan and
conduct rides for the Riders Association of Triumph
(R.A.T.). For the most part, these were day rides throughout
the year, with occasional long weekends away, but for several
years in a row, I had planned and led 2-week tours for the
Triumph owners. These 2-week summer tours had become the
highlight of the Bevan R.A.T. Packs annual schedule of
events. The first tour was in 2006 with a tour of south-west
Ireland, followed in 2007 with a tour up the west coast of
Scotland and then we headed into mainland Europe for a tour
of northern Spain. For this particular year, I had planned a trip
down the Eastern border of France, over the Vosges
Mountains and the French Alps to the Mediterranean and then
returning along the Route Napoleon to Grenoble. The final
legs of the return journey would take us through the Burgundy
and Champagne regions on our way back to the ferry at
Calais. Three free days had been built into the holiday to
break up the riding and allow participants time for sightseeing or relaxation in some of the most attractive areas. We
knew that the route would provide highs and lows it would
take us high over the highest passes in Europe at around 9,000
feet and we knew that we would be looking down a sheer
2,500 feet drop to the water below as we rode around the rim
of Europes largest gorge the Gorges du Verdon. What we
9

didnt know was which other highs and lows would affect our
journey.
The group left Cardiff on Sunday 14th June 2009 and
headed for an overnight stop in Dover, to enable us to get a
full nights sleep before catching the 8.30 ferry to Calais the
next morning. The journey to Dover started in a fairly eventful
way. Ted and Liz left early on the Sunday morning Liz had
completed a night shift and wanted to get to the Dover
accommodation early, so that she could get some sleep and try
to revert to a more normal sleep pattern in time for her
holiday. On the ride to Dover, Ted filled Lizzys bike up with
diesel at a service station and had to call the AA to drain it out
before they could continue. Meanwhile, Chris, Dee and Sarah
left Cardiff Services as planned and headed along the M4 to
collect the others at pre-arranged places. Howard was waiting
at Junction 30, Fay & Martin were waiting at Junction 23A
and we rolled into Membury services to meet Bernie and
Mary, just as they arrived there. Perfect you might think, but
wait a minute, where was Howard? I knew that he had joined
us back at Junction 30 on the M4, but there was no sign of
him when we stopped at the services between junctions 11 and
12. The others looked at me coyly nobody had seen him
since Newport! A quick phone call confirmed that he was
sitting by the side of the M4 at Newport, waiting for a
recovery truck to take him back to his house! The bike had
cut-out in the fast lane, with smoke coming from the wiring
loom under the tank. Howard hoped to get the bike home, see
if he could repair it and then catch up with us in due course.
The rest of us met up at the accommodation in Dover and had
a group evening meal, interspersed with calls to and from
Howard, who appeared to be winning the battle of the wiring
loom.
We left the hotel in good time the next morning to arrive
at the ferry terminal Check-in booth to catch the 8.30 a.m.
ferry. There was no sign of Howard, so the remaining seven
bikes queued for their tickets; five queued behind me, whilst
Martin headed for the booth opposite (theres not such a long
queue itll be quicker he thought). I shouted across to Martin
10

to make sure that he refused the earlier 7.45 a.m. ferry should
they offer him that option. I obtained my ticket and rolled
forwards for 50 metres to stop and put away the ticket etc,
when I spotted that they had indeed given me a ticket for the
earlier ferry! I ran back to the booth, but all the others had also
been given the early ferry, except Martin at the opposite
booth! To make matters worse, Martin had pulled away and
was making for the lane reserved for the 8.30 ferry. We
followed him as closely as we could, hooting and signalling
for him to come to the same lane as us, which fortunately he
did. We explained the problem (my mistake, his fault), so
Martin left his wife Fay with us and headed back to the
Check-in desk to re-book for the earlier ferry. As soon as he
left, they called us forward to load onto the early ferry! We
rolled on and secured our bikes and then set about watching
for Martin. He did make it back in time, but not before
Howard turned up and rolled onto the same ferry as us, by
sheer chance! Top man Howard! So, finally, we were all on
the same ferry and three-quarters-of-an-hour ahead of our
planned departure.
We arrived at Calais ferry port at 10.45 a.m. local time
and rode south-east for about 80 miles along the A26, before
turning off at Cambrai and taking mostly rural D roads for
the next 100 miles to Sedan. Just beyond Sedan, we crossed
the Belgian border and rode the last few miles to Bouillon,
where we would stop overnight at the Hotel La Porte de
France. The group had kept together well throughout the day,
despite fairly heavy rain throughout the afternoon. However,
after passing Sedan, Martin dropped off the back of the group
and, despite Bernie waiting for him at the next turning, he
didnt appear. The rest of us checked in at the hotel and
waited for news from Martin & Fay. After about an hour we
got a text to say that they had been round and round Sedan 3
times; they were only 6 or 7 miles away from the final
destination, but they were lost. We gave them a steer and they
eventually turned up at the hotel an hour or two after
everybody else. It transpired that Martin had not been using
his GPS throughout the day, but had been following the bikes
11

ahead of him. Somehow he took a wrong turning into Sedan

town centre, where he decided to stop and enter the town of
Bouillon into his GPS. Unfortunately, he had failed to realise
that the Bouillon we were making for was just across the
border in Belgium, whereas his GPS was trying to take him to
Bouillon in France, way down near the Pyrenees!
After a continental breakfast we headed off the next
morning in fine sunshine, in a south easterly direction into the
Alsace region and the forests of the Vosges Mountains. The
Vosges Mountain range, whilst wholly in France, stretches
along the west side of the Rhine valley in a N.N.E. direction,
from Basel to Mainz, for a distance of 150 miles. Since 1871
the southern portion, from the Ballon dAlsace to Mont
Donon, has been the frontier between France and Germany.
There is a remarkable similarity between the Vosges and the
corresponding range of the Black Forest on the other side of
the Rhine; both are characterized by pine forests on their
lower slopes, above which are open pasture land and rounded
summits of a uniform altitude.
During the ride, Martin & Fay and Bernie & Mary
dropped off the back of the group and headed into Verdun for
a coffee stop. The rest continued to St Miheil, where we
stopped for coffee, before turning east to Chateau Salins. The
ride up over the Col du Donon, to find our hotel at 727 metres
(Hotel Restaurant Le Velleda, located on the Col du Donon)
was appreciated by all and provided an excellent learning
curve for the hairpins that would be encountered in the French
Alps later in the holiday.
We all arrived at the hotel within a short space of time,
parked our bikes in the barn, unpacked and had a welldeserved bikers beer on the terrace of the hotel, which
offered panoramic views from its position on the Col. The
evening meal was included with our accommodation and was
a gastronomic feast which included soup, pt de fois gras,
Maigret de Canard, a host of French cheeses and finally sorbet
and ice-cream doused with schnapps. Oh, and the vegetarians
had omelettes!

12

Because the ride the next day was to be around 310 miles,
everybody was up bright and early, ready for an 8 a.m.
departure from the hotel. We left the hotel in brilliant sunshine
and soon joined the Routes des Cretes (road of the crests) and
headed south along the ridges of the pine-clad Vosges
Mountains, over the Col des Bagenelles to a coffee stop in the
bikers cafe at the top of the Col de la Schlucht, just short of
Gerardmer. We pressed on to the half-way point, where we
found an excellent roadside restaurant in the countryside and
so stopped for the express plat du jour (pork fillet, pasta, sauce
and cheese) on a shady patio. After lunch, we set off for Salins
les Bains, where the two Triumph Bonnevilles in the group
were in dire need of petrol and we were in dire need of icecreams and coffee! When we set off after our coffee stop, it
was around 5 p.m. and we still had another 100 miles to ride
through the Alps and Jura region of France to Annecy. The
riding was fabulous even the recently re-tarred and gritted
Cret de la Neige (D991) from Mijoux to Bellegarde-surValserine offered fabulous views if you were brave enough to
take your eyes off the road! We rode around the outskirts of
Annecy and down the west side of Lake Annecy at about 8
p.m. to find our hotel, LAuberge de Letraz at Sevrier, right
on the side of Lake Annecy.
The hotel was superb, with a swimming-pool in the rear
garden and lawns that ran right down to the edge of the lake.
The views of the Alps across the lake were fabulous. It was
definitely time for the bikers beer! Everybody agreed that the
route had been fabulous for biking.
We spent a free day on the side of Lake Annecy. We
skipped breakfast in the hotel and instead strolled along to the
nearby boulangerie to buy pain au chocolat and other such
delights, which we then took to the local beach hut on the side
of the lake to consume with copious supplies of coffee and
tea. The location was great, so we booked an outside table for
ten people for an evening meal and then split up to explore
and amuse ourselves for the day.
Sarah and Howard walked into the ancient town of
Annecy, a splendid town full of art treasures and beautiful
13

buildings and then caught the water taxi back across the lake.
Several of the group members took a stroll along the side of
Lake Annecy (which stretches for over ten miles) before
swimming in the hotels outdoor pool and relaxing in the
beautiful hotel garden. The evening meal at the lakeside bar
was a great success.
After our free day for sight-seeing in the Annecy area, we
again headed south, for a day of high altitude riding through
the mountains. We rode south east, continuing through the
Alps and Jura region, through Val-dIsere, over the Col de
LIseran (at 2764 metres, this is the highest pass in Europe
and is a must-see sight from where, on a clear day, you have
views of the Italian side of Mont Blanc and the whole of the
frontier chain of peaks), over the Col du Galibier at 2,556
metres and on to Briancon, Europes highest town. From
there, we continued over the Col du Izoard (2360 metres) to a
planned night stop at the Hotel Villa Morelia, a small chateau
at Jausiers, near Barcelonnette, in northern Provence. We
stopped at the summit of each pass, well above the snow-line,
where the gleeful cry of this is the best yet was always
heard! I have to say, that I have ridden many mountain passes
in France, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy, but this days riding
was up there with the best of them. The entire group rode
exceptionally well to cope with the never-ending staircase of
hairpin bends on the Alpine passes and it would be wrong to
single-out any particular person for special praise; however, I
felt that the lady riders did particularly well. The weather
remained hot and sunny virtually all day, although there were
dark clouds behind us throughout the afternoon. We arrived at
our hotel in Jausiers just before 6 p.m. and parked our bikes in
the secure grounds of the chteau. We unpacked and had a
bikers beer on the terrace, to await the arrival of Martin &
Fay and Bernie & Mary, who pitched up at about 7.30 p.m.,
having been caught in torrential rain.
We had a table for 10 people reserved in the private
dining room at this hotel where, after pre-dinner drinks, we
were shown to our table and treated like royalty throughout
the meal. Langoustines with fois gras and truffles, turbot,
14

lamb with wild mushrooms, an extensive cheeseboard,

followed by a dessert of baba, sorbet and vanilla crme
panifolia. Each course was accompanied by a wine selected by
the owner to compliment the food on offer. The rooms were of
classical French period decoration, mostly with four-poster
beds. The bill for such extravagance? A mere 298 euros per
couple.
The following days ride would only be around 160 miles,
so we had a leisurely start to the day. We walked in the
sunshine to the village for coffee and cakes at the boulangerie,
before heading south, over the Col du Restefond (2680m) and
the Col de la Bonette (2715m) before dropping down into the
Tinee Valley and through the Mercantour National Park into
Nice, where we stopped at Atoll Beach for lunch. We were
able to park our bikes in the free Moto parking slots almost on
the Promenade des Anglais, and walk just 100 metres to find a
seafood restaurant almost on the waters edge (research
beforehand is always worth the effort I had entered the car
park as a way point in my GPS). After a superb lunch, we
took our boots off and paddled in the Mediterranean (well, it
had to be done, didnt it?), before turning north through
Grasse, famous for its perfume production, to join the
fabulous Route Napoleon. Weaving in and out through the
Alps, La Route Napoleon, or the N85, follows the treacherous
path taken by Napoleon Bonaparte and his army when he
returned to France in 1815. Stretching in length for more than
200 miles, it starts in the glitzy Mediterranean resort of
Cannes and winds its way through Grasse, Castellane,
Sisteron and Gap to end at the alpine town of Grenoble. It is
one of those awe-inspiring journeys that you must tick off.
The road meanders through everything imaginable, from
rugged, snow-capped peaks, to rustic French villages, taking
in coastal views and passing over forbidding valleys
thousands of feet deep. The roads that link the villages are
some of the finest stretches of blacktop you are ever likely to
ride across and there is little traffic around. The N85 might
sound like just another A-road but it is generally regarded as
one of Europes best biking roads; this is the real deal. We
15

rode as far as Castellane, where we stopped for two nights at

the Grand Hotel du Levant. We arrived in good time and were
able to park the bikes in the hotel garage, before sitting out the
front of the hotel for a bikers beer. The hotel is extremely
popular with bikers, owing to its superb location part-way
along the Route Napoleon and close to the Gorges du Verdon.
The town square is immediately outside the hotel, surrounded
by restaurants and bars, so it was not difficult to find a place
to eat that night.
The next day was a free day to explore the nearby Gorges
du Verdon. The Gorges du Verdon is one of Europes great
natural wonders; formed where the blue-green Verdon river
cuts a deep swathe through the high limestone plateau of
Haute Provence. Often called Europes Grand Canyon, this
truly spectacular canyon is over 25 kms long and in places
over 1000 meters deep. The worlds 2nd largest canyon, it
may not compete with the Grand Canyon, Arizona, but it is
still the largest canyon in Europe. The Verdon River is named
after its unusual colour; Verdon is derived from the French
word for green (vert). A full loop around the canyon is just
over 60 miles, including the Route des Crtes and can be
comfortably ridden in a day, including frequent stops to
admire and photograph the views.
The day started like any other, but finished like no other.
We had decided to take a picnic lunch to eat beside the lake at
the far end of the gorge and so walked into the town to
purchase bread, meats, cheeses, fruit and cakes. With these
loaded into Teds empty top box, six of us on six bikes left the
hotel at 10.15 a.m. The others had decided to remain in
Castellane and walk up to the church that dominates the town
from a high rocky outcrop. We rode around the northern rim
of the gorge and included the optional 15-mile Route des
Cretes, which follows the very edge of the northern rim of the
canyon and offers spectacular views. We stopped to admire
the views so many times that after 2 hours, we had covered
only 25 miles. From high up on the canyon rim, we could see
the beautiful, vivid, blue lake at the western end of the gorge
and the bridge across the river at Moustiers. We felt that the
16

lake shore would make the perfect picnic spot and we were
right. We were soon parked up in the shade of some trees,
enjoying the food we had bought earlier (well most of it the
fruit tartlets had been thrown around inside Teds top box and
had spread the fruit and filling all around the inside. Ted
managed to clean out most of it (but his tongue couldnt quite
reach into the very bottom of the top box!). After lunch we
meandered along the southern rim of the Canyon (the
Corniche Sublime) and stopped again at the Pont de lArtuby,
which spans the Artuby river at a height of 590 feet. We
bought cold soft drinks and watched people bungee jumping
off the bridge and Lizzy told me what a great day she had
been having. We set off for the final leg back to the hotel in
Castellane, turning left onto the straightforward D955 near
Combs sur Artuby. After dropping down a hill and starting
along a wide straight section of road, I could not see other
headlights behind me. After a few moments, Dee pulled up
behind me and said that Lizzy had been behind her, but had
disappeared somewhere. We turned around and rode back
along the D955 for about three-quarters of a mile, to the
obvious scene of a bike accident. My first reaction as I parked
my bike was to look for the other members of our group and
thankfully I could see them all milling around on the roadside
amongst a large number of other bikers who had stopped to
help. But when I found Howard, he explained that Lizzy had
collided with an on-coming Italian biker near the middle of
the road. The Italian was on the grass verge having his left leg
attended to, whilst Lizzy was standing talking to other
members of our group, reassuring them that she was okay,
except for a pain and swelling in her left wrist. After a short
while we showed Lizzys injury to the para-medic, who told
her to get into the ambulance to go for an x-ray at the local
hospital. The rest of the party returned the last 16 miles to the
hotel, where Ted collected her passport and EU medical card
to take to the hospital. He rang to check on Lizzys condition
and was asked to ring back after an hour or so, as she had just
gone down to radiology. Just about an hour later, the hospital
rang the Hotel to ask for Ted to go to the hospital. Both Ted
17

and I rode to the hospital, expecting to bring Lizzy back to the

hotel, ready to continue the holiday on the back of Teds bike.
However, when we arrived at the hospital, we were told that
Lizzy had suffered two serious heart attacks and that the
prognosis was not good. After seeing Lizzy and speaking with
the doctors, we were advised to return to the hotel and call
again in the morning. After a 35-mile ride back to the hotel in
the pitch dark, we broke the news to the others.
Next morning, the early telephone call from the hospital
indicated no change in Lizzys condition, so we agreed that
the others should continue with the scheduled ride to the next
accommodation at the small hotel La Ferme Bonne at the
village of St-Christophe-La-Grotte, just north of Grenoble,
approximately 175 miles to the north. Ted, Dee and I would
go to the hospital and work out what could be done. When we
arrived at the hospital, we were given the news that Lizzy had
suffered another heart attack within the last hour and that they
had been unable to save her.
We were devastated; Lizzy had been walking around
talking to us after her accident and was going to hospital to get
a swollen wrist sorted out and now the hospital staff were
telling us that they had been unable to revive her after a third
serious heart attack within a few hours. Lizzy had been a good
friend of ours for several years and had ridden many miles
with us. Dee was in tears and Ted, her husband, was in shock,
unable to do anything.
Dee and I remained at the hospital in Draguignan with
Ted until we could contact Lizzies travel insurance company
to sort out expatriation. We needed to contact the motorcycle
insurance company to get Lizzies damaged bike transported
back to UK and by no means least, we had to report to the
local Gendarmerie near to the site of the accident to make
statements and get clearance to leave the area.
Dee worked hard with the travel insurance and motorcycle
insurance companies in UK who, I must say, were superb.
They appointed French-speaking staff to deal with the
repatriation and I took Ted to the various offices to sort out
the formalities after discussing what needed to be done with
18

senior hospital staff. All of this seriously tested my limited

French speaking skills.
The arrangements took a couple of days to sort out, by
which time the rest of the party had moved on again to another
night stop at Langres, some 400 miles to the north of us. We
discussed the options with Ted, but he was adamant that he
wanted to re-join the group and ride back to UK with us. With
no family at home, he felt that there was no point in him
flying home; he would need to recover his motorbike and
there would be little that he could do at home prior to an
autopsy and a probable Coroners Hearing. Naturally, these
could not occur until after the repatriation of Lizzy. He felt
that he needed the support and company of his friends and so
we decided that the three of us would ride the 400-or-so miles
from Draguignan to the old walled town of Langres to meet
up with the others. I suspect that the riding occupied his mind
and prevented it dwelling on his tragic loss.
After their night-stop at St Christophe La Grotte, Howard,
Sarah, Martin & Fay and Bernie & Mary continued north
through the Rhone Valley and through the wine growing areas
of Macon, Beaune and Nuits-St-Georges in the Burgundy
region, to the planned night stop at the walled town of
Langres, in the Hotel de la Poste. Eventually Dee, Ted and I
were cleared to leave the town of Draguignan at around midday. With repatriation action fully initiated, we discussed our
options with Ted and we all agreed to ride the 430 miles to
catch up with the others at Langres. With stops for fuel and
food, we eventually reached Langres at 10.37 p.m., just 7
minutes after our estimated time! The others gave us a
welcome that we will not forget as we rolled in to the car park
of the hotel.
Another beautiful sunny day dawned for the following
days easy 150-mile ride north-west along country roads to
Epernay, near Reims in northern France. However, before we
left, group members took the opportunity to walk around the
charming old walled town of Langres, before making a
leisurely departure from the hotel at 10.30 a.m. We all stopped
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in the small town of Arcis-aux-Aube for a plat du jour lunch,

before rattling off the final part of the journey through
Epernay to the busy city of Reims. The route through the
centre of the city would have been fine in normal
circumstances, but at one of the central roundabouts, the
inevitable Route Baree sign appeared across the road we
wanted and then it was hunt the detour to get back on the
right road. We got split into 2 or 3 groups, but magically
managed to meet up at various road junctions (except Howard,
who had to soldier on by himself), until I found a footpath that
took us back onto the right road, just past the end of the road
works. It was no more than 6 or 7 miles to our hotel
(Champagne Mont dHor) in the tiny hamlet of St Thierry, but
even with the hotel in sight, there was yet another Route Baree
sign across the approach road needless to say, we ignored
this one and rode into the hotel grounds. This establishment
was a working vineyard with its own pressing room. The very
French Madame greeted us with a warm welcome and showed
us our accommodation which was spacious and modern, with
each room having a different theme. She told us to park our
bikes in the pressing room and agreed to my request to put 2
bottles of their champagne in the fridge so that we could have
them for our Bikers beer out on the decking they were
superb.
Whilst there was no evening meal available here, Madame
took Dee into a nearby village to pick up our order for takeout pizzas, as well as to a supermarket for a carton or two of
beers. Our evening was spent out on the decking chatting,
above the garden and the vineyards, next to a paddock of
horses, until the sun went down behind the church across the
fields truly magical.
For the planned free day here, I had arranged, for us all to
take in a tour of the cellars at Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin, one
of the many famous champagne maisons. Our one-and-ahalf hour tour, with an English speaking guide, was planned to
start at 11.30 a.m., so we took 2 taxis to Reims, just 5 miles to
the south. The visit was good value and there was a
particularly poignant moment at the end, when our young
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