It was a wet night. Seriously wet. The little camo tent did its best: it didn't let any water in but the noise was phenomenal. Thunder, lightning, the hammering of rain on the tent like machine guns' fire. Miraculously, I slept and woke up refreshed and ready for a cup of tea. As I stepped out, I realised how wet it it been. Floods everywhere - mud everywhere. It was still drizzling but by the time I'd got the kettle on the little gas burner it died away to leave a pastel blue-grey sky and a strong breeze.
Tea: two cups - strong with extra milk out of a sachet. That feels better. Baguettes: one - break it into three and shove it in the panniers for later. Croissants: two - shove them in face washed down by more by tea. We Brits can be sophisticated as well 😀
So I eventually got me and little 90 out onto the open road, after giving a French camper-vanner a push to get out of the sodden Verdun mud.
The landscape is changing. Flat landscape gives way to rolling hills. Like waves. You rise and fall over gently undulating tarmac that threads across the huge expanse of French farmland.
I'm getting to love this little bike. It just does everything you ask. It breezes along, smoothly, quietly, asking little in fuel or maintenance. It's up to 132.45 mpg. What more can you ask? This is on the now climbing landscape of Eastern France. There are still the desert-like long straights but now there are curves, twists, slow climbs and winding descents.
Now, I apologise to the non-bikers who read this but let me describe how this little bike and the French roads interact. The curves are sweeping and very predictable. You enter a bend at a certain angle of lean and that is how it will stay throughout the curve.
There's usually no need to slow on the entry (it's a 90) and powering through the curve is simplicity itself. Here's the odd thing for riders not familiar with the Honda Cub. The steering seems twitchy. Oversensitive. The front wheel isn't raked forward like a Harley so even small hand movements make for a larger course change.
Here's the trick for those of us who learned about countersteering. "Push the left handlebar away to steer left." (For non bikers I know this is totally counterintuitive but really... that's what bikers do to steer. We steer the 'wrong' way to unbalance the bike, make it lean over and follow the direction of lean. Meh - it works.)
But on a Honda Cub, PUSHING the bar away is too course; lacking in finesse. You need to just gently push DOWN on the relevant grip. The bike responds smoothly. No dramatics, just a gently lean and sweep through the curve. Beautiful.
Tea: two cups - strong with extra milk out of a sachet. That feels better. Baguettes: one - break it into three and shove it in the panniers for later. Croissants: two - shove them in face washed down by more by tea. We Brits can be sophisticated as well 😀
So I eventually got me and little 90 out onto the open road, after giving a French camper-vanner a push to get out of the sodden Verdun mud.
The landscape is changing. Flat landscape gives way to rolling hills. Like waves. You rise and fall over gently undulating tarmac that threads across the huge expanse of French farmland.
I'm getting to love this little bike. It just does everything you ask. It breezes along, smoothly, quietly, asking little in fuel or maintenance. It's up to 132.45 mpg. What more can you ask? This is on the now climbing landscape of Eastern France. There are still the desert-like long straights but now there are curves, twists, slow climbs and winding descents.
Now, I apologise to the non-bikers who read this but let me describe how this little bike and the French roads interact. The curves are sweeping and very predictable. You enter a bend at a certain angle of lean and that is how it will stay throughout the curve.
There's usually no need to slow on the entry (it's a 90) and powering through the curve is simplicity itself. Here's the odd thing for riders not familiar with the Honda Cub. The steering seems twitchy. Oversensitive. The front wheel isn't raked forward like a Harley so even small hand movements make for a larger course change.
Here's the trick for those of us who learned about countersteering. "Push the left handlebar away to steer left." (For non bikers I know this is totally counterintuitive but really... that's what bikers do to steer. We steer the 'wrong' way to unbalance the bike, make it lean over and follow the direction of lean. Meh - it works.)
But on a Honda Cub, PUSHING the bar away is too course; lacking in finesse. You need to just gently push DOWN on the relevant grip. The bike responds smoothly. No dramatics, just a gently lean and sweep through the curve. Beautiful.
Enough bike. France smells.
It really does and it's wonderful. Wearing a bike helmet lets you appreciate the scents of France. Yes- it's agricultural. Pig farms really smell of pig. A lot. Farms in general smell of farms - but the range of smells that hit you and create or recall memories is just extraordinary. I passed a caramel factory. The air was so thick with caramel, I could chew it. Coffee, cheese, rubber, beer, fruits; the smells assault your feelings as you ride along.
The architecture is changing with the landscape. The houses begin to have red roof tiles. They start to look a little 'Hansel and Gretel'. On the French side this is charming. Run down old cuckoo-clock barns and painted-plaster houses with faded shutters, lean lovingly against each other in their old age as they watch the world pass by.
The village names are becoming more German sounding and I only realise that I am now out of France because of the ubiquitous D displayed on the car number plates.
The disheveled-but-beautiful villages become 'modern villages in a quaint style'.
Tidy, neat, clearly wealthy but lacking in... what?
Smell? Charm? I don't know. It's the same on the surface, but it's not the same.
The names are changing. More German. Lots of 'Burgs'.
I drive into Strasbourg. I didn't mean to. Satty again 😵
Every other Strasse is closed. It looks like they are improving the tram network, but in the meantime it's a disaster. It took me an hour to make the supposed 15 minute transit of Strasbourg. Ah well...I got to see the city.
15 minutes later, I parked up to a wonderful welcome at the campsite in Waldstrasse. Photos taken, bumper stickers on, and smiles all round, I gladly snuck off to pitch the tent, dry my things, repair the USB socket on the bike and get some rest.
Another longish ride tomorrow to Augsburg.
Thank you for following this and for all your comments and support. It feels like I have a crowd of wonderful people pushing me on. Thanks to one and all of you.
It really does and it's wonderful. Wearing a bike helmet lets you appreciate the scents of France. Yes- it's agricultural. Pig farms really smell of pig. A lot. Farms in general smell of farms - but the range of smells that hit you and create or recall memories is just extraordinary. I passed a caramel factory. The air was so thick with caramel, I could chew it. Coffee, cheese, rubber, beer, fruits; the smells assault your feelings as you ride along.
The architecture is changing with the landscape. The houses begin to have red roof tiles. They start to look a little 'Hansel and Gretel'. On the French side this is charming. Run down old cuckoo-clock barns and painted-plaster houses with faded shutters, lean lovingly against each other in their old age as they watch the world pass by.
The village names are becoming more German sounding and I only realise that I am now out of France because of the ubiquitous D displayed on the car number plates.
The disheveled-but-beautiful villages become 'modern villages in a quaint style'.
Tidy, neat, clearly wealthy but lacking in... what?
Smell? Charm? I don't know. It's the same on the surface, but it's not the same.
The names are changing. More German. Lots of 'Burgs'.
I drive into Strasbourg. I didn't mean to. Satty again 😵
Every other Strasse is closed. It looks like they are improving the tram network, but in the meantime it's a disaster. It took me an hour to make the supposed 15 minute transit of Strasbourg. Ah well...I got to see the city.
15 minutes later, I parked up to a wonderful welcome at the campsite in Waldstrasse. Photos taken, bumper stickers on, and smiles all round, I gladly snuck off to pitch the tent, dry my things, repair the USB socket on the bike and get some rest.
Another longish ride tomorrow to Augsburg.
Thank you for following this and for all your comments and support. It feels like I have a crowd of wonderful people pushing me on. Thanks to one and all of you.
Keep it up fella , been following since your FB post in Th motorbike camping group.
ReplyDeleteGreat to follow your journey. Very inspiring 👌
ReplyDelete