Round 2: Another European Sortie

Brill report, some of the locations I have transversed too, you have a great skill in writing R, you should write a book, having a rite laugh here, ride safe.:beerjug:
 
You're inspiring me to go to France this weekend.:beerjug: Now how do I convince the wife that I go without her?:blast:D
 
You're inspiring me to go to France this weekend.:beerjug: Now how do I convince the wife that I go without her?:blast:D

Easy money seems to come easy to your good self ,let her go shopping but you'll need more than a weekend to have French fun :bounce1 :D
 
:clap:clap:clap

that thing about the casino has been there years

group of us did millau and i carried on to monaco and got the same thing

(it was the week after the gp) got the lowes hairpin pic and that was it

flea market just after the tunnel was a larf but the prices :eek:

dignes :love N85 :love

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:D
 
Cheers again for the comments. It's grand to know some of ye are enjoying :thumb

I find this jotting lark very therapeutic and enjoyable. The drivel seems to flow easily, perhaps it's the ale.

:beerjug:
 
You're inspiring me to go to France this weekend.:beerjug: Now how do I convince the wife that I go without her?:blast:D

Take her with ye per chance mate? :hide

However you do though, do. ;)

:clap:clap:clap

that thing about the casino has been there years

group of us did millau and i carried on to monaco and got the same thing

(it was the week after the gp) got the lowes hairpin pic and that was it

Understandable really, it was total chaos up there. It would have been nice to park up but everywhere was rammed.

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:D

Legend! :D

Great find that..
 
Del Ponte to Bukovica

You know when you're in Italy when you see a taxi that is a Subaru. Not any Subaru mind, one of those ones with the mahoosive letterbox on the bonnet. Wish I'd got a picture of that.. it just says it all.

I head away from the hotel, refreshed after a beakfast of a vacuum packed croissant (meh) but oodles of Café Latte (yay).
As I'm packing I find a group of elderly moto enthusiasts gathered around the bike. 'Mama Mia' says one of the ladies, presumably again referring to the size of the loaded red beastie. I get across to them that I'm hardly small either, and they have a chuckle and return to their morning constitutional.

I pull away, and within thirty seconds I'm greeted with someone knee down coming around the middle of the road, a blind corner no less. Fortunately I'm in check and can veer away. If that had have been a car there he'd have been in big trouble. A reminder of what Italy is all about in the motoring sense of things. Valentino lives to fight another day.

It's back on to the SS45 in the direction of Piacenza. What a terrific road, twisting and turning like a twisty turny thing, up and down, left and right. Excellent biking and my resolution to just have a poodle this morning is instantly broken, keeping in mind Valentino's are out there practicing- but hey ho it's rewarding stuff.

Smoothing out any nasty squaring from yesterday's Autostrada…

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I stop for a cappuccino just short of Piacenza and a tiny cake in a splendid little place. I love coffee in Italy. This update is brought to you by 'illy' :) The problem is I just don't want to leave when I get nestled in these places.

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Cakey. We likey.

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I continue North East to look in on Lake Garda. It's nice, but so very busy, so I pass through. I take a crap self photo for which I will spare you. It is impossible for me to look jolly in a system 6. My cheeks are all squashed in Hamster stylee, and if I smile I look even more stupid and gormless than I do outside the gear.

I drop in to see Ronald for some Wi-Fi, but it's only available to Italians, which is annoying.

I stop at a petrol station, and its another one of those Crystal Maze self service challenge affairs. I can't remember but I think it is a Tamoil place. It has very loud music. I put in my 15 Euros which takes forever to do and now the sodding thing won't give me any petrol. Of course, it says I can select English as a language, which I do, and it says 'Insert Notes or card' and then everything reverts back to Italian. How very thoughtful. Bastardo. I'm hopping about getting very annoyed to Pat Benetar's 'Love is a Battlefield', which isn't at all helping. Finally I twig I need to put the pump back again so it can work out it needs to give me the petrol. At long last I get petrol, but not a great deal as I forgot to say, Petrol in Italy is very expensive, and it hardly affects the petrol gauge.

I decide to make for Slovenia, which I very much regretted bypassing last time around. Sod it, I'll take the Autostrada and associated open wallet surgery. In all honestly, I like Italy for the food (and coffee as previously mentioned) but the motoring I find wearing. Italian motorists have three factory settings: 'Careless', 'Insane' and 'Totally Insane'. There's a special optional 'Madman' pack available too, which many upgrade to. I'm just tired of them all. Pasta and coffee aren't enough to entice me for more time to dwell with the minuses of crap driving, expensive Petrol, and I'm just not bothered enough to head up to the alps for better.

On the final leg of Autostrada we meet a traffic jam in a long roadwork stretch. A local aboard an RT is attempting to carve through and pave the way. Clearly, Italia does not approve of filtering; for that another would need to pass one's self, and that is clearly unacceptable.
Nevertheless, we barge on and I take great joy in manhandling the GS through the agog audience once they realise what I'm actually doing. I've also stuck a bit of Chas 'n' Dave on the audio for that extra little bit of class, polish and sophistication. Danny Boyle would approve.

Some considerable KM further on we discover the end of the melee. We find a broken down Dutch Audi, fronted by a dead pan bored stiff Carabineri holding a lollipop. Smart uniform though; think Trumpton, Pippin Fort.

We cross in to Slovenia where I stop at a Petrol Station imaginatively named 'Petrol'. High fives and new Bentleys all round at the Saatchi folks for that branding pearl. Anyway, It has a sort of pub/bar and there are groups of folks outside loudly getting spangled. Curious. Still, they have free wi-fi, which I've missed, so I have a mooch on booking.com to see what might be around should I dare to abandon canvas for yet another night, perish the thought.

Close to the border it gives me a room for a miserly 30 Euros and well it looks fine so I take it. The Hotel Garni. And it is very fine. Basic, but clean and tidy and all good and the charming girl working there couldn't have been more helpful, offering to put the bike in the boiler room of the place, but I explain it's too big. She laughs at me, but she sees the bike and then comes back to tell me now she understands.

I wash and brush up and buy two tins of Union Beer (or Pivo). It's pronounced 'Onion'. Arf arf. And it's very good indeed :thumb
 
Rivetting stuff Gr8roberto and nicely written.
I read a tour book describing the Ialian driving style as "robust." Understatement methinks.
Can't ride the bike for 3 months as my arm's in a cast having put a saw through my hand last month, so I'm living on your reports.
Happy riding. Looking forward to next thriller.
 
Ummh regular bike changing :augie

Not sure how you seem to think money comes easy to me, you don't even know me.:nenau Anyway, this isn't relevant to Rob's thread, so F off.:D
 
Tosses banter

Not sure how you seem to think money comes easy to me, you don't even know me.:nenau Anyway, this isn't relevant to Rob's thread, so F off.:D

Oh dear someone's got to many toys in his pram :pullface

Rob you carry on enjoying your year at play and keep up the good work blogging your progress and sorry if this has interrupted your thread in anyway ,just us children at play on the sidelines ,one anyway!! :JB I love casting my line :D:D:D :clap:clap
 
And it's back to the action :D

Budovica to Porat


Latest news is my brother has booked some uneasyjet flights to Dubrovnik, so now I've some sort of place to get to by Wednesday next.

I rise at the Hotel Garni and walk downstairs in my flip flops and nearly falling down the stairs. Nice start. The 30 Euros includes breakfast, which is very good, and it is all very good. I have my traditional euro transit breakfast of a Ham, Egg and Cheese Sandwich.
For the meantime, I decide to head to Lake Bled. Big up again to the Garni, a comfortable place for buttons.

I have an epic morning of riding. Slovenia is GS country. Ups and downs, twisty turny stuff, little traffic, roads that are not at all perfect but provide a great deal of entertainment. All in scenic spendour. I'm coming back again.

Inviting motoring..

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Fancy a slap then, eh, eh?

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Roast Trout for lunch..

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I reach Lake Bled. I pootle around the shores and stop outside a craft fair. I'm almost wiped out by a backwards rolling Renault Megane trying to park. Sharp use of the horn sorts it and scowls indicate I won't be getting a Christmas card. I pull in. There's a stall there and I ask for stickers. He thinks I'm from another planet, but I show him one I've got and he sort of sees it, but observes 'what is the point?' to which I say I'll stick them on my bike. He thinks I'm a loon for doing that clearly and he says you won't find any here, aside from maybe one store in the shopping centre. Not wanting to over complicate matters I'll pass on that.

His name is Michael and he has a stunning array of photographs on show. That is his passion- he's a devoted photographer. I want to buy something, so I ask him to tell me what one he likes, and I buy it. We chat for a while. 'Where are you going?' he asks. 'I don't know' I tell him. He's a bit bemused by that. I tell him target is Southern Croatia, for now. 'Where should I go?' I ask. 'Hmmm he says, if it were me, I would go to the Island of Krk. It is very pleasant, and not so far from here if you're going that way'. So the die is cast. 'Have you been in the lake?' he asks. 'You should'. I see. Wait a minute.. Johnny foreigner is telling me to go and jump in the lake :)
We say farewell. Before I go he gives me two cards for luck. Saint Michael, to represent luck for me on the bike, and one of our lady, which represents love, as he explains, without love there is nothing. 'Thank you.. Now can I pay you for these?' I ask. 'No, thank you..' he says 'There isn't enough money in the world' :) It is a serene and charming encounter with someone with a very peaceful aura. It makes my day.

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It's busy on the road around the lake but the water is calm as a duck pond and picture postcard peaceful. No motor boats or jet skis or any of that kind of stuff allowed. People are ferried to the Island (Slovenia's only Island, by the way) in large row boats.

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I buy an Ice cream and park up just a few feet from the lake crashing the party of a group of Russian registered K1300GTs

The Russians are coming.. The Russians are coming!

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Proof you don't need a big bike to go touring. Scoots are the future.. :)

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It's hot. Bloody hot. The water is inviting. Sod this for a game of soldiers, I'm going in. So a nifty quick change, and I spend an hour paddling about in the lake. Yeehah, superb. I have a moment of 'I'm really doing this, and I'm really here', which was very very pleasant.

I return ashore and get out the camping chair. Iced tea and feet up. One of the Russian fellows approaches with a handshake. 'You are from Great Britain?' he asks politely. We chat for a while. They've all been on a huge tour from Moscow and have clearly had a ball. They're puzzling on where to strap more shopping. London was on the itinerary- but he complained of paying £200 for the Eurotunnel. Not surprised- Bloody hell, that was steep.

I set off for Croatia. The weather is closing in and there's a heavy wind. I nip on to the Motorway to escape South. I bought a Vignette at the Italian border as it implied the only way in was on the Motorway (which it did seem it was, even though I was getting off in a few KM). So anyway I get a bit of VFM. The Slovenian Motorway is good. A noticable tailwind pushes me along in a kind of funny vortex. It's very odd, I can really feel myself being blown along. Good for the economy side of things I s'pose :)

Motorway is left to break for the border. There's a lot of traffic keen to make progress, eager to roll out the towels and blow up those lilos and beach balls no doubt. I have a moment and I pride myself in not having many of those. As I'm making an overtake I'm almost taken out by Fritz in his big Mercedes who is already trying to get around me. It was a lapse for a moment on my part for sure and I was a lucky boy.. but he would clearly see my position and intention, one of these blasted 'get out of my way' types. Twat.

We get to the border. We're queueing, and Fritz, now many a car back decides to roll up across the kerb into the other lane to try and jump the queue. It seems this character is just a mobile nuisance. Anyway, so what. He's now next to me. That said, I stare at the blacked out window, ready for a chat and debrief if it obliges. There's nothing coming back though. My best inquisitive gurn generates nothing. He's positioned behind a camper and now a coach that's been flagged in, and we're moving and they're not. Hilarious. The border guard sees my Union Jack on the lid and waves me though. Top tip there as that's happened a few times.

I stop over the border, change £60 Sterling up for what I now call Hrvattys, have a brief chat with the girl at the Beuraux De Change and then have a stretch followed by an Iced Tea. Fritz is still behind the coach back at the border post as I set off. I find that pretty funny. Tiny things please tiny minds I suppose.

I reflect that I'm thankful to Michael's lucky charm of earlier; a few milliseconds difference (I kid you not) would have led to an entirely different outcome and most likely a very different thread to read :(

On we go. I head down to Rijeka, and then on to the Island of Krk, across the rather splendid bridge. The road is incredibly busy coming the other way with the weekenders heading back to the mainland. There are Policija everywhere. Lollipop waving pedestrian versions, mobile fuzz in Skoda Octavias, short sleeved shirt clad biker cops wrestling RT's in heavy traffic.

I check out a camp site; so busy it looks like some sort ridiculous tented game of twister. Erm, that'll be a no then. So I head to a tourist agency who get me a B&B for 45 Euros, which is fine all considered. Plus time is knocking on, too. It's just a few KM away in Porat. My posterior is beeping, I think I've worn out the Sargent seat, so the nearer the better.
I reach Porat, where some wag had amusingly changed the sign from a 'P' to a 'B'. Well I thought it was funny.

The B&B, or 'Pensian' fella flags me down and I park across the road, by the harbour. A really basic little place but perfectly adequate.

I cross the road for a beer and have a few more. There's some local accordion group getting in to the groove and it's not a bad place to be on the planet. Facebook status added as 'Getting spangled', to which a certain Mr K adds an instant 'like'. The accordionists drink beer, cocktails, and what looks like grappe also. They're getting spangled too :)

:beerjug:
 
Glad to hear your still makin new friends and spreading the two wheeled love ,but remember mirror signal manouver :D:D:D
 
Lake Bled is a beautiful place - I loved rowing on the lake on a family holiday when I was about 15. :cool: The coach came back via the Grossglockner and I swore I'd come back on a motorbike to ride it when I was old enough. Only took 20 years :p
 
Cheers all :thumb2

Lake Bled is a beautiful place - I loved rowing on the lake on a family holiday when I was about 15. :cool: The coach came back via the Grossglockner and I swore I'd come back on a motorbike to ride it when I was old enough. Only took 20 years :p

Ah, the Grossglockner, haven't been back in a while. Nice road, that.. may have a look in when heading North..

:beerjug:
 


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