![]() This was effortless cruising through Europe feeling liberated by the joy of motorcycle travel. These weren’t the steep hairpins turns of the Alps. Pierre rode ahead, also on a CB500 X, carving a beautiful free flowing path through the Black Forest, sweeping past cars and camper vans with ease. Long, sweeping curves linked together seamlessly for mile after mile, the road’s silky smooth surface enticing our tyres to gorge themselves on the obscene levels of grip on offer. While it may not quite be Route 66, my God the 500 is a wonderful road to ride. Waking refreshed but to the same ghastly smell, we packed up early, itching to discover the fabled 500 for ourselves. On reaching the campsite, we were greeted by a stench of sewage coming from the toilet block right next to the pitch we had been allotted by the less than friendly proprietor. Despite my tiredness, the thrill of turning off the road and venturing down an unknown track could still be felt, even if the experience dulled by a soggy mind. Standing on my pegs, I relished the feeling of the Pirelli Scorpion Trail tyres slipping over the loose surface below. With one last burst of energy I picked my way over a rutted stone and mud track leading through a forest to the campsite. Motorcycle touring in the Black Forest Germany. After garbling something to Pierre over the intercom, we identified a nearby German campsite a few miles outside Saarbrucken and a made a final push for it. Over the past 30 hours I’d completed a full day’s work and ridden around 650 miles, snatching only four hours sleep. My brain simply stopped functioning properly and it took a worrying amount of concentration to simply stay in the correct lane. I was swamped by a tidal wave of exhaustion. We were merrily cruising through France and Belgium towards the German spa town of Baden-Baden, the gateway to the 500, when it suddenly hit me. In my mind I’d built it up to rival the likes of the USA’s Route 66 or Australia’s Great Ocean Road and I was itching to find out for myself just how good it was.īefore sampling the delights of the 500 we had some distance to cover. ![]() We’d been told on numerous occasions this was the best motorcycling road in Germany thanks to its endless sweeping curves and perfectly smooth surface. Our plan was to ride the iconic B500, or simply ‘the 500’. With just nine days until the return boat home, we’d decided to sacrifice exploring northern France and instead programmed my Tom Tom Rider 410 sat nav to plot a route to Germany’s Black Forest. I felt surprisingly awake as we rolled into Calais, buzzing with excitement for the journey ahead. In good company during the ferry crossing between France and the UK. ![]() Lulled into semi consciousness by the warmth of an open fire, I drifted off to sleep cursing the fact we’d booked such an early morning ferry to France. ![]() He thrust a gin and tonic into my hand moments before I collapsed into the sofa. Nine hours, three espressos and two motorway closures later, I arrived exhausted in Deal, Kent, to be greeted at the door of a terraced house by my long-time travel companion and best friend Pierre. Ready for a new adventureĪt exactly 5pm the previous Friday, I switched off my office computer and within minutes felt the subtle vibration of the smooth Honda engine telling me it was ready and eager for an adventure. We’d been through so much together but it was becoming clear we we needed different things from life. Again, that nagging feeling bubbled over. It was designed for commuting to work and lazy Sunday rides in the country, not 2,000 mile treks over Europe’s tallest peaks in little over a week. Motorcycling the Alps with a Harley Davidson rider I was forced to throttle off and slip back into the line of traffic moments before a fast approaching camper van whooshed past in the opposite lane and hurtled downhill. The plucky engine poured its heart and soul into providing the power my greedy wrist wrenched for, but its 47 bhp just wasn’t enough to conquer the steep Swiss incline in time. But pulling out of yet another overtake on a steep alpine road, there was a nagging feeling in the depths of my stomach that my beloved Honda CB500 X and I were growing apart. Mine has 24,000 miles of memories etched into my mind forever. Just like your first love, I’m told you never forget your first motorbike. Gorgeous views and incredible switchbacks.įirst published in Adventure Bike Rider magazine. Motorcycling the Alps in France, Switzerland and Italy.
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