o2w issue 29

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Issue 29 • December 2012 • www.cadam.org

Registered Charity No. 1111635

Affiliated to Group No: 7251First up - a very warm welcome

to our newest members Mark

Coventry and Ronald Priest. Well

done you two and welcome to

Cadam. Congratulations are also

the order of the day for Mark

Hull who is our latest member

to proudly wear the accolade of

passing his IAM test. From all of

us at Cadam: “Well done Mark.”

Those with a passing eye on the

forum will have read about your

newest Group Observers - so also

deserving of a round of applause

are: Phil Richardson and Craig

Anson. Well both of you!

In the last issue I made reference

to Mother nature. She has now

showed her first hand of winter

with floods of tears (pun there

somewhere) and her Ice Maiden’s

frosty breath has draped a cold

white web over everything

including a planned group ride.

Not to mention stacking my

mountain bike on the ice on the

daily commute, ripping off my

rucksack - thanks luv! To thwart

our two wheeled pleasures even

further 1,900 miles or 40% of our

county’s road network has just

started to be gritted and we are

still waiting for summer. Then the

Snow Queen surprised us all early

one Wednesday morning...

The beginning of October saw

the IAM Conference at Warwick

University. Its fair to say there is a

lot of work going on behind the

curtains of the IAM, particularly

as the Government has taken a

15% slice from the road safety

cake and scoffed it. The IAM are

now promoting Skill For Life at

source. At present it is just with

Honda sales. Triumph and BMW

were also approached but

declined to jump on board. There

was a big discussion surrounding

‘Test Requirements’. Strange as

it maybe; the biggest debate was

on whether you could exceed the

60mph speed limit in the nationals

to overtake?? I will do what the IAM

should have done - and left it there.

Also aired was slowing down using

the brakes is preferred, as

Chairman’s Lip…Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas and Festive Greetings to you all! Sorry – no Christmas pudding or mince pies, for we have better ingredients than that; so welcome to the festive edition of your O2W!

Issue 29 – December 2012

Chelmsford & District Advanced Motorcyclists

Registered Charity No. 1111635 • Affiliated to Group No: 7251

Contents:Chairman’s Lip 1

Free REALRIDER® Founder Member status for IAM motorcyclists! 3

Spanish Heat, Castrol GTX and a Red Squirrel! 4

What’s On? 11

Happy Christmas


opposed to the use of the gears. The national IAM test pass rate for both

cars and motorcycles is currently at 85%. Test failures seem to be from

not riding to the system as opposed to contravening the Road Traffic Act.

It was stressed that all Observers need to make sure they have a copy of

‘How To Be A Better Rider’ and that they follow said book.

The IAM are very aware that the organisation is still not reaching the

handlebars of those that could benefit from advanced training the most.

The feed back gleaned as to why the IAM is rejected includes: Not suited

to me, too much time and commitment, don’t want to take a test, IPSGA

too rigid, the IAM image is boring, too much like the Police, having to

adhere to speed limits and cost was also sighted. The IAM have looked

at why members leave and the main reason was due their enthusiasm

wearing off followed by not what was expected, change in personal

circumstances, the cost versus payback and no benefit. ‘Nothing to do’,

was also mentioned!

Skills For Life was also thought to be too much too soon.

So listening to all the above the IAM are looking to introduce a system

of modules. Some will be on road training, whilst others will be delivered

through on line tuition. There will be no test, there will be specialist

subjects, entry level pricing and local, regional and national modules and

this is where the IAM see themselves in 3 years.

October’s group night saw the welcome return of the effervescent

Austin Vince. If Austin had his way, the teutonic adventure bikes built by a

reputed German manufacturer and others would be no more. Replaced

instead by small factories in Japan with conveyer belts churning out C90’s

25 hours a day. I think I see and understand the appeal - but no thanks! I

like my comforts, bells and whistles and huge tank range.

Travis also tried out the blueprint for a new form of group ride whereby

we have tried to cater for everyone. The ride was planned in 3 stages,

offering a short ride, a medium length ride and a long ride if you opted

to ride all 3 sections. The idea being that if you wanted to participate

in a group ride but had to be home by late morning, then you had the

option of completing the first ride. If you had more time, then you could

continue with the second ride and if you had all day, then you could ride

all 3 sections. Each section started at a set time and venue, so you also

knew where and when you could join the ride if you wanted to join in

on the 2nd or 3rd stage. The blueprint went quite well and we hope to

offer a fine tuned version in the new year.

On the subject of a new year, we are starting with some altitude with

Saxon Microlights in January.

In February we are being graced

with the presence of Tiffany

Coates. Will let you look her up

(I have!) March is your group AGM

and there will be some ‘open floor’

Roadcraft sessions at Group nights.

On the ‘new’ metal front the new

GS has seen daylight at the NEC.

Not wanting to tempt myself I

kept away but understand from

those that have swung a leg over

it that the overriding impression

is one of attention to detail and

standard of finish not previously

seen on a BMW. Recession or

not, come Easter am sure they will

accelerate off the shelves quicker

than hot cross buns at Sainsbury’s.

Honda have introduced a trio

of 500’s to coincide with the

new driving licence regs (if you

understand them you are doing

better than me!) Kawasaki have

a duet of Z800’s, the mean KTM

1290 Super Duke and the

meaner Super Duke R have

also been shown. Triumph

continue to field new

models; a Tiger Sport 1050

and Thunderbird Storm

look like they are next

out of the blocks. There

are also new offerings

from Moto Guzzi and

Harley Davidson.

Backstage, your Committee

has been fighting your corner.

Pending final agreement with

another business concerned

with printing, we hope to bring

O2W back to life in print. So it

will be available in both printed

and electronic formats.

Finally, the French government has

withdrawn plans for the compulsory

wearing of his viz (as in at least 150

square centimetres) motorcycle

clothing, as previously proposed.

Finally, may I wish you all a very

Merry Christmas and a safe,

prosperous and Happy New Year!

Best wishes,

JH

Please remember that to be a

member of Cadam you must be a

current member of the IAM.

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Images: www.autoevolution.com,, www.gizmag.com &

www.doble.co.uk


Notification of this was received in my email inbox this week – it looks like it might be quite interesting. I have already registered and look forward to learning more in January 2013. There are already a number of interesting, informative videos on the site, with more promised in the near future.

January 2013 sees the launch of the REALRIDER® dedicated Social Network and Smartphone App for motorcyclists with more benefits than a MotoGP bike has rpm.

IAM members will be given the app free of charge plus Founder Member status with REALRIDER® if they are within the first 10,000 registered users. As a Founder Member, you will register and then test the system as it goes through final development and then receive the Premium App free of charge. Visit www.realrider.com and register now.

REALRoutes®

Let the REAL ride begin.

Alongside the social networking with biker friends, the REALRIDER® mapping facility is state of the art. Riders can map in real-time, share routes with mates, recommend a cafe stop, highlight a great bend or speed cameras - the lot. Then upload to your computer when you get home, or better still, video the ride and upload that to your route.

REALSafe®

As essential as pulling on your helmet.

Emergency Assist within the App uses technology found in your Smartphone and combines it with REALSafe® software to help the emergency services find you quickly should you crash. In a unique collaboration, REALRIDER® sends your location, contact number and vital medical information to the emergency services.

Free REALRIDER® Founder Member statusfor IAM motorcyclists!

3

4


holed with patches of blue.

France is vast and north of Paris

flat. Very flat. It is farmland and

more farmland. It is so flat that

the only thing of note are the

rows and rows of metal electricity

pylons that look like an army of

red and white painted match stick

men.

The clock on the big GS is still

in English money and is showing

0945. We have just entered our

third country - Belgium. Come

midday we are seated in Bruges

watching the Flemish lifestyle from

the Town Square, whilst gorging on

a banana split and waffles.

Day two 0 miles:

The weather forecast viewed

from the luxury of our rather

large and splendid hotel room -

aka tall ceilings and period décor,

dictates that today is the best of a

miserable bag of cloud, wind and

low temperatures as a deepening

and hungry low is on the loose

and heading our way.

A hearty breakfast of everything

that is bad for you is scoffed and

we decide on a different form of

two wheeler - a couple of Oxford

5 speed pedal cycles. We follow

the canal as it meanders through

Bruges City. We join the cycle path

and follow the tree lined Damme

canal, dotted with the occasional

windmill, to the ancient

town of er - Damme.

Spanish Heat, Castrol GTX and a Red Squirrel!

Day one 169 miles:

It’s 0415 and am kindly reminded of the fact by the ringing tone of a bell tower, not from the heights of ancient church in a dusty Spanish town, but from my phone. The question that beckons is a simple one. Is it going to be a dry start to our new adventure? I ask this as we have yet to have a ‘dry’ ride on the big GS this year. Peering out into the darkness from the bedroom window and the rain on car roofs and pavement accompanied by that sinking feeling in ones stomach provides the answer.

44 tonners pepper the big GS in spray and grime as we witness the birth

of another monotone, grim and wet August day, whilst navigating the

familiar route towards Euro Tunnel and the gateway to Europe.

Kent and the M20 greet us with low black clouds, their bulging bellies

full of rainwater. We find ourselves behind two ageing Goldwings, both

with pilots of a similar vintage. We slot in behind for some company as

these two big tourers must be on the same course as us? However their

progress dictates otherwise and we reluctantly pass - as we have a train

to catch!

The gateway to Europe is a little cleaner than our last visit, yet for some

reason it takes an age to load us onto the train. We are in a long queue

that knows only one meaning - stop & start. In reality, surrounded by that

feeling of anticipation and excitement of where the next two weeks will

take us; it feels more like two bike lengths forward, one back. Eventually

we are hoarded onto said train, only to note that the carriage in front

has within its confines a solitary car and we share our carriage with a just

a Blackbird, Fireblade and Fazer. So where did everybody else go then?

As we approach the French coast we are advised by the train intercom

that, just for a change; it is raining in France. As we emerge from the tunnel

the first signs of natural French daylight paint a slightly more favourable

picture. The terminal furniture maybe wet but the white sky above is pot

5


Damme is a small town covered in the cobwebs of ancient tales.

We mingle with cyclists aged between 5 and 80 on an array of machines

from pre WW1 squeaky baskets to the latest feather weight carbon aero

time machines.

The local topography is as flat as a pancake. Pedalling along one cannot

help but gaze across these fields and wonder what secrets they have

swallowed and are keeping to themselves. First to come to the front of

my mind: How many aircrews - English, German, Polish, Dutch, Australian,

French, South African, American, Canadian, New Zealand are buried

here, still strapped into the seats of their fighters and fallen bombers

either beneath soil or the many canals? The tired remains of out buildings

come into view. By day did these offer shelter to allied airman or escaped

POW’s as they attempted to reach the sanctuary of allied lines? Were

they used by the French and Dutch resistance?

Day Three 269 miles:

The weather ‘low’ has arrived over Bruges and is tracking back towards

France. So are we. The wind is blowing and my lid is bobbing about like

a buoy in rough seas. Trying to navigate the many ‘on’ and ‘off ’ slips of the

French road network in rush hour takes a bit of doing as everyone seems

in a hurry and suddenly dart across all lanes from either side. We are in

the hands of Garmin as we are guided back onto the A26 for Reims and

Troyes. Pressing the ESA button in search of ‘comfort’, farms of creams,

fawns and browns pass by on either flank, clouds of dust kicked up by

tractors and blown along and across the motorway by the angry winds.

Two Mirage jets suddenly scream across the swirling grey sky, hugging the

low cloud base, a faint trail of wispy smoke, tracing their route. Not sure

their emissions are as stifling as the big GS then? Then they are gone and

a nice day job if you can get it.

Garmin and signage for Troyes direct us onto the off slip of the motorway.

Up ahead where said off slip separates from the motorway, the slip road

churns sharply to the right. An English registered artic is slightly ahead in

lane 1 of the motorway and the cab followed by the trailer just kisses the

edge of the off slip. I rein in the big GS a little and at the very last second

and in the space we so very nearly occupied, the English trucker swerves

across the solid white lines and hatchings separating the first lane of the

motorway and off slip, across our path and only just scrapes around the

tight right hander. Its trailer wagging like a puppy with its favourite toy.

At the earliest opportunity the big GS lifts up her big skirt and pulls us

past. Being high up, a quick glance into the cab and the driver’s head is

diverted from the fore to a mobile phone clenched in his left hand, still

oblivious to what could have been.

As we close in on Troyes we stop and interrogate Garmin for a roof over

our heads. Whilst there are cheaper stop-over’s for the taking, Campanile

is a given and always the preferred choice. You always get a clean room

big enough so your not tripping over each other or your gear, shutters on

the window to keep the intense heat out and leaves a calming influence

on the inside when battered by the eye of the storm outside. Not to

mention good grub and secure parking.

We are greeted by rain as we reach the Campanile. Its full. Some of the

guests are not so welcome for despite the rain the air is heavy with the

drone of wasps. Squadrons of them and they are looking for trouble.

Garmin is consulted once more and directs us to ’Mister Bed’. They say

we need to be quick as they have just one room left. The outlook is not

good. It’s on a tired, drab looking industrial estate. Garmin suggests Ibis.

Ibis is our 3rd choice and we follow Garmin into the city centre. The Ibis

is also full, but the space station opposite disguised as an Ibis Style Hotel,

has plenty of room and a deep underground nuclear bunker car park for

the use of. A deal is done and a comfortable night taken.

Day Four 244 miles:

The day starts as promising as the big GS. A blue ish blanket of sorts is

suspended above our heads as the ignition barks at the engine room and

the big GS erupts into its teutonic rhythm. We thread our way out of

town and onto a diet of D roads that will eventually lead us to one of

our trip highlights - The Gorge du Tarn.

Time marches on, but for some reason we do not seem to be. No

sooner do we exit one 50 km/h limit, we arrive at the door of the next

one. No sooner do I select ‘sport’ and let the big GS of the leash; its back

on with the leash. Our companion of pine forests separated by a thin

ribbon of empty tarmac whilst relaxing in spirit and captivating in smell

and appearance - is not really helping. Nor is Corinne, for I can feel her

fidgeting on the back. It soon becomes obvious that the Gorge du Tarn is

going to elude us for yet another day.

At our next stop we consult the map and Garmin tells us we can make

St.Etienne by late afternoon, if we put a stop to our D road tomfoolery.

No sooner do we set sail for the home of French bottled water and

Corinne is fidgeting again. This time I get the sound effects through the

intercom. We stop and find she has fallen victim of a hungry wasp

for she has been stung not once, but twice - on the neck.


A filling diet of wide single and dual carriageways later followed by

another rummage around inside the mind of Garmin and we arrive at

another Campanile. There is a chill around the evenings buffet. It’s not the

ambience, but the weather forecast on the wall mounted TV. I may not

be able to lip read French, but the weather symbol for ‘0’ degrees is the

same on either side of the channel.

Day Five 133 miles:

Its bloody cold! We are on the N88 and according to Garmin we have

surpassed 3,000 meters. We are more rocking horse than motorcycle for

it is blowing a gale up here. The big GS shows just 7.5 degrees, but in this

wind feels more like ‘0’degrees and the steel of cold is clawing through

my textiles. The cold is getting to me as the last couple of overtakes are

nowhere near as sharp or accurate as they should be and my right boot

has to kiss the rear brake. Looks like last nights female weather forecaster

wasn’t just a pretty face after all…

We ride into another town. This one made up of a couple of houses and

paper mache shacks. One house has a large, open carport and within

is an old, unloved, burgundy Renault 20TS. Launched in 1975, this one

looked particularly authentic

- for it seems covered in 37

years of dust.

The Gorge du Tarn is

getting closer and we stop

at Mende. We park in front

of an old church.

Also present are a group of German bikers. Our German friends finish

their coffee and we exchange pleasantries. As they depart one couple

stop and ponder at the big GS. There is an array of pointing and nodding.

The female pillion then kneels down and applies her make up using what

must be one of the largest make up mirrors - my polished N/S pannier.

As we reach the gorge we swap the N88 for a narrow road complete

with tight 180 degree corkscrews as we start to climb up the ‘Tarn’.

Cannot see much around us for we are engulfed in a rich canopy of

green. The road levels off, opens out and the corkscrews become

gentle sweepers around the side of gorge. Depending on the strength

of the sun, the many hard faces of the gorge changes from gold through

to toffee.

The scenery changes to wild, empty rolling fields of wispy lime grass with

green hedges and clumps of trees, as we find ourselves on top of the

gorge. Our stretch of empty tarmac rocks and rolls across this landscape

and disappears where the horizon meets the sky, hidden by the next

distant tree line. Up here it reminds me of the American Prairies - in a

French way.

Clouds of doubt start to drift across the sky and my mind as I question

myself if I am on the right stretch of tarmac? Suddenly after a couple

of left and right handers with a twist of sharpness to them, the ground

to our N/S has gone. Disappeared. We are now looking down into a

massive crater hundreds of feet below, its centre piece being a tiny toy

town made out of rock. Before I can finish the sentence: ‘This must be

St Enimie’ I find myself wrestling the big GS between rock face and an

oncoming lumbering camper van for the road has become a narrow

ledge, hugging the side of the gorge. Corinne reminds me it’s a long way

down in unruly English. Blind corner after blind corner throw themselves

at us. Corinne is reminding me in simplest of words that she does not

enjoy heights - but me and the big GS are kind of preoccupied right now.

We trickle down into St Enimie and admire the beauty and tranquillity

of this little town at the bottom of the gorge. We park in a bay marked

‘motorcycle parking’ and are soon joined by a mixed bag of BMW’s

and Goldwings.

Accommodation here is a little sparse, but we find a room at one of

the main hotels with a balcony looking out onto the River Tarn as it

meanders past and through the gorge. (Just a shame Corinne burns a

hole - or two - in the bed spread cover with her travel iron!)

Day Six 50 miles:

Its overcast and a little milder. The big GS just trickles along in 2nd as

unruffled as this place itself. We are in no rush and have all day to cover

the short hop to Millau. We ride with flip tops open in an attempt to

inhale the breadth and tranquillity of this place. Eagles are circling high

above the rocky top and a (very) red squirrel pops out from behind a big

rock and bounds along the road beside us. It is so red it looks like it has

been sprayed with a tin of red aerosol paint by its mates in a moment

of drunken madness.

We stop for coffee at the next and town - Le Malena. Another enchanting

mixture of oldie worldy houses, some built into the side of the gorge

with a similar aged hotel with a welcoming look about it. The small town

car park next to the river is not short of cars and has no dedicated

bike parking. There are no other bikes here. So we park on a short strip

between pavement and first row of cars. As is often the case and just to

prove the point again, we drink coffee and watch. We do not have to wait

6


long before a group of bikers on a mixture of BMW’s ride past and slow

down, look and there is much pointing at the big GS. They ride off only

to return a minute or so later and park up close to the big GS. A couple

more riders ride into this little town, slow down at the now gaggle of

parked bikes, disappear only to return and dismount. Park a motorcycle

anywhere here and others will always follow your lead.

A Dutch GSA rider then approaches our table and fires off of

questions about the Sergeant seat. Seems he is familiar with Corbin

but not Sergeant.

A K1600GTL approaches from the opposite direction. There is the

familiar (as in awful) ‘clonk’ as the next cog is engaged yet this is soon

forgotten and replaced by that (unforgettable) orchestral symphony that

is a ‘six’.

We continue along the descent that is the D907 towards Millau. The

scenery is amazing with the rocky walls of the gorge changing through

different shades of sand - through to orange. We turn left onto one of

the main routes into Millau. A dual carriageway. One of note because of

its loneliness, its empty. We ride over a shallow and well dressed crest.

Suddenly there in front of us, in the distance spanning our horizon from

left to right is the unmistakable Millau bridge. Wow!

Garmin guides us to another Campanile on a retail park with a friendly

looking face. Another given.

Day Seven 110 miles:

We prod Garmin with his next destination - Carcassonne. Its not long

before we make our first stop to get close and personal with the Millau

bridge. Sadly the more personal you get, the less imposing it seems to

be. It is a feat of engineering without doubt, but not as high or a truly jaw

dropping as I was expecting.

The D992 is a great road blessed with adhesion. The authorities know it,

for it is spoilt by speed cameras, a mixture of grey and silver tomb stones

- smiling assassins lying patiently in wait.

St Africa is a good looking town. Full of bright flowers, bridges and

streams. The leftovers of the Gorge du Tarn. A pity, as we do not have

time to stop.

Garmin guides us over some amazing sections of empty roads. Long

straights, short straights and according to Garmin we are over 7,000

feet above sea level with stunning (from an airplane window) views

to the distant horizon and twists and turns to defeat a dictionary.

Then out here in the middle of nowhere Garmin then throws a wobbly

and rudely states we need to make a U turn! A swift reboot and Garmin

is all smiles again.

We reach Mazamet and follow the D118 in search of the medevil city

of Carcassonne. If the D118 had a twin sister, it would be the B500.

Nuff said!

As we climb, buck and twist in time with the D118, we witness a racing

cyclist overtaking several oncoming cars before taking shelter around

the next bend. As we descend towards the French town, the wind starts

ruffling its feathers. We reach Carcassonne, but which way to the Old

City? Garmin comes to the rescue and we follow the purple brick road

to the walled city. Here the bike park, like the place itself is rammed.

We manage to squeeze into the bike park by rubbing bar ends with the

Dutch, Italians and Germans.

Day Eight 240 miles:

Day has broken and so has the weather. Its gonna be a hot one. After

another Campanile breakfast (although the hotel has a new name:

Kyraid) we rejoin the D118 and Garmin at last steers us towards the

Pyrenees. The D118 guides us through rocky mountains of grey slate

as we play cat and mouse with a railway line. Time and time again we

twist and turn in tango with the single track railway. We press the pause

button and admire one particular tunnel above us. It is dated early

7


1900’s. We ponder that with no modern boring equipment how long did

it take to get through the mountain?

We stop at a café which is also a trout farm and are soon joined by two

Irish riders on F800GS’s with serious off road tyres. We reach Puigcreda

a Spanish town on the French side of the Pyrenees. We refuel and pass

a sign that you do not see everyday: ‘Espana’. A sense of achievement

washes over me as we have reached Spain without the aid boat or plane

and thankfully incident.

Fair play to the Spanish. They know how to make a good road surface

and how to keep it that way.

We stop for lunch in a Spanish town. Being lunchtime, the few eating

places are shut - all bar one of dubious looks and possibly cuisine. I am

starving, so take a chance. The only thing on the menu is sausage and

chips. Sausage and chips it is then. A large half cooked sausage and chips

cooked in Castrol GTX are slapped on my plate. I empty my plate and

cross my fingers that having come this far I don’t succumb to the Spanish

equivalent of Delhi Belly.

Its now getting bloody hot and so is Corinne, for the N260 seems to

go on and on (grin, grin and grip, grip!). To make matters worse Garmin

directs us towards a short cut that transpires to be the total opposite

(although we did get to ride through a town named - Perves………)

Then to make matters worse we seem to have reached the end of the

road, literally. Our ‘short cut’ companion for the last hour has been for

the most part a narrow single track road that has now delivered us to a

T junction. To the left is a nearly fully constructed road bridge over a ‘long

way down’ raven. To the right is a building site in full swing, constructing

the other section of the new road. Yet Garmin is suggesting we turn

right. Thoughts of having to turn around and retrace our tyre tracks are

not good ones. I get the attention of a workman and point towards

the almost completed bridge. This is met with lots of head shaking and

waving of arms. I guess that will be a no then!

The workman then comes over and to my amazement directs us right

and into the construction site where a temporary road sign covered

mostly in dust informs us we can proceed in one direction. The big GS is

not happy. It is shaking its head as we are riding over what feels like ball

bearings of varying diameters sprayed with Slick 50.

Thoughts of having come thus far, only to come to grief on a

road that has not been built yet - float by my mind and stay

there. To our left and too close for comfort are huge dumper

trucks - their tyres as thick as the now not so big GS is tall.

To the right are some monster sized JCB’s with gigantic buckets and the

air is thick with dust. Visibility is a problem and I hope these dumper truck

jockeys high above have radar so can somehow see us through all this

shite? After what seems an age of balancing on a knife’s edge between

staying upright and not getting squashed by a huge yellow Tonka Toy; we

finally reach a severe ‘ramp’ and suddenly find ourselves on brand new

virgin tarmac.

Looking ahead and into the distance the new black tarmac descends for

several miles towards the horizon. In fact as far as my eyes can see - and

as far as my eyes can see we share it with no one. Another prod of ESA

and ‘comfort’ is confirmed on the display. The big GS is singing away

around 80 ish as it revels on this unspoilt ribbon of parched tarmac.

We soon find ourselves on a climb and pass a white Spanish van. Today

I am still unsure whether this Spaniard hated the GS or motorcycles in

general (or maybe just an English GS... or fancied Corinne‘s long blonde

ponytail??) for once over the summit he is chewing on our index plate.

Must taste good for he is there a while. Eventually he passes and is

flat out (no doubt helped by gravity) down towards the bowls of the

next valley.

In the distance are another two

riders. Both climbing the same

ribbon of tarmac up and over into

the next valley. As we reach that

same section looking down into

the next valley the same white van

is now chewing on the rear most

rider. Nice. I break radio silence

with a single word: “Cock!”

We soon come into land at Ainsa.

Said town was recommended

to me and looked good when

researching the internet. However,

that was the old ancient part of

the town and not where we now

find ourselves. We find a ‘nothing

special’ looking hotel, but is the

best we are going to find at this

time of the day and at 33 degrees

9


Corinne has had enough. The hotel’s interior and hospitality is far superior,

so perhaps after all one should not judge a hotel just by its cover...

Day Nine 87 miles:

The Spanish sun is up early and already flexing its muscle. We ride the

short distance up to the ‘old town court yard’ of Ainsa. This is where

we should have rested our heads last night, for up here we have the

Pyrenees in 360 panoramic. We find refuge from the clawing heat in

one of the small hotel café’s. A lone male enjoying his breakfast at the

table next door introduces himself as another GS rider, born and with

his bread buttered in the UK, but now with a roof over his head in

New Zeland. Turns out this was his penultimate night of his 6 week tour

(if only…) as he is off to Santander and the boat back to the UK and

Brummie to see his folks. He started off in the Channel Islands, Sweden,

Baltic coast, the Alps, France and Andorra (did I say - if only??)

It’s hot! Mirror check and Ainsa is no more, swallowed whole by

the shimmering heat haze. Garmin is again our guide back over the

Pyrenees, as it searches out the religious French town of Lourdes. We

climb a steep, beautifully surfaced gradient sprinkled with a mixture of

gentle and not so gentle sweepers yet despite the heat, with a full cargo

in the hold and no water cooling, the big GS temperature gauge shows

no signs of excitement.

We pass a gaggle of bikes about to leave the shelter of a Shell petrol

station. Their leader is soon on our tail. He holds the bars to a K1600GT

– and we are a sitting duck. We are caught in the big six’s slipstream as

he passes and makes us look like we are parked up. Next to follow is

another double manned GSA. He passes, but has to sweat considerably

more to pass than his mentor. The rest of the group follow bar the pilot

of an RT who is baulked by traffic. A red traffic light at the entrance to

a long tunnel brings our procession to a temporary halt. The RT rider

takes a chance by filtering along the wrong side of a solid white and is

confronted by oncoming traffic. Suddenly he pulls next to us with a large

handful of front brake and his fully loaded RT starts to wilt towards us.

Thankfully he is a big chap and wrestles the RT back to 90 degrees.

We now start the decent back into France in zig zag fashion. Patches of

dust are kicked up by the rear tyre of the RT in front. This increases in

frequency as more dust fills the air and it soon becomes apparent that

this is cement dust. Up ahead the decent narrows and a sea of brake

lights is reflected back towards us. We all come to a stop at the entrance

to another tunnel, next to a prehistoric truck with workman shovelling

cement dust off the back to soak up

a spillage. However no immediate

progress can be made, for in an

attempt to find shade from the hot

tentacles of the sun, a flock of skin

head sheep and goats have found

sanctuary in the tunnel. Eventually

a narrow path is channelled past

these hot and bothered creatures

and we slowly trickle past.

The decent now drops like a

stone in a steep spiral corkscrew.

No barriers. No nothing. Quick

glances towards the valley floor,

way, way down below and I can

just make out a house or two.

The valley floor eventually comes

into view as does a small town and

we stop to take on fluids (not to

mention ice cream!). Whilst absorbing the shade we follow a large bee

as it darts from plant to plant in search of nourishment. We are fascinated

by this little creature for as best we can make out it has a tiny snout -

then we realise we are watching a hummingbird.

We are now in Tour de France country and find Garmin and has steered

us to a clean, articulate and pleasant on the eye town. Strange that such

a welcoming and relaxing community should name their enclave after an

Englishman – St Gary?!

We are now climbing the Col de Aspin and it is a climb. To think two

months previously the pelaton of the Tour de France would have passed

through here. A tsunami powered by carbon, sweat and brightly coloured

lycra. Amongst the names of riders painted upon the sweltering tarmac is

one that is unmistakeable. It is painted in bright pink: ‘WIGGO’.

We share the summit with cyclists, motor homes, scooters and large

brown cows. I disappear with the camera and Corinne is under strict

orders to protect the big GS as a very large brown cow with a panache

for handlebars and mirrors stalks the big GS.

We arrive in Lourdes and find a comfy room at the first hotel we come

to. The big GS is hidden away with the pigeons in what was a large old

bus garage next door. Job done.

Day Ten 0 miles:

Lourdes is explored by my old pair of Altbergs. I am not tainted in

the slightest by religion, but one cannot help but be moved by the


sight of so many relentless columns of wheel chairs on the march from

all corners of the town to the famous grotto in the belief that they can

be healed from their terrible and life sapping illnesses. Day after day.

Night after night.

Quite an emotional experience, especially the candle lit processions late

into the night. Focuses the mind on how much we take for granted and

how little we think about those less fortunate and able as ourselves.

Day Eleven

We leave Lourdes and head for Perigueux. The display on the big GS

is showing 33.5 degrees. We are not only soaking up the heat, but also

Bergerac country. You soon understand why people retire here. We stop

to take on liquids in a town square opposite a pretty waterfall and take

another opportunity to inhale the French way of life. Not to mention a

very early and immaculate blue and white XJ900. Something else you

don’t really see back home.

Day Twelve 279 miles:

Not long after saying goodbye to Perigueux our old Interphone F4

intercom has had enough and stops communicating. Thankfully we have

reached the (very) flat lands of Normandy and for one of the very few

occasions, there is not really a lot to see, as we are consumed in this vast

emptiness; a vacuum filled with quilted shades of browns. We ride into

Chartres where we find another nights refuge via another Campanile.

Day Thirteen 225 miles:

I would have like to have witnessed a little of the blue Med on this trip,

but as we vacate Chartres with Garmin leading to Boulogne, will have to

settle for a bit of Le Treport and Le Touquet. It’s a Sunday and its warm.

Le Treport is rammed like Southend on a hot August Bank Holiday back

in the 80‘s. The pavements are choca. We struggle to find a parking space

amongst a vast static display of bikes. Somehow manage to waggle the

bars of the big GS between a couple of bollards and drop the side stand.

Lunch is consumed and our next stop is Le Touquet. Corinne is

complaining that the heat is unbearable. The roads are busy. Progress is

back to the good old days of Fizzy’s and AP 50’s. Le Touquet is a repeat

of Le Treport. The sandy beaches are swarming with all shapes and sizes.

Having found somewhere to park, have to wait an age in a packed café

for a couple of glasses and a bottle of chilled water.

We reach our final nights stay on foreign soil at Boulogne. Its not a

Campanile and is a bit of a squeeze for it has the same flavour of a

Formula 1 meeting.

Day Fourteen: Home

We awake to heavy grey skies and drizzle.

The big GS guides us to our waiting train.

We are delayed for a few moments to allow

a mean looking German Sheppard with a

bored looking muzzle get acquainted with

the big GS. Its female handler gives us the

nod and we are allowed to continue and

board the Shuttle.

Back in Blighty we are greeted by a low grey blanket and

more rain, finishing this adventure just as it began.

JH & Corinne

10

11

ChairmanJonathan Harman [email protected]

Vice Chairman Craig Anson [email protected]

Treasurer Stephen Falls [email protected]

Group Secretary Travis Martinson [email protected]

Membership Secretary Dean Scrivener [email protected]

Chief Observers Ty Boughen & Dennis Kitterridge [email protected]

Recruitment Promotion Officer [email protected]

Training Co-Ordinator Doug Prasser [email protected]

O2W Editor Mark Anstey [email protected]

Committee Member Phil Draper

Committee Member Steve Green

Non-Committee Members

WebmasterDave McLean [email protected]

The CADAM Committee

OUR AIMSMachine control days to increase your machine handling skills. These sessions are held off the public road, so we can explore your capabilities and those of your machine in safety.Social runs over challenging routes (no motor-ways, thanks!) to interesting places. Weekends away to ride some new roads, normally out of Essex.Monthly group meetings, often with a talk from a speaker on an interesting topic to do with motorcycling.On 2 Wheels – This newsletter, keeping you up to date with what’s happening.Want to know more? Call our general enquiries number 07790 656 687 – or just turn up at a meeting and introduce yourself to a committee member!Future Events – listings and directions can be found on the back cover.

Chelmsford and District Advanced Motorcyclists (CADAM) is one of many groups across the country whose aim is to improve motorcycling road safety by helping people prepare for, and pass, the Institute of Advanced Motorists (IAM) Advanced Motorcycling Test.Our group is affiliated to, but not subservient to, the IAM. However, because we share the same aims, we often seem to speak with one voice.CADAM is run by volunteers and serves the districts of Essex in and around Chelmsford. As well as helping people to pass the Advanced Test, we run the group as a club, so that once you have passed, you will still want to stay on and take part in our other activities. We provide:Structured instruction to prepare for the IAMAdvanced Motorcycling Test. You can choose a course that runs on Saturdays or one that runs on Sundays. These courses are designed to take even relatively inexperienced riders and raise their riding to IAM test standards.

When on a club run, be it an evening or a weekend event, speed limits must be observed. We have no exemption and advanced riding does not need to involve higher speeds. When approaching hazards appropriate care must be taken. On clubs runs you are running as CADAM and under the IAM banner. Do not bring this into disrepute. Also the Marker system will be used. Anyone not familiar with this system please speak to one of the run organisers who will run through this for you.

Thanks and safe riding

Jonathan Harman, Chairman, CADAM

How to Find Us

CADAM What’s On? 2013Visit the Forum and Events Calendar at www.cadam.org for more details of all events listed. Check regularly as events are regularly added or amended. We look forward to seeing you soon.

JanuaryTues 8th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

FebruaryTues 12th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

MarchTues 12th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

AprilTues 9th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

MayTues 14th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

JuneTues 11th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

JulyTues 9th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

AugustTues 13th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

SeptemberTues 10th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

OctoberTues 8th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

NovemberTues 12th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

DecemberTues 10 th Group Night – EPSA. 19:30.

Club Nights

The Sports Pavilion, Chelmsford Police HQ, St. Margaret’s Road. 19:30 for 22:00 start unless otherwise stated. Please refer to CADAM events listing for dates.

Apologies, but we will need to collect £1.00 from each member present on club nights to cover the cost of hiring the room.

Guest speakers and the occasional raffle are being planned for some of the meetings. For more details or suggestions for future events, please contact a member of the committee.

Thank you and we look forward to seeing you soon.

Your Club Needs You!

If you have any suggestions that you feel may benefit the club and its members, then we would love to hear from you.

That might include suggestions (or niggles) about training, club nights, ride-outs or this magazine. We are a team of volunteers and it is important to us that the club operates to benefit all members.

If you have any suggestions please don’t hesitate to contact one of the committee at a club night, on a ride out or via the emails listed above. Better still, why not come along to a Committee Meeting and get involved. With your help we can make riding safer and fun.

Provisional Dates:

o2w issue 29

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