A Solo Motorcycle Trip to Bodogno Northern Italy

Casa Appennino 2010

Introduction

As a Harley Davidson owner since 1999, I attended every HOG International Rally from 2000 onwards visiting a variety of European destinations including St Tropez, Venice, Barcelona, Monte Gordo, Killarney.

In June 2007, I returned from Harley Davidson European Rally in Finguerola, southern Spain to the shattering news that tests had revealed that the small lump I had in my right cheek was a particularly malignant tumour. Within a few weeks I was operated on, given the news that it had been impossible to remove the entire tumour and basically told that I was in big trouble. Seven weeks of radiotherapy followed in an attempt to "buy me some time". My way of life changed forever. I was forced to abandon my business as a chartered surveyor and over the months that followed, I slowly recovered from the trauma and eventually got some semblance of normality back in to my life. Obviously any thoughts of further European trips were just not realistic.

I changed my Harley Street Bob for a F650GS last year, having been seduced by the lightness, agility and superb handling of the bike. I managed around 6,000 miles in my first year with the bike, all in Scotland, but had a desperate urge to get back into Europe for some serious touring.

My former Harley touring buddy Dave and his wife Pheona, who are both serious bikers, have recently bought a small hotel (Casa Appennino) in the Apennine mountains in Northern Italy and I often found myself looking at their website, wishing I could visit them on my bike. In late August, my long suffering wife caught me again looking at the website and said " why don't you go on your bike and stay with them for a while".

I went online trying to get some sort of travel insurance, having always been refused immediately in the past due to my health circumstances. Again, I could find no company who would offer me health cover, however, while on-line to "Insureandgo" the telephone rang and a very helpful lady explained that she had passed my details to the medical insurance section of their company and they were prepared to offer my full health cover for around £80.00. This was totally unexpected and apart from giving me peace of mind regards any problems on holiday, it was a huge psychological boost to me that I was once more considered an insurable risk.

The Trip

I set about organising the trip in earnest and within a few hours had booked the Hull to Zeebrugge ferry (the Rosyth to Zeebrugge ferry was nearly £800 return!), told my friends I was coming down to se them and booked the bike in for a service.

I had recently purchased a Zumo 220 satnav and spent a few nights plotting my proposed routes on Mapsource and selected one potential hotel stop on both legs of the journey. I decided to take the most direct route down, but return leisurely through France on the way back.

I booked the ferry for Tuesday 7th September, planning to travel down on the day to board the ferry late afternoon. On checking the weather forecast at the weekend, heavy rain was predicted all day on the Tuesday. I made my mind up to travel down on the Monday and stay overnight in Hull. I had a pleasant, sunny ride down arriving around 5pm. While waiting to board the ferry on Tuesday afternoon, a fellow Scotsman arrived on a big touring bike, absolutely drenched, having ridden down on the day through non-stop heavy rain.

Once on board, the motorcyclists set about securing our bikes. We were put right in the bow of the ship, the bikes being strapped/roped down using lengths of chain along the deck that were fixed through rings welded to the deck. I secured my bike using the ratchet straps I had brought with me and once the bike was restrained to my satisfaction, I removed my overnight bag from a pannier and gave my bike one last shake to ensure it would not move. To my horror, my bike appeared to be loose on the left hand side and on checking, I discovered the bike on my left, which used the same chain as me, was totally free on the left hand side, the ground chain having broken free from the deck and this destroyed the tension on the common chain between us. Fortunately the owner was still unloading his overnight luggage and was forced to move his bike to an other location, allowing me to re-tension my strap. If the chain had snapped during the voyage I shudder to think what carnage we might have encountered in the morning.

As I had booked the ferry very late, I was allocated a four berth cabin all to myself as no smaller cabins were available. For the first time ever, my cabin was on the main deck where the bars and restaurants were located, and only three doors down from the start of the corridor whereas in all previous trips, I invariably ended up in the bowels of the ship and almost needed GPS to find my cabin. I had a nice meal in the buffet restaurant, a couple of beers then an early night in readiness for some serious motorcycling the next morning.

Wednesday morning, it was very overcast as we drifted into Zeebrugge harbour through the lock gates around 9.00am. By the time we disembarked, it was torrential rain and this continued without a break for my first 150 miles, by which time I was damp and cold. I pulled into a service area for some lunch and although I normally only have a sandwich or similar, on this occasion, I had a big plate of hot meatballs washed down with a bowl of tomato soup as my "drink". The warm food revived me and as I set off again, the rain abated and eventually stopped.

The damage had been done however, as my boots were awash with water, my neckline was decidedly damp and I felt wet around the waistline. I rode for around an other 50 miles then started to feel cold again. I was considering calling it a day, hoping the next day might be more hospitable, when my satnav flagged up the next turn in 70 miles. I prodded the icon which gives details of the turn and was elated to find that it was the slip road the hotel I had earmarked as a possible overnight stop. Encouraged by the thought of a hot bath, I upped the pace and about an hour later, I arrived at the Hotel Arial in Steinbourgh.

The hotel was fairly quiet and I think was mainly occupied by business travellers. I booked in and asked if the restaurant was open in the evening. The receptionist confirmed it was, so I unpacked, had a leisurely hot bath then went out for a walk around the neighbourhood before dinner.

I was first to arrive in the dining room so perched myself on a stool at the bar, ordering myself a Pastis as an aperitif, while I waited for the evening meal to get under way. From my vantage point at the bar I could see into the kitchen where the chef was in full swing preparing dinner.

The first guest appeared and sat down at a small table set with one place. I then noticed that quite a few tables were set for solo diners, which confirmed my thoughts that most guests were businessmen. I took this as cue to sit down at a table and within a few minutes, there were about six solo diners, all with our own little table. With no sign of a menu, I was waiting to see what happened next when a lovely typical French "crudities" starter was placed in front of me along with a basket of bread. I took the opportunity to order a glass of red wine, anticipating a pleasant dining experience. The starter was great, but when the main course arrived I was very surprised to be presented with a very thick fillet steak in the style of a Tournedos Rossini with all the trimmings. This was followed by a fruits of the forest tart with cream, then a cup of strong black coffee. I was slightly concerned what this evening meal was going to cost but was pleasantly surprised to be presented with a bill for 23 euros including the Pastis, 2 glasses of red and a cognac with my coffee..

Next morning I was up sharp, a quick breakfast and back on the bike intending to cover some serious miles. The sun was shining with not a cloud in the sky. It did not take me that long to hit the border with Switzerland, where I joined a short queue at the customs post. Turns out I was in a queue to buy my Swiss road tax and I was quickly relieved of 40 euros, although I was give 10 Swiss francs as change. The car in front of me was also charged 40 euros even though it had 4 people in it. Who would argue that we motorcyclists sometimes have the right to feel exploited.

I kept up a good pace on the great Swiss motorways, but soon found myself slowing to a sedate speed in order to take in the breathtaking scenery. It almost made the road tax a bargain. I stopped for fuel, and a quick toilet visit, which cost 1 euro for a quick pee, however I worked out that the ticket could be redeemed against any subsequent purchase in the shop or restaurant. I grabbed a sandwich and a drink for lunch and at the till I presented the toilet ticket, the 10 franc note and paid the small balance in euros, feeling pleased with myself.

I rode on until the back of 4.00pm and resolved to shortly look for a hotel for the night as I have found through experience that if you leave it until you really have to find somewhere for the night, you will be tired, you will have trouble finding one and when you do, it will probably be full. Shortly thereafter, I spied a hotel adjacent to the slip road to Coldrerio and turned off into what turned out to be a self contained service area "village" with motel, service station and a McDonalds.

I booked into the hotel which was OK but not worth the £72.00 pounds sterling they were charging for a single room. At least I got to park my bike under cover right in front of the receptionists desk.

After unpacking and freshening up, I set off to explore the facilities. I quickly discovered the area was a bit like a prisoner of war camp. The entire service area was surrounded with a fence. There was a service gate but the road appeared to lead into open countryside. Further investigation uncovered a tunnel under the motorway leading to an identical service area on the other side. This side however, had a pedestrian gate in the fence, which had a road leading up to the village of Coldrerio, where there were various bars, restaurants etc.

I spent a bit of time wandering round the village and suddenly there was a very heavy cloudburst, causing me to scamper into a nearby bar. Three beers, a pizza washed down with a glass of red, and over two hours later, the downpour eventually stopped allowing me, dressed only in a tee shirt and shorts, to quickly make my way back to my hotel.

Again an early start the next morning, with the intention of arriving early afternoon at Casa Appennino. Within four or five miles I crossed into Italy and made great progress until I encountered the Milan by-pass which was wall to wall commuters for about eight miles. I marvelled at the daring and skill of the totally reckless scooter riders who filtered, weaved and carved up drivers relentlessly, even using the hard shoulder where required.

Eventually I again reached open motorway and it was not too long before the satnav flagged up my slip road to Reggio nell' Emilia, leaving the final lap of around 40 miles on minor roads up into the mountains to my destination. The poor lady giving me instructions on the satnav never got a minutes peace, constantly advising me, at a multitude of junctions and roundabouts.

At last, despite several Italian car drivers intent on homicide of motorcyclists, I reached the village of Villa Minozzo which is only half a mile from my destination. I had flagged up a waypoint just short of this village and called it "Nearly There" and it was a great feeling to see it appear on the screen. I rode through the village, trying to recall the advice Dave had given me for the final approach. I came to a small mini roundabout, with about five roads leading off it and despite the satnav's best endeavours, I exited one turn early. I immediately realised my error, but having programmed the satnav to avoid U turns, I decided to follow the immediately available revised route. About a mile up the road I came to the village of Minozzo and the satnav instructed me to take a left as I left the village. I did as instructed and immediately found myself on a steep, narrow, part surfaced mountain track that led right up the mountain and down the other side. It only took about ten minutes maximum but with the bike fully laden, it was a fairly fraught experience.

Once back on to the black stuff, I only had about half a mile to go before I suddenly realised I recognised the building on my left as I came round the corner. I had arrived at Casa Appennino and thanks to my Acropovic exhaust, Dave and Pheona heard me arrive and rushed out to greet me.

The bike was quickly unpacked and parked in the garage, where it remained for the rest of my time at Casa Appennino. I was shown to my room and quickly changed into my hot weather gear, and then joined my friends on the sun deck for an al fresco lunch in the sun.

After I was fed and watered, I was given a guided tour of the hotel and garden. Pheona is an accomplished Artist and the hotel has countless original paintings throughout. Entering the front door, the Mona Lisa (not the original!) hangs on the wall, greeting visitors with an enigmatic smile. I was particularly taken with a full wall mural of Botticelli's 'Primavera' in the lounge.

The garden also shows the Artist's influence, with many lovely features throughout the area, and several quiet areas to relax and recharge the batteries.

Dave and Pheona had been working flat out since they bought the hotel late summer in 2009 and used my visit as a chance to down tools and take a well earned break.

Over the next six days we did all the tourist attractions in the area, including visiting the nearby ski resort where an off road motorbike event on the limitless mountain tracks, a trip to the coast, climbed the leaning tower of Pisa, spent the afternoon in beautiful Florence, and among various unforgettable experiences, we climbed the Bismantova, an amazing limestone "rock" that offers unbelievable panoramas and for rock climbers, a safe and organised network of many permanent climbing routes up the rock face. Lesser mortals like us took the winding path to the top.

We enjoyed many wonderful evening meals prepared by Pheona using almost exclusively, local produce and fruit and vegetables from the garden. Villa Minozzo produces it's own bread, cheeses, meats etc. and not least of all, super white and red wine. I was surprised just how tasty virtually everything I had to eat was, in comparison with our own "supermarket" shopping habits.

We had a barbecue one night and were still sitting around the table well after midnight, as the temperature was still decidedly warm.

All too soon, I had to set out on my return journey back to Zeebrugge. As I mentioned earlier, I had decided to return through France, over three days, with a further half day to reach the ferry terminal early afternoon. With a lump in my throat, I bade goodbye to Dave and Pheona and set off on the mountain roads back to Reggio nell' Emilia, where I joined the motorway.

I allowed the satnav to pick the route to my first hotel stop in France and followed her instructions, without actually knowing exactly where it was taking me. I made good progress and eventually noticed road signs referring to the Mont Blanc tunnel. It was mid afternoon and my first reaction was to push on and try to get into France that day, however I noticed that the distance to the tunnel was still a fair bit away.

I decided to look for a hotel for the night and soon came across the advance signs for the cut off for Chatillon, which I could see was a ski resort in winter and had several hotels visible from the motorway. I took the slip road, stopped and asked the satnav to list the hotels.
I picked a likely looking name and pressed "Go" and literally two minutes later was booking into a really nice three star hotel right in the middle of town.

I had a pleasant wander around the town before returning to my room to tidy up, before setting out to find somewhere to have dinner. I went round to where I had spied a likely looking bar/restaurant earlier only to find it had closed. Same story at the next one and the third one stopped serving at 8.00pm. I felt a bit unwanted as it was only about a minute after eight, however the waiter was good enough to point me in the direction of a bar that served food. I had walked past the bar earlier and it was very busy but on entering, the place was deserted, with not even anyone behind the bar. I stood at the bar a few minutes and a young lady appeared from downstairs.

Hopefully, I asked if she had any food available, expecting to be told they were closing, but a positive response had me seated at a table, a beer poured and all the snacks and nibbles that all bars seem to have in this area were rounded up and placed on my table while my dinner was prepared. Shortly thereafter, she returned with what I can only describe as the biggest plate of pasta I have ever tackled. After my dinner, I wandered back to my hotel for a nightcap and an early night.

The next morning I set off early and soon I encountered the Mont Blanc tunnel. I was slightly surprised to see snow on the mountains around the tunnel entrance, and to find the cost of motorcycling through the tunnel was a hefty twenty three euros. As I was approaching the exit into France, the overhead signs were warning of rain and sure enough, when I left the tunnel, it was raining quite hard. Fortunately there is a parking area just at the exit and I was able to pull in and put on my heavy weather gear. The next half hour or so was not particularly pleasant motorcycling as the rain was persistent, the road was very twisty and there were heavy goods vehicles nose to tail as we made our way down the mountainside.

Shortly thereafter, the rain went off, the sun came out and I left the motorway to make my way over the foothills using some minor roads through magnificent countryside, and by mid afternoon, I arrived at the Hotel Parcey in the village of Parcey. It was nothing spectacular, in fact it was a bit run down but was reasonable value for money. That I evening I went along to the only restaurant in the village and had a dinner that turned out to be a wonderful experience and at very reasonable cost.

Again, an early start had me over 100 miles up the road before 9 o'clock on a pleasant sunny morning. It did not last however, and as I climbed to higher ground there was a heavy mist and the temperature dropped to around 5 degrees. I was not dressed for such low temperatures so I pulled into a service area to top up my tank, put on a warm sweater and change to my winter gloves which I had the good fortune to have put in my topbox "just in case". The cold weather persisted for about a further hour then the sun broke through again.

I was making really good progress and by early afternoon I left the motorway to seek out a hotel in Laon, which would leave me a leisurely ride to Zeebrugge the next morning.

I have stayed in Laon once before when Dave & I were returning from Finguerola, I found the hotel we stayed in without difficulty and booked in for the night. The Hotel du Commerce is right in the heart of the town, just next to the railway station and close to all the shops, bars and restaurants.

I discovered a "Poma" railcar system that runs up to the old town on top of a hill. The fare was only 1.80 euro return and was well used by locals as well as tourists. I spent the afternoon visiting the various old streets and buildings, and even managed a tourist trip round the old town on a little "train".

Sunday morning, I set off for Zeebrugge to catch the afternoon ferry and soon left France, passing into Belgium. Late morning, I had to dive into a petrol station and again put on my wet weather gear. The rain persisted until lunchtime and now finding myself only about 40 miles to go, I pulled into a service area and had a leisurely hot lunch to kill some time.

All too soon I rode into the ferry terminal and parked the bike adjacent to the check-in, which was closed until 4 p.m. The weather had brightened up so I stripped off the wet weather gear, packed it away and wandered down to the passenger terminal, to spend a relaxing couple of hours reading my book.

I returned to the bike just before 4 p.m. to get ready to check in, but when I started the bike, I noticed a warning indicator on the computer. The bike had performed faultlessly the entire trip so I was a bit dismayed that a problem had arisen at this stage. It turned out my dipped headlight bulb had blown and that was the cause of the warning. Thank goodness it was an easy DIY fix.

As mentioned earlier, on the outward journey I was given a four berth cabin to myself, however on the return crossing I was only given a 2 berth cabin, again only a few doors from the centre of things. On opening the cabin door however, I found I had been given a vacant disabled cabin which was very roomy . The crossing was decidedly rough and I did not sleep particularly well.

In the morning I had a good cooked breakfast in the buffet restaurant so I was set up for the ride back up to Scotland. The weather was fair and sunny as I disembarked and I had a very pleasant ride home, arriving around 2 p.m.

Conclusion

As mentioned earlier, the bike performed faultlessly, apart from a blown bulb, and returned an average of 65mpg over the entire trip. My back tyre however, is decidedly squared, and will have to be replaced.

The mechanic who serviced my bike before the trip enquired if I intended to ride to Italy and back on the rather basic "low" seat fitted to my F650GS. I had ridded a few 250-300 mile days in Scotland so was fairly confident I would be reasonably comfortable. The original seat on my bike does not get a good write-up in any of the road tests I have read, and the low seat I have has decidedly less padding. Nevertheless, I still managed not too bad and on several legs, managed to exploit my full 200 mile plus tank range without stopping.

I was slightly apprehensive of my somewhat delicate general health, resulting from the abuse my body took during my treatment, however not even the soaking I got in the first day off the ferry or the repeated long days in the saddle caused me any grief whatsoever. This trip was a major milestone in my life and I am determined that I will now once more be able to tour Europe as and when the notion takes me.