An introduction to my tale
In 1982 I still had my first MZ. A TS150 bought new from Eddys on Kirkstall Road in Leeds. Oh how the mighty has fallen. They now specialise in Harley Davidsons!
Lisa was fed up working at the bank and reckoned that with my long break from work we could tour abroad, on the MZ. So plans were made. A cheap pair of pannier bags acquired, insurance and one way ticket from the RAC, and that was that. Oh, I did give it a new chain and clutch plates. I reckoned that two up they would be the components taking the biggest amount of hammer.
Because of our backpacking activities, we were well equipped with the necessary light weight camping equipment.
The following was written at the time, based on a log book I kept of the trip. So here is my tale, from eighteen years ago, my holiday on an MZ TS150 in France, Germany and Belgium.
For the technically minded. all the photographs were slides transferred to a Kodak CD ROM. Most of the images are direct conversions to .jpg format.
A picture of the bike, fully loaded appears in the book 'MZ' by Mick Walker. It is on page 82.
A Motorcycle Tour in 1982
Across England to Portsmouth
It was the first time I had toured abroad on a motorcycle. So, I decided to keep a log. I am not usually very good at this sort of thing, but this time I managed it. A record of what we did, and what happened on each day, accompanied by a record of the mileage travelled. This tale is based on the log. A verbatim transcript would not have made much sense.
We set off from Leeds fully laden. Two extra bags had to be added at the last minute. We were equipped to go on an extensive camping tour of Europe, or at least parts of it. With tickets and insurance from the RAC we set off for Portsmouth.
Day one took us to Stratford upon Avon. We covered 150 miles and found a pleasant campsite on the racecourse.
Day two and we arrived in the New Forest. Playing safe, as the boat did not depart until the following evening. It had been a pleasant 132 miles from Stratford. Travelling across the heart of England was wonderful in the glorious sunshine. The forest seemed so beautiful, and it seemed a shame to be going abroad.
In the early hours of day three we changed our minds on that score. Crash, flash and the heavens opened. Down came the rain and we found that we had camped in a shallow hollow surrounded by about an inch of water. The lip of the groundsheet kept the water out. None ever leaked through. Robert Saunders tents do not come cheap, but in weather of that sort it was worth every penny.With daylight we moved everything to higher ground. As were in no hurry we waited until the weather eased off around noon before loading the bike and setting off for Portsmouth. Passing through Southampton we saw both the Canberra and QE2 in the state they had returned from the South Atlantic in.
It was on 43 miles to Pompey, so we parked up in the dockside car park and with RAC looking after our helmets had a quick look at the town with our last meal for some time in England. While waiting for the ferry, we were able to dry the tent out in the evening breeze.
To France
Because it was so calm, we slept most of the way on Brittany Ferries. As we came off the boat though there was a surprise waiting for us, it was raining! Anyhow, off we set following, in a very British fashion, the road numbers. I soon dumped that idea. I France one looks for destinations. Riding on the right did not seem to be a problem, just a bit more care when pulling away from roadside stops, and at junctions.
It was 56 miles before we decided to stop a village called Binic in Brittany. Here we set up camp for the first time on a foreign field. Binic reminded me of Bridlington, small, but posh.
We had decided that not every day would be spent travelling from place to place. Day five was spent covering 53 miles riding up the coast. As we were still near to St. Malo, we saw a number of other British bikes, including I think someone on an MZ. Unfortunately in all cases stopping was impracticable.
It was Bastille day, July 14th, and everywhere was celebrating the fact. Binic was no exception. Considering the size of the place it was an impressive fireworks display. Day six started off gloomy as we packed and then headed off inland. 62 miles later we camped on a site beside the river and next to an old mill. We were learning fast that inland sites are much cheaper than those near the coast.
South to the Sun
After passing through Vannes and covering 108 miles we stopped at a farm site near the village of Damgan. We were on a small peninsula just below Brittany. As it was a pleasant spot, we decided to stay a couple of days.
On our first day there we covered 40 miles in total. Much of this by travelling in to Vannes and stocking up at the local Hypermarket. We eating on the site, any cooking was on the meths fuelled Trangia. Before going to France we had wondered about the availability of meths. It turns out to be called Alcohol a Bruler, clear, and half the price of meths in the UK. It worked just as well, if not better in the Trangia.
Late on that evening a German couple turned up on a bike, an MZ250. They were the first bikers we had encountered on a French campsite.
We only travelled 14 miles the next day. A brief trip into the village and then to the local folk festival. It was an interesting experience, especially the cider and crepes on sale.
It was definitely hotter as we set off south. Crossing the impressive bridge near St. Nazaire we had covered 99 miles by the time we arrived at the seaside holiday town of Saint Jean de Mont.
We spent a day there, somehow managing to cover only 12 miles. It is a resort full of high rise flats, but somehow does not seem to have lost its charm. This could be due to no overt commercialism and a superb beach.
Still heading south, we put 105 miles behind us be making camp at Chantaillon. This was not a brilliant site. The town was small and rather commercial with no beach to speak of. There was also an overriding odour of candy floss. We did however spend a day there so that we could visit the old fortified town of La Rochelle. It is a quaint old town with a distinctive harbour entrance. It's a town whose name seems to crop up regularly in history due to the number of times it was besieged. In its day it had obviously been an impressive sea defence fort.
Returning to the site, we stopped of the local hypermarket. The cafeterias are excellent places to eat, the resemblance to a British supermarket cafeteria being in the name only.
Day 14 and we were still heading south. Crossing the mouth of the Gironde on the ferry brought us to the Landes region. Once it had been English territory when it was part of Aquitaine. It is a flat area of lakes and forests. Riding here was very pleasant, as indeed it was in much of France, especially when the towns had been left behind.
After 129 miles we camped at Ares. This was a four star site, swimming pool and all. Most of the campers were long staying French. The tourists, with the exception of ourselves all caravans, were at the 'riff raff' end beside the road. Fortunately all the necessary shops were nearby so we ate quite well that night.
Here was where we reached 1031 miles in total so far on this tour.
An early start next morning saw us in town cashing a cheque. With French bank opening hours this is best carried out before breakfast. Breakfast was coffee and croissant. If they could not be bought on the site, or at some nearby bakers, invariably a travelling baker arrived on the site. It was a routine consistent across France.
Trips to the coast
The followed day we covered 53 miles, mostly from a trip out to Cap Feret. This is obviously the weekend area for the residents of Bordeaux who can afford such things. On the way back we encountered our first really heavy traffic. Not being sure of the form I held back a bit. Then a pair of traffic cops cruised down the centre of the road, so I followed. No problem.
A day was spent on the beach the next, requiring 19 miles to get us there and back. This part of the Atlantic coast seems to be one continuous sandy beach. Strangely the water was not as cold as I had expected it to be.
That evening we dined out at a converted old French bus just down the road from the camp site. A really good steak was consumed with wine and followed with ice cream. We had a chat with an English girl who worked in Bordeaux in the wine trade. It seems the trading is dominated by British firms, as it has been since medieval times when it all belonged to the English crown.
A bit of a late start today, but with straight flat roads we had covered 92 miles before we camped, stopping around 2.00 pm.
This site was a few miles inland and all the best for it. A busy, very much a touristy village, Contis Plage was at the end of the road on the coast. A colleague at work had told me of this quiet French seaside village. Obviously this had been some years previously.
The main road runs parallel to the coast, but a few miles inland. To reach the coast one just follows a road leading off in that direction. The less that is indicated about what is at the end of the road the better the beach. All the beaches had basic facilities and a life guard. The life guards are members of the CRS, the riot police. One must assume therefore that the French do not riot in the summer!
All beaches followed a similar pattern. A family area is near to the road end, which is generally crowded. It then quickly thins out and this area is generally topless. After about 50 yards and it's everything off. All very official as there were notices to warn the feint hearted.
That evening we discovered merguez. This is a savoury sausage eaten with peas, eggs and wine. All of these could be cooked on the Trangia. One reason for cooking on sites rather than eating out was the question of travel. A meal in France without wine is like having an MZ that does not rattle. It does not seem right. Fortunately red wine does not need to be cooled and was preferable to white anyhow. As well as this all French tinned food seemed to be far superior to English varieties. On of the pleasures of this trip was trying out the range of packeted and tinned food that could be prepared on the Trangia.
The next day was a visit to the nearby town of Mimizan. A careful ride this as we were only wearing shorts. It turned out to a surprisingly pleasant experience, for short runs at least. Even so one is very careful about how one drives and how much exposure to the sun is allowed.
It was on this journey that I learnt that French country railways are suffering the same fate as those back in the UK. Weeds and chickens inhabited the local station. It had not seen passengers for years. So much for the tales I had heard of how they did it better than us.
After sending off postcards, it was down to the beach. Then we went back to the camp site for boeuf burginon. A fairly relaxed 36 Miles had been covered today.
Another 99 miles and we were down in the real holiday area north of Bayonne. Three attempts were needed to find a camp site that was not full. It was quite a plush site that we eventually ended up on.
The rear tyre was beginning to look a bit thin so I reckoned that this part of the world was the most likely place to get a new one. So the next morning it was into Bayonne. A bike shop said come back in the afternoon and they would have one by then. So we had a trip to Biarritiz. It reminded me of Scarborough with all the big hotels. I do not expect that there is topless bathing on Scarborough front yet though.
New Tyre
Back to the bike shop. Wheel off, tyre fitted, wheel on. I did the off and on bit, they fitted the tyre. It's at times like this that the QD feature of an MZ is appreciated.
We had a bit of a cock up on the evening meal front. We had bought a 1.5 litres of wine by mistake. The plastic bottle looked the same as the 1 litre variety. Anyhow it had been a long day. We had covered 57 miles with all the running around. We slept well that night.
Across France
This was the furthest south we had come and we awoke to a murky morning. So we decided to set off inland to see if it improved. Heading north east towards the middle of France, we covered 167 miles before stopping. Our camp was beside the river Lot in the south or the Dordogne region. It was a pleasant site. Many of the other campers were fishing.
Even though it was not the best of weather we decided to stay for one more night. So the next day we set off to visit the nearest town, Cahors.
This is an old town, pleasant to walk around. Before going back to the campsite we headed into the out of town supermarket. This was the only French supermarket we found selling real pork chops. It also sold rifles and ammunition.
Back at the camp site we found out that we had covered 63 miles. Cahors was further away than I realised. Anyhow we had an excellent meal, pork chops, three veg and a bottle of the excellent Cahors wine. The tree veg came together in one jar which made heating up on the single burner Trangia very easy. Frying out the chops was also no problem. If you have never tried Cahors wine, give it a go. It is really dark and goes well with any meat. All the UK supermarkets now sell it.
I needed a bit of help from some of the other campers to negotiate the up hill U bend leading off the site. Any we were soon off and away. Much of the 84 miles we covered seemed to be up hills. Nothing too steep, just continual climbing. A pleasant river side site at Beaulieu and the weather had cleared up a bit.
As the camp site was virtually in the town, the bike had a rest the next day. While the morning was fine as we walked around the local area, in the afternoon it started to rain.
Clear weather after breakfast. The next day saw us on our way. Another day of winding roads and steepish hills. Even so we had covered 97 miles before stopping at a small town called Condat. There did not seem to be much here, and that night it rained quite heavily so we set off again first thing in the morning.
A clear day as we climbed through an area known as the Volcans. We passed through numerous villages and small towns. In one it was obviously market day. It was obviously an area of clear air as we passed a few sanatoriums nestling in the hills. Eventually we came down from the hills into an industrial valley. After covering 121 miles we camped on the outskirts of Roanne.
Being an industrial town Roanne was very quiet. Even so all the shops seemed to be open. It was here that I saw some French made special fitted with a Citroen 2CV motor.
It was a professional job, only the exhaust exiting the motor vertically spoiling the effect. Even though traffic was light, we passed a couple of bike cops with a radar trap. Being France, they packed up at lunch time.
It was raining when we set off the next day. Only clearing as we ate our lunch beside the then new TGV railway. My mum went on it a few years later and reckoned while being fast it was not as comfortable as the Leeds to London trains. Even so it is quite impressive to watch. It leans through the bends.
Eventually after a journey of 123 miles we reached Beaune. This seems to be major town in the Burgundy wine growing region. Only a few days previously a bad bus crash on the near by auto-route had left a number of children dead. We always take a short wave radio and keep in touch via the BBC World Service. After a while one becomes quite a fan of the World Service.
Beaune boasted a laundrette so all our clothes had a good wash. At this point we had covered 2058 miles and been on the road for 28 days.
We only spent a night here heading off early the next morning. This meant stopping for coffee and croissant at Mammut supermarket on the outskirts of Dijon. We needed it to help cope with the heavy rain encountered as we crossed the Vosges region into Alsace. We now regretted not bringing our Derri boots. Our feet were wet. Fortunately the rain stopped as we arrived after covering 137 miles in the small hill town of le Tillot.
Because of a lack of on board refrigeration, I hadn't bothered much with the local beer. As we were now in a beer making region, I ought to at least try some. Obviously a lager beer, even the same name as one sold at home, but this one had taste. Obviously the main bit we get from foreign lagers is the name.
As it was a nice site, and the weather cleared, we decided to spend a day here. So we went up the nearby tourist hill, the Balon d'Alsace. On a fine day it must be a good view. Today it was misty on top and we saw nothing. There is a big monument on the top for all the men who cleared all the mine fields left from the second world war.
Problems
It was on the way back to the camp site that the problem started. The ignition light came on. Obviously a problem with the regulator, but what sort? Should I leave the lights on to compensate for overcharging, or off to compensate for under charging? As the lights had been on when it first came on I left them on. Nothing untoward happened, only the light remained firmly on. That night I treated the bike to a good clean and played around with the regulator. I could not cure the problem, but it did not seem as if we were losing or gaining excess charge in the battery. As we had covered 63 miles that day, much of with the light on, I did not expect an immediate catastrophe.
Down from the hills, we breakfasted at Colmar before setting off for Strasbourg. I reckoned whatever happed we were better of heading for a big city. So after 92 miles, and no problems except for the light we arrived in Strasbourg.
Camping was on a large crowded out of town site.
Because we did not need a full size pitch, we were with riff raff on the lake shore. I reckon we had the better site this time.
The next day it was in to Strasbourg to see if we could find any information on a suitable bike shop, also to get some money. One MZ like ours had a local bike dealer's sticker on their top box, but we had no idea where they were. Anyhow as we had the RAC cover, I decided to call them. The French operator, speaking excellent English, had obviously not had to deal with an MZ before although he knew what it was. Anyhow I was to call back in half an hour. He was obviously quite pleased as he gave the name and address of the dealer. It was the one we had seen on the sticker and that they were expecting us the next day.
We left the bike with them in the morning. Explored Strasbourg, including crossing the Rhine to Germany during the day. Back to the bike shop to find they had fixed the problem by replacing the regulator. Along with some local MZ badges it all came to £30, which seemed very reasonable.
With that problem out of the way it was back to a favourite holiday activity, finds the launderette. With all the running around in Strasbourg we had covered 41 miles.
Crossing the Rhine
As we set off to Germany, I discovered my travellers cheques were missing. I think they must have slipped out of my pocket during our trip to Germany the previous day. As the idea of travellers cheques are security now was the time to try out the system.
First of all to the police to report the loss. It helps to get a record of reporting the loss. The trouble in France is working out which police. In the countryside it is probably the Gendarmerie, in Strasbourg it was the city police. They turned out to be a friendly bunch. A young detective did the honours, in between sorting out a young lady of the streets. So with our chit we set off to the local Wagon Lite office as per instructions. They passed us on to a bank. We weren't sure what the bank made of a pair of scruffs but after filling in a multilingual form. We received two replacement cheques.
With all that sorted we set off for the border. Straight past the queue, through the border, and we turned left along the Rhine. We stopped at the first site we came to. Because of the detour to the bank, we had only covered 34 miles today.
It was a typically smart German camp site. Services to a high standard, all facilities working. Unfortunately being right beside the river it suffered from midges, so we only stayed one night.
Our first full day in Germany. Mostly spent skirting Karlsruhe before stopping at a campsite near to Homburg. I thought the claim to fame of this place was the hat. It might have been once, but now it is the home of Karlsberg Lager. Unfortunately after 122 miles on the road none was available at the sight.
As the weather was less than pleasant, we decided to press on. We followed the autobahn up to Trier and arrived around 1.00 pm. We now had our first lesson about Germany. All of the shops shut on a Saturday afternoon. There was no where to get any food. We were going to have to eat out.
The campsite was beside the river. Fortunately next to the camp site was a yacht club where we were able to eat reasonably. Even so we had to watch our stock of marks that weekend. McDonalds were also open, so it is unlikely we would have starved.
Trier is close to Luxembourg, so, we had a quick ride across. There was a long queue at the border, a bridge over a small river. Ride a couple of miles along the river bank and there was an unmanned border bridge, so we nipped across.
An evening stroll revealed the nearby building that resembled a giant bog was actually the local knocking shop. I suppose the name, Eros Centre, was a give away. There was a small bike shop next door with what looked like an old DKW125 in the window. Naturally it was shut.
To conserve funds Sunday was spent on foot. Trier is old town. It has Roman ruins. It is also the birth place of Karl Marx. Otherwise, it resembles any other medium size German town.
First thing the next day we set off for Luxembourg. After crossing the border we headed for a bank. Out of luck, it was a bank holiday in Luxembourg, so back to Germany. We got a rather strange look from the border guards when we went back. Only twenty minutes previously we had crossed the other way.
So now that we were back in Germany, we obtained some cash and headed north following the border. After 61 miles we settled on camping at the small town of Prum.The bike had started to misfire a bit on the way there so keeping my fingers crossed I replaced the points. It worked, bringing the spare set had not been a waste of time.
The bike was parked at the campsite. I never found out who it belonged to.
Belgium
It was sunny the next day as we headed towards the border with Belgium. It was raining when we crossed. With our last few marks spent on fuel and some handy containers of two stroke oils we were just waived through the remote border point.
After cashing some cheques at the first bank we saw we covered 146 miles that day. Passing on our way Spa and Liege before finding a campsite on the outskirts of Louvain. It was a static caravan park with a small area set aside for tourers. It drizzled that night so we made good use of the camp club house. Unfortunately there was no bar.
A day in Brussels. We rode the bike to the end of the tram line, parked up and took the tram in to the city centre. It was a bit like home from home. Marks and Spencers, habitat and WH Smith all had shops there. The latter were quite handy in restocking with some English reading material. Otherwise it was a bit expensive so we stocked up at a supermarket on our way back to the camp site. Even so we managed to cover 31 miles that day.
A wobbly start down the paved track from the camp site. Then on to the motorway around Brussels. Suddenly a cough and a splutter and the engine stops. Not petrol as we had just filled up. A quick check, everything seems in order so I just tried starting. Off it went, obviously a small hiccup of some sort.
As the motorway was bit much on the small bike as soon as we were around Brussels I followed the old road towards the coast. We had to pass through Ghent. With all the cobbles there I was glad it was a dry day. After covering 106 miles we arrived on the outskirts of Brugge and found a campsite. A check of the running total revealed that we had now covered 3017 miles on this holiday.
Another rest for the bike as we patronise the local laundrette. Being the Dutch speaking part of Belgium, many of the locals seemed to speak reasonable English. Brugge is a pleasant town, but our sore suggested it was further from the camp site than we had realised.
The next day we had a ride out to Ostend and Zeebrugge. It was nice to see the sea again. It meant we were on our way home. Our little jaunt covered 53 miles.
France for the last time
A wet start, but it soon dried off. 139 miles later and we were camping near the village of Ares. The site had a lake. The lake had Mallards. Mallards are noisy, especially in the morning. Never camp near Mallards.
Not being sure of how to buy our ticket to get home with we checked out the Hover Port at Calais. All we need to do was to turn up. So the rest of the day was spent buying our booze ration. It was the time when you could only get 50% more if you bought in France rather than duty free. So with limited carrying capacity that is what we did. We used a Hypermarket near Boulogne so covered 70 miles on our various travels.
Homeward bound
We covered 19 miles today. The campsite to Calais. The hovercraft to Dover. Port to home. After a couple of days with my parents we covered the 277 miles from Dover to Leeds in one go.
The grand total for the tour came to 3575 miles more than seven weeks.
In 1982 I still had my first MZ. A TS150 bought new from Eddys on Kirkstall Road in Leeds. Oh how the mighty has fallen. They now specialise in Harley Davidsons!
Lisa was fed up working at the bank and reckoned that with my long break from work we could tour abroad, on the MZ. So plans were made. A cheap pair of pannier bags acquired, insurance and one way ticket from the RAC, and that was that. Oh, I did give it a new chain and clutch plates. I reckoned that two up they would be the components taking the biggest amount of hammer.
Because of our backpacking activities, we were well equipped with the necessary light weight camping equipment.
The following was written at the time, based on a log book I kept of the trip. So here is my tale, from eighteen years ago, my holiday on an MZ TS150 in France, Germany and Belgium.
For the technically minded. all the photographs were slides transferred to a Kodak CD ROM. Most of the images are direct conversions to .jpg format.
A picture of the bike, fully loaded appears in the book 'MZ' by Mick Walker. It is on page 82.
A Motorcycle Tour in 1982
Across England to Portsmouth
It was the first time I had toured abroad on a motorcycle. So, I decided to keep a log. I am not usually very good at this sort of thing, but this time I managed it. A record of what we did, and what happened on each day, accompanied by a record of the mileage travelled. This tale is based on the log. A verbatim transcript would not have made much sense.
We set off from Leeds fully laden. Two extra bags had to be added at the last minute. We were equipped to go on an extensive camping tour of Europe, or at least parts of it. With tickets and insurance from the RAC we set off for Portsmouth.
Day one took us to Stratford upon Avon. We covered 150 miles and found a pleasant campsite on the racecourse.
Day two and we arrived in the New Forest. Playing safe, as the boat did not depart until the following evening. It had been a pleasant 132 miles from Stratford. Travelling across the heart of England was wonderful in the glorious sunshine. The forest seemed so beautiful, and it seemed a shame to be going abroad.
In the early hours of day three we changed our minds on that score. Crash, flash and the heavens opened. Down came the rain and we found that we had camped in a shallow hollow surrounded by about an inch of water. The lip of the groundsheet kept the water out. None ever leaked through. Robert Saunders tents do not come cheap, but in weather of that sort it was worth every penny.With daylight we moved everything to higher ground. As were in no hurry we waited until the weather eased off around noon before loading the bike and setting off for Portsmouth. Passing through Southampton we saw both the Canberra and QE2 in the state they had returned from the South Atlantic in.
It was on 43 miles to Pompey, so we parked up in the dockside car park and with RAC looking after our helmets had a quick look at the town with our last meal for some time in England. While waiting for the ferry, we were able to dry the tent out in the evening breeze.
To France
Because it was so calm, we slept most of the way on Brittany Ferries. As we came off the boat though there was a surprise waiting for us, it was raining! Anyhow, off we set following, in a very British fashion, the road numbers. I soon dumped that idea. I France one looks for destinations. Riding on the right did not seem to be a problem, just a bit more care when pulling away from roadside stops, and at junctions.
It was 56 miles before we decided to stop a village called Binic in Brittany. Here we set up camp for the first time on a foreign field. Binic reminded me of Bridlington, small, but posh.
We had decided that not every day would be spent travelling from place to place. Day five was spent covering 53 miles riding up the coast. As we were still near to St. Malo, we saw a number of other British bikes, including I think someone on an MZ. Unfortunately in all cases stopping was impracticable.
It was Bastille day, July 14th, and everywhere was celebrating the fact. Binic was no exception. Considering the size of the place it was an impressive fireworks display. Day six started off gloomy as we packed and then headed off inland. 62 miles later we camped on a site beside the river and next to an old mill. We were learning fast that inland sites are much cheaper than those near the coast.
South to the Sun
After passing through Vannes and covering 108 miles we stopped at a farm site near the village of Damgan. We were on a small peninsula just below Brittany. As it was a pleasant spot, we decided to stay a couple of days.
On our first day there we covered 40 miles in total. Much of this by travelling in to Vannes and stocking up at the local Hypermarket. We eating on the site, any cooking was on the meths fuelled Trangia. Before going to France we had wondered about the availability of meths. It turns out to be called Alcohol a Bruler, clear, and half the price of meths in the UK. It worked just as well, if not better in the Trangia.
Late on that evening a German couple turned up on a bike, an MZ250. They were the first bikers we had encountered on a French campsite.
We only travelled 14 miles the next day. A brief trip into the village and then to the local folk festival. It was an interesting experience, especially the cider and crepes on sale.
It was definitely hotter as we set off south. Crossing the impressive bridge near St. Nazaire we had covered 99 miles by the time we arrived at the seaside holiday town of Saint Jean de Mont.
We spent a day there, somehow managing to cover only 12 miles. It is a resort full of high rise flats, but somehow does not seem to have lost its charm. This could be due to no overt commercialism and a superb beach.
Still heading south, we put 105 miles behind us be making camp at Chantaillon. This was not a brilliant site. The town was small and rather commercial with no beach to speak of. There was also an overriding odour of candy floss. We did however spend a day there so that we could visit the old fortified town of La Rochelle. It is a quaint old town with a distinctive harbour entrance. It's a town whose name seems to crop up regularly in history due to the number of times it was besieged. In its day it had obviously been an impressive sea defence fort.
Returning to the site, we stopped of the local hypermarket. The cafeterias are excellent places to eat, the resemblance to a British supermarket cafeteria being in the name only.
Day 14 and we were still heading south. Crossing the mouth of the Gironde on the ferry brought us to the Landes region. Once it had been English territory when it was part of Aquitaine. It is a flat area of lakes and forests. Riding here was very pleasant, as indeed it was in much of France, especially when the towns had been left behind.
After 129 miles we camped at Ares. This was a four star site, swimming pool and all. Most of the campers were long staying French. The tourists, with the exception of ourselves all caravans, were at the 'riff raff' end beside the road. Fortunately all the necessary shops were nearby so we ate quite well that night.
Here was where we reached 1031 miles in total so far on this tour.
An early start next morning saw us in town cashing a cheque. With French bank opening hours this is best carried out before breakfast. Breakfast was coffee and croissant. If they could not be bought on the site, or at some nearby bakers, invariably a travelling baker arrived on the site. It was a routine consistent across France.
Trips to the coast
The followed day we covered 53 miles, mostly from a trip out to Cap Feret. This is obviously the weekend area for the residents of Bordeaux who can afford such things. On the way back we encountered our first really heavy traffic. Not being sure of the form I held back a bit. Then a pair of traffic cops cruised down the centre of the road, so I followed. No problem.
A day was spent on the beach the next, requiring 19 miles to get us there and back. This part of the Atlantic coast seems to be one continuous sandy beach. Strangely the water was not as cold as I had expected it to be.
That evening we dined out at a converted old French bus just down the road from the camp site. A really good steak was consumed with wine and followed with ice cream. We had a chat with an English girl who worked in Bordeaux in the wine trade. It seems the trading is dominated by British firms, as it has been since medieval times when it all belonged to the English crown.
A bit of a late start today, but with straight flat roads we had covered 92 miles before we camped, stopping around 2.00 pm.
This site was a few miles inland and all the best for it. A busy, very much a touristy village, Contis Plage was at the end of the road on the coast. A colleague at work had told me of this quiet French seaside village. Obviously this had been some years previously.
The main road runs parallel to the coast, but a few miles inland. To reach the coast one just follows a road leading off in that direction. The less that is indicated about what is at the end of the road the better the beach. All the beaches had basic facilities and a life guard. The life guards are members of the CRS, the riot police. One must assume therefore that the French do not riot in the summer!
All beaches followed a similar pattern. A family area is near to the road end, which is generally crowded. It then quickly thins out and this area is generally topless. After about 50 yards and it's everything off. All very official as there were notices to warn the feint hearted.
That evening we discovered merguez. This is a savoury sausage eaten with peas, eggs and wine. All of these could be cooked on the Trangia. One reason for cooking on sites rather than eating out was the question of travel. A meal in France without wine is like having an MZ that does not rattle. It does not seem right. Fortunately red wine does not need to be cooled and was preferable to white anyhow. As well as this all French tinned food seemed to be far superior to English varieties. On of the pleasures of this trip was trying out the range of packeted and tinned food that could be prepared on the Trangia.
The next day was a visit to the nearby town of Mimizan. A careful ride this as we were only wearing shorts. It turned out to a surprisingly pleasant experience, for short runs at least. Even so one is very careful about how one drives and how much exposure to the sun is allowed.
It was on this journey that I learnt that French country railways are suffering the same fate as those back in the UK. Weeds and chickens inhabited the local station. It had not seen passengers for years. So much for the tales I had heard of how they did it better than us.
After sending off postcards, it was down to the beach. Then we went back to the camp site for boeuf burginon. A fairly relaxed 36 Miles had been covered today.
Another 99 miles and we were down in the real holiday area north of Bayonne. Three attempts were needed to find a camp site that was not full. It was quite a plush site that we eventually ended up on.
The rear tyre was beginning to look a bit thin so I reckoned that this part of the world was the most likely place to get a new one. So the next morning it was into Bayonne. A bike shop said come back in the afternoon and they would have one by then. So we had a trip to Biarritiz. It reminded me of Scarborough with all the big hotels. I do not expect that there is topless bathing on Scarborough front yet though.
New Tyre
Back to the bike shop. Wheel off, tyre fitted, wheel on. I did the off and on bit, they fitted the tyre. It's at times like this that the QD feature of an MZ is appreciated.
We had a bit of a cock up on the evening meal front. We had bought a 1.5 litres of wine by mistake. The plastic bottle looked the same as the 1 litre variety. Anyhow it had been a long day. We had covered 57 miles with all the running around. We slept well that night.
Across France
This was the furthest south we had come and we awoke to a murky morning. So we decided to set off inland to see if it improved. Heading north east towards the middle of France, we covered 167 miles before stopping. Our camp was beside the river Lot in the south or the Dordogne region. It was a pleasant site. Many of the other campers were fishing.
Even though it was not the best of weather we decided to stay for one more night. So the next day we set off to visit the nearest town, Cahors.
This is an old town, pleasant to walk around. Before going back to the campsite we headed into the out of town supermarket. This was the only French supermarket we found selling real pork chops. It also sold rifles and ammunition.
Back at the camp site we found out that we had covered 63 miles. Cahors was further away than I realised. Anyhow we had an excellent meal, pork chops, three veg and a bottle of the excellent Cahors wine. The tree veg came together in one jar which made heating up on the single burner Trangia very easy. Frying out the chops was also no problem. If you have never tried Cahors wine, give it a go. It is really dark and goes well with any meat. All the UK supermarkets now sell it.
I needed a bit of help from some of the other campers to negotiate the up hill U bend leading off the site. Any we were soon off and away. Much of the 84 miles we covered seemed to be up hills. Nothing too steep, just continual climbing. A pleasant river side site at Beaulieu and the weather had cleared up a bit.
As the camp site was virtually in the town, the bike had a rest the next day. While the morning was fine as we walked around the local area, in the afternoon it started to rain.
Clear weather after breakfast. The next day saw us on our way. Another day of winding roads and steepish hills. Even so we had covered 97 miles before stopping at a small town called Condat. There did not seem to be much here, and that night it rained quite heavily so we set off again first thing in the morning.
A clear day as we climbed through an area known as the Volcans. We passed through numerous villages and small towns. In one it was obviously market day. It was obviously an area of clear air as we passed a few sanatoriums nestling in the hills. Eventually we came down from the hills into an industrial valley. After covering 121 miles we camped on the outskirts of Roanne.
Being an industrial town Roanne was very quiet. Even so all the shops seemed to be open. It was here that I saw some French made special fitted with a Citroen 2CV motor.
It was a professional job, only the exhaust exiting the motor vertically spoiling the effect. Even though traffic was light, we passed a couple of bike cops with a radar trap. Being France, they packed up at lunch time.
It was raining when we set off the next day. Only clearing as we ate our lunch beside the then new TGV railway. My mum went on it a few years later and reckoned while being fast it was not as comfortable as the Leeds to London trains. Even so it is quite impressive to watch. It leans through the bends.
Eventually after a journey of 123 miles we reached Beaune. This seems to be major town in the Burgundy wine growing region. Only a few days previously a bad bus crash on the near by auto-route had left a number of children dead. We always take a short wave radio and keep in touch via the BBC World Service. After a while one becomes quite a fan of the World Service.
Beaune boasted a laundrette so all our clothes had a good wash. At this point we had covered 2058 miles and been on the road for 28 days.
We only spent a night here heading off early the next morning. This meant stopping for coffee and croissant at Mammut supermarket on the outskirts of Dijon. We needed it to help cope with the heavy rain encountered as we crossed the Vosges region into Alsace. We now regretted not bringing our Derri boots. Our feet were wet. Fortunately the rain stopped as we arrived after covering 137 miles in the small hill town of le Tillot.
Because of a lack of on board refrigeration, I hadn't bothered much with the local beer. As we were now in a beer making region, I ought to at least try some. Obviously a lager beer, even the same name as one sold at home, but this one had taste. Obviously the main bit we get from foreign lagers is the name.
As it was a nice site, and the weather cleared, we decided to spend a day here. So we went up the nearby tourist hill, the Balon d'Alsace. On a fine day it must be a good view. Today it was misty on top and we saw nothing. There is a big monument on the top for all the men who cleared all the mine fields left from the second world war.
Problems
It was on the way back to the camp site that the problem started. The ignition light came on. Obviously a problem with the regulator, but what sort? Should I leave the lights on to compensate for overcharging, or off to compensate for under charging? As the lights had been on when it first came on I left them on. Nothing untoward happened, only the light remained firmly on. That night I treated the bike to a good clean and played around with the regulator. I could not cure the problem, but it did not seem as if we were losing or gaining excess charge in the battery. As we had covered 63 miles that day, much of with the light on, I did not expect an immediate catastrophe.
Down from the hills, we breakfasted at Colmar before setting off for Strasbourg. I reckoned whatever happed we were better of heading for a big city. So after 92 miles, and no problems except for the light we arrived in Strasbourg.
Camping was on a large crowded out of town site.
Because we did not need a full size pitch, we were with riff raff on the lake shore. I reckon we had the better site this time.
The next day it was in to Strasbourg to see if we could find any information on a suitable bike shop, also to get some money. One MZ like ours had a local bike dealer's sticker on their top box, but we had no idea where they were. Anyhow as we had the RAC cover, I decided to call them. The French operator, speaking excellent English, had obviously not had to deal with an MZ before although he knew what it was. Anyhow I was to call back in half an hour. He was obviously quite pleased as he gave the name and address of the dealer. It was the one we had seen on the sticker and that they were expecting us the next day.
We left the bike with them in the morning. Explored Strasbourg, including crossing the Rhine to Germany during the day. Back to the bike shop to find they had fixed the problem by replacing the regulator. Along with some local MZ badges it all came to £30, which seemed very reasonable.
With that problem out of the way it was back to a favourite holiday activity, finds the launderette. With all the running around in Strasbourg we had covered 41 miles.
Crossing the Rhine
As we set off to Germany, I discovered my travellers cheques were missing. I think they must have slipped out of my pocket during our trip to Germany the previous day. As the idea of travellers cheques are security now was the time to try out the system.
First of all to the police to report the loss. It helps to get a record of reporting the loss. The trouble in France is working out which police. In the countryside it is probably the Gendarmerie, in Strasbourg it was the city police. They turned out to be a friendly bunch. A young detective did the honours, in between sorting out a young lady of the streets. So with our chit we set off to the local Wagon Lite office as per instructions. They passed us on to a bank. We weren't sure what the bank made of a pair of scruffs but after filling in a multilingual form. We received two replacement cheques.
With all that sorted we set off for the border. Straight past the queue, through the border, and we turned left along the Rhine. We stopped at the first site we came to. Because of the detour to the bank, we had only covered 34 miles today.
It was a typically smart German camp site. Services to a high standard, all facilities working. Unfortunately being right beside the river it suffered from midges, so we only stayed one night.
Our first full day in Germany. Mostly spent skirting Karlsruhe before stopping at a campsite near to Homburg. I thought the claim to fame of this place was the hat. It might have been once, but now it is the home of Karlsberg Lager. Unfortunately after 122 miles on the road none was available at the sight.
As the weather was less than pleasant, we decided to press on. We followed the autobahn up to Trier and arrived around 1.00 pm. We now had our first lesson about Germany. All of the shops shut on a Saturday afternoon. There was no where to get any food. We were going to have to eat out.
The campsite was beside the river. Fortunately next to the camp site was a yacht club where we were able to eat reasonably. Even so we had to watch our stock of marks that weekend. McDonalds were also open, so it is unlikely we would have starved.
Trier is close to Luxembourg, so, we had a quick ride across. There was a long queue at the border, a bridge over a small river. Ride a couple of miles along the river bank and there was an unmanned border bridge, so we nipped across.
An evening stroll revealed the nearby building that resembled a giant bog was actually the local knocking shop. I suppose the name, Eros Centre, was a give away. There was a small bike shop next door with what looked like an old DKW125 in the window. Naturally it was shut.
To conserve funds Sunday was spent on foot. Trier is old town. It has Roman ruins. It is also the birth place of Karl Marx. Otherwise, it resembles any other medium size German town.
First thing the next day we set off for Luxembourg. After crossing the border we headed for a bank. Out of luck, it was a bank holiday in Luxembourg, so back to Germany. We got a rather strange look from the border guards when we went back. Only twenty minutes previously we had crossed the other way.
So now that we were back in Germany, we obtained some cash and headed north following the border. After 61 miles we settled on camping at the small town of Prum.The bike had started to misfire a bit on the way there so keeping my fingers crossed I replaced the points. It worked, bringing the spare set had not been a waste of time.
The bike was parked at the campsite. I never found out who it belonged to.
Belgium
It was sunny the next day as we headed towards the border with Belgium. It was raining when we crossed. With our last few marks spent on fuel and some handy containers of two stroke oils we were just waived through the remote border point.
After cashing some cheques at the first bank we saw we covered 146 miles that day. Passing on our way Spa and Liege before finding a campsite on the outskirts of Louvain. It was a static caravan park with a small area set aside for tourers. It drizzled that night so we made good use of the camp club house. Unfortunately there was no bar.
A day in Brussels. We rode the bike to the end of the tram line, parked up and took the tram in to the city centre. It was a bit like home from home. Marks and Spencers, habitat and WH Smith all had shops there. The latter were quite handy in restocking with some English reading material. Otherwise it was a bit expensive so we stocked up at a supermarket on our way back to the camp site. Even so we managed to cover 31 miles that day.
A wobbly start down the paved track from the camp site. Then on to the motorway around Brussels. Suddenly a cough and a splutter and the engine stops. Not petrol as we had just filled up. A quick check, everything seems in order so I just tried starting. Off it went, obviously a small hiccup of some sort.
As the motorway was bit much on the small bike as soon as we were around Brussels I followed the old road towards the coast. We had to pass through Ghent. With all the cobbles there I was glad it was a dry day. After covering 106 miles we arrived on the outskirts of Brugge and found a campsite. A check of the running total revealed that we had now covered 3017 miles on this holiday.
Another rest for the bike as we patronise the local laundrette. Being the Dutch speaking part of Belgium, many of the locals seemed to speak reasonable English. Brugge is a pleasant town, but our sore suggested it was further from the camp site than we had realised.
The next day we had a ride out to Ostend and Zeebrugge. It was nice to see the sea again. It meant we were on our way home. Our little jaunt covered 53 miles.
France for the last time
A wet start, but it soon dried off. 139 miles later and we were camping near the village of Ares. The site had a lake. The lake had Mallards. Mallards are noisy, especially in the morning. Never camp near Mallards.
Not being sure of how to buy our ticket to get home with we checked out the Hover Port at Calais. All we need to do was to turn up. So the rest of the day was spent buying our booze ration. It was the time when you could only get 50% more if you bought in France rather than duty free. So with limited carrying capacity that is what we did. We used a Hypermarket near Boulogne so covered 70 miles on our various travels.
Homeward bound
We covered 19 miles today. The campsite to Calais. The hovercraft to Dover. Port to home. After a couple of days with my parents we covered the 277 miles from Dover to Leeds in one go.
The grand total for the tour came to 3575 miles more than seven weeks.
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