John manages to keep his composure and still take this video, with me driving at breakneck speed along the mountains at Cervera.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Into the Mountains
A pretty uneventful day. Check out of the Plasencia Parador and manouevre the car and bike in to the lift from the underground car park. John gets excited and jumps out to take a photo and misses the exit - doors close again and we head back to where we started, much to the annoyance of the next car waiting to get in to the lift.
Tomorrow Santander and the long ferry back to Plymouth.
Eventually get on our way and blast North along narrow and slow roads before hitting the A66 Autovia to Salamanca. Amazingly manage to avoid any brushes with the police and make good time to cover the 250 miles to Cervera de Pisuerga, although we do have a near miss when we decide to pull over to add some warmer clothing (it's got much colder and we are climbing higher and higher) and pull up in front of half a dozen Guardia Civile who watch in amusement as we tog up and get on our way. We had intended heading to Leon, further West but the Paradore was full.
Arrive at the Paradore in Cervera - another stunning place set high up in the Palentina Mountain Range, 80 miles SW of Santander, dump the gear and then head out for a 26 mile blast in the Atom along the winding mountainous roads - sheer drops on one side don't deter us using the Atom how it's intended. Bravely John let's me take the wheel for the blatt back down the mountain - something I do with gusto - braking hard to avoid hitting a herd of cows who have wondered in to the road at one point.
Arrive at the Paradore in Cervera - another stunning place set high up in the Palentina Mountain Range, 80 miles SW of Santander, dump the gear and then head out for a 26 mile blast in the Atom along the winding mountainous roads - sheer drops on one side don't deter us using the Atom how it's intended. Bravely John let's me take the wheel for the blatt back down the mountain - something I do with gusto - braking hard to avoid hitting a herd of cows who have wondered in to the road at one point.
Into Cervera town for a quick beer and the usual hordes of school children mob the Atom for an impromptu photoshoot. As always, John let's then take it in turns to sit in the drivers seat - very magnanimous of him.
Tomorrow Santander and the long ferry back to Plymouth.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Into the Bullring
An unusually late start today but the Hacienda is too good to leave early. Breakfast taken in the main dining room overlooked by massive oil paintings of the Madre of the house. We discover the private Bull Ring, set in the grounds and John insists on driving his Atom into the centre of the ring.
I have never seen him run so fast as when we realise the bulls are being rounded up and, we think, are heading for the bull ring. As it turns out, they are being hearded in to a separate pen, but it's still an impressive site - and we both agree that it would be pretty scary to be in a ring with just one of these thundering beasts heading towards you at pace.
Composing ourselves we head North for Plasencia in the Extramedura region of Spain - following a combination of slow roads which weave through small villages and towns, and fast new "Autovia" which wind their way through the stunning countryside.
John is yet again pulled over by the police. I pull over ahead of him on the side of the road and am rapidly moved on to avoid holding up the traffic. Leaving him behind, I pull in to a lay-by some 5 miles up the road and wait to see if he can blag his way out of the clutches of the local constabulary. Fifteen minutes later the Atom appears, tearing up the hill. Apparently the policeman's lack of English and John's lack of Spanish has caused a bit of an impasse, and the production of every official document until finally John is released to carry on his journey - although not until he removes his iPod and stows it away.
Finally arriving at Plascenia we find the Parador, a 15th Century former-Nunnery, now converted into a stunning hotel. The Nuns would, we are convinced, be turning in their graves at the decadent use of the place now. Heading out to downtown Plascenia for a beer or two we are surprised at the number of guys on the streets begging for a few Euros or a cigarette or two.
Dinner in the main dining room where the nuns would have eaten in silence. Tomorrow Leon.
John is yet again pulled over by the police. I pull over ahead of him on the side of the road and am rapidly moved on to avoid holding up the traffic. Leaving him behind, I pull in to a lay-by some 5 miles up the road and wait to see if he can blag his way out of the clutches of the local constabulary. Fifteen minutes later the Atom appears, tearing up the hill. Apparently the policeman's lack of English and John's lack of Spanish has caused a bit of an impasse, and the production of every official document until finally John is released to carry on his journey - although not until he removes his iPod and stows it away.
Finally arriving at Plascenia we find the Parador, a 15th Century former-Nunnery, now converted into a stunning hotel. The Nuns would, we are convinced, be turning in their graves at the decadent use of the place now. Heading out to downtown Plascenia for a beer or two we are surprised at the number of guys on the streets begging for a few Euros or a cigarette or two.
Dinner in the main dining room where the nuns would have eaten in silence. Tomorrow Leon.
Monday, November 5, 2007
The Expedition hits Spain - Again.
A day of riding/driving beckons as we need to get from Rabat in Morrocco to Seville in Spain. John takes the plunge in the hotel pool at 7.30 and worryingly decides to make it a skinny dip (and I hadn't even had breakfast - appetite lost). More photographs outside the Hilton Rabat and the hotel ask if they can use the photos as publicity shots - first time a gnarled looking GS rider and an Atom with the Morroccan flag has visited them, that's for sure. 
On the road to Tangier by 9am. A long drag punctuated by coffee and petrol stops, where I meet a fellow Spanish GS rider heading for Ceuta (the other port near Tangier) who tells us a horror story of his mate, also riding a GS who was intently watching his low fuel gauge when he plowed in to the back of a slow moving lorry near Casablanca. Visit to a hospital sounds dire, and the bike loaded on to a recovery truck in pieces for shipping back to Spain. We regale each other with 'travellers tales' (how fast you need to go to avoid detection on the police radar traps (105mph apparently); why to avoidTangier as an embarkation port (slow and officious); why to avoid off-motorway petrol stations (watered down petrol) etc etc.
John gets stopped - again - for speeding on the motorway but this time the Gendarme is only interested in asking him about the Atom (this is becoming habitual).
Get to Tangier Port and run the usual gauntlet of guys earning a living trying to convince you that they know how to process you through the bureaucracy for a few Dhirams or Euros. Make it on to the ferry to Tarifa with minutes to spare. The roads in Spain, once you head away fron the coast, are spectacular, and we find ourselves blasting up to Seville (150 miles away) in no time.
Eventually find the Cartijo El Esparragal at Gerena, some 20 kms north of Seville - a beautiful Hacienda where in years gone by bulls were run - it still has a private bull ring. We find ourselves the only guests and have the run of the place. Rooms are in fact suites and are bigger than the average house, filled with antiques, and oil paintings of the places colourful history. Refreshed after showers we leave the bike and head out for a cross country blatt in the Atom, up and down the winding country roads north of Seville. John lets me drive for the return journey to the Hacienda and I oblige by worrying the living daylights out of him by my impression of Lewis Hamilton.
Dinner and cigars and planning for tomorrow's continued adventure....
On the road to Tangier by 9am. A long drag punctuated by coffee and petrol stops, where I meet a fellow Spanish GS rider heading for Ceuta (the other port near Tangier) who tells us a horror story of his mate, also riding a GS who was intently watching his low fuel gauge when he plowed in to the back of a slow moving lorry near Casablanca. Visit to a hospital sounds dire, and the bike loaded on to a recovery truck in pieces for shipping back to Spain. We regale each other with 'travellers tales' (how fast you need to go to avoid detection on the police radar traps (105mph apparently); why to avoidTangier as an embarkation port (slow and officious); why to avoid off-motorway petrol stations (watered down petrol) etc etc.John gets stopped - again - for speeding on the motorway but this time the Gendarme is only interested in asking him about the Atom (this is becoming habitual).
Get to Tangier Port and run the usual gauntlet of guys earning a living trying to convince you that they know how to process you through the bureaucracy for a few Dhirams or Euros. Make it on to the ferry to Tarifa with minutes to spare. The roads in Spain, once you head away fron the coast, are spectacular, and we find ourselves blasting up to Seville (150 miles away) in no time.
Eventually find the Cartijo El Esparragal at Gerena, some 20 kms north of Seville - a beautiful Hacienda where in years gone by bulls were run - it still has a private bull ring. We find ourselves the only guests and have the run of the place. Rooms are in fact suites and are bigger than the average house, filled with antiques, and oil paintings of the places colourful history. Refreshed after showers we leave the bike and head out for a cross country blatt in the Atom, up and down the winding country roads north of Seville. John lets me drive for the return journey to the Hacienda and I oblige by worrying the living daylights out of him by my impression of Lewis Hamilton.
Dinner and cigars and planning for tomorrow's continued adventure....
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Into the High Atlas - Eventually
Today’s plan was simple. Get up early, head South in to the High Atlas to Oukaimeden in the Ourika Valley and take the winding road up to the foothills of Mount Toubkal before heading back North to Casablanca and Rabat. Plan scuppered from the start as John’s Atom wouldn’t start. Battery dead as he’d left the ignition switch on all night. His take on it was that in the night someone had removed the full-over body cover, fiddled with the switches, then replaced the cover perfectly. Yeah, right. Push starting the Atom isn't an option as the immobiliser needs power to switch off and get the fuel pump working, so we try to elicit help from the hotel porter - his lack of English and our lack of Arabic/French has us resorting to the international language of hand gesture. (Really should have paid more attention to French at school). After an hour of negotiation, the hotel porter rides off on his pushbike in search of jump leads. Arriving back another half hour later brandishing the ropiest set of jump leads we've ever seen (with claws at one end but not the other), the hotel chef is now involved as he has a van and we can use the van's battery. Looking like something out of a Carry On movie, with the porter and the chef holding one end each against the battery terminals (with lots of smoke pouring from the Atom's battery), they eventually succeed and the Atom fires. Smiles and claps all round (we've attracted quite an audience by this time), and we have another cup of strong Morroccan coffee before setting off, after having suitably rewarded the chef and the porter for their troubles. 
Head South out of Marrakech for some 60kms, we start to climb up in to Ourika Valley and on to Oukaimeden - a truly stunning area with views as far as the eye can see - we climb to around 4,000 metres and the lake at the base of Mount Toubkal, where the road runs out. On the way back down we see dozens of Berbers brandishing rifles as they head off to hunt. I drop the bike in soft gravel as I lose my footing. A fully loaded 1200GS is a heavy beast and I am helped by a local who appears from nowhere, laughing at my stupidity. The photos below show various images from the route up and down the mountainside - too difficult to pick the best photos from so many we took (spot the Atom in the second photo below - the "long and winding road"):
Back into Marrakech and on to the Autoroute for a 200 miles blast to Casablanca and Rabat. John's Atom predictably attracts attention from everything we pass, and we are followed for 50 miles by a group of young guys in their hot hatch - waving and photographing us at high speed.
We eventually arrive in Rabat and search for a hotel. Failing miserably, we are helped by a couple of young boys on their push bikes who lead us to the Rabat Hilton - 3kms of slow, but entertaining riding, where we reward them with a fistful of Dirhams and they leave us howling with delight.
Tomorrow Tangier, the boat to Spain and Grenada (if we can eat the miles up).
Head South out of Marrakech for some 60kms, we start to climb up in to Ourika Valley and on to Oukaimeden - a truly stunning area with views as far as the eye can see - we climb to around 4,000 metres and the lake at the base of Mount Toubkal, where the road runs out. On the way back down we see dozens of Berbers brandishing rifles as they head off to hunt. I drop the bike in soft gravel as I lose my footing. A fully loaded 1200GS is a heavy beast and I am helped by a local who appears from nowhere, laughing at my stupidity. The photos below show various images from the route up and down the mountainside - too difficult to pick the best photos from so many we took (spot the Atom in the second photo below - the "long and winding road"):
Back into Marrakech and on to the Autoroute for a 200 miles blast to Casablanca and Rabat. John's Atom predictably attracts attention from everything we pass, and we are followed for 50 miles by a group of young guys in their hot hatch - waving and photographing us at high speed.
We eventually arrive in Rabat and search for a hotel. Failing miserably, we are helped by a couple of young boys on their push bikes who lead us to the Rabat Hilton - 3kms of slow, but entertaining riding, where we reward them with a fistful of Dirhams and they leave us howling with delight.
Tomorrow Tangier, the boat to Spain and Grenada (if we can eat the miles up).
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