Motorbike RTW: Bologna to Briancon, and home: day 52- 56

We have a very important date with our family from South Africa, who by chance are also touring Europe. With lots of map and route-checking we calculate that our paths will cross in 4 days’ time at Briancon. As we have not seen each other for 6 years this is a mega-reunion and the timing is crucial.

Croatia is a long thin strip of land, with sea on the western edge and mountains in the middle. There is a highway that runs up the eastern edge bordering Bosnia-Herzegovina. We’ve had a fabulous time in Croatia and are now riding up this highway. The wind is pushing and buffeting us sideways and there is no protection. The

various tunnels bring a bit of relief and we are more than happy when we reach the border post. To get to Italy from Croatia there is a section of Slovenia that needs to be crossed. All three countries are part of the European Union, so crossing should be a breeze. Well it wasn’t. If you travel from an EU country into another EU country, the ‘Borders Code’ provides EU states with a single set “of common rules, being committed to freedom of movement, avoiding disruption to travel and trade”. But, since a terrorist attack in France in November 2015, border checks are the new reality. So far in this journey we hadn’t really noticed any delays or difficulties. However, crossing in and out of Slovenia changed all this.

It’s a beautiful sunny Friday, June 30^th, and the official start of the 10 week Summer Season of July and August. There are at least 40 bikers on tour, panniered up, and ready to hit the trail once they have crossed this stretch of land separating Italy in Central Europe from the route to Eastern Europe. Luckily we are going the other way. The cars and trucks are queuing and the bikers start to overtake and jump the queue in the Departure Lane. We are watching from the fairly sedate and minimalist Arrival Lane. We make friends with a chap in a fancy sportscar, who lets us into the shady part of the queue. The bikers on the other side are parked up in the blazing sun, engines idling and revving in turn as they creep forward.

One decides he’s had enough and tries to jump the queue. Men get out of cars and wave fists, horns blow, and doors get flung open in the path of overtaking bikes. Luckily no-one was pushed off their bikes and as we rode past, having been stamped and processed, we will never know what happened. The road through Slovenia was single lane and full of trucks. Better to avoid that crossing in future.

We get to Trieste, climb a slow winding road to overlook the harbour city and take a moment to pause and reflect. As an 8 year old, in 1961, my family and I had caught the Lloyd Trestino SS Africa cruise liner from Trieste to Beira in

Mozambique, through the Suez Canal and down the East Coast of Africa. A lot of life has happened since then, but it was good to take time out and remember the little girl that was. We make our way down the highway to Venice, still not sure of which route to take. The choices are

· the direct straight boring Venice-Verona-Milan-Turin-Briancon across the north Italian flatlands

· Or the interesting challenging complicated Venice-Bologna-la Spezia-Genoa-Savona-Cuneo-Briancon.

No prizes for guessing which route we chose. From Senj to Bologna, we rode 435kms in one day. After making our final route decision, we flashed past Venice and we found a super campsite on the outskirts of Bologna just in time for an afternoon swim, a 1 kms leg stretch walk to the bus stop and a lovely bus ride into town. The wine per glass in the city centre cost 7euros, but the food is free. What a great way to have aperitif and supper all in one go. 28 euros, 2 glasses of wine and unlimited antipasto (plural antipasti) each our thirst and hunger was satisfied. We caught the campsite shuttlebus home which dropped us almost outside our tent.

The route to La Spezia the next day took us past the home of the Ferraris in Maranello, and then up and down and over the magnificent Passa Radici and Passa Cerreto, with the medieval village of Fivizzano a secluded surprise. We came around one steep corner and were confronted by an ancient stone wall. Peering over the wall the cemetery was laid out on the other side. “Not far to go then if you don’t make it”, we laughed, (NOT). To all you bikers out there, these passes are a must. We had a rest in an old quarry site and watched as more bikes ventured up and over these crazy gorges. The Italians are world-renowned for being master road builders and these passes are testament to that.

We find a fishy place to eat in La Spezia, at a novel 5 euros per kilo, with as many mixes of antipasti as desired. We take the coast road to Savona, where the campsites have changed their prices as it is now 1^st July and High Season. The average camp pitch has shot from 15euros to 30, so we need to get away from the coast. We head inland and find a campsite in Cuneo, still in

Italy but nearly in France. Today we did 569kms, covering cities, mountains, coastal routes and back inland. B has clearly got his Enduro helmet on. Before settling in for the night we asked about the charges, being cautious about the change in prices between low and high season. B got the rather young receptionist to write it down and who also assured him that credit cards were accepted. We had a lovely evening with German biker companions, where the usual conversation about where, what, how and why was sprinkled with laughter and red wine.

Packed up and ready to go, we arrive at reception to find a new face, older and confused. “That fee

on that piece of paper is WRONG. You must pay more!! And we don’t take cards. You must pay CASH!!” Not a nice start to the day. Leaving me as the ‘deposit’, B goes into town, finds an ATM, draws the cash and only pays what is written on the piece of paper from the night before. Before promising to report the manager to the police that he was employing his underage daughter as a receptionist, we are warned to never come to their campsite again. “We don’t want to, and

arrivederci!!”.

Cuneo to Briancon is the almost final route for this story. A short 140 kms over the amazing Passe Magdalene, Col de Vars and Passe de Grande Alps, which takes nearly 6 hours. We are back in France and it feels like home. We find a campsite and with 2 minutes to spare meet my sister and family as they exit the roundabout. It’s hugs, kisses and tears all round. Home is where the heart is, even if we both live on opposite sides of the equator. The next day we do the final