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Jun. 16th, 2006 11:00 pmThis morning we discussed routes to Kulmbach. Robert and S and I wanted to take the scenic route, and go over Grossglockner pass. Irena and Trond wanted to have an easier day, and just get there. So we decided to split up for part of the day, and meet in Kulmbach. We rode together across the border into Austria, and passed through several long tunnels. Then Robert and S and I left the slab, and Irene and Trond continued on without us.
When we left the slab, we were plunged into traffic. The landscape in that area was folded up real tight, and there were huge numbers of people and cars and buildings crammed into the tiny valleys. We did a lot of filtering and very aggressive passing. It's a good thing Irene and Trond had chosen the other route, because they wouldn't have liked this one. At one point we were stuck behind a huge tractor, and there were probably fifty cars waiting to get around it, as it crawled along at three miles per hour. We passed up those cars in groups of a dozen or more, on the white center line, and S got around the tractor. I wasn't far behind him, when some car turned left out of a side street in front of the tractor, and blocked my path without warning. My life passed before my eyes as I hauled on the brakes. No, Irene and Trond would not have liked this.
Eventually we arrived at the entrance to Grossglockner. It turns out that it's sort of a park, and it's EU$17 to take a motorcycle in. Crazy! That's enough to buy a night's lodging and a very nice dinner in the Balkans. But they do give you a nice guidebook, that's written specifically to motorcycle travelers. In German. And a sticker for your bike.
After the tollbooth, the road climbs through switchback after switchback. It would be awesome, except there are so many busses. I suppose it could be worse; on a road like this in the USA there would also be thousands of campervans and RVs. There were lots and lots of motorcycles too. I was in the lead when we came to a roundabout. There were two other roads, leaving the roundabout, and I picked the one labeled "Grossglockner". More tour busses, more motorcycles, more cars. We got above the snow line. The road went through a bus parking area, and wound around some more, and suddenly there was a parking garage in the side of the hill. Outside the garage, in the open air, was a huge motorcycle parking lot. We stopped.
It turned out I went the wrong way at the roundabout, and this road didn't go through. Instead, it was a scenic spur; people drive up there to look at the glacier. That's right, from the sidewalk there, you can lean on the rail and look down at a huge glacier. And you can see marmosets, too.
The guys went off in search of a bathroom, and I waited with the bikes. While I was waiting, some older German guys came strolling along the sidewalk. They looked at my bike and exclaimed, then started talking to me in German. I smiled apologetically and asked if they spoke English? They didn't. But they gestured me over, and pointed. They had spotted a nail in my front tire.
Great. And I already knew that none of us had a proper tire kit. I really wished I had brought mine. I checked the air pressure in the tire, and it was still at 36psi, so at least it was holding. When the guys came back, we discussed it and decided that I would just have to ride it like that. When we got to Kulmbach, maybe someone would be able to help us there.
I took a turn to go find the bathrooms, and I took some pictures of some of the less familiar bikes in the parking area. Then we went on, back to the roundabout, where we took the other road and went over the pass. It was a very fun road, but man is there a lot of traffic up there! I saw a lot of motorcyclists squidding it up, but with the traffic, and with the nail in my front tire, I decided it was best to be a bit more sedate. I still passed a few other bikes, though not nearly as many as passed me.
Later, Robert and S and I speculated that perhaps many of those motorcyclists go up there, pay their entry fee, and just run up and down it all day.
We left Grossglockner behind, and were back on the local roads. I was starting to get the nods, so I talked the others into stopping for lunch. We ate in the dining room of a country inn, where they had many kinds of schnitzel. The menu was in German and the waitress had no English, so we ordered at random by pointing. Mine came with some kind of marinara sauce. It was pretty tasty.
Eventually we got back on the slab. I know the American riders love to talk about what it's like to go as fast as your little heart desires, over there on the autobahn, but frankly, once the novelty wears off, it's pretty boring, just like any slab riding. The most exciting thing about it, was knowing that I had a nail in my front tire.
Somewhere near Nurnberg, we got caught in a little pack of V-Stroms with Italian plates, at least six or eight of them, and we rode with them for a little while. But someone's GPS (don't recall if it was Robert or S at that point) led us off the highway, while the other Stroms continued on. It turned out to be another GPS city tour, not really necessary, but I didn't really mind. The group of unfamiliar riders we'd gotten mixed up with was pretty squirrelly and it was hard to ride with them. Bad enough to ride with that many when they're people you know.
We finally arrived in Kulmbach, just as it was starting to rain. We came off the slab and pulled into a bus stop for a quick discussion, and discovered that (dumbasses all) none of us had thought to print directions to the International V-Strom Meeting, or even write down the name of the hotel it was in. The guys were brainstorming what to do, when I saw a V-Strom coming the other way down the street. I waved wildly and flagged him down. Sure enough, he knew where it was, and he led us right there. Irene and Trond were there in the parking lot to welcome us. We were also welcomed by two English riders, Mark and Ian, who had come out to meet us there and ride back with us.
We got checked into our rooms, and registered, and settled in. There was only a short time left to have dinner, so we grabbed some quick grub, then I went out to the parking lot to photograph the bikes, in the waning evening light. It's not often that you see 200 or more Stroms in one place. Out in the parking lot I met Master Mike, he who makes the special modified spacers. He told me about a new improvement he's making, something about extra wheel bearings, but I couldn't really follow his description. Guess I'll wait for the diagrams to show up on the forum.
Soon, the guy who was organizing things (whose name I failed to write down and have since spaced) came out and asked me to come into the banquet room, I was needed for something. Ruh-roh. Went inside and sat down. There was a DJ playing music at appropriate volume for dancing, but Robert was the only one willing to dance. I think the room was a little too well lit for your average shy person to dance, at least without a lot more liquor. :-) Not long after that, the speeches started. In German. Foiled again by my lack of knowledge of other languages! Soon, they called me up to accept an award. I was the person who had traveled farthest to reach the event. They presented me with a banner, which was in English. Cool! Someone, I think Master Mike, started hollering for me to make a speech, but even when I know the language I'm public-speaking challenged. So I accepted a kiss on the cheek from the presenter, and smiled, and said thank you. They went along to hand out other awards and no one else made a speech, so I think I made the correct choice.
After the ceremonies, several of us went out and examined the nail in the front tire. The tire was still at 36psi, and I had learned that there was a shop 1/2 km away, where they could repair my tire or replace it if necessary. So we decided to pull the nail and find out if the tire would still hold air. I got out my leatherman and one of the guys daubed spit around the nail, and pulled on it, just a tiny bit. Air bubbled out. So much for that idea. We refrained from disturbing the nail any more, in hopes of keeping enough air in the tire, to ride it to the shop in the morning.
Ian and Mark had a nice twisty route mapped out, and S wanted to join them. Robert agreed to stay and accompany me to the shop, and then we'd slab it to Lille to meet them.
When we left the slab, we were plunged into traffic. The landscape in that area was folded up real tight, and there were huge numbers of people and cars and buildings crammed into the tiny valleys. We did a lot of filtering and very aggressive passing. It's a good thing Irene and Trond had chosen the other route, because they wouldn't have liked this one. At one point we were stuck behind a huge tractor, and there were probably fifty cars waiting to get around it, as it crawled along at three miles per hour. We passed up those cars in groups of a dozen or more, on the white center line, and S got around the tractor. I wasn't far behind him, when some car turned left out of a side street in front of the tractor, and blocked my path without warning. My life passed before my eyes as I hauled on the brakes. No, Irene and Trond would not have liked this.
Eventually we arrived at the entrance to Grossglockner. It turns out that it's sort of a park, and it's EU$17 to take a motorcycle in. Crazy! That's enough to buy a night's lodging and a very nice dinner in the Balkans. But they do give you a nice guidebook, that's written specifically to motorcycle travelers. In German. And a sticker for your bike.
After the tollbooth, the road climbs through switchback after switchback. It would be awesome, except there are so many busses. I suppose it could be worse; on a road like this in the USA there would also be thousands of campervans and RVs. There were lots and lots of motorcycles too. I was in the lead when we came to a roundabout. There were two other roads, leaving the roundabout, and I picked the one labeled "Grossglockner". More tour busses, more motorcycles, more cars. We got above the snow line. The road went through a bus parking area, and wound around some more, and suddenly there was a parking garage in the side of the hill. Outside the garage, in the open air, was a huge motorcycle parking lot. We stopped.
It turned out I went the wrong way at the roundabout, and this road didn't go through. Instead, it was a scenic spur; people drive up there to look at the glacier. That's right, from the sidewalk there, you can lean on the rail and look down at a huge glacier. And you can see marmosets, too.
The guys went off in search of a bathroom, and I waited with the bikes. While I was waiting, some older German guys came strolling along the sidewalk. They looked at my bike and exclaimed, then started talking to me in German. I smiled apologetically and asked if they spoke English? They didn't. But they gestured me over, and pointed. They had spotted a nail in my front tire.
Great. And I already knew that none of us had a proper tire kit. I really wished I had brought mine. I checked the air pressure in the tire, and it was still at 36psi, so at least it was holding. When the guys came back, we discussed it and decided that I would just have to ride it like that. When we got to Kulmbach, maybe someone would be able to help us there.
I took a turn to go find the bathrooms, and I took some pictures of some of the less familiar bikes in the parking area. Then we went on, back to the roundabout, where we took the other road and went over the pass. It was a very fun road, but man is there a lot of traffic up there! I saw a lot of motorcyclists squidding it up, but with the traffic, and with the nail in my front tire, I decided it was best to be a bit more sedate. I still passed a few other bikes, though not nearly as many as passed me.
Later, Robert and S and I speculated that perhaps many of those motorcyclists go up there, pay their entry fee, and just run up and down it all day.
We left Grossglockner behind, and were back on the local roads. I was starting to get the nods, so I talked the others into stopping for lunch. We ate in the dining room of a country inn, where they had many kinds of schnitzel. The menu was in German and the waitress had no English, so we ordered at random by pointing. Mine came with some kind of marinara sauce. It was pretty tasty.
Eventually we got back on the slab. I know the American riders love to talk about what it's like to go as fast as your little heart desires, over there on the autobahn, but frankly, once the novelty wears off, it's pretty boring, just like any slab riding. The most exciting thing about it, was knowing that I had a nail in my front tire.
Somewhere near Nurnberg, we got caught in a little pack of V-Stroms with Italian plates, at least six or eight of them, and we rode with them for a little while. But someone's GPS (don't recall if it was Robert or S at that point) led us off the highway, while the other Stroms continued on. It turned out to be another GPS city tour, not really necessary, but I didn't really mind. The group of unfamiliar riders we'd gotten mixed up with was pretty squirrelly and it was hard to ride with them. Bad enough to ride with that many when they're people you know.
We finally arrived in Kulmbach, just as it was starting to rain. We came off the slab and pulled into a bus stop for a quick discussion, and discovered that (dumbasses all) none of us had thought to print directions to the International V-Strom Meeting, or even write down the name of the hotel it was in. The guys were brainstorming what to do, when I saw a V-Strom coming the other way down the street. I waved wildly and flagged him down. Sure enough, he knew where it was, and he led us right there. Irene and Trond were there in the parking lot to welcome us. We were also welcomed by two English riders, Mark and Ian, who had come out to meet us there and ride back with us.
We got checked into our rooms, and registered, and settled in. There was only a short time left to have dinner, so we grabbed some quick grub, then I went out to the parking lot to photograph the bikes, in the waning evening light. It's not often that you see 200 or more Stroms in one place. Out in the parking lot I met Master Mike, he who makes the special modified spacers. He told me about a new improvement he's making, something about extra wheel bearings, but I couldn't really follow his description. Guess I'll wait for the diagrams to show up on the forum.
Soon, the guy who was organizing things (whose name I failed to write down and have since spaced) came out and asked me to come into the banquet room, I was needed for something. Ruh-roh. Went inside and sat down. There was a DJ playing music at appropriate volume for dancing, but Robert was the only one willing to dance. I think the room was a little too well lit for your average shy person to dance, at least without a lot more liquor. :-) Not long after that, the speeches started. In German. Foiled again by my lack of knowledge of other languages! Soon, they called me up to accept an award. I was the person who had traveled farthest to reach the event. They presented me with a banner, which was in English. Cool! Someone, I think Master Mike, started hollering for me to make a speech, but even when I know the language I'm public-speaking challenged. So I accepted a kiss on the cheek from the presenter, and smiled, and said thank you. They went along to hand out other awards and no one else made a speech, so I think I made the correct choice.
After the ceremonies, several of us went out and examined the nail in the front tire. The tire was still at 36psi, and I had learned that there was a shop 1/2 km away, where they could repair my tire or replace it if necessary. So we decided to pull the nail and find out if the tire would still hold air. I got out my leatherman and one of the guys daubed spit around the nail, and pulled on it, just a tiny bit. Air bubbled out. So much for that idea. We refrained from disturbing the nail any more, in hopes of keeping enough air in the tire, to ride it to the shop in the morning.
Ian and Mark had a nice twisty route mapped out, and S wanted to join them. Robert agreed to stay and accompany me to the shop, and then we'd slab it to Lille to meet them.
