Martigny to Bourg en Bresse (291 miles)

Last day of mountain passes. This time it starts with the Grand Bernardo from Switzerland back into Italy. This is a busy route so the road is wide but rather than taking the tunnel I opted for the mountain pass. This is another 2500m plus pass & is virtually empty. Nearing the peak you cross the border. Two cold looking Polizia nod to me from their patrol car as I pass. Visibility is down to a few feet as I’m now in the cloud level. Tiptoeing through the mist I’m trying to not to think of cliff edges when suddenly I’m through & see in front of me the valley below, the winding road disappearing into the distance – all overlooked by the distinctive peak of the Matterhorn. As I start the descent, a solitary building & a statue mark the way before I plummet back into the cloud. Onwards to Mont Blanc but again rather than opting for the tunnel headed for the Col de Petit – my last alpine pass. Great road & once again stunning views. Speed was restricted a bit by stretches of roadworks (with no road surface) but this didn’t stop it being memorable. I was joined by a styled up Italian on a white Street Triple (with stripes & end bar mirrors of course). Memorable. Stopped for fuel & got talking to a bloke from Colorado. “Just been on my annual bike trip to the mountains - but have you heard?”...err, what? “We’ve had the heaviest rain in living memory – it was a washout”. Ok. Now back in the tidiness of France I track the Rhone one last time. This time the river is much bigger and sits in a wide imposing river valley on its way to Lyon. I head further north ready to hit the motorway tomorrow. Sadly that marks the end of the mountain passes.

Oberalpass to Martigny (130 miles)

Opened the curtains at my mountain stopover to find a classic Swiss panorama – chalets nestled in the Rhone valley surrounded by high peaks. This is German speaking Switzerland & it feels unchanged from the picture postcard view. Set off & immediately find myself riding switchback after switchback. Navigating these at night is unsettling. In the bright sunlight of the morning, they’re a joy. The Oberalpass soon merged into the Furkapass with steep ascents followed by steep descents. The bike lapped it all up giving the impression it could do all this at twice the speed whilst I just settled into a rhythm. If you like bikes, you wait for moments like this. Arrived at my destination in Nandez only 16 hours late. The guys were simply amused by the previous night’s trail of texts from an hour late, to a few hours, to first thing the next day to mid morning. Needless to say, much cheese and alcohol has already been consumed. I tried to catch up. After some fine walking, cheese, meat & lager I left Sunday eve, the guys looked with bewilderment as I packed the bike - why would anyone choose to sit on a narrow pad squeezed between two bags for hour on hour? I left this question unanswered and headed off to Martingy at the top of the Grand Bernardo pass. That will be my first task in the morning – heading back into Italy. Getting off I looked at the total mileage - I have clocked over 1800 miles... so far.

Grossglockner to Oberalpass (366 miles)

Pushing the bike out from the garage (they really looked after me), it was drizzling & everywhere was damp. The Gros was obscured but I just put that down to its height. Plenty of blue sky around. Headed straight up the Gros & parked in a spiral multi-storey (for bikes). I was the only bike. In fact there was only me & one couple in a car keeping an eye on the glacier. That’s not quite true. There was briefly a group of Italians lados in five matching convertible R8s but they stayed long enough to take pictures of themselves & their cars. You do feel high up here. Despite the cloud you get the sense the mountain is in charge. I head off through the park – the roads are fantastic to ride but being wet caution is needed. Lumps & bumps tend to step the back wheel out. Still heading down, I’ll soon be out of the cloud - even saw a rainbow between the peaks – a good sign. No, quickly realised the weather is clearing from behind me & I’m heading into it. Light rain turned to heavy rain. Heavy rain turned to (what felt like) a mountain monsoon. Steams of water flowed over the road. I headed on out of the national park to Innsbruck. The trunk roads are slow so head off to the motorway – it’s a sea of spray as hundreds of artics from every nation fight it out for space. By mistake, I head off down the Brenner Pass to Italy. Not the plan but the weather improves. Temperatures jump up (2.5 degrees at the Gros – to 22 at border). That’s good BUT the bad news is I need to navigate through the German camper vans & Italian apple tractors again. After the drenching the frauleine is not loving life either. She indicates randomly – oddly always left as if to say “come on overtake you halfwit!” - & then puts the hazards on. I dig in & cover many new passes. As the day draws to a close, I decide to continue. The bike has good lights & I’m only inches (on the map) from my rendezvous point in Switzerland. Those inches are actually mountain passes though. Two things tell me this is not a wining idea. Firstly, the moutain roads are punctured by roadworks where the road surface disappears. In the dark you don’t know until the bike jumps off the tarmac & then you are rodeo riding. Secondly, coming around a bend I see signs to slow down. As I creep by I see a bike embedded in the crash barrier. Right time to stop.

Lake Como to the Grossglockner (291 miles)

Everything looks better in the morning & with the sun glimmering over Lake Coma I can finally see the appeal. It’s a beautiful lake skirted by majestic houses joined by narrow streets hugging the shoreline. Unfortunately, the demands of (our) modern motoring habit mean these narrow streets are now fed by carriageways & tunnels. So chaos ensues. Still a great lake. Sat eating break

fast listening to Americans discussing the merits of buying your clothes in Milano (“you must..”). Meanwhile I’m off to Stelvio pass. A wall of hairpins rising to 9000 ft. All’s well......until en route I overtake the umpteen wagon & suddenly find myself gliding to a halt with no power. No power means no (or little) brakes so glide is the word. Okkkayyy.. Starts right up again but I’m a tad wary. What do you need when are just about to descend the Stelvio - brakes, engine breaking, confidence? After miles of nursing fraulein my confidence grows infintessably. The rest will have to look after itself. Bang, bang, clonk, hail Mary, I’m coming through. Bike is protesting (but not stopping), I’m not trying to think too much (whilst re-finding my back brake). But I am but an earthworm compared to the cyclists making the climb up. Next to the Grossglockner (Austria’s highest peak – 12 & half thou feet). Slow progress through the Dolomites. Endless lines of (mainly) German camper vans & wheel barrow sized tractors pulling trailers of apples. I have lost feeling in too many parts of my body. Getting off the bike in Austria to fill up I get a glimpse of a Gollum like character. Picture this as I arrive at a picturesque Alpine chalet greeted by two girls dressed in traditional, “the hills are alive” gear. Comedy.

Mulhouse to Lake Como (378 miles)

In front of me is a wall of mountains. I am travelling past Bern to Interlaken & the Alps dominant the horizon. Travelling from France into Switzerland – by this route anyway - is not such a contrast as the Alpine landscapes have gradually been taking over as I travelled through eastern France. But there is a different feel. The Swiss have a quiet orderliness about them giving you the impression everything is in the right place – or if it isn’t it will be very shortly. Logs cut & stacked in precisely equal lengths, everything spotless (even the cattle!) & a road network second to none which makes no concessions to them mountains. If you ever find yourself in a POW camp, before you start tunnel 1 (that’s Tom), check there isn’t a Swiss man on site. These people know about tunnels. But just when you think the Swiss have everything covered you hit the first of the passes – Grimsel. Enter the German storm trooper bikers. Large ruddy faced bearded fellas with open faced helmets, fat bikes & fatter waistlines. Not 1 or 2. Hundreds of them sliding their lederhosens on hairpin bends whilst overtaking elderly Swiss couples in deerstalker hats. Meanwhile, I’m trying not to get sensory overload as hairpin number 83 catches me out as I strain to see if that was a buzzard or a red kite. By the time I got to the next pass of the day (Simplon) I am cornered out & stop for more coffee (good but France has the market covered). Bike has been skipping & growling happily content in the knowledge that I am not worthy. For me, the contrast is much greater when you enter Italy. In a word, it’s chaotic. By the time I got off the Milan road & into downtown Como I had been through endless roadwork’s, diversions, near misses & new levels of random driving (it’s probably more evident due to contrast with the Swiss). The landscape is similar but the people couldn’t be more different. Roll into the hotel late as my satnav said no.

St. Dizier to Mulhouse (162 miles)

What happens when you upset a formidable fraulein? Answer - she growls. My first taste of mountain life and she's not happy. I've headed towards the German/Swiss border - towards the Rhine. The Vosges is a taster of what is to come. Mountainous but not the Alps. I was heading for the Grand Ballon via the "des Cretes" route. Day started differently. No more motorways. Just rural France with the shuttered windows, farm traffic and the old men - always watching. The morning dew was so heavy the sun couldn't budge it. Felt like I was travelling in the cloud line. Bright sun followed by thick wet fog followed by bright sun punctuated by excellent coffee. On hitting the mountains I selected sport mode, gritted my teeth & dug in. As I ascended, I had the first taste of the Germanic growl. A 90 degree corner, brake, drop a gear, accelerate. "GRRRRRRRRRRR - you're slow pig dog Englander!” Next take a 180 degree hairpin in 2nd and hit the throttle. "GRRRRRRRR - where's ya balls!" shouts angry fraulein & proceeds to nearly tear my arms off. My rodeo ride is made complete by spectacular landscapes - the road spirals through dark canopies to mountain top ski lifts in bright sunshine to beautifully secluded lakes. . Downhill was even more fun. Note to diary -when dealing with angry frauleins don't try and stop them. Now at hotel. Arriving just after me was a Scottish group. What did they arrive in? A Magnum style Ferrari, an old skool Mini Cooper & a 1.8GLX Ford Sierra. True Scots.

Oakamoor to St Dizier (352 miles)

There's something very satisfying about carving through lines of commuter traffic en route (note the french) to pastures new. We all know the British love a queue but this is ridiculous - M1 northbound crash (two spikey haired gob shites in hatchback shitemobiles squaring off) but I'm travelling south - what is this a cicrus? A14/ M11 junction static.I filter through. Blonde in convertible Merecedes thinks I'm above all this....don't know what the question is but the answer is change lanes - & now.I breathed in. Hail Mary I'm through. So many angry people & nobheads no wonder we won the war - my mistake that was the amercians. Arrive at the tunnel in plenty of time. Guy on new Triumph Explorer with every conceivable extra on arrives shortly after (even a bleedin' heated seat). "Are you sure you've spent enough on that bike ?" Its a company bike and I'm off to the boat show in St.Tropaz." Right. When travelling though northern France do you think about CAP? The Common Agiculural Policy is paid for by all EU countries but some benefit more than others. From the road, northern France is an extremely tidy agricultural desert. Big fields, big machines, bid subsides. Still the roads are good. My german fraulein enjoys it but needs reigning in a bit. Do you like german women ? If you do, you'll like this bike. A bit odd looking but capable of superhuman powers (Steffi Graff?). I currently have a bad back from lifting said fraulein onto her main stand. Formidable, scary at times and heavier than you think. Yes, I could take this analogy further.

Oakamoor

What to do when you've just bought a large lump of germanic engineering off EBay (a BMW K1200R) and have a (sort of ..) pass to leave the spreadsheets & mowing duties aside. Obviously you head to the Glossglockner. Preparations have been a bit patchy but good news is the bike's packed, tunnel booked & this morning's hangover feels a long time ago. Even the nagging doubts about what you've forgotten are starting - always a healthy sign. Need to be at Folkestone for 11.50AM tomorrow. No problem. Its only Monday morning at rush hour on the M25. Shoud be a breeze. Now time for a pint.