Oz Warren

The Trip Down

The end of October/beginning of November probably doesn’t seem like a sensible time to set off across France, Belgium and Germany on a motorcycle to ride the ‘ring’. In fact, being a little worried about the possibility of very low temperatures, I decided to fit a set of Oxford Hotgrips to the Sprint to keep my fingers warm. That turned out to be an inspired decision and my fingers stayed toasty with only a set of summer waterproof gloves for the whole trip. Nick, Simon and I were the only three representatives from Bristol Advanced Motorcyclists (BAM) that chose to accept Thames Vale Advanced Motorcyclists’ (TVAM) kind offer to join 132 other bikers on an exclusive bike-only day at the Nordschleife. 

The TVAM package included travel under the Channel on Eurostar and that meant an early start on Saturday morning, so the three of us decided to make the wet, four hour cross-country trip to Kent on the night before departure, staying at a Travelodge in Ashford. It was there that we discovered the joys of the Pizza-Hut-with-little-food-or-beer.

Because of the volume booking, travel onto the train included priority lanes and dedicated check-in desks. All we needed to do was display our TVAM guest member badges and we were waved through to the assembly point. Everything operated like a well-planned continental invasion. We had already planned to meet up with Keith Yallop and Nick Houlton, who had kindly offered to arrange for people staying at The Blau Ecke and Zurburgring hotels to travel together. After a fast and smooth journey, we stopped ahttp://goo.gl/maps/CZJnt the first services outside the Eurotunnel terminal to group up and prepare to ride down to Germany. Keith gave a quick briefing describing the 'buddy' system that we would be using (keep the person behind you in sight) and then we set off. Belgium was the wettest section of the journey. A fairly heavy persistent rainfall gave me something to remember the country by. Its other noticeable trait was a proliferation of potholes. Crossing the border was like passing through some unseen dimensional field that took us to a place where it appears that shovels are mysteriously absent. My other lasting memory of Belgium is chips. That, and demolished service cafes.

The remainder of the journey along the wet and dreary motorways was more than a little boring, but uneventful. We arrived at Adenau and traversed the cold, wet, slippery cobbles to ride through a tunnel through the hotel (part of it built in 1578) to the gravel courtyard at the rear. After several hours of cooling, it was a relief to unload the bike and check in. Brunhilda, manning the reception desk, had all of our paperwork ready in advance. Her sturdy, stern exterior hid a heart of stone, but also served as a bouncer-like container for pure, ruthless German efficiency.  

Sunday Travels

Sunday was a free day, so we took up Keith's offer of a group ride around the region. Did you know that the Germans hide roads? No, I didn't either until we tried following roads that disappeared into gravel. I was beginning to suspect collusion with the Belgian cafe removers. Sat navs are, thankfully, flexible if their owner knows the right buttons to press. The countryside in that part of the world is lovely and the autumnal colouring of the trees made for some pretty scenes.

Our lunch stop was to be at Cochem, a pretty town next to the Mosel river. As we approached alongside the river, two rowers appeared from the low mist that blanketed the river, illuminated from behind by the winter sun. A theme to be repeated again in a similar way on track. 

We rode into town and after a quick loop, stopped at the town square. This is biker territory, so it wasn't surprising to be joining dozens of other bikes in the pretty, cobbled square.  The weather was pleasant enough to sit outside and eat, but as the afternoon drew on, the air felt cooler and I was glad of my layers of motorcycle kit. 

When we arrived back at the hotel, we again welcomed the opportunity to change and warm up, preparing for the evening.

Monday on Track

Monday was the day of the main event. An early start was required in order to get to the track by 8:00am for allocation to groups and a safety briefing. More excellently well-lubricated organisation mean that the whole process went as smooth as silk. The format of the day was to be eight bikes to a ring guide, with no overtaking and a focus on learning.

There had been a lot of demand for certain groups, so I had been bumped up from the intermediate group that I had wanted, to one of the two advanced groups. Our instructor, sorry...guide, Chris did an excellent job of reassuring everyone and fortunately, this group turned out to be perfect in terms of pace. Considering this was a November day in the Eifel mountains, the weather was ideal. Although misty to start, the sun gradually burned that off as the day went on, as well as drying the wet track (probably aided by 135 bikes as well). I have an enduring image of two bikes ahead of me disappearing into the mist ahead as the sun illuminated the scene from behind (sound familiar?). Things were very slimy and slippery in the morning. Some injudicious use of the throttle led to some slides from the rear and it wasn't until there was a dry line that I was confident enough to hammer the twistgrip. By the afternoon though, we were making some serious progress, to the extent that the Avon Storm 2 tyres were starting to get a little 'frisky'.

I think the most important thing to say about the day was that after 135 bikes completing hundreds of miles each (OK two broke down), there was not one single accident. How good is that? 

Coming Down

Monday night was a fun meal at one of the Chinese restaurants in Adenau. The people from The Blau Ecke and the Zurburg got together for a great evening of tall tales, beer and deep-fried everything.

The three BAM musketeers left at 8:00am on Tuesday in our quest to take a scenic route home. The weather was good, we were allowed on an early train and I finally rolled onto my driveway at 7:30pm tired, but thoroughly satisfied.