Arruba is first and foremost a Ski town, all very steep slopes and zero pastures, the locals used to and geared up for long winters. While the skiers are absent, motorcyclists (and to a lesser degree,cyclists) take up the slack, with most hotels advertising that "Motor rad welkommin".
as for the cyclists - superman, riding 2500 up hill !! Minor technical issues with one of the bikes necessitated a brief stop at a dealership this morning - an opportunity for couple of our people to replace worn out boots & winter gloves for summer.
Our foray into today's mountains started with an 18% incline, (very steep), pretty much all the way to the Austrian / Slovenian border. Austrian border guards take no interest in anyone leaving the country, but if you're a refugee from Syria or Turkey looking to enter, you'd best be prepared to be disappointed. Ten minutes in Slovenia then saw us enter Italy, its Customs offices abandoned, unnecessary as refugees don't want to go there (no benefits) - perhaps a lesson there for the Germans! Many of the towns and villages we passed through today have a history of having their nationality changed depending on who had "conquered " them most recently. Arraba, our final destination was apparently part of Austria until the end of WWI, but is now proudly Italian. As we progressed the landscape gradually changed and became more "Italian", the villages and signs reflecting this, confirmed by siesta between 12 & 3pm when things were very quiet. I was surprised at the number of wide braided rivers we crossed, we could have been in Canterbury. Into the Dolomites, perhaps even more "aggressive" than Grossglockner the day before. At one drinks stop (€4.50 for a soft drink) we were treated to meeting two domesticated wolves - amazing. Our respective skill levels continue to increase markedly day by day, helped no doubt by the hundreds of tight corners to practice on. Having said that, failure to watch mirrors often means you miss the flash of a super bike approaching from behind and get a fright as it roars past, disappearing in seconds. The riders who travel from afar, and many travel a very long way typically have a very high skill level, and apparently accidents are fairly rare. From our magnificent lodgings at Hotel Evaldo we can hear big bikes at full roar in the distance, boys at play. Today we took the opportunity to cover a few quick kms on the Austrian Autobahn (having first paid €5.50 for a Vingt pass) - unfortunately the maximum speed perm The forecast for rain was a little pessimistic, although only by a whisker, so wet weather gear stayed in the saddlebags. Donna bullied her way through the early afternoon traffic, followed by a line of Harley and BMW ducklings, headed for the local Harley and BMW dealers - owned by the same people, conveniently located next door to each other. Alas, poor trading had forced both to fold since the last visit, but fortunately the Harley dealership has reopened under new ownership (complete with a Kiwi mechanic, married to a local girl, now resident for 10 years). As usual, I bought a T shirt I may never wear... Back into the traffic, gradually fighting our way into the mountains, move superlative riding ahead. Once free of the city, the houses and buildings all have the familiar design that has stood the test of time for 500 years, a sloped tile roof, wood and plaster construction, complete with geraniums and petunias in window boxes, not a hint of polystyrene or Hardiplank anywhere. Why change what works - something to be learnt! Virtually the only buildings showing any concession to modernity are the occasional supermarket or car dealerships - in fairness there were a few houses that had had architectural input in years gone by, but these were sadly dated carbuncles that really are an embarrassment to the landscape. The ride to Holzberg was another introduction to what lies ahead, the easy sweeping turns, long tunnels and local drivers - apparently we'll need to hone our skills as each of the above become more extreme day by day. A beautiful lake side town, marred only by aforementioned selfie sticks... We're back at the hotel, Alfresco dinner in the garden bar only a few minutes Salzburg turned on a bit of a dreary day, not too hot, but not raining (yet) either. The birth place of Mozart, and rather understandably the City of Salzburg milks it for all they can. As a consequnce of week of rain, the river through town is running high, fast and very dirty - not good news for river cruising. Like Paris, there are a number of bridges that join two sides of the city, although none nearly so grand. Also like Paris there is a tradition of expressing ones love for another by way of a padlock, preferably engraved (felt pen at a pinch), afixed to the sides of the only dedicated footbridge. There are obviously many people in love... We've come across waves of tourists from Asia and I wish it was me who invented the "selfie stick". This afternoon we're riding again, back to Salzburg tonight. A beer at the bar before heading to a renowned Greek restaurant for dinner - the courtesy umbrellas provided by Achat Hotel proved very worthwhile as the rain bucketed down. Normally I wouldn't be too fast to put my hand up for a Greek meal, out of ignorance more than anything, but tour leaders Graham & Donna really talked up this place, being very good friends of the owners. Over the next four hours we were treated to a feast of epic proportions, the food just out of this world. I have absolutely no doubt this meal (and restaurant) would romp into my all time top ten - quite an accolade. My companions were wisely reluctant to accept the customary ouzo upon leaving the restaurant, and the walk back to the hotel was just what we needed prior to hitting the sack. Prudence dictated wet weather gear be struggled into after loading the bikes, but the effort was not wasted as it rained off and on all day. Despite the rain we enjoyed riding and scenery that would again fit right at the top of my list - none of the featureless landscapes that New Zealand and the USA can often provide. Right from the out skirts of Munich you're into it - quaint villages, farm houses surrounded waist high with firewood cut and stacked ready for winter, the woods and rivers, endless. First stop for coffee at a small town beautiful in every respect other than a slight blip they'd prefer to forget during WWII when they supplied manpower to run the several Death Camps located near by. Today was a parade - after attending the local Church, the locals paraded through the town in their historic finery, bands playing and marching as the Germans do so well. The roads were busy, at least that side of it heading from whence we'd come. Hundreds of bikers on all sorts of magnificent machines, high powered sport bikes (Ducati's, BMWs, Moto Guzzi's and top end Japanese rocket-ships), and the more sedate cruisers (Harley's included) and even the odd outrageous side car outfits, all in motor cycle heaven in the Alps. I'll never again rave on about how great riding is in New Zealand - whilst frickken awesome, this really is another level. Lunch over the Austrian border in a small town famous for crystal, but to us it was somewhere to take pot luck off a menu - ended reasonably well. More rain and the occasional opportunity to see just how far the point of impact was if you went over the edge - a long way! Berechtsgarden maybe a name familiar to some, the village below Hitler's Eagles Lair - our final stop before final destination of Salzburg, and an opportunity for a hot chocolate with cream (the real deal, not out of a packet). Time for dinner. Don Munich has enjoyed the first 3 days of nice weather after 6 weeks of constant rain - things have been pretty nasty by all accounts. Donna, with Graham on the back, led us out of the hotel at 1230, destination a small cathedral town a couple of hours away. We're almost on the outskirts of Munich, and from here there is no urban sprawl - the transition from city to county is pronounced and immediate, and here after it is small towns and villages, perhaps as little as 1km apart (sometimes as much as 3-4km, but rarely more). Between these hamlets is either pasture, (a patch work of grass and crops, with no fences)or woodland. The roads are unbelievably good, both from a riders perspective, and their condition (NZ road builders should take note - zero pot holes). Having said that, the roads are usually quite narrow, with just enough room for two cars (or a Harley and one of the many big Claas or Duetz tractors) to pass head on. There are no berms, kerbing, and for the most part, no centre lines. Being the first fine weekend in ages, many local cyclists were making up for lost time - apparently it is considered poor form to bowl them over, and because every sharing the road was courteous, things seemed to work well. We arrived at our cathedral and as always were in aware of the effort and skill of the medieval craftsmen, not to mention the huge cost imposed on the poor locals... I have often made mention of the plinths and memorials found in every small town in new Zealand honouring those who paid the ultimate sacrifice, dying defending King & Country - there was a roll of honour in the entrance to this Church honouring the many young local boys who also paid a similar price. Lunch in a beer garden, wurst and sauerkraut, but unfortunately no beer whilst riding (and is was very hot, so the temptation was great), before moving on. As a fairly frequent traveller to Germany in years gone by I used to be able to get by in restaurants and shops, unfortunately, "use it or lose it" applies - bugger. One of the treats of the day was passing a string of teenage boys, all riding mopeds, wearing imitation WWII helmets, some texting as they went... We've just arrived back at the hotel having out run a big storm we saw brewing - I can hear it percolating as I write, but hopefully it will have passed by morning We've collected our bikes and are ready to head out in to the Barvarian countryside before leaving tomorrow. Sabrina's twin was at the Harley shop - I miss her! A couple of observations. Since leaving Frankfurt over a week ago, and until arriving in Munich yesterday, you could have counted the number of "non-European" faces we saw on one hand, and as previously mentioned, no sign of any riff raff at all. Since arriving back in Germany, that has changed, from the Chinese tour groups in the hotel, the multi cultural staff, and the drunks and seemingly homeless in a doorway near the local supermarket Brexit (and I have no views either way)- the people of the UK having voted, the media appear to be predicting doom and gloom, particularly when interviewing those who have been drinking deeply from the EU trough, the lovies, academics and bureaucrats. What started in the early 1970s as a Trade Bloc quickly fell victim to the socially enlightened as a means of incorporating their own agendas, freedom of immigration being the over riding fear that finally startled the British to act. Germany's Chancellor Merkell has appeared thin lipped and disapproving, knowing the burden on those few countries who actually contribute more than they receive has just increased significantly. The world waits to see what transpires. Don This is version 2 - having pressed the wrong button and deleted the past 30minutes efforts! Grrr The day started with engines rumbling into life at 5am, needing to cover quite a bit of distance back to our starting point in Dubrovnik. As is fairly common, the Port was jam packed with massive cruise liners, each catering to several thousand punters, in real contrast to the Apolon. Thankfully the ports we have visited over the last week are not able to handle anything much bigger than the 40 metre, 40 passenger vessels like ours. A final swim in sight of our destination, before lunch on board, a toast to our hard working crew, then off to the airport. Tour director Sasha had arranged a car, a new Mercedes with aircon that thankfully operated with Germanic efficiency - very hot. We arrived at the maze that is Munich Airport, and were met by Donna &Graham Beker, our hosts and tour leaders for the next few weeks. Having been in the business for well over 30 years, they really know their stuff, making light of what appears quite daunting. They laid on a fabulous welcome dinner, pork knuckle for me, schnitzel for Linda, with plenty of Munich beer on hand. Today we get our Harley's and I'm hanging out for it! Don |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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