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My friend John once said, "The best way to travel is on two wheels", citing what all serious motorcycle enthusiasts know.

Having done so throughout eastern North America on a number of bikes I've owned over the years, the armchair traveler in me one day happened upon John Hermann's Motorcycle Journeys Through the Alps and Beyond.
Since 1975, Mr. Hermann has traveled extensively throughout the European Alps, compiling notes and observations into his marvelously illustrated and captivating book of suggested routes, broken down into a number of regions.  Known as the King of the Alps, he opens in his book . . . 

The Alps arc across Europe from Austria to the Mediterranean, cutting off Italy's boot from the rest of the continent.  How to get across them?  Ancients hacked through gorges and hung roads on mountainsides, finally reaching a pass into the next valley.  They must have agonized over which pass to risk, how to carry supplies for a long journey, how to trade with natives, how to defend against bad guys.  Ultimately, roads were built for wars and trade.  Lots of roads.
Now, all those roads make a motorcycle play ground.  Spectacular roads.  One after another. Scenic overload.  Worth a special journey indeed.




The south slopes of the Alps speak Italian, drink cappacino, east pasta at ristoranties and ice cream at gelaterias.  They drive Fiats and Ducatis with skill on an amazing maze of mountain roads.  They call a road over the mountains a "passo."
The westerly slopes speak French, drin vin, eat French Fries and French bread and glace at restaurants with french doors, and drive Citroens and Renaults (say wren oh) over some of the highest roads in the Alps.  They call a road over the mountain a "col."
The north and east slopes of the Alps speak German, be they Austrian, Swiss, or Bavarian.  They drink beer, eat Wiener Schnitzel (bread cutlet), Eis  (say ice), at Gasthofs.  They drive BMWs, and Mercedes very seriously on spectacular roads.  They call a road over the mountain a "pass."


I was hooked.  I wanted to see all these Alpine regions by motorcycle.
After careful thought and planning, I was resolved to make this once-in-a-lifetime adventure for June 2012.
My plan was to set off from Frankfurt, Germany with a rental bike and head south to Switzerland.  From there I would travel eastward through northern Italy, Austria and back into Germany by way of Bavaria, among the world's most spectacular scenery along the highest roads, the most daunting passes and scenic mountain valleys.


Also aided by Toby Ballantine's equally detailed Motorcycle Journeys Through Western Europe, I will continue my trip by exploring the Mosel and Rhine river valleys of Germany, the country of my parents' birth.  My last visit was in 1991, so I plan to visit with family and take in a few sites from before.

Sat 2 - Mon 4 June

Checking in Saturday afternoon at the airport in Toronto, my money belt is well hidden.




One last medium-regular of Timmies' finest for the next three weeks!

Arriving in Frankfurt Sunday morning, I am met by my cousin Rene, here with wife Karin. . .


























. . and greeted at their home in the town of Dreieich by their kids Felix and Valeri, and Sam!



Later in the day we have dinner at the Glaabsbräu brewery in the nearby town of Seligenstadt.



AND THE BEER!  OMIGAWD, THE BEER!

As I would soon discover to my utmost enjoyment, most small towns and cities have their own breweries, each with their own specialties and tastes that cater to the local region.  I plan to take in as many as possible!

But I think Glaabsbräu's '1774', brewed to commemorate the year of the brewery's founding, would be my favourite.  Sure wish we could get it at home.

Enjoying dinner with Valeri, Felix's girlfriend Jenny, and Felix.

It's great to see Felix again after he came to visit my home in 2009.

Niagara Falls, '09






                                                                                                 



                                                                                                                       Felix's special lady, Jenny.
Back home with Rene, Valeri and Felix.

A bit more siteseeing was in order the next day, Monday, in Dreichenhain, one of five villages that make up the town of Dreieich . . .









. . . with a stop at the delightful Eis Cafè St. Bernhard.
I can tell I won't be losing weight on this trip!
Then it's off to Frankfurt in the evening.


Frankfurt Opera House




A nightcap at the Klosterhof restaurant.


Prosit !







Tue 5 June

The day of days has arrived to pick up my motorcycle in Frankfurt at Allround Motorcycle Renting Germany (Allround Vermietung).
This huge facility has a great stock of bikes of all types and sizes for rent and sale with their in-house service department.



Here it is, my ride for the next two weeks!
BMW K1300GT

                                                                                                                                                                                         













Owner Peter Meisel was great to deal with, helpful to answer all my questions and always quick to respond to my emails from home while planning my trip.  His service people even installed my GPS I brought from home.  Here he shows me the warp speed button!

A stop at my first German McDonald's for lunch while I gathered my initial impressions of the bike.

Being my first time on a sports tourer, my first thought when I got the bike up to speed on the highway was how small it seemed underneath me compared to my GL1800 Goldwing and how exposed I was to the elements without the Wing's larger front end fairing.  I also realized I would be viewing Europe through my face shield for the entire trip because of the increased wind in my face even with the smaller windscreen fully raised, and with it more noise for which earplugs will be needed.
Typically for this type of motorcycle, I lean more forward with increased pressure on my hands and wrists while my legs are tucked up tighter feeling more cramped with my 6'2" frame.  With a stiffer suspension than I am used to and a harder seat, time will tell if the bike's ergonomics becomes taxing during a full day's ride.
Yet it feels so light and agile to throw around in the corners along with the best brakes I have ever experienced.  And quick?  A small blip on the throttle and it jumps to hyper-drive before getting anywhere close to red-lining it.  I know I'm gonna have fun with this thing in the mountains!
Lemme on the Autobahn!!

A short clip of the K1300GT on Youtube
 K1300GT

Afterwards, I make my way back to Rene's to meet up with his friend Marcel.




A splendid chap with a quick humourous wit, Marcel leads me on a 190 km. ride through the southern Hessen countryside and Odenwald region on his new wickedly fast K1300S to allow me the chance to further feel out my new ride.


A short clip of the K1300S on Youtube

We head south, stopping for a bite to eat in Michelstadt.
The iconic and very striking partially stilted, timber framed Old Town Hall dates back to 1484.




We lunch at Cafe Siefert, operated by world champion pastry chef Bernd Siefert.  The building has been in the Siefert family since its construction in 1793 and has served as a store, brewery, post office and farm before Bernd's father converted it into its present form to become one of the most prestigious pastry shops in Germany.

Making our way home, my thanks to Marcel for a great day of riding and hospitality.
  I hope our paths will cross again someday.

Wed 6 June 
tripday 1
So it begins.
My first day on the road will take me from Frankfurt to Andermatt, Switzerland in 10 hours and 
530 km.

(Note - After first presenting this blog in January 2013, Google has since upgraded their mapping system that to my great consternation has not allowed me to precisely plot my routes as exact as the previous version.  
I have upgraded the maps as best as it will allow me, however in a few cases it does not represent every feature that I came across such as the magnificent Stelvio Pass.  But one can still get a good idea of the regions I travelled, nonetheless.)


Heading out this morning at 1030a in the rain, I am southbound on the A5 cruising at a comfortable 140 kph marvelling at the cars passing me on the left at high speed on the unrestricted Autobahn.  I decide to give it a try getting it up to 170 kph before backing off.
Now this is the way travel should be!

After awhile, I pull into the Serways service centre near the city of Baden-Baden.







This chain of service centres scattered throughout Germany is the most colourfully inviting, well-stocked, gastronomical motorists' stop I have ever seen.  All manner of hot and cold buffets are offered along with every need for the traveller.  
Even a small lounge to enjoy a beer or glass of wine available for purchase right off the shelf.  At a highway rest stop, of all places!  In my mind, this speaks volumes to the maturity of liquor consumption laws throughout Europe (and in much of the United States, too), unlike my paternal province of Ontario where the purchase of beer and spirits is heavily restricted.

Decked out in my rain gear, I push on and make a short detour off the highway to . . 


  . . Freiburg, one of many places I wish I had more time to stop and explore.

South on the A5


After Freiburg, the A5 joins the Rhine River bordering with neighbouring France.
before deciding to cross over if only to say I've been there.

As within most of the European Union, they only indication you are entering another country is a non-descript road sign, unencumbered by onerous entry points going to and leaving the U.S. staffed by surly, over-bearing border agents.
God bless the EU !

I take the hwy 22 exit and continue along the French side of the Rhine . .

. . through the town of Ottmarsheim . .


 . . and Saint Louis to the Swiss border and the city of Basel.
Again, no border check.  Just drive on through!

What a marvelous city Basel is!
  Like every great city in Europe, it is rich history and culture, architecture, beautiful sights and enchanting landscape.  Another place I could linger for days.  <sigh>
Pictured here is the Spalen Gate, one of three entrances formed part of the fortifications dating back to the 1400s that surrounded the old town.

After Basel time is becoming important to make my destination by nightfall as I get on the A2, when I soon encounter the most dramatic change of landscape of beautiful green Alpine valleys and forested hills, along with my first encounter of seemingly countless tunnels of all lengths and sizes throughout Europe.

The longest tunnel I would travel through stretched a numbing nineteen kilometers.

Past Lucerne I catch my first jaw-dropping glimpse of the mighty, snow-streaked Alps!


The further into the mountains I went the more awestruck I became at the majesty unfolding before me!
The sign lists Andermatt as my destination and the available open mountain passes, save Susten Pass still closed in June!  

Wanting to get on my first mountain road, I get off the A2 at Erstfeld onto Gotthardstr. (Gotthard road) and continue south.


 Absolutely spectacular!
What a heady experience!  An absolute joy to the senses, an almost incomprehensible feeling after months of dreaming and planning that I am really here!
Words and pictures cannot describe the sheer magnitude of the towering landscaping unfolding around me!

The Schöllenen Gorge where, though I didn't come across it, carved in granite is a monument to the Russian army that battled Napoleon here in 1799.


By 830pm, I arrive in the town of Andermatt . .





. . and the Hotel Sonne.


This striking hotel is a multi-storied log building in the center of town with a front door that opens onto the cobble-stoned street; very Swiss and very cosy.

In his book, John Hermann speaks of Andermatt for centuries as the . .

  . . crossroads of the Alps, Italy to the south, France to the west, Germany to the north, Austria to the east.

Describing four of the most spectacular mountain passes in all of Europe nearby, his book flows from here.

Such a great location to begin my journey, this was my only pre-arranged stop on the trip in which I made reservations in advance.




My room for the next two nights.
Even a garage for my bike!




First thing's first, of course, as my amiable waiter creates a masterpiece!



Dinner is Rahmschnitzel (rahm is the Swiss dialect for the German word sanne, or cream sauce), buttered noodles and veggies.

Washed down with Erdinger dark beer and capped with a sundae and coffee.

Heavenly!
There goes the diet!      


The owner of the hotel, whose name I forgot, was everywhere as she hovered over the place like a hawk.




Thurs 7 June 
tripday 2

Today I will ascend into the mountains for the first time taking in the Gotthard, Nufenen, Grimsel and Brunig passes for 383 km. in 11 3/4 hours.



In his book, Toby Ballentine's  choice of best twisties on the planet . .

Hands down goes to Switzerland.  The roads through the Swiss Alps twist and turn relentlessly - first going up and then going down.  You will need to buy new pegs after you finish up this trip.


Sunshine greets me this morning as I set off by 930a, heading northward on Gotthardstr.

 Biker heaven back through the Schöllenen Gorge . .

  . .to Göschenen, then turn westward onto the remote Göschenenalpstr. (alpine road) . .

. . where the deer and the antelope (and the sheep) play.


The road ends at this restaurant on the edge of Göschenenalpsee (alpine lake) via a fifteen minute hike which I didn't care to make.

I double back past Andermatt where I turn south towards the Gotthard Pass in the village of Hospental.








Two of many sturdy cyclists I would see testing their stamina climbing these great mountains.








My first encounter with snow.
Gonna be lots of that!










At Gotthard Pass, elev. 2106 meters, hosting the Albergo San Gottardo hotel, a restaurant and souvenir shops.  In fact, many passes throughout Europe have such rest stops high upon the mountain top.
Close to the Italian border, this region of Switzerland is primarily Italian in practice.

The rolling fog obscures what must be the most spendid views from high above.




This monument commemorates the first crossing by air of the pass in 1928.



My first glimpse of this bulbous-looking tour bus high in the mountains.

I took special interest in watching these 45 ft. behemoths negotiate the steeply twisting hairpin roads as I, too, drive highway coaches.










Making my down to Airolo, viewed from above.








Then it's back up the mountainside . . 



 . . Nufenen Pass, 2478 m.




A very busy and welcome stop at the summit at the Restaurant Neufenen Passhohe.



The view from above as I make my way down into the Goms valley . . 

. . and picturesque Oberwald.

To the Grimsel Pass.

 Looking down at the awesome switchbacks that snake from the village of Gletsch.



















Taking a break atop Grimsel Pass,  2164 m, at the Berghotel Restaurant Grimselblick.






Back down in the valley I am once again greeted by warm sunshine as I make my way to Interlaken along the beautiful Brienzsee (Brienz Lake) for Lauterbrunnen and Grindelwald.











Staubach Falls
Quoting from John Hermann's book . .

There's a dead-end valley 12 kilometres south of Interlaken so breathtakingly beautiful, such a joy to behold, that it's worth a detour.  It's called Lauterbrunnen, valley of the waterfalls.  The valley is narrower than Yosemite, and has at least as many waterfalls.

A few kilometers away is the touristy village of Grindelwald.










Stopping for lunch.






Nearby is the Eiger, the mountain made famous in the Clint Eastwood movie 'The Eiger Sanction.'

Another great form of travel throughout Europe.



By 600pm, time is running short and it's time to get back to the hotel as I don't relish having to negotiate the mountains after dark, returning by way of the Susten Pass.
Twenty five kilometers later on the Sustenstr. east of Innertkirchen, I remember that the pass is closed as the weather begins to turn ugly with ominous clouds closing in and high winds.  To my consternation I have to turn around and go back
 A quick look on the map suggests that the shortest route to Andermatt is via the Furka Pass, also one of my intended passes to see, east of Gletsch.  I enter the way on my GPS for the estimated time to reach home base, but am surprised when it picks a much longer clockwise routing westerly back to Brienzwiler, then northward through the Brunig Pass and onward where I pick up the A2 before Lucerne and back down to Andermatt, much the same way I took when I first arrived.

Makes sense to me as most of it is highway, so I set off battling the high winds and spotty showers to arrive at the hotel by 915p just before the heavens opened up!


Fri 8 June 
tripday 3

Today I say goodbye to Andermatt and begin my eastern trek along the spine of the Alps in which I cover 225 km. in 6 1/2 hours this day in crossing the Oberalp, Lukmanier, San Bernadino and Splugen passes to Campodolcino, Italy.


View Larger Map

I set out this morning at 930a under dark overcast skies after a night of rain east on 19 towards the Oberalp Pass.

A picturesque view looking back on Andermatt as I make my way out of town.
I hope I will return someday.

Oberalp train station

 Oberalp Pass 2046 m

 Restaurant Piz Calmot atop the Oberalp Pass

In Disentis, the monastery, founded in the 8th century by the Benedictine monks overlooks the city
Here I turn south towards Lukmanier Pass.

I am captivated by a lone church bell in the tiny village of Platta that adds to the serenity of the valley.

** Platta church bell **

    The Biasca valley cuts deep into the Alps.


 Near Lukmanier Pass, 1925 m, under dark skies.
No sunshine again for me today.


I soon pick up the A2 as I continue south, then east on A13 crossing the Meola River near Grono.





Like the Serways service centres, many stand-alone gas stations are equally equipped to serve the needs of the traveler, such as this inviting Esso near San Bernadino.



A great ciabatta sandwich loaded with tomatoes and a think hunk of melted provolone cheese!




Leaving the main highway for the San Bernadino Pass.


Looks almost like a go-kart track.

Cheers, mate!

Once again, thick fog obcures what must be some great views into the valley, nor could I make out a small lake a only a few feet on either side of me along a causeway I crossed over.
Awesome twisties here to test my riding skills if they weren't so rain-sodden.

I rejoin the A13 to make some time for the town of Splügen and the Splügen Pass.


The landscape is stark and desolate as the roadway climbs to 2118 m.



 Along the pass I reach the Italian border by 300pm at which the sign advises the use tire chains when it isn't closed in winter.
With only a few feet of visibility, the dense fog hinders any fun I would have had on twisties like this as I go no faster than 2nd gear on the way down.  Even more exasperating was the fog that managed to fill the inside of dark tunnels.












By 430p I am bagged from a full day of battling the elements as I find Bar Dany Restaurant and Hotel in Campodolcino.  I would have preferred to carry on for another two hours but I wanted to be fresh to take on Stelvio Pass tomorrow.

My English and German did not mesh with my gracious hostess' Italian so communication was a problem, but she served up a great pizza and beer.


The room was the most spartan of the trip but it did come with a bidet!








Unpacking, I discover I am missing my AC plug converter.  Damn!  Without it I can't recharge my camera and cellphone.  Must have left it behind in Andermatt.  A look at the map confirms that I can probably pick one up tomorrow in St. Moritz.

Sat 9 June 
tripday 4


On to the world-famous Stelvio Pass, as well as Maloja, Umbrail and Gampen, logging 268 km. in 10 1/2 hrs. this day from Campodolcino to San Felice.



Leaving this morning 700am under overcast skies after a night of rain, 
I will see showers all day long.

I head south through forested valleys on lesser maintained hairpin roads and narrow streets that pass through quaint Italian villages.







      Crossing back into Switzerland.








Climbing the terraced Maloja Pass

 The view at 1815 m.






Entering the beautiful city of St. Moritz, one of the world's great ski destinations where I managed to pick up an AC power convertor.









I spot my first GoldWing whizzing by!











 I stop at for lunch at 130pm at the Hotel Stelvio in Saint Marie Val Müstair.

I dig into a wurst salad and a Radler, a refeshing lemon-flavoured beer.




Enchanting church bells ring out nearby!


 
Turn right for Stelvio


Very stark and desolate climbing Umbrail Pass, the highest in Switzerland at 2501 m.

 Crossing back into Italia, the Umbrail continues for a few more kilometres where it joins . . 

 . . the road climbing up the west side of the mountain to Stelvio Pass.

Stelvio Pass, 2757 m, the second highest mountain pass in the Alps.

 At the summit, I am surprised to find the place cluttered with shops, restaurants and bars. It's almost like a small village up here!
It must be a great place to hang out in the summer when the place is jammed with cars, motorcycles and bicyclists. 

The steep view from the top . . 

 . . and my way down the east side of the mountain!

I scanned this from a postcard for a better view of the road that clings to the side of the mountain.
Why can't I have this kind of sunshine ?!

Stelvio is regarded by motorists as among the most challenging roads in the world with 60 hairpins.
I said motorists.  What must it be like on a motorcycle?

Many of these switchbacks have a zero radius where every vehicle including motorcycles need the entire width of the road to make the bend.  So you better be looking as far ahead as your line of sight allows for oncoming vehicles.  Certainly no place for new riders without the experienced use of brake, clutch and throttle.  I saw two guys drop their bikes this way.  The wet roads didn't help either, so progress going down was slow.

Emerging unscathed, I turned east on SS38, a high-speed two lane road that took me through the most stunningly beautiful wide valley dotted with small villages, farmsteads and lush meadows as the sun finally appeared in a bright blue, billowy sky.  I wish I had stopped for a couple of pictures along the way.

Forty kilometers down this blissful road, I turned south at Merano for the Gampen Pass and the village of San Felice where by 530 pm I found the . . 


 . . the Pension Greti hotel, one of a number of accomodations throughout Europe belonging to the Motourrad chain of hotels catering to motorcyclists.
I briefly got locked inside the cavernous underground garage while parking my bike!

Here I join up with this grand group here for the weekend from Ulm, Germany.
They are Sharon, Lothar, Klemens, Rainer, Roland and Stephan.

Salut!

 Dinner was parsley-flecked, bacon-bits dumplings in butter sauce.  It doesn't look like much but it was filling!



Frau Koffler, our host, whose family owns the hotel.

 Frau Koffler's niece who regaled me about her recent trip to Vancouver.

Should I have made the bed first?


Sun 10 June 
tripday 5

Seven and one-half hours and 242 km. will take me from San Felice to Heiligenblut, Austria.


Woke up to more rain this morning.
After breakfast, I said goodbye to my new friends and set off at 900am.

A few kilometres down the road I stopped in the town of Caraveno to fix my tightly packed trunk lid that popped open.
Suddenly, the sun burst forth!  
I lingered to watch the people take in the fine Sunday morn as they stopped to chat with friends in front of the small coffee shop with an espresso in their hand or emerge from the little shop with a newspaper, perhaps a car or two roll by with a family on their way to Mass.
How idyllic it seemed this morning.


Along the Mendel Pass that plunges deep into the valley that I couldn't make out for all the thick fog once more.


The city of Bolzano.

Traffic builds on the northbound A22 toward the Brenner Pass though the famous gateway between north and south Europe, fought over for centuries is still miles away.
Thankfully, I won't be passing through as I turn east on E22  . .



. . to take in more splendid scenery as the rain continues off and on.


A roadside World War I monument with the names of Italian soldiers from the area who never returned.


Watching this Fiat roll in, I think I would do Europe in of these if not by motorcycle.


Arrivederci, Italia.


Wilkommen nach Österreich!

Time for another vignette, or windshield highway-toll sticker.
The top is Austria, bottom is Switzerland.

Past Lienz . .

 . . northward on the Grossglockner Hochalpenstrassen (high alpine road) on my way to Heiligenblut.


 At 430pm I arrive in Heiligenblut and its iconic church, magnificently situated in the Möll Valley.
                                             




I check in to the Landhotel Post with delightful Kristina.











 My room with a gorgeous view.











With a some time before dinner, I stroll the village.

The Landernl bar.

















The Church of St. Vincent, completed in 1491 and its very ornate gravesites.

From the Michelin travel website  . .

The monks of Admont built this church in a grandiose setting in the 15th century to perpetuate their devotion to a relic of the Holy Blood (Heilig Blut) which is said to have been brought here in the 10th century by Briccius, an officer of Byzantium's Imperial Court, now lying in the crypt.  The Gothic chancel and nave are both covered with network and star vaulting.  Outstanding furnishings include the high-altar's great altarpiece and a pale-sandstone Gothic canopy.



 Another bus piques my interest.











Back to the hotel where I dig into a great wiener schnitzel and potatoes.



Mon 11 June 
tripday 6


Today I will make my way up the Grossglockner and continue on to Inzell, Germany for 275 km. in 8 1/2 hours


View Larger Map

After a sumptious buffet breakfast . . 








. .  I depart for the Grossglockner and one last picture-postcard view.












Up the Grossglockner Hochalpenstrasse and the fabulous view from high above!

More from John Hermann's book . . 

The Grossglockner Hochalpenstrasse, the Grossglockner for short, is one of the major play roads of the Alps.  In crossing the highest spine of the Asutrian Alps, it combines every test of driving skill: haripins, sweepers, jig-jags, cobblestones, steep descents, narrow ledges, sometimes ice and snow and hanging clouds of fog, along with spectacular views and plenty of restaurants.  It's only a half-day's drive from Munich and the big cities of northern Italy, and even less from Salzburg, so it is a testing spot for the latest machines and visiting drivers.

Yet, it is a private toll-collecting road.







Stopping at Krimml Falls, the wayside marker describes the healing effect of waterfalls "that enrich the air of negatively loaded ions that lead to a lung-purifying effect and influence our nervous system."









View from the Alpincenter Glocknerhaus a few kilometers from the main road.




. . and the Kaiser Franz Joseph Halle hotels and restaurant.


 No guardrail to save you!



At the Hochtor (high gate), the highest point on the road at 2504 m.





My GPS shows me at 2516 m above sea level while the bike's display indicates a temp. of only 1.5 degrees Celsius, or 33 degress Fahrenheit as the snowflake warns me of freezing conditions.







The snow is clearly visible before the 311m tunnel.

The Grossglockner mountain, the highest peak in Austria at 3798 m. is out there somewhere.  I can only imagine the view I am missing.

More hearty souls braving the elements.

 Making my way into the Fuscher Valley.

Rain and fog, my constant companions.

Continuing northward past Zell Am See, then east on B164 which turns out to be much twistier and scenic than I anticipated.  By this time, I am not enjoying it at all as the weather is wearing on me, hoping that I could pick up a faster route on the Autobahn somewhere to get to my destination.
At Bischofshofen, I am happy to get on the A10 while the rain continues to come down hard till I reach the German border by 300pm when it finally lets up.


My gloom disappears as I get on the tolled Rossfeld Höhenringstrasse (upper ring road) to have some much-delayed fun on dry roads. 

Finally, I am finding my groove and attacking the corners to experience what an incredible handling machine my K1300GT is!

Afterwards, it's a short ride to Berchtesgaden where I stop to take in the flavour of this world-famous Bavarian town.  As I get out of my rain gear about to go for a stroll through the streets, I reach to my back pocket to find I AM MISSING MY WALLET!!

F**K!!  
WHAT I DID I DO WITH MY WALLET??!!

Major panic immediately sets it.  It's one thing to lose your wallet at home, but you don't know what real panic is until you lose it half way around the world, all my I.D., driver's licence and credit cards inside!

Okay, steel yourself, breath deeply and think, THINK!  When did I last take it out?  Where did I take it out? At the tollbooth on the Rossfeld?  Holy sh*t, I hope that's where I left it, that it didn't fall out of my pocket somewhere while riding!

I get back on my bike and rocket my way back, setting speed records and screaming around corners like never before, thankful the tires grip the road so well, scanning the road for a small black object with the sickest feeling in the pit my gut praying that I haven't seen the last of my wallet!

As I screech to a halt in front of the booth after seemingly like an eternity, the man recognizes me right away and holds up my wallet that I absentmindedly left on the ledge at the window.
Omigawd, you can't imagine the feeling of relief that overwhelmed me like a tidal wave, yet with an equally overwhelming urge to kick myself silly for being so bloody careless.
Never in my life do I wanna go through that again!

By this time now, I am too worn out to go back to Berchtesgaden, so I get on the Deutsche Alpenstrasse (German alpine road) . .


. . for the pretty village of Inzell.

 Say, what is that bright yellow ball that suddenly shows up in the sky?

By 630pm, I arrive at the Gasthof Schwarzberg hotel.

 It had been my longtime wish of twenty-one years to stay here after driving by in 1991, enraptured by its Bavarian-style facade and mass of flowers overflowing from late-summer balconies so gloriously common in this region of Germany, a floral look that I recreate at home.






Thanks to Margaret who checks me in and allows me the use of her laptop for the evening.








Dinner is thick chunks of pork loin and spätzle (German-style egg noodles) in rich cheese sauce, smothered with bacon and fried onions.


Tue 12 June 
tripday 7
Because I didn't take in Berchtesgaden after yesterday's excitement, I decided to make it entire day's visit and an extra night's stay in Inzell, logging only 96 km.











Ready to roll !













On the way, the Parish of St. Sebastian Church, built in 1512 with its distinctive onion-shaped tower,  in the village of Ramsau.
Its setting beside the river is much photographed in postcards.

Arriving in Berchtesgaden . . 


  . . I stroll the touristy old city centre.

The guy looks on as his wife takes my pic.


I browse inside the very unique store of the Enzianbrennerei Grassl, or the Garcia Enzian Distillery, the oldest distillery of enzian, or gentian plant in Germany dating back to the 17th century, producing a bitter and aromatic type of schnapps (fruit-distilled brandy).
After enthusiastically helping myself to a few shot-filled samples, I buy a few bottles to bring home with me.







I return to the hotel for my last night to enjoy sauerbraten (marinated beef)
 and dumpling.












Wed 13 June 
tripday 8

Travelling north-westerly this day from Inzell across southern Germany to Göppingen, near Stuttgart in 9 hours covering 363 km.

uiyu
View Larger Map

From here it was my intention to visit the Zugspitze, Germany's highest mountain, as well as re-visit from '91 the fairy-tale Neuschwanstein castle.






But because I don't have a lot of bike rental time left, it's better to push on if I want to get to my other places I want to visit.  
The way my luck has been, they're probably blanketed in fog anyway.


Leaving Inzell at 915a with, what else, more showers,

I arrive in the colourful city of Munich under clearing skies, another place I wish I had time for, and . . 



the world famous Hofbräuhaus, first established as a brewery in 1589 by William V, duke of Bavaria, where Germany's annual Oktoberfest is held.
The entire brewery and tavern was destroyed by Allied bombing in 1944 and restored in 1958.

** Hofbräuhaus band, Munich **





Schweinshaxn, or crispy roasted pig's knuckle washed down with Hofbräu Original.

Das schmeckt!

Not long after I arrived, so did this group of travellers right from the airport from Port Perry, Ontario, a mere ninety minutes from my home.  Small world, eh!


  On my way out I came across a small crowd gathered around this unusual botanic display.













I then head for the northern suburb of Dachau . .


. . and the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site.

From one of the many displays that help visitors to understand what happened here during Nazi rule in Germany . .

In March 1933, a concentration camp for political prisoners was established on this site.  It served as  a model for all subsequent concentrations camps and was under the command of the SS.  In the 12 years of its existence, over 200,000 persons from throughout Europe were incarcerated here and in the numerous subcamps.  More than 43,000 died.  On April 29, 1945, U.S. troops liberated the survivors.
The former camp became a Memorial Site in 1965.



The roll call ground today.


The camp road which opens to the roll call ground flanked by the prisoners' barracks.

 The camp road today "lined with poplars"

The barracks foundations.




 Two barracks were built for display.



 As I did after visiting Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp in '91, one leaves this place wondering how a cultured and sophisticated  nation as 1930s Germany, so rich in the arts and sciences at that time allowed itself to sink to such horrible levels of depravity.

By this time it's 330pm, so I get on the A8  . .





. . and arrive at 615pm in Göppingen at the home of my cousin Oliver and wife Michaela for the next two nights.
There also to greet me is his father and my dad's older brother, Onkel Heiner and Tante Carola.







Thurs 14 June 
tripday 9
Today I leave the bike parked while Oliver helps me revisit my father's hometown of Stuttgart.

Because I've always taken an interest in local history wherever I travel, Oliver takes me to the nearby town of Hohenstaufen . .

. . where at the local church is a memorial to the region's war dead from both World Wars.

The town lies at the base of Hohenstaufen mountain, elev. 684 m, one of three that make up the 'Drei Kaiserberge,' or Three Kaiser Mountains.
Rechberg and Stuifen mountains, viewed from Hohenstaufen mountain.



Atop the mountain are the remains of Hohenstaufen castle, built in 1070 by Duke Frederick I of Swabia, the first ruler of the Hohenstaufen dynasty.

Then we go to my Onkel Heiner's home, north of Stuttgart in Freiberg.
He enlightens me on my family history

Heiner and brother Karl (my father)

Heiner, parents Emma and Heinrich (my grandparents), Karl


The first time I learn of my great-grandfather, Karl Johann, who received this clock as a wedding present from his bride's (whose name I forgot) parents in 1883.  Still operating, too!

Then we are off to Stuttgart . . 
 . . a city of over 600,000 within the urban center, making it the sixth largest in Germany.
It is the capital of the state of Baden-Württemberg,
and birthplace of the automobile when in the 1880s Gottlieb Daimler and Carl Benz both developed the motor car.
Today, Porsche and Mercedes-Benz are headquartered in Stuttgart.

During the American occupation after World War II, my father served as a motorcycle courier for the US Army, pictured here in 1953 at the age of 23 on his 600cc Horex, a year before emigrating to Canada.
The plates in the spokes was the rage back then!






Me and my first Goldwing, fifty-four years later.



The house on Schlossstr., (Schloss St.), where my father and uncle were raised. They occupied the third floor.
I can remember visiting here in 1960, '68 and '91.

  Nearby is the church were they took their confirmation, Johanneskirche or St. John's Church, completed in 1876.
Heavily damaged by Allied bombing, it was restored but for the top of the tower left incomplete as a testament to the ravages of war.

In the center of the city is a public park called the Schlossplatz, or Palace Square.
Within the Square in the Neues Schloss, (New Palace), completed in 1807 and used for a time as a residence by the kings of Württemberg.  Today it houses various state gov't ministries.

The adjacent Schlossgarten park.

The Opera House

This nice lass visiting from Africa.

We stop at the Altes Schloss (Old Palace) for a brew.  

I love a good pilsner.

 A visit to the Fernsehturm, the world's first television tower and a Stuttgart landmark.  Standing 218m high, it began construction in January 1954, going into service Feb. 5, 1956.

Views from the observation deck.

 In view is nearby Stuttgarter Fermeldeturm, or communications tower, which seems to peek above the treetops.  Not open to the public, it stands 192 m. high.

By late afternoon, we head to the Weinstube zum Tröfle restaurant for dinner. . 



. . where we meet up with Tante Carola.


Fri 15 June 
tripday 10


Today I will log 495 km. in 10 1/4 hrs from Göppingen to Trier.
Saying goodbye to Oliver and Michaela, I stop briefly in Freiberg to also see my aunt and uncle for the last time, then set off on the northbound A81 where I then get off for Kirchheim Am Neckar to follow the Neckar River, the first of Germany's great river valleys.






 Numerous pretty towns like Hirschorn line the river and imposing castles, like Schloss Zwingenberg, guarding the waterway.

The beautiful city of Heidelberg and its great landmark castle dating back to 1214.







Stopping for a bit to stroll the square.












I leave the Neckar R. by turning westward across the Rhine River at Mannheim, through Ludwigshafen and Kaiserslautern before swinging northwest on a winding route of high speed turns and sweepers when I then join the Mosel River in Trier, the oldest city in Germany.

Legend states that an Assyrian prince established a colony here in 2000 BC, while the Romans founded one in 16 BC.  Their fortifications still stand today and are a great tourist draw.

Meanwhile at 615 pm I establish myself in the Hotel Zur Post . .












. . and enjoy a beef salad in the hotel courtyard.





The view from my room.











Then the skies open up once again for a night of rain.

Y'know, had I looked on a map to discover that the Belgian border was only a few kilometers to the west, I would have added it to my list of 'been-there' countries.
Oh, well.


Sat 16 June
tripday 11
Seven hours and 215 km. in store for me today from Trier to Boppard.

Toby Ballentine writes of his best scenic ride in Europe . .

Although many think this should be the Alps, I actually prefer the Mosel River Valley near Frankfurt.  The road winds gently beside a flowing river while traditional German towns and villages glide by.  Castles perch periodically on craggy hilltops overlooking the valley.  A truly heavenly run on a motorcycle.

I leave Trier at 900am and travel north along the Mosel (or Moselle) River in the pouring rain.

Overlooking Trittenheim, I can only imagine how lovely this must look under deeply blue, sunny skies.

 Cochem,  probably the most beautiful town on the Mosel, under the watchful protection of the Reichsburg Cochem, or Cochem Imperial Castle.



Umbrellas are the order of the day . . 






. . while I stop for a coffee and sandwich to dry out.











I arrive in the city of Koblenz at the Deutches Eck (German Corner) where the Mosel meets the Rhine River, in the foreground.

I filched this pic from Wikipedia for perspective.



Deutsches Eck


Monument to Wilhelm I, Germany's first Emperor from 1871-88 after achieving the unification of Germany and the German Empire.
The Deutsches Eck was further turned into a monument for national unity when the country was divided east and west in 1945.

I leave Koblenz to travel down the Rhine River.
Father Rhine is the longest river in Germany and among the most important in Europe.  For centuries it has been the means of transport of goods and people, trade and commerce, and of vital strategic interest to those who controlled it.

High speed trains travel the banks of the Rhine with frequent regularity.

Arriving in Boppard by 400pm, . . 





In town I happen upon the Hotel Ohm Patt when I walk inside and approach the kindly looking man and ask as I do, "Haben Sie ein Zimmer frei?"

 "Well, I should if the sign says so," he replies in Kentish-English, completely flooring me!

Proprietor John Durcan from England, a most delightful and entertaining chap had previously owned an establishment in Canterbury before taking over this charming and quaint English-style place from his sister and husband several years ago.  

Never in the world did I expect to find English lodging like this in a small German town by such happenstance.



















 Rule, Britannia!




Soon these riders roll in from Manchester.

Parked by the side of the hotel.









Strolling through the town.







 Dinner at Restaurant Alte Schmiede of rouladen (rolled-up thinly sliced beef, stuffed with onions, vegetables, pickle and bacon), dumplings and red cabbage I enjoy under the canopy sheltered from the intermittent rain.
Will it ever stop?

Along the riverfront.







To end the evening, John fixes me
the best Irish coffee I ever had!












Sun 17 June 
tripday 12


My last day on the road will have me return to Frankfurt in 3 1/2 hrs. and 151 km.


View Larger Map

Thanking John for his hospitality, I left at 830a and continued down the Rhine.
Wouldn't you know my first full day of sunshine would be on the last day of the trip.

Arriving in Sankt Goar, I came across this shop of cuckoo clocks.  Unfortunately, it's closed otherwise I would probably browse for hours in here.  I have a fondness for cuckoos as I have two in my home.

The largest free hanging, hand-carved operating cuckoo clock in the world.

If you like castles, this is the place to be.  Few areas in Europe have such a concentration of castles as along the Rhine, twenty-four including two right on the river, harkening back to distant war-like days when control of this important waterway was crucial.




I hop on the ferry for the east side of the river.













Looking back on Sankt Goar.

Crossing to Sankt Goarhausen and Schloss Rheinfelds (Castle or Fortress Rheinfelds) so I can access a bit further down the river  . . 

 . . the Loreley, a 120 meter high cliff that juts into a bend in the river making it the narrowest point on the Rhine.

The rocks and fast current at the foot of the Loreley have sunk many boats over time contributing to the Legend of the Loreley, that of a beautiful maiden sitting atop the cliff with her flowing blonde hair luring sailors to their doom with her siren song.



A road leads to the top for some magnicent views of the Rhine.

Looking back on the Loreley.

Oberwesel 


Kaub


Through Rüdesheim, I leave the Rhine for the last time at Eltville and head for the Frankfurt suburb of Gravenbruch where I will stay for my last few days in the home of my Onkel Horst and Tante Gudrun, Rene's parents, who are away in Sweden, getting in at noon.



Mon 18 - Thur 21 June 

Today I is my last full day with the bike before returning it tomorrow.

I was hoping I could visit the Canadian war memorial at Vimy Ridge in western France but I am twenty-four hours short on the rental for which I would have needed a minimum of two days.  
Even still, I'm not sure I would've gone anyway, for by the end I was spent after enduring two weeks of lousy weather.
Otherwise, I am pleased that I was able forecast the correct period of time I needed for my just completed trip when I booked the rental months ago.



So today, after getting some much needed rest I headed into town for a few groceries to see me through.
Then I jumped on the bike back to Seligenstadt to cross the small ferry across the river to take in some twisties above the town.

Then once more to Frankfurt.



Hmmm . . 


Alas, Tues was my last ride . . 

. .  as I returned my glorious two-wheeled steed of the last two weeks to the dealer.

Rene followed me in a brand new European-version Ford Ranger that he's looking to buy.
I didn't have my camera with me, so a pic from the web . .

As a Ford truck man, I am in full concurrence.
This new version of the Ranger stands out compared to the tired old model we have in North America.

We gathered up Felix, Valeri and Jenny and headed for Darmstadt for the afternoon.

Jenny and Valeri

 Without any transportation, I pretty much stayed at home Wednesday till Rene and Karin picked up me for dinner at Zur Alten Burg in Dreieichenhain.



I don't remember what it was except good and hearty!

Happy birthday to me Thursday as Rene took me to a Thai masseuse place. Again, I wish I had my camera.  
Who knew such a tiny (and cute) Asian woman could be so strong in the fingers to have me grimacing in pain while she worked me over as I strained to stifle the agony so as not to show her what a big wuss I am!

Fri 22 June 




After my final goodbyes Friday and a big debt of gratitude to all, I hop a short flight to Munich for my connection home.



Indeed !


*                   *                  *


After riding the Transfagarasan highway in Romania this year, another of the great mountain roads in the world, my friend Majic likes to cajole me about the great sunny skies he had on his trip compared to what I had to deal with.  In fact, Rene told me later it was reportedly one of the wettest Junes on record for much of the area I traveled.







Nevertheless, despite the rain it was a trip of a lifetime.
Outstanding roads, spectacular scenery, marvelous food and drink (did I mention the beer?) and wonderful people, all experienced on a great motorcycle!

If one is to undertake such a trip, proper riding gear is a must.  Buy the best jacket, pants, boots and rain suit you can afford, otherwise you will be miserable.  Riding is no fun when you are cold, wet and tired.  Except for my supposedly water-proof gloves, I was never uncomfortable.  If you are able to adapt your bike, a heated vest is always a good idea for any extended stay high in the mountains.

But if you are able, do go!  It is one of the greatest motorcycle adventures you will ever make.