The last day in Germany was pretty remarkable for a lot of reasons. Sunny and warm to start we were up quite early. showered, packed and away by 10. It was then just a 60 mile run across to Triberg in the central black forest - but took a little longer than expected.
Within 10 miles we were stopped by the polizei - a roadblock in the middle of nowhere while a group of bikers passed by. This group of bikers just got bigger and bigger. I have no idea how many came out of this little side road but it wasn't far short of a 1000 - it could quite easily have been bigger. there was a fair number of Polizei escorting them and they just kept on coming. more and more.. and more. with Polizei every couple of minutes all sorts of bikes (and one scooter) at one point a Ducati rider popped out and took a different turn.. he waited eyes peeled until another Ducati appeared. seems they got caught up by this parade and this was their chance to make an escape. The traffic was building up in both directions and the bikes kept on coming. What started of being a little remarkable soon became jaw droppingly amazing. Was every bike in Germany on this run? People were getting out of their cars to watch. They kept coming.. more and more. a gap.... no bikes. the copper chatting away on his radio.. then more bikes appeared. and more and more. how many?
we were there for a good half hour. the traffic was queuing behind us out of sight.. and another huge queue ahead - suddenly it was over.. a group of tail end charlie coppers popped out and they all swept off into the distance to cause havoc elsewhere. We took our turn and soon came upon the queue of traffic that was waiting the other way and people lining the roads in the next village who had obviously been watching it all enfold.
Never did find out what it was all about.
Another few miles and a diversion took us over some low hills along a fairly narrow road.. suddenly this huge tractor/trailer affair blocking the entire width of the road with a few cars crawling behind. we got to the front and bided our time.. after a few minutes we had a chance and took it - whizzing past this tractor and within a mile came to another identical tractor/trailer coming the other way!! what happened when they met? more havoc!! I think - looking at Snod in the mirror - he was laughing!
As if all this excitement wasn't enough.. just leaving a village a few miles further on a huge bird. an Eagle no less stooped on 'something' on the pavement just as we were passing. gave me a right turn it did. the thing really was huge and definitely an Eagle and came down within just a few feet. scared me to death.
Rottweil was full of Rottweilers so we didn't hang about.. not that there was much point. Germany closes down on Sundays.. and who messes with Rottweilers in Rottweil?
Eyes peeled i didn't see the other type.. odd.
Soon signs were announcing Schwartzwald this that and the other.. and bikes started to appear. and we were there!!
at first I hoped to pop to the top end of the town to get an eyeful of the cuckoo clock. its rather large. But.. there was something going on.. a festival of some sort so, being keen eyed I turned off and doubled back and we went to germanys other traditional eatery. a Turkish kebap shop. (and lovely it was too) sitting outside in the sun watching all these tough guy bikers heading off to challenge the B500. A lot of UK plate bikes went past too. quite amazing. they do get around.
Triberg is famous for cuckoo clocks.
So.. as an 'intro' this route was pretty fantastic. but soon we were there.. and joined the B500. and I was OFF.... woosh. I remember a few years ago Snod asking what was so special about the B500. he found out!!
In parts its wider than the average UK dual carriageway, its FAST, with very few side roads, curves are wide and sweeping and the views.. when the road reaches its highest point.. truly stunning. You have no idea just how high up you are as the climb is very slight.. but you're higher than the Grampian mountains for much of its length. this only becomes obvious when you reach one of the viewing points... at the north end of the road.. at the end of its fastest stretch.
naughty I know.. but i left Snod behind and went for it!! for some odd reason bikes fell behind me all the way.. everything came together and the bike went over like it was going to sleep. I overtook everything!! laughing all the way. the looks on some of those sports bikers faces much have been wonderful.. being overtaken by an underpowered. overweight antique fully loaded with luggage.. oh the shame!!
Snod caught up... maybe he didn't lose me, i have no idea.. i doubt I ever looked in my mirrors for the entire run. we pulled off the road and admired the view.. a view that stretches all the way to the Vosges.. bathed in sunshine. and south.. to the Jura. so there before us the run we had taken south over the first two days. wonderful.
That night we booked our crossing for the next day.. using the "Norfolk lines' website.. the crossing cost £17. compare that to using the DFDS site.. £25!! for the same service. The next morning.. no rush. a pretty gentle ride across to Calais.
Just as an aside.. i did find the lines of hopeful 'illegals' lining the road to the ferry really very disturbing.. these men.. and boys desperate to get to England willing to do anything including risking life and limb.
and an hour or so later...
Again that is pretty comprehensive so I'll just copy and paste something someone else anonymously wrote about the B500, probably so that they wouldn't be chased down for it..
The night before
"And then we'll end up at the B500 here" said The Tall Man. "See it's split into two because they never finished it". "And what makes it so special?" I asked. "Well it's just a normal road for the South of Germany really, you won't see much because it's surrounded by trees but it's a fast sweeping road that's popular with sportsbikes. We'll just bimble along it of course". I raised an eyebrow. "Bimble?" "Well, a bit.." came the reply.
The next day
The first half of the B500 eluded us, but we found some lovely twisty backroads instead which were perfectly surfaced despite being in the middle of nowhere. These were of course pleasant enough but we eventually found our way to the second section of the B500 and boy did we know it! The signs were innocuous but suddenly the road became almost doubly wide and there were many bikes around with riders looking to prove their mettle. The Tall Man was of course leading the way, followed by me and a couple of bikes behind, immediately behind me looked to be an R1100S or similar which looked to be needing to be learned. The Tall Man used the immediate grunt that his boxer has on tap and overtook the car in front in a flash, of course my K100 needed its V12 to be spun up before the power comes on tap so I was left behind. I think it's a V12 anyway, the engine is enormous and I haven't bothered to sit down and count all the cylinders. With the other bikes behind me I wasn't about to hold anyone up and changed down to second, right around 6K and comfortably into the power - the riders behind likely expected me to be some old codger well past it, we'll show them what's what. As soon as the road straightened and I could see ahead the K was screwed to the red and up into third, then kept near the red. This was now 90MPH and we were banked to the left, where the loaded up K on cheap crossply tyres of course started to shake its head and wriggle its way across most of the extra wide lane. A quick check in the mirrors showed no one behind, little wonder as the plot must've looked like the frame was breaking up. Eventually the road straightened out again and I could see The Tall Man a couple of corners away going up a hill, I really had my work cut out. The next few corners were a blur of second and third gear, a howling V10 (or whatever), milder head shakes and cars that were seen as mere obstacles like a level from Road Rash. There were still no bikes in my mirrors though I had overtaken a few chasing The Tall Man, they must have thought GB Bikers were a mental bunch. Eventually I caught The Tall Man just before an enormous downhill hairpin.. K100 and K75 readers will know that this is a nightmare scenario at 90MPH, I grabbed the front brake and slowed.. And slowed.. The lever coming ever nearer the bar. The plot eventually slowed to around 30MPH, helped no doubt from still being in third gear, but The Tall Man wished to stop just after this hairpin to take a picture to prove to a friend that we had "done" this famous road. I tried to stop behind him but there was nothing left, he had to shuffle forwards slightly no doubt wondering why I wasn't stopping. The K's brakes were cooked. My mind was cooked. We were never overtaken. The Tall Man took a photo and then came over to me with piercing blue eyes, overcome with speed and madness, and said "Do try to keep up! Ha!". He didn't know the hardship I had endured making my brick fly in such a manner, but it was pointless trying to explain. We had to get moving, out of the way of the heroes on this racetrack.
At the northern end there is a place where people can stop and stare at the scenery, to find out they are actually quite high up. This is akin to Matlock Bath except it is connected to the start of a racetrack I would consider only a couple of steps down from the Nurburgring, with no Polizei in sight. A glorious place. I was saddened by the fact that a friend, Bob N, never made it as far as this road because he would have loved it. In itself it is not an amazing road but the culture on that relatively short piece of tarmac is incredible. It is biking nirvana.
Amazing how their experiences mirror our own, innit? Definitely wasn't us though, far too grown up for that sort of thing. Also the ferry took 90 minutes instead of the ~30 minutes the tunnel takes but it was certainly an experience, they just put a ratchet strap over the seat (with padding under it) with the bike on its side stand and ratchet it down with the bike in gear. That's it. I wouldn't like to try it in stormy weather but that's the gamble!
So that was that. Around seven months of flanning, many months of bike researching and looking at, eventually buying something pretty good, buying camping gear, looking at routes.. All finished. I was genuinely sad when it all came to an end. I saw it as training for the future though, I learnt a lot and took away an understanding that anyone can do this if they want to. Going somewhere where the people don't speak English is not a big deal, people will make an effort to understand you because they're either interested in what you have to say or they want your money. Either way it's easy. I will probably revisit all these places in the future, there's nothing to stop me. And for that I can thank MB!
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