Tuscan Thunder - Paul Wiggin’s Journey
It was sitting at dinner, high up in a hilltop restaurant, looking out across the Med and St Tropez that we decided, with over a hundred C&F Chapter members making it to the 2005 European H.O.G. Rally, we’d do it again next year
The distance, the journey itself being a perfect 2/3 day holiday each way - we swung the compass across the map and hit the Italian Riviera. So, Colin, our chisel-jawed Assistant Director had spent a holiday or two in his youth in Forte dei Marmi. That was it. Decided.
The fly-in recce was centred on the sea-front itself. Plenty of hotels, plenty of restaurants and bars - and plenty of shops - after all, the wags were flying in this time.
These kind of Harley trips are as much about the journey as the destination. Our Tuscan rendezvous was planned for Friday through Sunday - some went down a week early, some hacked down the toll roads in a day and a half. Travelling down in groups of 3s, 4s and 5s, it makes for easy hotel booking en route, coffee stops etc., and safety of course. Large groups on un-recce’d routes is not as safe.
Hardened by previous long wet rides, we were still taken by surprise by the biblical weather on two occasions... blue turned so suddenly to black as lightening hit the ground in the precise direction we were headed. Even the Italian drivers pulled over at one point to cower under bridges and trees as we cut a deliberate steady wash through the sea-with-slots-in. As fast as the black foreboding clouds and spikes of lightening had seemingly blocked our way, the sun burst through sending up slow-motion diaphanous blankets of steam.
Many of us travelled very different routes - hell, some never even got wet. Our small group climbed up above the snow line through Switzerland. Despite the sun beginning to break through we kept our wet gear on - to say the air was stimulating and refreshing was the polite way.
Part of our last leg towards the Italian Riviera led us through some stunning country roads. We revelled in the seemingly car-less ribbons of twisting tarmac, ever mindful of the sudden appearance of a budding Giancarlo Fisichella white-knuckled behind the wheel of his screaming Alpha.
Approaching our destination was anything but car-less - it seemed that Italy’s horn-pressing masses clung as close to the sea as possible. We rumbled gently in strict formation along the main strip, the Med sparkling and the sand shimmering. What a stunning hotel - great choice, Colin. With warm wags and cold beers we settled in immediately by the pool, recounting our three days fun and frolics through savage sunshine and drowning tempest.
That night saw us join in the ritual promenading along the seafront. Italian families strut their stuff twice a day without fail - dressed in different attire each occasion, but none as heavily branded as us!
The plan for Saturday was simple, to all meet up, ride and have fun - a big mass ride-out up into the hills and on to the local Harley-Davidson dealership. After contacting the local Chapter and dealership some weeks earlier we found out they were closed Saturdays, but hey, no problem, we will open up, come have some beers! And Saturday evening - and our C&F H.O.G. Director John Warr had organised a fab dinner at one of Tuscany’s great Relais & Chateaux establishments.
Thirty-four sun-baked bikes rumbled and thundered away from our meeting point on the edge of town. Gently weaving up into the hills, it was a relief to ride in the shade of the trees and the craggy over-hangs. True to its name, (Fort of Marble) we were soon looking up to cathedrals and across at great amphitheatres of sparkling marble. Awesome.
The Versilia Chapter put on a great spread - they filled us up with drinks and food and we emptied their shelves of T-shirts and clothing. An inflatable dinghy, full of ice and beers, became focal point of banter and laughter under the scorching sun.
Not wishing to overdo it, most of us headed back to our hotels for a swim and zizz by the pool.
Taken by taxi, our evening venue was a sanctuary, a peaceful retreat some 3 kilometres out of town. Once an old eighteenth century olive mill it now provided a refined hotel and restaurant. How much Proseco did we drink... how much barbequed food did we consume...? Pah, who knows, who cares. How did I get back to the hotel... who knows, can’t remember.
So. Little did we realize when we originally arranged this foray to Italian territory that our hosts were World Cup finalists together with France, her neighbour. Some of us had already plans to go straight back to UK, others were staying. Both groups have many tales to tell. Those who stayed were showered and drenched, man and bike, in champagne. The Italians went mad, good on ’em.
Our small group - we headed back over the border. Sure, we missed out on some deliriously happy and high-spirited celebrations, but we had something else to celebrate. Our first leg back took us over the Alps. The queue of traffic going down the mountain to join in the hopeful celebrations was approx 15 kilometres long! We stopped at Sestriere for large expressos before heading on.
Low and behold... no cars. We had the alpine scenery to behold. The switchbacks, the hair-pins, the dips, the bends - they were all ours, just ours - everyone else was glued to the footie. An epic journey, one that we will not forget. We arrived at out hotel in Uriage les Bains in time for our seven course dinner and to hear the oohs and aahs as France lost the penalty shoot-out. Shame.
Suffice to say, the rest of our journey back through France was utterly stunning. It is amazing what speed you can cruise at down the minor roads, taking in French smells and scenes.
Congratulations H.O.G. on a wonderful destination for the European Rally 2007. We are planning our trip already. Olé!
Paul Wiggins- C&F Road Captain
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