April 7
Checking out of the Hotel at 09:30 was made easier by the fact that the bill for my stay was 95Euros. Good value indeed. Having strapped on the Rigg Pak and stowed the lightweight bike cover and security locks, I turned my attention to today's leg of the trip. I had only planned to ride 280 miles today mainly because it was my first long sector but also because the route took me around the east of Paris so I expected some delays. Plugging in my destination as Orleans and after a quick check, I was off. Within a minute I was on the spur road leading to my first major intersection and shortly afterwards I was joining the E15 or as it is rather welcomingly named, L'Autoroute des Anglais. This road would take me down to Paris where I would take the Boulevard de Peripherique and finally the famous Autoroute de Soleil.
For now however, I was settling down to the ride. The Harley felt completely at home on the Autoroute and so I flicked in 65mph on the cruise control. That would keep me at a reasonably comfortable speed on the inside lane and was also quicker than the trucks. The buffetting I had experienced the day before was back with a vengence. However, my new foam earplugs were woking well so noise wasn't an issue. The high frequency vibration on my head however, was not very pleasant and I started experimenting with my position behind the windscreen. Lowering my head beind it helped a bit but, as I noticed from my road shadow, I looked like Quasimodo. Sitting very upright also changed the harmonics but that became tiring after a while. My favourite position is slouching on the bike - or anywhere else for that matter. A temporary breakthrough came when, lifting my visor to scratch my nose (the vibration also seemed to set my nasal foliage a-rustling in an intensely itchy fashion, I noticed that the vibration decreased substantially. So there was the solution. Leave the interior sun shade visor on my Caberg down and lift the exterior completly up..result, happiness. The ride now settled into a pleasant experience. I'd found the correct speed and I was comfortable. The weather was far warmer today so I was just wearing the undersuit, a t-shirt and the textile trousers without liners. A number of bikes passed at various intervals, both sportsters and BMW's. The BMW's, with their boxer engines, just seemed to hum past at over 100mph. Another little discovery was the French (and as it happens, Spanish) biker salutation. No waving of hands, just a lifting of the right leg as they sped past. The driving standard is good, with one exception, the British. Probably because they are sitting on the right hand side, British cars are passing and pulling in uncomfortably close to me. I cure this in short order by pushing the bike up to the centre line when I see large white plates approaching in the mirror. This little nuisance soon passes as I extend my distance from Calais and my next challenge awaits 1000m ahead. The Peage. The roads in France are truly excellent but, this comes at a cost and unlike good old blighty, the price for a motorbike is the same as for a car. Boo!
So, what's the strategy for dealing with Peage? Drive up, glove off, get ticket, put in pocket, pull-up zip, glove on, move off? Nah, too long with impatient French drivers queuing up behind. How about, pull-up, grab ticket and pull over to side to pocket it. Nah again, ticket, throttle/clutch..too much. You'll drop the ticket and then it's fun and games...
My strategy is to stop on the side of the road just before the toll. Take off the left glove and sit on it. Grab ticket and put in teeth. Move to side of road and adjust everything there. This is good practice for the next stage - paying, when a wallet and bank-card have to join in the fun.
For now, the Peage has been negotiated and my aim is to travel around the Peripherique before stopping for lunch. I've decided that 90 minutes is the longest I should ride before a short break. My riding day is going to be about 6 hours so that's a break in the morning, lunch and a break in the afternoon. In fact, as the trip progresses, I find I need more breaks in the afternoon. Soon however, I am coming to a forced break. I need fuel. The Harley is many things but frugal, it ain't. At 65mph, I'm getting about 48 to the gallon and that means I need to fill-up about every 230/240 miles. For peace of mind, I try to make it a rule never to go below 50 mile range on the display. Now in France, on the Autoroutes, Diesel is about 95p a litre but elsewhere "of piste", it can be found for 85p. Petrol on the other hand is £1.27 litre..! So, to fill the Harley's 19 litre tank costs £24. To that, add another £12 for the toll. On fuel alone, the Harley is costing me 11.5 pence a mile. My car, a 3.6 V6 diesel Jaguar, would do it for 2p less. Funny old world it's become innit? Anyway, the bike is still much more fun.
After filling up, I get my head down and 150 miles or so later, I've negotiated the Peripherique and its mad, completely mad, drivers and bikers and I'm on the last long leg to Orleans. It's 1pm and the somewhat deserted roads remind me that France has stopped to partake in its second favourite occupation, lunch.
A lot of the stops on the Autoroutes are Les Routier recommended. This is good. Routier is the French name for truck drivers and they are very, very different in the food requirements they have compared to their British counterparts. A routier will require a three course lunch and not so long ago, a half bottle of wine with a little after lunch digestif to go with it, all included in the price. They are very selective in where they eat and it is important to provide all the facilities. One feels that if something is lacking in the gastronomy department, these chaps will be off, tout suite, to blockade a port or two until things have been put right. Thankfully, custom has changed somewhat and while the food requirement is exactly the same, the post-prandial has disappeared and the wine is now a more reasonable third of a bottle. This is normally served in a quite dinky little carafe and it is amusing to watch a burly trucker delicately pour his vin du table with a light hand before sipping it with an appreciative grunt. So, my advice is to follow the Les Routier sign, the food will be excellent. With the bike outside the window, I sat myself down in the company of some truckers. There is a "public" restaurant area for motorists but I wouldn't have been able to see the bike and luggage from there and the truckers didn't seem to mind. I enjoyed some cold-cuts of meat (charcuterie) to start served with warm French bread. A tasty beefsteak with pomme frites followed with a mini cheese board to finish. Much as I wanted to, I just couldn't bring myself to drink wine so, much to the bewilderment of the lady on the till, I swapped the carafe for a bottle of water. I'm sure she is still telling the story today of the motorcyclist who changed wine into water. "Pah, crazeee Angleesh.."
13 Euros later (!) I was ready to start the last part of the journey.
The weather was by now a pleasant 18c and after a couple of further stops to break the journey, I pulled into the Ibis Orleans at 4:45pm. Again, a very helpful manager allowed me to park the bike close to the main door and ten minutes later, I was comfortably sipping my first pression.
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