"How many kilometers did you say? Seven thousand?

Alone? From NORWAY!?!?!

You crazy guy!"

It started almost exactly a year ago, in the first days of autumn 2002. Strolled along the vast corridors of the Internet when a picture suddenly froze attention to the screen. It wasn't just any image. It was magic. Like a beacon in the night!

Stelvio pass, an impossible amount of hairpin bends climbing straight up into the air. The body itched and filled with a demanding sensation. Must go to the Alps as soon as possible!

turn on low resolution for slow connections

Next summer came rolling around as suddenly as it usually does. First time on a longer journey, first time on a trans country ride, first time traveling alone for an extended period. Great!

Warp speed, captain!

Did the A to B from the southern west coast of Norway to Switzerland in five days. Slept at a friends place in the Norwegian capitol Oslo and family in Sweden. Planned to go straight from Sweden to Germany in one day, but as Denmark rolled by it was already getting a bit late in the evening. Then a monumental rain started pouring down. Did 40 km/h in the rainy highway fog, crossed a vast bridge without seeing anything at all and gave up for the day. Drove straight to a nice hotel room, bombed it with wet clothing and was prepared to run through the rain to have a peek at the city of Odense. Came out of the door and found the never ending rain to have done just that. The clearing sky revealed an opportunity to catch some typical Danish houses in the camera. It also happened to be the hometown of the author H.C. Andersen, therefore having a reason to sport an obligatory tourist attraction. Which I, as a good tourist, promptly photographed, walked away from, looked at the picture and liked what I didn't see when I was hiding behind the camera.

Was very eager to get my ass down to the Alps, so I went for the go as far as possible in a day option on the autobahn. Did my self-imposed maximum limit of 800 km's in one day, 800.000 meters of dull mind numbing nothing but straight ahead. Was a bit exciting to ride the autobahn at first, lots of vehicles, lane changes and speed changes all the time. It soon got as boring as it can be. Tried to jump onto the smaller country roads but found them to be almost equally flat and bendless, only much much slower. The plan was to spend a few days more on the way down and avoid the highways. There is of course better and more enjoyable ways to cross countries! Knowing very well what sort of heaven lay ahead, all such was plans where dropped in favor for a quick ride down. Back to the autobahn and it's rastplatzes. Going off the autobahn is also the only way to get a decent meal in stressless surroundings. Otherwise, this was my contact with the unmoving reality for what felt like an eternity. Dispersed by the findings of places like the most fancy highway toilet in the universe. Next time, stash the bike on ferry and train to catch some sleep while going from A to B. Probably cheaper as well. This time, it was part of the ride to make every millimeter by land, make the journey all mine.

Had a night in Hann-munden, a historic middle age town deep down in a lush valley in the middle of Germany. Archetypal German house galore. (pic1 pic2 pic3) Woke up next day, checked maps, and headed off towards Bern in Switzerland. Never got there. Somewhere in the Rhine valley it got plain unpleasant to ride. Had to pour water on and in the clothing at rest stops to be able to stand the still, moist and very hot air. Didn't anyway, went off on the first road heading east, to the hills that had slowly been growing taller during the last hour. Turned out to be a wise decision. The small hills was part of Schwarzwald, the black forest. Soon found the first hairpin bends for some thousand kilometers. Gad, it felt so utterly good to be on a proper road again! Passed a sign marking the dividing point where the water goes into the Rhine on the west and the Donau on the east. Can't get much closer to central Europe than that! The area was jam packed with small funny roads, so it was good to blast around for a while.

Stopped in a tiny mountain village which I can't remember the name of. A reoccurring problem. Often I had no clue where I was at the moment, just knew that it was the place to be right now and the road ahead led to better places. A satisfying feeling! The anonymous village gave me the first meeting with a phenomena we don't have up north, incessantly ringing church bells. Most all of them ring all day, every quarter or half an hour, from early in the morning till late in the evening. Some even rang all night! Soon got used to it, even found it a bit charming. At least in retrospective. More endearing was the inhabitants in the mountain village, when asked for directions they instantly invited me to a party for all of the town folks in the middle square. Good food, great beer, a lot of friendly faces with a strange language. Few people spoke English, learned a bit German en route, but far from enough to talk freely. Made it harder to make contact but better still when I found someone to talk too! Made go with sign language and guesses as needed. Some times comical, always enjoyable.

Finally there

Yes! Reached the Swiss border early in the morning, five days after takeoff at home. So what did it feel like? Mostly tired. Decided to do the mountain roads next day and have a relaxing Saturday evening in a civilized town instead. Ended up in Luzern, in the middle of Switzerland. Stashed the riding gear and strolled around the city in newly acquired high-tech Nike slippers. Found both them and the surroundings to be pleasant for walking around all day. (pic1 pic2 pic3 pic4 pic5 pic6 pic7) The swan in the last pic was one of the friends I made there. Was sitting down by the river when two swans came from different directions and met some twenty meters out in the water. They have partners for life and these met and hugged by twisting their necks around each others in a graceful birdie kiss. The staircase leading down to the water where I was basking in the sun wasn't far away and they set out to check me up. Like river cops they came fast and purposefully right up close. Those animals sure are big at an arm lengths distance! Swayed their heads back and forth, hissed a bit and changed mood to friendly in an instant. As if nothing had happened they started nursing their feathers with all guards down. A long and elaborate cleansing process later and one of them gave me a salute by flapping the large wings in a display of utter grace and beauty. The adventure had started!

As a bonus, Luzern also came up with a game. It's called..: Spot The Biker! The motorcyclist is there, somewhere in the picture. How long does it take you to spot him?

Drove off next day and didn't have to go more than half an hour before hitting the first pass. As expected the scenery was eye candy all the way. The main road continued along the valley bottom and a small and very twisty road led of to the right to climb straight up into the air. Sustenpass, my first ever Alpine pass. Can assure you that the grin was ear to ear inside the helmet! (pic1 pic2) The waterproof packing bag is about 25 liters and 11 kilos. Includes tent/sleeping bag/air mattress/clothes/tools/etc. Even a lot of small very handy things I never used and twice the amounts of clothes needed. Next time, one change of clothes, maximum 20 liters packing. Drove most of the days wearing nothing but the bum saving bicycle short under the riding gear. Always riding gear! Whenever too hot, go find a mountain. Dipping the feet in newly unfrozen water from a glacier is a good way to chill out!

As on any road trip, signs are an important part of the journey. Found it to be very sympathetic that the "end of" signs, like end of non-passing zone (round sign with gray stripes across a bleached non-passing icon), where simply "end of whatever that was", gray stripes with nothing inside them. Leave it to the drivers to figure the rest. Seems that they think that if you can't remember that much, you shouldn't be on the road anyway! All in all the road makers trust the drivers a lot more down in Europe than they do in Scandinavia, where they treat drivers like children who needs to get any change in conditions fed in with a tea spoon. Except Italy, who spoils the twisty fun by warning of "danger" so many times ahead that it was almost ridiculous when the bend finally appeared! There's less accidents in the strict traffic environment of Scandinavia, with the load of drivers that continental Europe see I doubt the situation would be the same. Sure, Italian drivers are wild, but in an attentive way, focusing on getting the traffic moving. Not like the sleepy, but law-abiding, situation up in Scandinavia! Saw dozens of funny signs, among them, Switzerland had some cool names for their cities. Smiled a lot when driving past "Rapperswil", imagining chains on the wallets, baggy clothes and yo bro' all over the place. Laughed even more when I found "Bad Ragaz" on the map!

Riding position varied a lot, a big compliment to the bike for it versatility. From standing up on gravel, hanging out like a monkey on the racetrack to leaning down on the tank with the feet on the pillion pegs on the highway - triple purpose. Except that it behaves as well on the track as your average jeep, more on that later. So, decided to change my mind again, still calling it a dual purpose. It held around 130-140 km/h all day without problems and pulled just as well by the sea as in the highest mountains. The Vee Bee M is on the rough side for thousands of km's in few days. Even with the taller screen it is a bit of a blast in the wind, longed for the old Honda cbx750f. Otherwise the bike have just been very nice thank you. Love it! Good bike, stupid rider.

Woke up one morning and headed off towards Oberalppass, planning to go east and south. Came up to the pass, had an espresso and a cup of so called water in a tiny glass. The latter had more in common with nuclear waste than an eligible drink. Forgot to fill the bottle of water I always carried, big bummer. Set off again, did a few bends and ended up in a row of cars going too slow to be any fun. Had an instant peek at the view and then, pure pain and terror, as I suddenly found my self driving alongside the low stone wall bordering the road on the right side. Somehow I must have been too tired and bored after many thousand km's. In any case very stupid. Should have taken a few days totally off the bike, got them afterwards instead. I believe what happened is that the otherwise good lateral vision turned it self off and let me steer right into the wall. Ouch. Did nothing while it happened, didn't steer, didn't brake, just waited till it fell over on the other side and it all stopped on its own. The irony is that I knew very well that having 2-3 years of riding experience means the highest risk according to the stats. Drove very carefully all the journey. It was the slow mo unexciting stuff that got me! From now on, still go to have look at the scenery, but only while the feet is on the ground. Cheers to the superb bikers, among them Chris and Gina, that stopped and helped me out. Directed traffic and sorted a bottle of soda water in the middle of nowhere from a passing car. Like they hadn't done anything else! Gina was an angel, helped me keep the brain going while all it wanted to do was to sleep. The bike dripped coolant. I was both shaken and stirred. Ambulance car and everything, but only a normal doctor needed to fix it. A few hours later, while eating dinner, the bike came back on a police trailer, all fine according to some mech. Smiled a lot more. Was up and running the next day with a few small stitches in the leg and a lot of bigger curses in the mind. The brilliantly nice dude who had spoiled his Sunday off to look at the bike had overlooked a very obvious bent and leaky radiator, sticking into the fan. Front tire had a cut but was still useable for slow riding to the nearest proper garage. Now, how to get out of there with such a bike? Got quick replies on questions on the board at f650.com through a friend at home, amazing site! The useful suggestions didn't help much as the mech didn't have the skill to do it and I'm even more lost when it comes to such stuff. Waited four fairly boring days before setting off with a new fan and radiator. Then, new front tire, Dainese leather pants and boots in the nearest town. The pants made of synthetic fiber lasted as well as jeans. Ripped open almost without resistance!

Spent most of the time riding around hunting passes. Can't properly describe what makes them so much better than other roads. What they are, put simply, is motorcycling heaven. The Alps is a both a tiny and a vast place. From end to end it's a day of straight ahead riding in any direction. Or, two months, the fun way. Switzerland got most of the grand passes, France and Italy has quite a few nice ones and Austria is just full of small very funny roads. Huge impact views are always exciting, but often the best roads are just a stretch, somewhere, anywhere, some minor pass. The right place for the right moment had a tendency to pop up all the time! The Alps have everything from racetrack-corners and wide open sweepers to incredibly sharp hairpin bends and demanding two meter wide forest roads. Along with scenery that's almost invariably stunning. Most of the passes have one steep side with lots of hairpins and another more sweeping side. Both are so fun that often I turned around and did the same climb the other way, upwards, the good way. It was long, happy days, bursting with vivid impressions, giggling all the time the road was particularly nice, which it was most of the time.

Was down there to enjoy the ride and any precious moment, not to make a photo album, so there isn't as many places captured in the camera as it may look by the number of pictures. A click click session here and there when the spirit got me. Cameras tends to steal too much attention. Have a look at a map and check out the linked web pages if you want to see what the roads are up to. Then, go there. (pic1 pic2 pic3 pic4 pic5 pic6 pic7 pic8 pic9 pic10 pic11 pic12 pic13 pic14 pic15 pic16 pic17 pic18 pic19 pic20 pic21 pic22) Followed the Rhine, which flows northwest through Europe, to the very beginning at Furka pass. (pic1 pic2) Pretty small for being a continental river, isn't it?

Made some good friends along the way, the most memorable evening being a grill party with a happy trio of riders. Came down from Susten on the first day of passes and saw a "Bikers are welcome!" sign. Walked in the gate to the outdoor serving and found the boys sitting there, eye contact indicating a possibility for a chat. So off I went, "Hi! Do you speak English? Good! I'm riding solo from Norway and I really want someone to talk to!". Turned out that the day didn't feature any more passes, instead we had a blast along the two green lakes in the middle of Switzerland, scraping pegs in the corners, followed by a much needed bath in a river. Current was strong, so we had to walk for a while, jump in, swim like crazy to the middle of the river and woooooshhh we went. One of the bikers showed me a few spots (pic1 pic2 pic3) before the rain started seeping down on the way to his place. I've been lucky with the weather, this being one of the warmest summers ever in Europe. Switzerland had seen a few hours of rain in a few months. So when it started to get moist in the light rain the road released a few months worth of gunk and goo. Frothed like soap. Pushed the rear brake to check traction and oopsie, instant sliding. Told him to wait up, but he didn't want to, so we agreed I could be the Norwegian guy scared of rain while he was to wait up ahead. For those who don't know, Norway have a lot of rain and I've done at least a third of my total riding in rain. Tried to tell him that rain is all fine but that the roads are not the same now and then, if we just wait a short while. As we rode into the edge of the rain it was more or less skating circuit all the time, so I did a hesitant farewell and set off into the sun in the other direction.

Eating was consistently good, excepting the worst sandwich in all of human history in a summer open ski resort in Italy and the fat sloppy mess the Germans fed themselves in the northern part of their country. Once in a small Swiss suburb village I asked Madam, the owner who was the only one who spoke a bit English, what something on the menu meant. "Ourse!" .. What? "Oourse!" .. Que? .. So on for a while, until she was doing all sorts of theatrical movements and galloped back and forth among her customers. Aha! Horse! With a grin I ordered my first ever consumable riding steed. Something to tell 5 to 15 year old girls! When the waitress came and placed one of those thingies children use for eating around my neck I was so perplexed I almost fell off the chair with laughter! Turned out the dream animal for any little girl was being served on a hot stone, still boiling and hissing in butter. Tasted excellent. The best meal, though, was definitely an outdoor grill session in a small village restaurant. A huge man had an even larger grill with all sorts of meats, sausages, potato salad and green salad enough to feed the horse that lacked in the banquet. A small bit of cash and it was time to eat as much as I cared and dared. Started easy with some green salad and strolled over to the chef to get some meat. He totally loaded the plate with chicken, sheep, pig, cow, eight different types of sausages and tons of potato salad. Gesticulating and pointing at my tiny stomach didn't help much, he kept on loading up more stuff. Approached the luxury problem with caution, one bit of meat here, a sausage there, add some salad, make the tetris puzzle fit inside the stomach. The bicycle courier riding still had effect after weeks on the motorbike, can usually eat silly amounts of food, so down it all went. Shouted a salute to the chef, pointed at the very empty plate and gave all of them a big fit of laughter!

Learned that the digital cameras have a big drawback while traveling, even in civilization. It's simple to go and transfer the memory card to a CD, but very hard to check the job the shop just did without a computer. Not much can go wrong, except errors in the burning process, or what? Wrong. They friggin gave me the wrong resolution! Scaled it down to two mega pixels, from three. Naughty trick. The Ixus V3 camera was a good friend to play with in the evenings. Did some artistic pictures when the opportunities came around. (pic1 pic2 pic3 pic4 pic5 pic6 pic7 All pictures on this page are as they came from the camera, excepting the black&white banners.

So, after two weeks it was almost time to go home, just had to do the one thing I came there for in the first place. It starts in village Stelvio in eastern Italy, climbs 1200 meters to the pass at 2760 meters, where it branches off towards Bormio city to the south and Switzerland to the north. I was naturally eager to go there, especially so since I was still shaken from the stupid incident. Needed some more bends to calm the nerves that where nagging me while riding. Was frankly scared during the first hundred kilometers in the saddle! To add insult I had to drive off with low confidence and new front tire in soaking rain. Woke up at the Stelvio-day and knew it was a good day for the big hairpin galore. After a slow climb the hairpins start flowing upwards, numbered from 48 and counting down as one flows around cagers and cruisers on the way upwards. After 20 hairpins I was giggling, after 40 laughing out loud and when reaching the top - almost bursting with joy! (pic1 pic2 pic3 pic4 pic5 pic6) Hitched a ride on the cable car to what felt like the top of the world at 3200 meters. (pic1 pic2 pic3) Typical day in one of the major passes, lots of salesmen and people crawling all over the place. It was the last little piece needed to satisfy my motorcycle heart, knew I was able to relax and enjoy the memory while blasting back. Got into Austria, did some more of those small and fabulous roads, perfect for the bike. Then it was enough. Wanted to get home to a land where I could speak with anyone. So off I went, in the middle of the German national holiday. Loads of cars everywhere!

The only place the bike felt out of it's right element was on the track. Learned more about riding technique on a few hundred kilometers there than on 40 K km's on the road. First time ever in such velocities, enough to make me wimpy and scared for a while. Scraped pegs while the RR-bikes still had tons of clearance to go and I generally felt pretty useless around the track. Until the small bits meshed. Before I knew what was happening I was hanging out in an almost comical fashion from the bike, going faster in the corners than I thought was possible and getting the flow up. Until the rear slid out and I had my second spill in two weeks! An easy one, not much of a problem, but it put me out of game for a while and made me nervous about riding, again. Turned out the very sensation of going at 60% more of the machines ability than I was used to was a bit too much to swallow on the spot. Needed a few days to absorb the experience. Then came the good feeling. Must do it again as soon as possible! That, and the passes. Lots of passes. The track was a very nerdy place to be, perfect after living with the bike for ages, nothing but motorcycle talk all the time. At the end the wild ones really got it going! Was a bit smug about my machine, which the others probably regarded as a lawn mover. I knew better! Thought I'd do 7000 km's total on the vacation and get all sorts of interesting syndromes from the biological and mechanical engines.

It had just done almost 9000 km's without a single complain. Body was still feeling good, a tiny bit tired - especially the bum, otherwise perfectly fine. Got some strange reactions in all sorts of minute joints after the first week, but they soon faded away. Can live on it! The Scottoiler, automatic chain cleaner and lubricant, worked perfectly as advertised. Zero washing or adjustment of the chain. Checked levels and general fitness of the machine as I rode, never found it necessary to adjust anything except air pressure. The BMW F650GS had just done 20K km service before takeoff. Bought it used from a friendly courier a month before leaving, so it's a well used and loved machine with more than 30K km's on less than a year. Chain, sprockets, rear brake pads and tires was new at 17K km's and there's still more to go on all of them. Even the rear tire, Metzeler Tourances, good ones. An odd thing was the wear, got the rear used up to the edge, but not so for the front. Seems like a miscalibration, maybe I'm running wrong pressures. Anyway, it's got ABS and heated grips as standard, additions include a taller windscreen and seat. The latter being absolutely necessary as the standard 78 cm seat was killing my knees, at 82 cm, a lot better. Wish the pegs had been placed further back, but then it wouldn't be any good when standing up on gravel and dirt. For hanging far out it's a bugger, not much to hang onto. Got the worst set of wooden stick legs I've ever had after the track riding! It was back in Norway, a good way to end the vacation, but it wasn't quite over yet. Had to get over those mountains, the first pass in several thousand highway kilometers. Joy bubbled as I swept west, over rolling hills, charging deep into valleys, getting up into the wilderness in the late evening. It was almost dark when I got to the magic point where mountains are torn apart in the fjords. With fresh comparison in mind it was better than ever before to come home. Didn't understand how uniquely mind boggling the roads around here are until now. Passes, wicked bends, engineering masterpieces and jolly small roads abound. Good contenders for the motorcycling throne of twisties!

The big difference between Norway and the Alps is that up here, see, is the land of the brave Vikings! Better be prepared for unpredictable rain, woolen sweater in the middle of July and roads that are so lonely that you'll be lucky to find your self if you get lost. The Alps have better summer climate, but it's crammed with people and civilization. Equally dense is the numbers of roads available in a small spot. Fun fair for bikers!

Motorcyclists usually have a common instinct. Must pass that driver ahead! Found out that it extended a bit further. Pass is not just something to do with cages, it countersteers me right to it like a moth to a candle.

Must pass.

Videos: http://www.roadmc.com/
Pics: http://www.alpineroads.com/ http://www.motorbike-pals.com/ http://www.motoalps.de/
Other: http://www.f650.com/ http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/ http://www.teamrc17.net/

Thanx mum!

Andreas Nordenstam

PS: you may also enjoy my pictures from Morocco.

If you'd like to have a chat, discuss something, make a point, correct any accidental errors I've made or even maybe get an answer to a question, do not hesitate to make contact! andreas_NOSPAM_@bergenteknomafia.com (remove obvious antispam bit)

Oh, BTW, this is my first webpage! Hope you enjoyed.

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