If you need a recap before reading the final part of this epic trip, have a look back at Part 2.
VIDEO: Have a look at what you missed at Vespa World Days Croatia.
Day ten: Time to Split
Sunday, the morning after the night before. Sore heads, hazy recollections and stories involving palm trees and flag poles spread around the Vespa Village as we met up, ready to head off.
The Beast of Biograd…
We won’t mention who was involved, but Taff looked a bit sheepish and hungover. He’d also gained a new nickname, ‘The Beast of Biograd’.
Find a thrill
Heading back from Biograd to Split for the overnight ferry to Ancona, we had plenty of time, so we decided to go the scenic route. I pressed the ‘find a thrill’ option on the TomTom. What we weren’t expecting was to find a 5ft long snake chasing a giant lizard around a blind corner. A quick emergency stop, the others skidding behind me, wondering what had happened.
My pillion jumped off and decided to chase the potentially deadly snake for a photo, in shorts and flip-flops… Anyway, she failed as it quickly slithered out of sight.
Getting blown off
After a few miles of remote villages and dusty farm tracks, our group decided we’d be better off on the motorway again. The wind began to pick up as black clouds gathered over the distant mountains. It battered us, and a violent, unexpected side wind almost had me off over an open bridge.
The sudden gust was fierce enough for me to have to slam both feet to the floor to keep us upright. Very scary, we stopped at the next garage to put proper riding gear on, lesson learned. Sweating inside textiles is less troublesome than painful skin grafts… This ‘find a thrill’ button needs to be pressed with caution.
Ferry woes
The wind kept on hitting us for the next few miles, so we decided to get back on the ‘A’ roads. Despite the clouds and a bit of rain, today was still a hot and sticky one. We were all sweaty and ready for a shower by the time we got to the ferry port in Split to check in. That’s where things went wrong for me; the booking agent had messed up our ferry booking, and it looked like we might not be able to get to Italy after all.
All aboard?
Despite my printout being correct, the ferry company had mistakenly booked us on an Ancona-Split crossing rather than the other way around. I had to wait for 45 minutes for them to try and sort something out, and in the end had to pay 220 Euros for the privilege. The extra fare was refunded when I got home, though, and I’m glad we had a spare credit card and that they had space on the very busy ferry.
Boarding the ferry was an experience in itself; hundreds of excitable Italian scooter riders were in jovial spirits. Cheering, shouting and larking around like Italians do, pushing in, trying to get on first, beeping their Vespa duck fart horns and generally being very Italian. All good fun though.
Day eleven, Lake Como, Italy
After a decent night’s sleep in the cabin, we docked in Italy at 8 am and waved goodbye to Ali & Trev, who were off to Spain and France. We weren’t hanging around, though; we had a boring 300-mile motorway ride up to Lake Como to get underway. We’d got into a routine by now of riding for a full tank of fuel before stopping for breakfast. It saved an extra stop and quite a bit of time. Breaking it down into bite-sized chunks passes a long day quite quickly. We rode for five hours and seven minutes with an average speed of 58mph.
We missed out on lots of lovely Italian sights, unfortunately, but sometimes you have to compromise and cover a lot of ground quickly. Today was the only time my TomTom failed us with fuel stops; the garage at the planned second stop had closed down, and the next one was further on than was comfortable. I was the only one riding two-up and had the weight of extra luggage as well, so I ran out of fuel just as I got to the marker post for the next garage and freewheeled it to the pump – close or what?
Many Lira
After the cheapness of Croatia, Italy and Lake Como were a sudden shock to the system. Loads of expensive tolls for starters, the motorway one alone was 29 Euros. We got to Como and into our apartment just in time before the threatened rain caught up with us; thunder and lightning set in for the evening.
Steve’s wife met us in Como; Caroline had flown in for their wedding anniversary.
This was to be the group’s last night together; Dave was leaving us here. He was riding back solo to get back for an event on Thursday (he did 470 miles solo the following day). It was sad to break the group up, and we all sensed the end was coming.
Day 12: Wet and windy
For our second day in Como, we decided to do a bit of sightseeing, so we went for a walk along the lake, then rode the funicular train up the mountain. It was a beautiful summer morning when we left the hotel.
The funicular takes you to the top of Como, or almost. There’s still a steep 35-minute walk to the very top where the lighthouse sits. Despite the dark clouds that had rolled in and the forecast of storms, we decided to see what was at the top. It was a hot and muggy walk up the hill, but we got there just as a few drops of rain began to fall.
The storm hits
Two Euros to the lady, and you can go to the very top of the lighthouse to get a fantastic view of the lake and the surrounding area, well worth it. That’s when the storm started; we got a spectacular view as it swept the valley. Thunder, heavy rain and impressive fork lightning, we tried to sit it out, but after half an hour it was just getting heavier.
Moist
We were only wearing shorts and t-shirts. Thankfully, just as we were about to make a run for it, the lighthouse lady gave us a large plastic bag each to use as a makeshift poncho. We were all feeling pretty cold by that stage, so it was a welcome bit of shelter. The rain had turned the rocky path into a torrent of water, making it impassable, so we were forced to make the longer descent down the road instead. Looking like drowned rats, we were all glad to see the train station, though and get back down to earth.
Swiss motorway services are very similar to those on the M1 in England
Day thirteen, Friedberg, Germany
Itchy feet again. Two days in one place, a very expensive one at that, was beginning to bore us. We loaded up and headed out of Como by 10 am on Wednesday.
We rode back through Switzerland towards Germany and a town called Friedberg in the Black Forest. You realise you’re getting used to travelling when a 224-mile ride is over too quickly. Having said that, though, the scenery helps immensely in this part of the world.
We left Como in bright sunshine and crossed into Switzerland very quickly. This country still doesn’t fail to impress, with lakeside greenery and rocky waterfalls dropping steeply into lakes. Switzerland is a stunning place, even the forests look perfect, grassy slopes seem to be trimmed by hand, trees manicured, even the cattle are combed and sheep have a perm. Frequent tunnels break up the scenery, though. We rode through one that was ten miles long. You have to wonder at the engineering and skill involved in cutting through mountains to build such tunnels. The ventilation wasn’t working in this one, though, so sack the maintenance man. The hot, stale air inside was unbearable, so we were glad to ride out of that one into the cold, fresh mountain air.
Friedberg was pretty enough, but we were all pretty frazzled by this time
Switzerland morphed into Germany, and by mid-afternoon, we were riding into the typical German town of Friedberg.
Heading for a basic but clean hippy-style campsite just outside town. We weren’t sure what to expect from this town, but aside from a scruffy-looking underpass with a few down-and-outs, the town itself was typically German, pretty and busy. Loads of youngsters were busy doing university work outside in the evening sunshine, and it had a cosmopolitan atmosphere. To be fair, though, we were all feeling a bit tired, so we didn’t make the best of Friedberg.
Rebuilt after the war but Le Roche is a lovely little town, well worth a visit
Day fourteen, La Roche-En-Ardenne, Belgium
The following morning, we were on the move again, in the rain. We couldn’t complain, though; it was our first wet riding day.
We’d managed to pack up the tents before it started raining but spent the best part of 266 miles riding in it. Belgian roads are the worst we saw during the whole trip; large, deep potholes litter the motorways. You need to keep your eyes on the road ahead and give yourself extra space at all times to avoid the worst of them. Belgian contraflows can be a bit scary on a scooter if you go into them too quickly as well.
Everybody loves to see a monumental tank…
Thankfully, the drab motorway gave way to lush green forests and sweeping roads as we got close to our destination, La Roche-en-Ardenne.
The town didn’t disappoint either. It’s a lovely Belgian town, with a medieval castle guarding it. The town was occupied during World War 2 and was razed to the ground by Allied forces before it was liberated. The whole town was flattened but has been sympathetically rebuilt and has traditional cobbled streets and a town square surrounded by bars, cafes, restaurants and a fantastic butchers’ shop.
Camping Benelux was located on the edge of the town alongside the River Ardenne. It’s a friendly campsite surrounded by forest. As we set up camp for the last time, we met three Australians on bikes; they were just starting out on a five-month adventure to Turkey. We were all a bit jealous of their trip.
The look of surprise on Linsey’s face when good friends from Belgium arrive!
Surprise!
After a few cans of Jupiler from the site shop, we took a quick walk down the river to town and found a Belgian restaurant. Good food and not too expensive. We had a nice surprise during the meal, some Belgian scooterist friends who live 45 minutes away in Liege had seen our Facebook check-in and decided to come down and surprise us. A great way to spend our final night, we ended up drinking in an Irish bar until late, the only place in town that stayed open after 9 pm!
Day fifteen, Zeebrugge
As we packed away for the final time (thankfully in the dry), we were all a little bit sad. We popped into town for an Al fresco breakfast/museum and castle visit before heading north to Zeebrugge for the overnight ferry home. A fantastic adventure, no breakdowns, major fallouts, hassles, or bad memories. The perfect touring holiday.
Day 16, Donington – DISC ’15
After arriving in Hull, rather than going straight home from the ferry, Linsey, Sid, and I carried on, straight past my own front door to Donington Park for a night at DISC ’15. A scooter rally to mark the 30th anniversary of DISC ’85 (my first ever rally).
Once there, I managed a bit of sprinting on my overloaded GTS (and a few other scooters), got to watch one of my favourite bands (King Kurt) and caught up with a few friends. A great end to the holiday.
With a face covered in sweat, flies and a big smile, Dave was a part of most scootering adventures.
RIP Dave Gould
This trip featured our great friend Dave Gould; he was a massive part of our scooter adventures at home and abroad for decades. Sadly, Dave passed away in January 2024 after a battle with cancer. We still miss him every day.
Which kit?
Choosing kit for a trip like this is tricky. Temperatures and conditions can vary immensely day by day. Here’s what I wore…
Textiles
I opted for practical and inexpensive Buffalo Coolflo textiles. The waterproof and quilted inner layers can be removed to leave a mesh outer for hotter days. It was dubbed the ‘Playsuit’ by my amused riding companions. I also wore a Knox armoured vest beneath it for protection. The vest is a piece of kit everybody should own. See a review here.
Footwear
Boots are TCX X-Street, comfortable, not too hot, waterproof and can be worn off the scooter without looking like a div.
Helmet
My Arai RX-7V was new just before I left; even so, it was very comfortable and had enough ventilation for those scorching hot days.
Gloves
I used Knox Outdry for wet/cold days and Alpinestars GP-Pro for hotter ones, no complaints from either.
Luggage
My panniers were the largest-capacity soft luggage Oxford makes. They’re called X60 and offer 60 litres of storage space. Our sleeping bags sat on top of them, attached using two Velcro straps that came with an Ikea mattress (no, we didn’t take the mattress!). Those straps saved loads of time and hassle when loading.
Scooter Buckaroo, the great travelling game. Although the front looks very overloaded it’s not actually too heavy. It had the Khyam Biker tent on there, plus a bag of extra layers, our airbed and anything else we had to take off as the temperature rose.
Rear carrier
On the rear rack, I used an Oxford Cruiser bag, it gave loads of extra storage space, and it doubles up as a backrest. My pillion was very comfortable. I attached the front and rear luggage using Rok Straps, much quicker and easier to use than bungees.
Share your travel stories with SLUK
If you’ve got any scooter touring stories and some interesting photos, why not send them in? We’d love to publish them and hopefully inspire others. Email them to: Editorial@ScooterLab.UK
Vespa World Days 2016…
That’s it for Croatia, but at the end of May I’ll be setting off to St Tropez for this year’s VWD event. We’ve not really done much planning for this one, other than booking a ferry from Portsmouth to Santander last year (lower prices). We’re going to spend a week riding through Spain before heading to the French Riviera for the rally. Then we’ve got five days to tour France before going to Paddy’s Sun Run in Bordeaux the following weekend, then we’ll be blasting home.
