Tag: eurotour2014

Werewolves and the French Police on the Little St. Bernard Pass

Werewolves and the French Police on the Little St. Bernard Pass

When Kenny and I decided to call it a night on Friday, we were still on the Little St. Bernard pass. As we started our descent from the top of the pass we pulled in to a hotel that our friend Ed mentioned he was going to try to stay at.

The Belvedere Hotel

fuzzygalore hotel belvedere

We were hoping to see Ed’s copper V-Strom parked out front. Instead, we found 2 dozen other bikes. All those bikes were surely a good sign about the place, right?

Though their route initially put them in front of us, somehow we’d gotten ahead of Ed and Drea. When we landed in Milan (the four of us on the same flight) we split up – Kenny and I went to Stresa, Italy to fall asleep next to the lake and Ed and Drea set off for Zermatt, Switzerland to take a peek at the Matterhorn.

Our plan was to do our own thing on Thursday and Friday and then all come together on Saturday morning. The last part of the puzzle would be meeting Pimmie in Susa, Italy. Pim, coming down from the Netherlands, was the last member of our group to rendezvous with for a week of riding.

We Love Motorcycles

The Belvedere Hotel really catered to the motorcyclist. In their lounge they had motorcycle magazines and postcards, maps of good riding in the area. They had covered motorcycle parking and even made tools and cleaning supplies available in the entryway!

Motorcycle culture is quite different in Europe.

fuzzygalore hotel belvedere fuzzygalore moto magazines hotel belvedere

Being right on a corner of the pass, you got to see bikes whizzing by all the time.

One of the most interesting things we saw right from our room was several groups of French Gendarmerie motorcycle police strafing the corner. There must’ve been 10 groups of four FJR pilots whizzing along, each in perfect unison. They looked like fighter planes carving through the turn. It was pretty awesome:

fuzzygalore gendarmerie fjr squad

Calling it a Day

After jettisoning our riding gear and having a shower, Kenny and I went down to the dining room.

We sat there in the warm light sipping beers feeling that “travel high” that you sometimes get when you realize just how fortunate you are to just float in the world. There is a period at the beginning of a trip when you feel like you have all the time in the world and you are free. We were there.

fuzzygalore belvedere hotel france

Torn between the want to stay up and shovel more delicious home-cooked regional dishes into our faces and the still nagging jet lag, we retired early to bed. We were fat, happy and excited to regroup with our friends in the morning.

What. Was. THAT?!

Awoken by an unfamiliar discordant sound, I went from dead asleep to sitting up bolt straight in bed, heart thumping in my chest. What the…?!

Through our open window came the peculiar, discordant tones of… howling. When you’re dwelling in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness, that is a sound that is quite unsettling. That’s the state where anything that your imagination conjures up is reasonable and it’s usually f’n scary.

There is was again!

In the dark of our room, I turned and looked out the window but saw nothing. Everything beyond the reach of the lone street lamp was obscured by the envelope of blackness. Perhaps it was best that I didn’t see what was obviously a werewolf out there.

I turned and looked at Kenny who was also up now and said “Did you hear that?!”

I firmly believe that one of the less tapped into portions of our brains allows a spouse to actually hear eye rolling and the inner monologue of their partner. I have harnessed this ability.

“Yes,” he said.

Translation: “No, dummy. I’m sitting up in the middle of the night staring out into the blackness, at the very same moment you are, for no reason whatsoever.”

Because my brave protector’s inner monologue had time for sarcasm, I decided it was safe to go back to sleep.

The Belvedere was a great place to stop for the night. I would absolutely stay there again. It’s rooms were on the petite side but the beds were comfortable, the rooms were clean, the food was good and the atmosphere was lovely. And… they have werewolves. But for some reason they don’t mention that on the website.

The Power of Desire on the French Border

The Power of Desire on the French Border

fuzzygalore crossing in to france col du petit st. bernard

When I was a kid, we were… “financially challenged.” Growing up that way can leave a residue that clouds your thinking even if you’ve managed to claw your way out of that circumstance. As the years have passed through hard work, luck, chance – my life has changed dramatically. Even so, I still occasionally find myself nagged by thoughts that some things are only for other people and not for me.

When I first started reading motorcycle magazines and seeing advertisements for tours in Europe through companies like Edelweiss – the idea that I could ever find myself riding those roads was out of the question. That was my truth only because I didn’t have the vision or the belief that I could do anything that I really wanted to. I didn’t yet know that I am a force to be reckoned with when there is something in my sights that I want.

Though we’d been in France before (not on motorcycles) when Kenny and I crossed the French border on the Col du Petit St. Bernard, I couldn’t resist stopping for a photo of the sign.

France. On a motorcycle. Can you imagine? It was one of those unattainable places back in the day. 

Desire is an incredible motivator. I mean true desire, not just namby-pamby, non-committal “wishing.” I believe it makes you work for something in sub-conscious ways. I hope that I am moved by it for the rest of my days.

GoPro Photo: Taking in the Sights on Col de L’Iseran

GoPro Photo: Taking in the Sights on Col de L’Iseran

While I struggle to find the thread that will weave my trip posts together, I go back and look through photos, fondle stickers, shuffle postcards from the places we’d been. This morning I picked through a folder that Kenny dropped onto my Macbook. It was filled with GoPro stills from his point of view.

There are tons and tons of pictures there that bring me right back to the cool mountain air and the undulating roads. But I recognized this spot right away as I rolled through the pics:

fuzzygalore along the col de l'iseran

This was Kenny’s vantage point after I pulled over to take some photos on the Col de L’Iseran in France – one of my bucket list roads.

I’ll be daydreaming about our ride through there from my desk at work today. Have a great day y’all.

In Defense of the Bucket List

In Defense of the Bucket List

Just yesterday I read an article that pointed out what the author saw as a flaw in the bucket list process as it is often portrayed in contemporary culture:

As popularly conceived, however, the bucket list is far from being a reckoning with the weight of love in extremis, or an ethical or moral accounting. More often, it partakes of a commodification of cultural experience, in which every expedition made, and every artwork encountered, is reduced to an item on a checklist to be got through, rather than being worthy of repeated or extended engagement. 

– Kicking the Bucket List by Rebecca Mead

Personally, I think this is oversimplifying the process. We can’t know what goes on in the minds and hearts of men in the quiet moments of their lives. So they said out loud, “crossed that off the bucket list”? Does that mean that whatever that thing, that act, that item from their list was doesn’t dwell deep in their imagination or actively fuel their curiosity for the rest of their days? It could be a moment in time that sets fire to a personal passion that you, as an on-looker, know nothing about.

Or,… maybe it IS gamification of life experiences.

The best part of this conversation, I suppose, is that I don’t have to give a shit about what other people are doing.

On our recent trip through the Alps, I was able to visit several things that are on my bucket list. My list, which is very meaningful to me, helps me stay organized. It helps me to remember that there are things in the vicinity of where I am that are beautiful and wonderful though maybe less than obvious.

One stop in particular seems to have created more curiosity and questions about a man than it answered. I’m not quite ready to write about it yet, so I’ll leave you with this until then…

fuzzygalore giger bar gruyeres switzerland

We were in the belly of the beast.