24 Heures du Mans 2024
A a late decision to go to the 24 Heures du Mans – packed tent, booked ferries and headed south. Simple.
The Jota needed freshening up after the long wet winter. New chain and sprockets revealed a bearing spinning in the cush drive (cured with Loctite) and a replacement front sprocket with no recess. No time to get a replacement so just the chain and rear sprocket with the promise of a solution via ebay on return. Rack fitted and loaded down with an extravagant amount of kit. This made getting off tricky due to the mountain of tent/chair/pants on the pillion portion of the seat. In the end I had to throw the tank bag on the floor each time to dismount!
Leaving for Dover I noticed a slow speed front wheel shimmy. Turned out the bike wasn’t overloaded but the profile of the front tyre was shot after 17,000 miles! In addition the front brakes shuddered and the rev counter waved erratically. The ‘do list’ for when I returned home was getting longer by the mile!
Ferry timings dictated Dover – Calais which involves 150 miles to Dover on motorway then 250 miles down to Le Mans on a combination of dual carriageway and ordinary roads. Ferries ran to time and I was pretty relaxed as I rode onto French soil. This ‘zen’ state disappeared 50 kms down the road when I realised the satnav had malfunctioned and taken me down a toll road and now my credit card didn’t work at toll barrier! After a bit of shouting normal service was restored but the route turned out to be tedious – cold, damp weather with dull motorways and ordinary roads littered with speed cameras and compliant drivers. Indeed frustration with the 80 kph speed limit on ordinary roads led to a speed camera ‘incident’ (fortunately forward facing) as I overtook a lorry with two cars trailing in its wake.
In the UK locals slow for known cameras before carrying on their way. In France it seems drivers are in a continual state of fear and comply with the low limits which are there ‘votre securite’… This fear also applies to motorcyclists – Suzuki Hayabusas bimbling along slower than a 43 year old Jota. On the plus side however French motorists still pull over for bikes – a gesture acknowledged by taking your right foot off the footpeg.
Wednesday evening I stopped in Alencon as the campsite didn’t open until Thursday. For my £55 I had an entire ground floor apartment on the wrong side of town. It was okay, though covering the Jota in a camping tarp’ seemed prudent. By 11:00 Thursday I rolled up to the campsite where a friendly Brit’ who worked in the ticket office talked me through how the place swung. The old style Le Mans badge is gone, replaced by a nondescript enamel item and the programme is only available on-line. French bureaucracy dictated that while you can book a campsite only ticket I was always asked to show my circuit ticket whenever I entered or left the campsite. This extended even when I left the campsite after the race had finished (I refused and rode round the attendant)!
Numbers were down on previous years but the practice of reserving space with red/white incident tape endures. My neighbours arrived after I’d set camp and put their tents unnecessarily close to mine in what I suspected was an attempt to get me to move. They’d brought a couple of boys along and were tame with their only crime being to play awful French pop music late into the night on Friday.
The campsite was awash with nondescript UJM’s (universal Japanese motorcycles) tho’ they did provide the Thursday night soundtrack as they were revved off the limiter. Friday and Saturday nights were noticeably quieter. I found out that bike noise after midnight and before 8 am has now been banned…and most complied!
This theme whereby you have to behave within the limits the organisers set continued throughout the weekend. Constant demands to show tickets or to walk on the correct side of a road all backed up with it’s for your benefit and if you don’t comply the threat of fines. The organisers want to cash in on the legend of Le Mans but without all the rough edges that gave it legendary status (bit like a 2024 Rolling Stones concert).
The Jota attracted quite a lot of attention from old guys who went all misty eyed at the sight. I made friends with a couple of French groups on account of the Jota so never felt alone. I don’t think of the Jota as an old bike but of course it’s 43 years old – I realised that I’d turned into the old guy who used to turn up at Silverstone on his Velo in the 1970’s. Funny enough he probably rode that Velo faster on the road than most of the Hayabusas!!!
Race day followed a familiar format topped off by the famous ‘Le Mans start’. Somehow however the crowd seemed less passionate. The number of high calibre riders is down and the sound of the bikes is muted.
I wanted to see the racing at dawn so turned in at 22:00 relying on the cold of the morning (or the need to pee) to wake me at 2:30. Despite all the rules watching endurance racing at night and especially as the light comes up remains a great spectacle.
Not only are the racers running on adrenalin the spectators are littered about under sleeping bags or shivering in the stands. It’s a specialist pursuit as no one knows who’s leading or who most of the riders are. The racers are also riding at 90% to tread the fine line between performance and longevity. You linger on corners just watching the line much like a fisherman watching his float.
I could’ve watched the finish from the stands but decided instead to join my new French friends on the bank just across from the campsite. With hindsight I should’ve gone up into the stands. The end of the race was an anti-climax (Suzuki victory).
Jota topped up with 500ml of oil (consumption at 1 litre per 1,000 miles) I started the journey home. I’d considered using the peage but instead took the old road up through Alencon, Gace and Bernay. I made the right decision as the route was lined with folk who come out to wave at the motorcyclists. It kind of makes you feel like royalty and returning the waves (especially to young kids) seemed like an excellent piece of moto PR. One piece of advice tho’ is not to ‘high five’ adults as you ride by – my hand stung for the next 20 kms!
As with the ride down the weather was cold so I was relieved to arrive at my final overnight accommodation just outside Rouen in the tiny village of Malleville-sur-le-Bec. This turned out to be a cosy wooden outbuilding that oozed charm and cleanliness. I cooked up pasta had a shower and slept like a log!
I was a bit concerned at the Jota’s oil consumption. I calculated I should make the remaining 250 miles but wondered if I ought to find a litre just to be safe. 20/50 oil can be found at any Harley dealer but of course this was France and France is closed on a Monday. I decided to trust my calculations and press on through empty and closed villages. I wanted to stop but to rest an aching right shoulder but everything really does close. The satnav behaved and I found myself on the A28 counting down the kilometres, arriving at the ferry in good time.
Le Mans remains a great way to start the riding season – racing and a taste of the Continent. The world is changing however and maybe not just in France. Public acceptance of unnecessarily conservative speed limits and the cloying presence of organisers rules (for your own good) have a distinctly ‘1984 feel about them’. The world is changing fast and time is running out for us (literally) so best ‘get yer motor running and head out on the highway’ because ‘fun’ is now being homogenised and sold in tetra paks.
Nick 🙂
The three amigos – Welsh National Road Rally May 2023
I planned to firstly use my newly resurrected BSA Lightning but this wasn’t really ready in time so next I turned to the Ducati 600 Monster. In the chaos of moving home I couldn’t find the log book so couldn’t buy road tax. Finally I turned to the Jota (hard life hey) which had just acquitted itself with a 2,000 mile trip to Spain.
I was riding as part of a team aiming to achieve the top Platinum Award. Steve had done most of the planning beforehand and we’d agreed to take turns leading stages. Pete was snowed under with work so was coming along for the ride.
Preparation was blagging Steve’s chain oil. Unfortunately I spotted what appeared to be a rear wheel bearing on the way out. There was nothing to do but just ignore it and hope for the best. As it turned out after some initial paranoia I settled down and forgot all about it!
We met at Crossgates campsite, me on the Jota, Steve on his Triumph Tiger 1050 and Pete with the quirky Yamaha GTS 1000. We discussed things over a curry in Llandudno Wells where it started to dawn on me that maybe my written instructions might be a bit lacking. We’d agreed beforehand not to use satnavs.
The weather was bright and sunny as we arrived at Crossgates cafe the start for those going for Platinum. The common starting point harked back to the pre-covid days of the WNRR. Back in those days however the start was preceeded by a queue for a rally card and involved all entrants not just those going for the top award. Still there was a good selection of bikes ready to go at 9:00 and so on the hour we were off. The roads were quiet and when it came time for me to lead the Jota surged forward and ate up the fast flowing roads. Steve tho’ chooses a more relaxed pace as he knows this is a long game and not a sprint. So time to pull over and regroup. Pete and I would take turns to play up ahead safe in the knowledge that somehow Steve always knew where we were going.
Despite my speed my scribbled notes were losing us time when I led stages and we lost a whole more time when we arrived at Aberystwith and SRM Engineering.
There was much talk about A65’s and a tour of the workshop ensued. I led us out to Aberaeron on fast flowing roads and promptly lost Steve and Pete missed the checkpoint turn and lost us a whole heap more time! This was compounded at Cardigan when Pete got lost. We had lunch in Fishguard and now were way off schedule.
We arrived at a very beautiful car park near St Davids when Steve’s stealthy use of a satnav was revealed! We got directions to the garage and now realised a satnav was going to be necessary if we were going to get finished by 22:00…
More navigation issues in Haverfordwest then Llandeilo. We were ready for a brief stop at Touratech, so brief we couldn’t accept their offer to clean our bikes down with a power washer. Time was ticking down and Steve twisted the knife in with a single track route across to Libanus. Tight, gravel strewn roads with grass down the middle on a Jota when you’re tired isn’t recommended and yet somehow it was the best stage ride.
Finally we had the last stage from Llandovery to Bulith Wells. I was tired by now and hoped for a short final leg but it wasn’t to be – 90 minutes in the dark on tight backroads…
Steve wanted me to be the first at the final stage to claim Platinum but I rode past the checkpoint and it was infact Pete who crossed the line first! We did it with 30 minutes to spare. Bulith Wells doesn’t have much in the way of night life so we ended up having a pint across the road from a ‘Kebaby’. Steve and Pete seemed to enjoy their roadkill feast and the pub seemed relaxed about it being eaten on their premises (they were probably surprised to have patrons who were legalled old enough to drink).
The next morning we packed and went for breakfast at the excellent Crossgates Cafe. This is a meeting point for bikers. I enjoyed being part of a contemporary bike scene and compare my 80’s superbike with the latest offering from Aprilia.
Steve then headed north on the wonderful A483 towards Newtown and home while Pete and I headed east back to Leominster. I led out on the Jota and by the time we stopped at Dom’s Cafe was congratulating myself on rather a brisk ride. Pete offered to lead from Leominster and soon I was howling down the A44 determined to hang on to his tail. The initial shock at how well he rides subsided once I could see he knew what he was about and I relaxed and followed his perfect lines through Ledbury, Tewsbury and finally to Stow-on-the-Wold. A magical ride to bring the curtain down on a fab weekend.
Good, but no cigar… National Road Rally June 2023
Riding like a god I spotted the Triumph 1200. I’d been hunting him down since the Craven Arms checkpoint and planned to give him the full effect of a Jota at full chat (ie show off). we’d chatted at Staffordshire and he said he was finishing Leominster/Worcester just like me…so it was all coming together. He waved me through and I tore past in 4th, snicked up into 5th….and the engine died….Nooooooo! Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory. I coasted to a halt and the Triumph cruised past with a cheery wave. Bugger!
With all power lost I went straight to the fuse box expecting a repeat of my experience at Rouen. This time however the main fuse wasn’t loose it was just plain blown…and the same happened to the new one I put in and the same to the one after. I was running out of fuses so time to get on the phone. A call to ‘Laverda Scotland’ resulted in being told to go round the bike looking for bare wire (which I done once already) and a call to the AA resulted in a long wait and the need to use the internet. I called Mrs A to organise breakdown recovery.
A young chap called Simon stopped his car to offer help. He wasn’t a motorcyclist but just wanted to help someone stranded by the side of the road. He was despatched to the garage 2 miles back down the road to buy fuses and I carried on the search. Bingo the neutral light wire had melted to the collector box and a couple of test runs using redundant glass fuses showed this was the cause of the short – we even started the bike with Simon holding a glass fuse across the main terminal.
I’d chosen the Devizes checkpoint to start the rally. I’d decided it wasn’t too far from home and I’d hoped the husband and wife team would be there to wave us all off…they weren’t, infact there was only one checkpoint throughout the day that had a marshall present. The ride over took over an hour. The Jota caused a bit of a stir with the usual posse of GS veterens but at 9:00 the time for talking was done and we were off!
I headed over to Cricklade then Nailsworth (the only checkpoint with a marshall) and on to Burford where an Italian chap pulled over specifically to admire the Jota. The Stow checkpoint was a bit weird as I stopped at a house to ask directions only for a hysterical woman to slam the door in my face?
After Stow I headed north to Warwick then onto Burton and Uttoxeter. It was turning into a bit of a slog. I overtook a sedately ridden Commando and craved a cafe that sold something other than instant coffee! Whitchurch cafe was closed but at least this opened up the glorious dash down the A49 towards Shrewsbury.
The Jota was still running well by the time I pulled in to the garage checkpoint at Craven Arms where I saw the Triumph taking off…
…The AA arrived as I was putting the tank on (only 30 minutes, thanks Mrs A) and replenished my stash of fuses before I headed off to Leominster. I gulped down a coffee then set course for my final checkpoint at Worcester. The satnav gave an ETA of 21:17 so I could relax, tho’ you never pass up an opportunity to ride the wonderful A44 in anything other than a spirited fashion…A few miles down the road however and the satnav recalculated and gave a new ETA of 22:13 – or in real language I’d be 13 minutes late!!! Making progress was turned up to 11 and I hammered along missing all the apexes desperately trail braking as I entered bends far too quick!
Elbows out through Worcester city centre and the final checkpoint came in to view. It was 21:28. It wasn’t possible to recover 45 minutes so who knows what happened. My confidence in the satnav was however shot.
Day 1 was complete except for the final 80 mile ride home.
Final mileage for Day 1 was 457 miles over 16 hours. A long day. The day had been a slog with the roads only becoming interesting from Stafford on. Before I got onto these fast flowing roads it was a war of attrition grinding out the checkpoints in places like Coleshill and Burton. The Jota however had enjoyed the cool temperatures but by the end chuffed out smoke from tickover. The pre-ride check the next morning required 500 ml of oil and a quarter turn on the rear chain adjusters.
Day 2 began at 6:00 am. I had 250 miles ahead to complete the Platinum award. I started at Hungerford but got a pleasant surprise at Amesbury when a guy showed me his RGS custom nestling in the back of his van. Spectacular custom using a single sided BMW 800 rear end and belt drive, three shorty exhausts like an MV Brutale and a hand beaten alloy tank/seat unit that reminded me of a Triumph Hurricane.
Four slightly shaken sportsbike riders were attending to a dropped R1 on the road past zig-zag hill and I was making solid progress until hitting holiday traffic from Ringwood through to Colyton.
By the time I’d got to Colyton I was feeling the strain of riding down from Scotland then covering 450 miles yesterday and attempting a further 450 miles on day 2 of the rally. My neck was starting to ache and I needed a rest.
Coffee and cake in Honiton restored spirits and for once I was pleased to see a sustained stretch of dual carriageway/motorway on my way to Okehampton. Fast, smooth, roads enabled a relaxed 80 mph cruising speed which suited the Jota and also my wrists.
I was joined on the motorway by a chap riding an old GS Suzuki. He seemed to want to keep in my wheel tracks and could until the speed rose to a solid 85 mph…but if I fell asleep and drifted back to 75 mph there he was back in my mirror. I suppose it kept us both interested on what was really quite a dull road.
The road across to penultimate chackpoint at Bideford was quite a contrast as it served up challenging but fast country lanes which were free of traffic making the odd overtake a joy to rattle thro’ in 3rd and on.
Soon I’d completed the 250 miles and was buying pasties for tea on Lynmouth harbour. Platinum in the bag there just remained the issue of the 175 miles left to get home! I’d attracted the attention of a ‘dad’ who’d clearly been boring his wife and kids with tales of the ‘mighty Jota’. He’d made everyone wait until I started the bike (it started easily thankfully) and so as not to disappoint I gave it some revs and tore out of Lynmouth and up Countisbury Hill for effect. I hope he wasn’t disappointed!
I prepared myself for the 4 hour schlep and barrelled down the A39 to Taunton. A fine albeit uneven coast road with the steep descent into Porlock. Again the Jota fired past traffic and handled itself well. However at Taunton the journey fell apart as I tried to avoid the monotony of the M5/M4 by using the A361. Me and the satnav were not on the same page however as it took me on a bewildering and frustrating route over to the A303. Fed up and tired I left mired in the Stonehenge traffic and headed to Devizes then home. Another long day with a total of 480 miles covered – 940 for the weekend.
On the Monday I entered my route to claim my Award only for it to come back that I’d achieved a ‘Special Gold’. I’d miscalculated Day 1 so lost a checkpoint which given my actual mileage was a bit of a kicker! However as usual my problems came down to poor planning and preparation. On the plus side tho’ if I had calculated correctly would I have met Simon who saved the day buying fuses. If’s, but’s and maybe’s it is what it is…and of course despite not getting Platinum I was still on for a 3 Nations Award…
Nick 🙂
PS No Three Nations Award in 2023 as it turned out my eldest booked her wedding on the day of the Scottish leg – how inconsiderate!
Laverda Club de France – Clecy.
The 2024 Laverda Club de France (LCF) rally was held at Clecy not far from Rouen. The location and the freedom of retirement leant itself to a new more relaxed approach. Previously we’d have saved our annual leave by turning it into a long weekend – now we have all the time in the world.
The plan was to use the Newhaven – Dieppe ferry and go a week early explore the Normandy coast down as far as Fecamp then ride over on the Friday.
The Jota had performed well on the trip to Spain so no oil was packed as even with the time on the Normandie coast I estimated we’d cover less than a 1,000 miles. In addition we weren’t camping so packed light (but still the terrible surface of the M25 caught us out and we bottomed the rear tyre into the mudguard).
Our plans had to change almost immediately when the Newhaven – Dieppe boat was full. However this turned out to be no bad thing as we could switch to an outward Dover – Calais crossing on the Sunday at a more relaxed hour with a one night stop in Boulogne-sur-Mer. We chose Boulogne as it got a little way down the coast and we also chose an Ibis Budget which would guarantee a clean room. The only thing we couldn’t control of course was the weather which duly obliged with heavy rain! The Ibis budget didn’t disappoint and had to bonus of secure parking so we tucked the Jota under a tarp and settled down for a good night’s sleep.
Our airbnb was an ‘eco lodge’ in Angiens a small village with one tabac. We were basically going to live in a summerhouse for a week but it was clean and had everything we needed.
We had no need to hurry so meandered along the coast having a break in St Valery-sur-Somme. The weather had started to heat up so we changed out of our bike gear secured it to the Jota and covered everything with the tarp before going off for a beer (Mrs A…) and pottle around. Livin’ the dream!
We’d travelled around this area of Normandy many times over the years but had always been on our way to somewhere. This time we could stop and have a look around.
We planned mainly short day trips out and about. We rode out to St Valery-en-Caux, Yport, Fecamp. Dieppe, Eretat, Veules les Roses and Rouen. Compared to the chaos and congestion just across The Channel (or La Manche) this was paradise. Small, uncongested and well surfaced roads leading to small fishing villages or small towns. There’s a different pace in France and to top it off the sun was shining for most of the time.
Rouen was the biggest city we visited and this required some fast dual carriageway. I got into a bit of ‘dick waving’ with a car which resulted in the ignominy of the Jota coasting to a halt just as I was about to trounce my ‘opponent’.
We donned our mandatory guillot jeunes and set about problem solving as the traffic roared past at 80 mph. No electrics anywhere suggested a problem with the main feed and sure enough the fuse was melted. I think the old ‘torpedo’ fuses can come loose and wobble across the terminals causing this problem. I had fuses so an easy fix but sometime in the future it would be wise to move to a more modern blade system I think.
Friday morning arrived all too soon and Keith and Dean arrived off the morning boat into Dieppe for breakfast before we’d all head off to Clecy. The Tabac opened at 7:30 so we returned with fresh croissants and bread washed down with plenty of coffee.
The ride to Clecy was straightforward and familiar in places because it was a route used to go to Le Mans in the past. The only issue was the heat – damn it was hot but the bikes just rolled along. We had lunch in Lisieux before pushing on to Clecy.
There was an impressive 24 Laverda bikes at the rally – better maybe than in recent years. We were joined by the third English Laverda in the shape of Graham and Elaine on their much travelled RGA Jota combo. The exhaust collector was blowing but Graham was confident he could fix it as they planned to tour for a couple of weeks once the rally had ended.
Friday evening was spent catching up with old friends and talking bollocks about bikes. Next morning and the sun was back with avengence but we still chose to go on the ride out (Keith, Graham and Elaine wisely chose to visit a bar by the river…).
Mrs A got to ride in Jean-Pierre’s sidecar and we set off into the heat. The roads didn’t lend themselves to spirited riding so we just cruised about. The Jota was running fine but worryingly it was smoking sometimes when pulling away or decelerating in to villages. Had the head gasket fix begun to fail?
How many Frenchmen does it take to fix a Laverda!
Talking of failure Jean-Michel’s 120 Jota rolled to a halt with battery failure. I believe it was a new lightweight Chinese item. I suspect the oppressive heat killed it – well it was certainly killing me!
In the afternoon we all walked a few kilometres up the road to a local cider farm. It was a blessing to be in the cool barns and an even bigger blessing to get a ride back in a van. Back at the rally people were deciding which bike they’d vote for as ‘best bike’ and therefore be awarded the ‘Nick & Dean Trophy’.
The French seem to go for the prettiest bike whereas I always favour unusual bikes or bikes that evoke the spirit of Laverda ownership. My pick was a 1200 with a period fairing and other mods related to the late 70’s. The bike was well ridden and summed up a well used bike of the period. Best bike however went to an immaculate pretty standard 750.
We re-traced our outward route along the coast near Calais as poor light, mist and rain had robbed us of any views. The new 80 kph blanket speed limit became a frustration leading to a camera flash but it was a forward facing unit so of no consequence to a motorcycle. With the temperature soaring we stopped off at a small beach and took shelter under our tarp. Looking out at the sea it was surprising how close England is to France – the white cliffs in full view.
The oil level in the Jota checked out as fine Saturday evening but Sunday was scheduled to be just as hot. We were due back on the Dunkirk ferry so decided to get away at 7:00 for Dunkerque. Everything was looking good until the bloody satnav took us off towards the peage and wouldn’t recalculate! This was the second trip with the Garmin XT. The device has a great screen and is loaded with features but it’s only adequate in the primary areas of maps and routes! I lost confidence in it and started to use my mind which I ought to have done all along. So we lost all the time we’d gained setting off early and to add to my (very) bad mood the bloody sun was raging hot!
Time was ticking so we hit the road for the final leg to Dunkirk. A pretty straightforward ride except for the lack of clear direction to the ferry terminal. Ironically I relied on the satnav to take the correct exit (all the time with no confidence). We had a 45 minute wait for the ferry so had to take cover in the duty free building along with coachfuls of excited school children! Luckily though being on a motorcycle meant we boarded first and by the time the kids stormed the restaurant we were long gone and relaxing with a drink in the bar (well Mrs A was).
Coming back home is always prompts mixed emotions – it’s good to be home but the chaos and shocking state of English roads makes you ask why does it have to be like this. The poor roads were also matched by the change of weather which looked decidedly stormy. Sure enough 40 miles from home the heavens opened to the extent that the M4 was flooding! Yes we were home…
European Endurance Racing – a game of two halves...Paul Ricard
Andy Bartlett’s endurance racing ambitions with his RGS ‘TTF1’ provided the basis for a road trip involving sun, a ferry to Santander, a ride across The Pyrenees, the glamour of the south of France and… a weekend camp in Essex. What could possibly go wrong?
Our first time riding in Spain! Our first time being away for more than a fortnight! Good weather forecast and the Jota was running well albeit sipping 20/50 at 1 litre every thousand miles.
I only changed the rear sprocket as I didn’t want to disturb the clutch cover to access it’s cousin on the gearbox output shaft. To the chain and sprocket I added a rear tyre and heavier 110 Ilbs weight rear springs. A rack for the Kreiger dry bags replaced the grab rail. I fitted a mirror to the left side (I usually only run with one mirror). A left hand mirror has two benefits – helps me see and reminds me to ride on the right. A Garmin XT satnav arrived as my 550 Zumo can’t hold all the map data. The XT is okay with fast startup and a larger, clear screen. I do think though some of the maps are light on detail (no road numbers just names) and as usual if you don’t plan beforehand you get drawn into the maze that is ‘satnav madness’…
The tank bag held spares; bulbs (mandatory along with Hi-viz in France) a rear tube, throttle cable, hydraulic clutch o ring a length of pipe to take out the oil cooler should it spring a leak again. The camping gear was given to Andy Bartlett to take down to Paul Ricard in his van – less bulk and a much easier task for Mrs A to get on and off the bike without panniers. Yes the first stage was hotels and airbnbs – living like rock stars 🙂
We set sail from Portsmouth at 21:30. The Jota felt good, handling the extra weight easily. The ride was uneventful except for torrential rain 20 minutes from Portsmouth causing the Jota to go onto two for a time – something I’d not experienced since getting it rebuilt. Disappointing.
There were quite a few motorcycles on board – primarily adventure bikes heading for Morocco and using this to save 600 miles on French motorways. The journey is billed as a mini-cruise but the truth is it’s two nights on a car ferry. Clean, comfortable and with a cabin the chance to relax before the riding begins.
The novelty of riding in Spain was quite a buzz. Arriving in France is the norm’ so this added a new perspective. We parked on the prom’ and started the day by repairing my right hand mirror which had been loosened by the attention of a GS BMW that had squeezed next to me on the boat!
Still repairs completed we (I) calmed down with a morning coffee before heading round the headland to the Palacio Real de La Magdalena and then onto Playa Primera de El Sardinero.
The Jota attracted attention, with one chap inviting us to come with his friends on a ride up into the Pecos mountains the next day.
A picnic on the beach and then back in to Santander and on to our airbnb just outside Bilbao at Mungia. Satnav madness ruined the planned a scenic ride and we ended up on the A8 dual carriageway which was probably for the best.
Bilbao is a fantastic city! We threaded our way through the narrow streets of the old town before parking up next a kiddies playground. We dressed by the Jota locking our gear to the bike via locks and security wires. The old town with the narrow streets has that bohemian feel and just drinking in the atmosphere makes a trip to Bilbao essential. There’s lots of cultural sites in the city along with open public spaces.
We visited The Guggenheim Museum which exceeded our expectations. After a full day of wandering we returned to the Jota ready for home. The old town was transitioning from the hustle of the day to the excitement of early evening and the promise of who knows what later on. The people were friendly, smiling and told us we couldn’t ride back the way we came as the streets were closed (I did wonder as we rode in…). A marvellous day.
Next day we were moving to The Pyrenees. The trip across the mountains was going to be 700 kms in total. Looking at the map it was clear the roads would be full of twists and turns so we’d booked a hotel in Ainsa to break the journey after 360 kms.
Ainsa is a typical ski resort which turns into a mecca for hikers, cyclists and motorcycles in the summer. The Hotel Meson de L’Ainsa was perfect. Ainsa is a small town with an ‘old town’ situated on the hill a short walk away. It was good to just walk around the old town and take in the atmosphere and views. On reflection we should have spent longer in Ainsa and explored the hills.
The second leg to Perpignan was on tighter roads so we rolled out of town ahead of schedule at 9:00…only to be met with a diversion 20 kms down the road at Les Bordes. We hit the ‘detour’ button on the Garmin and headed into the hills. Well surfaced roads with lots of short straights and tight bends made it quite physical to wrestle the Jota around two up with luggage but at the same time it felt planted the engine enjoying being powered along mountain roads and playing with the gearbox.
All good fun but the detour meant we’d spent a couple of hours and only got 30 kms towards our goal of Perpinan. A short stop to top Mrs A up with beer and time to go again…
The French border arrived in the grubby town of Puigcerda. By this time I was battling with a bloodshot eye courtesy of a bug contact – ouch! My sight was unaffected but the eye was watering and felt like it was full of gravel. I didn’t feel any blood on my face so decided to just press on and pretend it hadn’t happened and didn’t hurt like hell!
We booked three nights in an airbnb at Perpignan. I think we could have chosen a more interesting town but filled the days in and around the town doing the tourist thing. We headed to friends at Meze via a night in Alignan-du-Vent.
A day off the bike with friends was a real tonic and recharged the batteries. Jean-Pierre proudly showed off his 3C sidecar outfit and pointed out faults with my Jota and applied some oil to the clutch lever pivot.
Leaving Meze heading to Paul Ricard the trip took on a new focus. Avoiding the peage worked and the scenery around Montpellier is worth a proper look, it felt strange to see flamingo in the lagoons. The Jota was faultless and we were soon at the circuit and after a brush with French bureaucracy we followed Andy Bartlett to the pit garage.
A pit pass is a real privilege. Access all areas means you are really immersed. We met Andy’s brother–in–law (pit wall and cook) along with Paul Creasy (spannerman, pit crew), second rider Tony Jiminez and his pit crew Chris.
There’s always a buzz in a paddock but this was next level racing with names such as SRT and Phase One taking part. Some of the riders had WSB or BSB experience so weren’t messing about. There were four teams to a garage – the Laverda was joined by an English Suzuki team and two Dutch squads one running FJR based Yamahas and the other Ducati 1,000s.
The Laverda passed scrutineering followed by the riders gear. With scrutineering out of the way the garage was set up and we shoved off to put up our tent.
We returned later to walk the circuit with Andy talking us through the lines. Tension was building…
Friday morning meant two practice sessions followed by two qualifying sessions at 14:00. A night practice session would end the day at 20:00.
Andy duly rolled out on the Laverda and was soon circulating smoothly getting up to speed. At the end of his stint he reported a misfire which was diagnosed as dirty fuel so with clean float bowls Tony took the helm.
Tony is an experienced racer although he’d never been to Paul Ricard before and this was his first proper stint on the Laverda. Like Andy he found a rhythm and gradually built his speed – the real test was afternoon qualifying.
Qualifying repeated practice with Andy heading out first. We watched the timing screens in the garage in between hanging on the pit-wall. Andy was settled, building speed and qualified. Tony followed but was well down on time and seemed unlikely to make the cut! He pitted and just as he stopped blasted back out. He immediately knocked 12 seconds off a lap and ended up faster than Andy on his final lap. All looked good until he returned to the garage with smoke coming out the silencer! Smoke is never a good thing, it’s seldom minor…
Andy hoped it was petrol again and set to investigating the carbs but cleaning didn’t sort the problem.
Paul had made friends with the very well equipped Dutch team and one of them offered to put a camera down the plug holes as they suspected piston damage. The camera doesn’t lie (hmmm). Scored liners plus a potential crack in the centre liner appeared on the screen. Game over. What a kicker. All the work to prepare the bike, assemble a team, two days travel and the expense all gone with less than an hour’s track time. A tough time to be in the garage.
The team occupied themselves packing up the Laverda and looking round the paddock. The weekend was a mish-mash of activities with the endurance race at its heart and multiple ‘parade’ laps. The site was littered with interesting motorcycles from the 70’s onwards.
Laverda was thin on the ground an SFC replica, 3C based racer and a gorgeous RGS special all the way from Italy. The RGS was still 1,000cc with stunning attention to detail all across it. I didn’t see the SFC parading but did catch the 3C and RGS. As is often the case the 3C was quicker but surely that was down to the riders choice…the thought of trashing the RGS would prevent most from using 10/10th!
Andy came over to our tent to help me check over the Jota. It only needed 20 cl of oil and it seemed I’d been running the final drive chain too tight. I was pleased the Jota seemed to have cut down on its drink problem but a shade embarrassed about the chain…
Having been at both the Le Mans and Spa 24 hour races the idea of a 4 hour endurance didn’t seem that tough, especially given the quality of the machines and riders. Less than 30 minutes in the Dutch FJR team retired with a broken crankshaft (!).
The English Suzuki team were plagued by a succession of minor problems – loose footrest, broken ignition switch and lastly a failed headlamp (fixed with a torch to ensure they finished the race).
The SRT Suzuki team (with Al Fagan of 44T youtube fame) retired due I think to an accident with the Phase One squad. The Dutch Ducati team upheld the honour of garage #7 with eight overall and a class win.
It was fun watching the timing screen and seeing the action at close hand.
The SRT team in particular were well drilled with a ‘foreman’ ensuring all but the refueller were 2 metres from the bike and shouting ‘clear’ when the pitstop was clear and the rider could leave.
At the end of the race all the paddock went to the parc ferme area to cheer the riders in, it was good to be part of that.
Sunday and time to think about heading home. The van was loaded and the team set off for their overnight at Macon. We delayed leaving as rain was forecast the further north you went but Monday was set to be grey but dry. I booked a cheap motel in Marseille and we let the clock wind down as we couldn’t check in until 17:00. Stupidly I decided to ride into Marseille and visit a ‘beach’. It was hot and Marseille is a chaotic, busy city even on a Sunday.
The beach was somewhere to swim off either a small piece of sand or from wooden platforms. For the only time we were advised by some guides not to leave our bike unattended as ‘pickpockets’ operated in the area. Hot and bothered the Jota carried us back to the motel – I sensed it wasn’t going to be a good night…
We’d cut our teeth on cheap F1 hotels when we just needed somewhere to rest. The standard of these hotels however has been going downhill for sometime. They are often used by itinerant workmen who leave the rooms stinking of smoke and can be noisy. The Premier Classe Marseille La Valentine had taken the standard to a whole new lower level! The motel was being used as ‘home’ by a large proportion of residents. Not surprisingly they therefore congregated on the landings to catch up with each other over a beer and cigarette. It seemed no one had working air con’ so doors were left open revealing guys in boxers laying on their beds. Our shower head fell off and when boyfriends began to arrive in blinged up Peugeot 106’s with music blaring it was time to leave… The Garmin came to the rescue and guided us to an Ibis Budget hotel – better in every regard, albeit at €70 a night!
We’d thought about heading home without too much peage – maybe the A51/N85 up to Grenoble? We also knew the road from Dijon to Reims was good and so we compromised with peage to Dijon minor roads to Reims and final push on the peage from Reims to Dunkerque. In reality though now the race weekend was over we didn’t have the motivation to meander home. Getting onto the peage and settling into a 130 kph pace saw the kilometres fly by. Prolonged motorway highlighted the mirror blindspot – even with the mandatory life saver I still had a couple of close calls!!! An unplaned detour through …. saw us escape the tiring headwind and fill up with fuel and then it was back on it. We arrived at Dijon around 15:00. We were both still feeling okay so made the decision to press on to Reims and book another Ibis Budget. We had 36 hours to get back to Dunkerque on schedule but knew that in the morning we’d saddle up and get the boat a day early…
Tuesday morning and it’s raining. Not hard rain but the kind of rain you know is going to be around for a long time. The Jota had been tucked up under the tarp so was nice and dry. The peage had though awakened it’s thirst for oil and before leaving we gave it half a litre. We know the peage to Dunkerque well as we’ve usually chosen to by-pass the mundane roads of northern France and so it was head down and tough out the rain at a steady 130 kph (everyone seemed to ignore the 110 kph peage limit when raining). We pushed on and layered up at the first fuel stop. The Jota was enjoying the lower air temperature and humidity and hadn’t misfired like the outward trip near Portsmouth.
We were soon at Dunkerque coughing up an additional £47 to take the boat a day early! Although this was steep I learned from a fellow passenger he’d been charged £75 for booking on arrival. The lesson here is to not book a return ferry unless you’re sure and then go on-line the night before as you still get the £40 rate.
We sat on the harbour side chatting to Charles who’d ridden his Yamaha to Italy. We were joined by a German lady, Karen, who had cycled all the way from Germany and planned to cycle to Dorset the other side. She’d had a rather brusque encounter with UK Customs who demanded to know how long she planned to stay and her purpose. Ahhh UK Customs always willing to extend a warm welcome…Anyways we all sat together on the boat which made the two hour crossing fly by.
As usual the road out of Dover reminded you that the holiday was over – heavy traffic and roads full of pot holes…plus the promise of heavy rain and thunder and lightning. We started out at a steady 80 mph but soon found ourselves filtering round the M25. We joined the M4 (don’t these smart motorways without a hard shoulder feel dangerous) and then ran into torrential rain near Reading. The motorway was awash and of course the Jota began to misfire. Lightning joined the fray but we made junction 13 and the final push up the A34.
A 2,000 mile roadtrip with fab weather and spectacular scenery to watch a Laverda race – what’s not to like? Spain is great and not as expensive as France. The boat to Santander is not cheap at £400, it would have worked out cheaper to ride to Paul Ricard. However arriving in Santander with only 75 miles under your belt leaves you fresh and ready to appreciate the journey ahead. I’m told Portugal is just as good so a future trip there is on my mind with possibly a return trip on the boat. Despite its drink problem the Jota proved itself well up to the job of continental touring conquering mountain ranges and prolonged peage use with ease. Close your eyes, suck in your stomach and it’s still 1981.
Nick
PS – a few pictures of the dismantled engine back at base. Turned out not to be scored cylinders but a blown head gasket and there was a spare in the toolbox at Paul Ricard….
The second half…Brands Hatch
The DNS at Paul Ricard meant Team Laverda F1 TT needed a good result at Brands Hatch to be in Championship contention. Andy had repaired the blown head gasket and road tests (ahem…) suggested all was well.
The race was going to be held on the full F1 circuit. More often than not at Brands races are held on the short ‘Indy’ circuit. Mrs A and I walked the circuit. It’s been described by some as the best motorcycle circuit in Britain and you can see why. Lots of off chamber and a variety of corners with no long straight to be seen. The race format was different to Paul Ricard in that the race was reduced to 3 hours and would be run during daylight hours.
The latter change meant Andy removed the lights – leaving two holes in the front of the fairing.
The riders remained the same with Andy and Tony but Chris dropped out due to health issues. Rob Bradbury stepped in to help Paul Creasey in the garage.
Andy remained on the pit wall but hotel accommodation meant he relinquished the chief chef and bottle washer responsibilities (tho’ Andy’s mum had made a fruit cake). Mrs A and I blagged a ticket so we could pick up where we left off – taking pictures and…well… taking the piss! It was set up for a great couple of days.
Mrs A and I managed to pitch our tent in the marshals area whilst the Laverda superstars arrived in a hired van before leaving for their 5 star accommodation.
Brands Hatch isn’t very welcoming on a grey July evening especially as the garages came complete with puddles from recent rain. The Laverda team weren’t in the cheap seats as Brands ensured even top teams like Phase One and Classic Suzuki had to use a stiff broom to shift the standing water before they could set up! This wasn’t Paul Ricard…
While we talking about other teams there were some notable riders taking part included: Danny Webb (Moto3), Guy Martin (TT), Peter Lindren (former World Endurance Champion), Stephane Mertens, Belgian legend and Alan Carter (250GP winner).
The racing weekend was preceded by a Friday trackday. The weekend racers were also able to use the trackday as an opportunity for practice – although this proved a bit hit and miss because of the frequent red flags resulting from over excited trackdayers binning their Panagales! Andy in particular suffered from this with two of his sessions reduced to just one lap. The track day practice however confirmed that the Laverda was running fine. Unbeknown at the time the French opposition who’d taken the win at Paul Ricard suffered a thrown rod which also trashed the frame!
Saturday was the real thing and began with scrutineering.
The Laverda passed the noise test at just 97.6 dbs but the French scrutineers didn’t like the fairing holes where the lights had been, insisting they were filled in. If that’s what’s required to race then so be it and Paul got to work with the gaffer tape.
Rob Bradbury arrived on the Saturday to help Paul with the garage. Tony had forgotten his back protector meaning rider changes required stripping to the waist to facilitate swapping over! So with Andy’s back protector in place Tony rolled out into qualifying. No sooner had he left than the team realised the lap time transponder wasn’t on the bike! Tony was setting what looked like good time but nothing was being recorded! Tony missed the pit board so was a bit ‘disappointed’ to find all his work was for nothing when he came in. Bugger!!! Andy went out then Tony completed his mandatory 6 qualifying laps. The team qualified with a 1.55.5 however the top teams were hitting times some 30 seconds quicker.
The gulf in times was understandable and showed the challenge the Laverda faced. Changes from 1,000cc to 750cc in World Superbike meant the RGS was never raced competitively meaning racing components such as close ratio gearboxes, upgraded wheels and brakes are not readily available. Also because the endurance race was being run under both the French EEC regulations and the more liberal UK regs’ it meant some bikes had considerably more power – Stefan Mertens was even running carbon brakes! To help ensure the faster bikes saw the Laverda Tony and Andy were required to wear a yellow hi-viz vest.
During a pit lane walkabout Paul and I discovered the fate of the French rivals. As they were the only other team in the Laverda class so long as the RGS kept going it would win. Paul took advice from Guy Martin (yes, really) and decided not to tell Andy and Tony to keep their focus.
However before the actual race the French organiser spilled the beans while telling them they had to wear a yellow bib to warn faster riders about their pace. I also got the impression the organisers would prefer the Laverda not participate any longer than necessary as it was stressed points would be awarded at half race distance.
Andy led the Le Mans start but the race was almost immediately stopped due to a crash. This resulted in a 20 minute delay which would only benefit the Laverda from the point of view of shortening the race. After the restart and a few more laps Andy and handed the reins over to Tony (who by now had his own back protector).
Watching the action the Laverda was outpaced but kept going consistently. The organisers claimed the Laverda had smoked on two occasions and warned it would be black flagged (excluded) if this happened a third time. I never saw the bike smoke under any conditions and concluded it was another ploy to get the Laverda off the track. To issue this threat under race conditions was, in my opinion, not the organisers finest hour.
The bike was running well but then drama unfolded as the bike became stuck in fourth gear. The pit crew identified that the gear lever rear set bearing had come away so a repair was effected and Tony continued. The problem returned however with under an hour to go and Tony needed to complete a final pit stop. Tony rolled into the pit, stopped and then slipped the clutch to pull away in fourth. Each pit is observed and the EEC observer said this stop did not count…however he reversed this when the electronic system showed it as complete! The Laverda just had to keep going and with 20 minutes to go all was looking good.
The Laverda failed to come past the pits! Word came that Tony was pushing it back. Sure enough there he was pushing it down the back of pit lane to the garage – no one is allowed to help but he managed to hand it over before collapsing on the garage floor! The bloody gearchange linkage had failed again but a quick fix made it ‘good enough’ and Andy headed back out with under 15 minutes to go.
Chequered flag and there it was the Laverda was across the line. What a buzz to see the disappointment of Paul Ricard dispelled and all the subsequent hard work rewarded.
Motorcycle racing is a funny sport especially at the lower levels. The star riders are shadows of Motogp and WSB superstars. Only Guy Martin who is a TV regular had to worry about fans, the rest circulated annoymously marked out mainly by the quality of their bikes and the number of mechanics fussing over them. The level down from this are well equipped teams like the Dutch Roadrunner crew who clearly have invested a lot of money. For the majority tho’ their waistlines give away that they are weekend racers surrounded by enthusiastic helpers happy to be surrounded by racing slicks, wives/girlfriends doing tea and Snap On tool sets. An alien would conclude that the main purpose of race weekends is to sit in leather suits unzipped to the waist drinking tea and fantasying about how to shave .05 of a second off a lap. Winning is nice but you can’t beat a cake baked by your mum…
Nick 🙂
PS The final round of the EEC Championship was originally going to be held in Pau but it was decided the track could not cope safely with the fastest bikes. Donnington Park was offered as an alternative but a lack of enthusiasm from competitors to visit the East Midlands in October resulted in the final round being cancelled.
PPS The organizers confirmed the Laverda as Championship Winners!
Bent screwdrivers, big hammers and old Laverdas 