Bol d'Or 2022

[robbo]

The Bol should be a bit special this year, celebrating 100 years since the very first. The bikes all loaded and whatever I've forgotten will have to stay forgotten. I'm on the 02:20 Eurotunnel in the morning, so will be leaving home just before midnight. Tomorrows weather is crap all day, when I checked earlier, so the waterproofs will be getting a good work out, although I know they'll be fine.
The trip meters have been reset to zero, as need to keep an eye on progress, as the first 300 miles will be very boring, and more a matter of just burning through two tanks of petrol, and is quite mind numbing. The prize being the road south of Vichy, and on to Le Puy en Velay and my overnight campsite. The weekends weather at the track looks good and hope it stays that way, as the mistrale in 2019 certainly spoilt the weekend.

[agricola]

Sounds great, have a good trip

[robbo]

The bad weather forecast was spot on. Isn't it always the way. From Calais to Reims was biblical stair rods virtually all the way. Can't stop singing the praises of Scott waterproofs and Rukka Virium gloves. Neither are cheap, but they work 100% every time. Very rarely use the peage, unless I have to, which was the case today. As often happens, you're only on it for 5 minutes before the warnings of roadworks and reduced speed limits appear, which did slow progress somewhat, together with the weather. Despite all that I made what I thought was quite good time, and had the tent up and got my shower by 4pm. My plan to sleep yesterday afternoon didn't work, so at present I've been on the go for 36 hours or so, so should sleep well tonight. The Bol weekend always coincides with a French re enactment festival in the town I stay in, Le Puy en Velay. At present there's crowds of people dressed in medieval gear, banging drums while marching through the streets. They re enact a battle in the town square. I'll try and get some pics when I go to eat, as a few beers are taking precedence at the moment, having put in a reasonable shift for an old bloke today .

[red98]

sounds fantastic Robbo. look forward to some piccies

[robbo]

This is what's going on outside the restaurant I'm in. Not great pics as low light, but gives an idea.
 

[robbo]

No WiFi while I was away, so I’ll bore you all with my trip now I’m back home.
My Thursday morning wake up call wasn’t my mobile phone alarm or a cockerel, but several JCB’s being fired up at 7am, on the construction site, building a new arts centre next to the campsite. After a quick shower, and while my camping cooker was heating water for coffee, I got my bike gear on so that it would only be the tent to pack after a hot drink.


The Khyam tent was down and packed within 5 minutes. It’s heavier weight being traded off against its fast pitch and breakdown speed, resulting in less kneeling and bending for my well worn knees. After a brief chat to a fellow Brit on a KTM as I loaded the bike,it was out of the campsite and straight into the local commuter traffic, most going the other way fortunately. Today’s highlight would be the ride through the Gorges de l’Ardeche, that never ceases to amaze me despite many previous visits. My planned breakfast stop had changed its fare from traditional continental to pizza or pizza. I decided to give that a miss and press on and have a lunchtime stop instead.


The awaited Gorges de l’Ardeche turned out to be a morning of gravel and goats. Every now and then a bend would have a large gravel deposit running through it, maybe from an overloaded gravel truck, but it did make for wary progress. It did seem however, that the gravel free bends were plagued by nomadic goats, which seemed likely to make a mad dash in any direction. I tried to stop and take a few more pics than I usually do, the downside being having to re-overtake the camper vans and caravans that I’d already battled past, whilst being on the lookout for gravel and goats.


I made Pont St.Esprit my lunch stop venue, having a nice meal accompanied by a large panache(shandy). It seemed strange seeking out the lunchtime shade, when the previous morning I’d been riding through what seemed like waterfalls. With myself and the Fazer fuelled up I carried on southbound for a while to Avignon, crossing the mighty River Rhône, although not so mighty on this occasion due to lack of rain in those parts. Aix en Provence was the next city, although managing to skirt it arriving at Roquevaire, for a supermarket stock up to get me through the weekend at the track, bottled water being most important.


I’d often wondered why the camping area at the track was so full when arriving early on a Friday on previous Bol weekends, and although it’s not stated on the ticket, I found out earlier this year that the public are admitted as from 5pm on Thursday. Track entry was straightforward with the QR code on my ticket being scanned and a programme thrust into my hand. I knew the location of my chosen camp ground, and have always chosen the slightly more expensive one as they do a good job of keeping the toilets and showers clean. With my wristband attached and event badge safely in my tank bag,my choice of pitch was purely down to me. I opted for an area I’d never used before, but was bordered by a tall dense hedge. This proved to be an ace decision when a 12 hour Mistrale reared its ugly head on Saturday, as the hedge provided excellent shelter, whereas some tents in other areas got flattened.

[robbo]

1.Billy no mates on the train.
2. River Ardeche at Vogue
3.Pont d'Arc, can't pass it without taking a photo.
4. Black dots on the cloud are condors.

[robbo]

1. Ardeche Gorge
2.Lunch at Pont St.Esprit
3.River Rhone
4.Sticker and badge.

[robbo]

Not sure about the black dots being condors, but that's what I was told. Maybe black kites, as can't find any info on Ardeche condors.

[robbo]

As I arrived a day earlier than usual I’d decided to have a few hours on the beach on Friday morning. After a visit to the merchandise village to buy a couple of event t-shirts, it was off to the beach. The local resort Bandol has very safe and sandy bathing beaches, but require quite a wade out to get to swimming depth. After a 10 minute splash about, I spent enough time in the sun to get dry, then called in a supermarket for a few cold beers before returning to the track.


There’s plenty of track action from Thursday onwards, with practise and qualifying for each of the teams riders, both in daylight and the dark. Teams normally have three members identified by blue red or yellow arm bands. Some teams use a fourth rider (green band). I was amazed to learn that prior to 1954 there were no teams just one rider for the whole 24 hr stint. Real hardcore,chapeau. There are two classes within the same race, similar to BSB super bikes and super stock being in the same race.


Early Friday evening was the much awaited pit lane walkabout, enjoyed by the crowd but no doubt dreaded by the riders, as many don’t like the public relations side of being a rider. I managed brief chats with Chaz, Leon, Chris Idden and Sylvain Guintoli. It does get to be quite a madhouse with the crowd pushing and shoving in attempts to get autographs from their heroes. It was then time for some food, and a traditional merguez and chips was the order of the day, washed down with a few beers. An early  night was called for as tomorrow would certainly be a long and busy day.

[robbo]

1.Down the beach
2.Part of the campsite at the track.
3.Sert Suzuki.....didn't quite work out for the favourite.
4.Pit lane walk about.

[robbo]

The stands at Paul Ricard are not very high, unlike Le Mans, and are not covered, so it’s quite a grueller bagging a decent spot to see the start, hours before the 3pm start. The main support event is the Classic, open to bikes between 1969 and 1991 in three different capacity classes. It’s a two stage four hour race, so 2hrs night racing on Friday, with the remaining two hours raced on Saturday morning which keeps everyone occupied along with the following stunt show. One downside of being on your own is having no-one to save your seat should you need to leave it for whatever reason. Having a few beers was out of the question, as was going to the toilet.


After a jet fly past, similar to our Red Arrows, and a practise start by the riders, the bikes were lined up in their qualifying order, held by a mechanic whilst the rider stood on his mark on the opposite side of the track. At 3pm the starter dropped his flag, and a mad dash for the bikes began. All were cleanly away, unlike Le Mans earlier in the year when Bradley Smith got dramatically rear ended. Although not on pole position the Sert Suzuki was soon leading the pack, although about 90 minutes later it was to retire with a serious engine problem. Not long after the Yart Yamaha and factory BMW also had to call it a day. Even though it required a clutch change the Ducati lead until around lunchtime on Sunday, when it pitted for too long due to a problem, allowing a Yamaha team I’m not familiar with,Viltais Racing Igol taking the win, followed by another Yamaha from the big Polish outfit Wojcik Racing. At least we had a Brit on the top step as James Westmoreland had been reserve for Viltais.


The mad dash to leave the circuit began as the race ended. I’d made sure I had enough fuel to get me to my next stop about 100 miles north, as getting petrol on a Sunday in rural France can still be a problem, so at least when I was out of the gate there’d be no stopping until Digne les Bains, my next campsite.


My 90 litre Ortleib bag became very handy, as I could just throw stuff in without too much order, and made my exit quite quickly. The route I’d chosen on minor D roads meant I would encounter very little traffic, and had made this journey twice before and was confident in making my campground in good time, which was the case. My allocated pitch had a lovely view over the nearby rock formations. A hastily rustled up chilli got the catering out of the way. It was luxury to just walk to the washing up facility, rather than have to boil a kettle to get the washing up chore done.

[robbo]

1.Last bend onto the start/finish straight.
2.End of the Mistrale straight at dusk.
3.Pits at night.
4.The start

[robbo]

The campsite at Digne does offer a substantial continental breakfast, but it’s not served until 08:30 which makes for a late start, and I was off to Italy for a proper pizza on Monday. I decided to skip the breakfast offer and rode out of the gates at 10 to 8. What a mistake that was, it was freezing. After all I’m in the Maritime Alps, what did I expect in September. The longed for whizz up the D900 through Seyne les Alpes, was taken at a very sedate pace with the heated grips on max and not enjoying it at all.


By the time I’d got to Barcelonette, the sun was on my side of the road and felt a little better. The plan was to cross into Italy via the Col de Larche, then east to Borgo San Dalmazzo, and on to Cuneo. The D900 being the road to follow on the French side. However the approach to the Col was blocked with barriers with quite a queue of traffic already formed. I filtered to the front where ten or so bikes were waiting. A French rider on a Beemer XR, recognised my Bol sticker, and came over to explain the wait. There were roadworks on the pass, so a half hour one way system was in place, luckily for me there was only 10 minutes to go before the barriers were removed. The traffic lights had a system that counted down the waiting period in minutes.  The XR rider and his two pals were the first to make a move, so tagged on at the back. It soon became obvious that XR man had been up and down this pass more than a few times in the past, and set a brisk but comfortable pace which was very much appreciated and enjoyed. We waved our goodbyes as they pulled in for petrol just before Borgo, while I carried on in search of a pizzeria that was open. It seemed in this neck of the woods, most were closed on a Monday. A few of the roundabouts were quite liberally doused in diesel which did produce one lucky to get away with slide. Before my heart rate had returned to something like normal I spied my target lunchtime destination, and was soon tucking into a perfect capricciossa.


I had two options for my return journey, either backtrack the way I’d come ,which I knew would be very enjoyable. Or, press on north of Cuneo before picking a road to another pass, the Col dell Agnello, which is what I chose. The Garmin wasn’t too much help as the roads I’d chosen weren’t covered by Garmin until I was actually on them. As the pass rose and rose, I was tempted to stop at every turn to admire the view, but would have lost too much time, so saved the sight seeing for the summit, which did not disappoint. Several of us Billy no mates riders did the honours for each other, by taking hopefully memorable photos. I had a nice pigeon English chat with my Italian photo taker.


Coming off the Col, again there were two choices. Either Col de Vars and back to the D900, or westward a short distance to pick up the N94, and the road to Savines Le Lac, which is the way I went. All roads in the area seem to home in on the D900, and was soon enjoying its delights on my way back to the campsite.

[robbo]

1. Col dell Agnello towards Italy
2. France/Italy border
3.Savines Le Lac
4.Savines Le Lac

[robbo]

There was no early start on Tuesday, having learnt my lesson I opted for the full continental breakfast,yoghurt, baguette, jam, pain au chocolat⁷, juice and coffee, the whole works. The sun was well and truly in the sky as I left for my last day with no luggage strapped on the back, although in fact it’s no worse than a passenger when on the move. Today’s jaunt was to be a good dose of the famed Route de Napoleon, a must ride together with the D900 and Gorges de l’Ardeche, for anyone remotely into riding motorbikes.


The Route de Napoleon, this section being the D4085, took me to Castellane before turning left and north along the banks of the very beautiful Lac de Chaudanne, then eastwards to take in that areas Routes des Crete’s. Then lastly south through the Gorges du Loup and on to Grasse, which is France’s and maybe the world’s perfume capital. Grasse is also the gateway to the southern section of the RdN, this time the D6085, my destination being a roadside diner made up of a series of shacks that has seriously expanded over the best part of 25 years that I’ve been stopping there. Unfortunately the owners son, who cooks a mean burger, was not in work that day, so it was pizza or pizza or nothing. I chose the latter, just took a few pics, admired the view, then back on the Route de Napoleon to enjoy the road. When the French have a crash they don’t do it by halves. Within a mile of my roadside diner stop, a Clio was on its roof, and a Renault Traffic had its front lying in the road about 30 yards from the rest of the vehicle. Cars had already stopped with people on their mobiles summoning help. There was no assistance I could offer, so gingerly picked my way around the carnage and warned oncoming traffic of the situation. Back in Digne I gassed up ready for tomorrow’s first leg of the journey home, and bought a few items to rustle up something for the nights meal.

[robbo]

1.Lac de Chaudanne
2.Road towards Routes des Cretes
3.View over Grasse towards the coast.

[robbo]

Wednesday came all too soon, and I was up, showered and getting stuff packed away before it was properly light. The breakfast lady was late for work, but I was in no rush. After demolishing my generous breakfast I bade my farewells, and after a quick tent pack up, it was on with the bike gear and away. Maybe this is the last time I’ll visit Digne les Bains, who knows, but it certainly didn’t disappoint. One last blast up the D900, then a left turn to Gap and westwards to Le Puy en Velay, pretty much retracing my steps of last week from Aubenas.


I made good time to Le Puy, but found I had to kill time waiting for any of the decent dining places to open, which wasn’t until 7pm. A few beers eased the waiting time. There was quite a chill in the air by now, so it was no surprise to find all the inside dining areas had been pre-booked. Locals were strolling around in their down puffa jackets, whilst my hoodie and shorts didn’t quite cut it. Having to sit outside just meant I’d have to eat fast to prevent the food from getting cold. A talent I don’t excel at.

[robbo]

The JCB’s woke me up bang on 7am, even though I’d set my alarm in case it was a saints day or something. A walk in to town to the Carrefour Market, a bit like Tesco Express, got some breakfast provisions, and soon the kettle was boiling and hands were wrapped around a hot cup of coffee. After chomping down a couple of pain au chocolat, while watching air balloons drift over the campsite, it was time for the final pack up. I don’t know where all the time went, but it was almost 10am when I rolled out of the campsite, headed for home, which turned out to be 650 miles away.


All the good twisty roads started happening almost straight away, stopping occasionally for a photograph. But, by Vichy the fun was over, as I well knew, and now the rest of the journey would mainly be a grind. I had plenty of water and a few nut bars in my tank bag, and wasn’t planning on a lunch stop as I’d rather get to Calais early with the chance of an earlier train, than get there just in time.


All was going swimmingly until Auxerre. I’d plotted my route on the Garmin as a belt and braces measure. A handy feature of my new satnav, was a distance display to the next petrol station. I’d kept one trip meter zeroed at every fill up, so I knew my distance travelled on that tank of fuel. When I turned onto the N77 out of Auxerre headed for Troyes, the “next petrol” indication changed from 0.5km to 28km, a distance I couldn’t make with my available petrol. No problem, a quick U turn and follow the directions to the Leclerc garage. On arrival it was obvious the last time petrol was pumped here was in about 1964. Never mind I’ll choose the next option 3 Kim’s away, which it turned out, didn’t sell E5, and as I’m an E10 sceptic I gave it a miss. Third time lucky…..not this time, the site had been redeveloped and was now a national diy store. The trip meter was now on 190 miles with the low fuel light burning into my visor. My next nearest choice was a Total garage, very near the peage that I didn’t want to go on. On nearing the Total station the satnav suddenly displayed an exclamation mark in a triangle. Mmmm, never seen that before, I’ll ignore it, it’s bound to go away. Rolling, almost literally onto the forecourt the problem was obvious. Every pump had a canvas hood over it, both petrol and diesel. The garage had no fuel whatsoever. The E10 would have been worth the risk in hindsight. Fortunately the lady behind the counter spoke good English and gave me directions to a Cora supermarket nearby, that had fuel. I was suddenly spoilt for choice as the Cora garage even had E5 super. Boy, was I relieved.


I let the satnav get me back to the N77, where the saga started, as my brain was fried and didn’t have a clue what part of the city I was now in. My Calais eta on the Garmin had increased by almost an hour, so pressed on more enthusiastically than normal to Troyes, and the peage. I knew I’d have to make one fuel stop on this stretch, as the motorway is far longer than the Fazers range. Time wise I’d got back around 20 minutes on my Calais eta, which was more than acceptable, and grabbed a sandwich, gave the chain a lube and gassed up just north of Reims. Now it was just a matter of watching the trip meter miles increase and the Garmin kilometres decrease. The fuel gauge was of course heading towards zero. It was a tough hour or so, but with the peage terminal looming in to sight, Calais was just around the corner so to speak. With the peage fee paid, I pulled up at the Eurotunnel check in, to find I’d missed the earlier train by 5 minutes. If the Auxerre drama hadn’t happened I’d have easily made that.


An hour or so’s wait was an opportunity to wind down, before boarding the train for its 35 minute whizz under the Channel. A quick gas up at the Folkestone terminal, and I was in the boring 50mph average speed camera section of the M20, in next to no time. Once clear of Maidstone, normal service was resumed, and was home by about half past midnight. The Fazer having devoured 650 miles since breakfast, and 2369 over the week. The bike was no doubt ready to do it all again, unlike me, I was totally knackered.

[robbo]

1. Air balloon over the campsite.
2. " ------------"--------------"---------------"
3.St.Michel d'Aiguilhe chapel, 10th century, overlooks the whole town.
4. This place looks like a cowboy film location, forgotten its name.Doh.

[robbo]

View from Digne camping pitch.