Catching up #3: Bigger Hills and More Elephants

I was just getting stuck in to Maurice’s lovely spread when he asks me where I’m going. Excitedly I explain the pass that I have found: the 6,000 ft pass called Col de Mont-Cenis on the D1006 which comes off the main auto route between France and Italy going through – literally through: with a massive tunnel (not as big as the one the British built under the Channel obviously, but not bad) – the Alps. You can find a description of the road and the pass on “most dangerous roads.com” – it looks absolutely stunning.

I had of course checked all the websites and it was definitely open for business:.

Maurice frowned and got out his phone. Like a trooper he starts calling around cop-shops up in the Alps, starting with the one closest to my expectant pass, “Non. Juin.” – not until June does it open and I will also discover later when I’m in Susa, from a pair of exceedingly dull and old (far older than me) travellers that they themselves tried to drive around the road closure sign on this very road just a few days before because their “Merc” has such good traction control. Yes, he went into extensive detail on the benefits of driving a Mercedes; and the very reasonable prices of the meal he’d had in a hotel up the road; of the very cheap ferry crossing he uses; of the route through Kent he uses to drive home after the cheap ferry crossing; and the benefits of forced euthanasia. No wait, that last one was what I started fantasising about.

No sooner had he driven passed the sign, he found that the infamous traction control wasn’t worth toffee and quite literally shit in his beige slacks inside his brown Merc (merd). They then took the tunnel as I did that day.

I had my maps out and I spotted the Col de Montgenevre – fortunately for you it’s also on Most Dangerous Roads – and Maurice dutifully looked up the number and called the local Gendarmes. It was open! But unfortunately the road I needed to get there from Chambery showed a closure so I was scuppered.

Nevertheless, despite having to take the main motorway route via the tunnel through the Alps it was absolutely spectacular and I loved every second of it.These pics are were I stopped for a weecicle just before getting to the French end of the tunnel (again I have film footage but that’s going to have to wait).

Squirting out on he Italian side was equally beautiful but I have to say, in comparison with what I’d had in France, Italy here did seem a bit worn out. A few miles over the border (by the way it was hard switching from French to Italian in my brain) I stopped at what turned out to be a not-very-friendly and a bit grotty mini-services. The highlight being an obvious motorcyclist was within. The (yet another) BMW GS sat outside so I knew there would be an aged and portly motorcyclist in there somewhere.

Well, by the time the lazy Italian tea-lady had made me my coffee and I’d squeezed through the untidy bunch of layabouts hanging around I spot John who has already prepared a chair for me next to him. Not weird. Friendly.

John is from Belfast and on his way to Turkey where his wife will meet him via a flight on a plane once he’s prepared the place – presumably by “prepared” he means “put the potatoes on to boil”.

His bags, he informs me, are filled with stuff that his wife wanted him to take out to save her carrying it on the plane. Apparently he had everything an Irish lady would need in Turkey – presumably 20 litres of sun bloc and the aforementioned potatoes. He never once took his hand off the potatoes.

Susa, where I was saying, is only 20 minutes down the road so I press on and when I turn off the motorway I experience the mountain roads proper for the first time – wahey! I play for a while then I start looking for my B&B which as luck would have it is up a right twisty road out of the town. I would discover later that evening that this very road is actually the Italian end of the Montgenevre pass! Well now I know what route I’m taking back tomorrow! Forget Turin.

Fancesco was my host and what a flipping brilliant host he (and his family) was too! Here’s a terrible pic of them: his daughter plays the ukele really, really badly.

Maurice was good but Francesco was even lovelier! He is a lawyer but he hates it and he says it’s too dangerous to be a lawyer in Italy – he’d rather be climbing Mount Everest and less risky stuff like that.

He’s just opened the B&B and it is his way out of that grip like vice. The place is great now but will be superb – he wants to cater for weddings and he’s about the get a swimming pool installed!

The journey to Susa from Chambery was not a long one and so I was able to relax a bit in the most amazing sunshine surrounded by the most amazing mountains! Here I found a big stone table to plan out my route for the next day and a right royal knees up it is promising to be!

I’ve already mentioned the pizza place but what I don’t think I mentioned was that Francesco insisted on driving me around on a tour, including Julius Caesars’ pad (yep he stayed there too) and apparently everyone in Susa is convinced that Hannibal brought his elephants through the town. To be honest that would help explain the state of Julius’ place.

He introduced me to the other celebrities of the town (after him and the pizza man they really weren’t that memorable) AND the restaurant phoned him when I was filled to bursting and he collected me! What a mint geezer.

Of course, back at his pad were the two beige travellers I mentioned earlier – so he may have just wanted to get out of the house.

I include above the telltale sign that you have arrived in Italy: every toilet includes the facility to spray ones arse with water.

I am up early the next day to pack up the bike and get on the road for what was shaping up to be a roller coaster. Oh boy that helmet cam got some work done that day I can tell you!