Finally, positive news from Dave. Well, sort of. The Tenéré was back up and running and back with Dave. The Yamaha dealer at Logruño had fitted a new clutch case cover, an upgraded version now including a small piece of extra “armour” to prevent exactly the problem Dave had had, but had failed to find an electrical problem saying that the bike was running and charging normally. Good news and bad news. Yes it was running again – but for how long?! Speaking to Dave it was clear he’d lost confidence in the bike and he was now debating whether to attempt the long schlep over to the East to join us. It was a long way but, if he just hopped on the motorway, he could bash out the miles easily in the day and we could all be reunited at Espot later on. Thy would mean he’d just catch the last big trail day which, if it all worked how I’d planned it, would be an epic. So we left it with him, we’d all done our best to encourage him to have a go – it was up to him now. Up and packed and away at the crack of 11am we hit the trail up past the waterfall at Saut Deth Pish again, fully loaded this time, over the top and down the twisty descent into Baguergue. Camping Verneda is such a lovely and well placed site it’s always sad to leave, however the anticipation of the trails ahead of us made it easier to bear! Scooting through Salardu we picked up the mountain road to Plan Beret and climbed the fast sweeping switchbacks under the ski lifts all the way to the ski area car park and the beginning of the trail. We took a different route to last time out as I realised that we’d used the footpath to Montgarri in 2010 rather than the trail for motorised vehicles…oops! A short ride later we arrived at the Refugi de Montgarri, an ancient village high in the mountains previously only accessible by foot and having undergone restoration over the last few years now boasting a bar, restaurant and accommodation in the refuge. A few photos later and we were on our way again, following the long trail along the river to Esterri d’Aneu and lunch. Fed and watered we sought out another trail on our way to Espot. Shortly before the turn for the trail I spied a Wild Boar at the roadside – unfortunately for the beast I wasn’t the first one to have spied it and the previous guy obviously had had a gun! It was lying, rear legs tied, (the very definition of “Hog Tied” I suppose) at the bottom of someone’s driveway and we assumed they must be trying to sell it. An impressively large creature when you see one in the flesh. Taking the next trail-turn we plunged headlong into the woods and into the unknown. I had an idea from various maps and the satellite view that the trail looped around and eventually would lead us to where we needed to be. However after a series of guessed turns we arrived at a sign saying bicycles only and thought better of ignoring it and so turned around and retraced our tracks back to the road. Unable to join the dots on this occasion, always frustrating. However, the mountain top rollercoaster road proved just as deserted and just as entertaining as the trail might have been and half an hour later we arrived into Espot and pitched camp again. Another beautiful campsite, with terraced pitches, cobbled access ways and, initially at least, a self-service honesty bar! Coupled with an impressive kitchen garden full of fresh lettuce and other veg on the roof of the bar and some fantastic views down the valley it was a lovely stopover. The ski village of Espot itself also proved a little gem (unintentional lettuce pun there) – a short stroll from camp there are several bars and restaurants along the river and a nice relaxed atmosphere. We found a great meal in La Llupia restaurant after spying several rave reviews on TripAdviser before we travelled. Every time we heard a bike rumble into the village we thought it might be Dave until we received a text saying he was staying put and not going to risk another electrical breakdown whilst en-route solo. We were all gutted, not half as much as he must have been, but just felt really bad he was missing out on such amazing riding. We had one last go, “Ride through the night Dave, set off now and you’ll be here by 4am” we said, but he wasn’t for turning. It turned out a man called Jesus had fixed Daves bike – able to restore the punctured clutch case, but unable to restore faith in the bike.

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After the eternity of the last week and the inexplicably slow crawl of the countdown timer the hour is almost finally upon us. A little music while we cram the last of our kit into already overloaded panniers…

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Second time around the mountains of the Val d’Aran were a familiar playground. However, there’s always new trails to be found so, armed with the trusty map we headed towards Les and a trail I’d spied from my own personal (Google maps) satellite. A twisty single track road led up from the main road through Les, snaking its way through dense forest until, ahead of us on a switchback, lay the trail. The pristine tarmac gave way to a well defined trail gently sweeping through the trees, traversing the mountainside for a good 10 miles or more. It was easy going and, in spite of my brief episode of object fixation leading me to collide with a large rock and clang my leg off the engine bars, we all reached the end of the trail unscathed. Happy campers every one of us. Turning back on to the main road we headed for trails we’d ridden before. Ascending the roller-coaster tarmac up to the waterfall Saut Deth Pish the memories came flooding back. A few photos of the cascading water later we were back on the bikes and straight onto the trails, sliding up the rocky switchbacks towards the summit. This time around the going was much quicker and, without all the photo stops of the previous trips, we quickly summited and began the descent towards Baguergue, Salardu and lunch by the pool. After a mighty fine hamburguesa and fries we once again tried the mountain-loop beyond the Barranc des Pois and once again we were turned back at the start of the trail, some 5 miles or more up the surfaced road – 4×4 taxis only at this time of year. One time we’ll sneak by…one time! I think a Dawn Raid is on the cards next time. Heading back up to Baguergue the option of the slightly more gnarly mountain trail eventually leading to the mountain lake lay ahead. Again, a familiar route, we quickly reached the highest point of where we’d reached in 2010 – the dreaded rocky ascent to the old mining building. I’d said to Steve I was unsure whether I’d attempt the steep ascent as, once up there, we’d have to come back down again as the trail is a dead end. In 2010 it had been a very hairy descent indeed for me on the lumbering 1150 GSA. Arriving at the bottom of the incline and edging slowly in first gear across the short water splash I sized up the foreboding slope and decided to go for it again. It’s a balls-out first-gear thrash, bouncing over rock after boulder until you reach the ruined mining building and breathe a sigh of relief once your wheels roll onto relatively flat and horizontal ground. Steve followed me up and Simon breathlessly arrived shortly after. Getting off his bike he said “Whoa, that was horrible. Thank fcuk we don’t have to go back down!” Little did he know that’s exactly what had to be done…unless you fancy venturing up beyond the fabled lake and finding the path that apparently brings you back down and into Les! A few photos later we steeled ourselves for the descent, relatively short but strewn with jagged rocks, rutted, uneven, very steep (especially when you’re at the top looking down) and without any decent run-off at the bottom. Steve descended first and made it cleanly down. I followed and was pleased to get down infinitely better than last time, even managing to stand up for the camera towards the bottom! Simon came down last and, despite a brief foray into the gulley at the side of the trail, exactly as I had done last time, made it down safely. After that we returned to the junction of the trail back towards camp and, despite some seriously low cloud which made for a few hairy hairpins, enjoyed a fast “special stage” race up to the summit and down the other side back to camp for debriefing and cocktails. Still no word from Dave, we felt sure that the bike must be repaired by now and all felt terrible for him that he was missing these amazing trail days which was what the whole trip was about.

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Knowing there was a big day ahead of us, we were up with the larks, or Griffon Vultures, and it was a foreboding gunmetal grey sky that faced us as we emerged bleary eyed from our tents. The atmosphere was thick and heavy with the promise of rain and the leaden sky was hanging low over us, shrouding the tops of the rugged peaks of the Mallos de Agüero, so we quickly broke camp and packed the bikes in double time. However, the rain never came, which meant we had time for a leisurely coffee and Tostada con Jamon as the campsite bar restaurant opened before setting off on the long days ride to the Val d’Aran. We had a text from Dave saying he’d yet to hear anything regarding the stricken Tenéré, but at least it was now Monday so were felt sure that someone would be looking at it and there would be news of some progress by the time we arrived in the Val d’Aran later on. First stop en-route was the Monasteria San Juan de la Peña. Over 1000 years old and built under an overhanging cliff it was an impressive sight, only minutes off our route and well worth a visit. Back on the road we fuelled up at Jaca and headed North towards the French Border. Passing through several ski resorts, ahead of us along the complex route lay 6 Cols, or mountain passes, several taken in by Le Tour de France eventually leading us to the Val d’Aran. Pausing only for a huge lunchtime Pyrennean Tartiflette, the Col du Portalet, Col d’Aubisque, Col du Tourmalet, Col d’Aspin & Col de Peyresourde all fell prey to our all-conquering TKC80 tyres before, at the crest of another pass, we crossed back into Spain and finally descended the last set of twisties plunging down the mountainside in the evening light, leaving us just a short 10 minute blat into a 2 night stay at the lovely Camping Verneda. A pizza and a few beers later and we all fell into our tents and a deep sleep. Tomorrow would bring a full day of trails with the bonus that we could leave the luggage in the tents…bring it on! We’d texted Dave earlier but had had no reply and figured that in this case, no news probably wasn’t good news.

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Leave no man behind. Correction: Leave ONE man behind! 🙁 Pulling away from Camp 1 and leaving Dave behind was an odd experience…but had to be done. The recovery truck which eventually arrived told us nothing would happen that day (being a Sunday) and we figured it would be incredibly lucky if the dealer had the parts in stock ready to fit when they did get around to looking at the bike. So it was always likely to take a couple of days. So we rode off, capacity 25% reduced, across country and towards our first trails of the trip. Dave was a forlorn figure in our mirrors as we pulled away, we all felt bad, but the show must roll on. The road to Longas was semi familiar and upon arrival the trail leading up the mountain was visible – at least we didn’t have to hunt it out this time. A quick coke and a smidge of the F1 later (in the only bar Longas has to offer) we were away. Turning onto the arid trails it was apparent it hadn’t rained much for some time – but it was also apparent that it had bucketed down at some point not too distant as the trail was criss-crossed with rain gullies carved into the earth by previous downpours, making for some initial rough going. However we soon found our feet and made it unscathed to the Summit. It’s a dead-end, but well worth the extra couple of miles from the turning as the views are stunning. There’s also a Refugi, a mountain refuge, which we’ll make use of next time for sure as a night up there away from it all would be something very special indeed. A few photos later and it was time to head back to a small turning back down the trail and the much talked-up “Demon Drop” a very steep descent that Steve and I had negotiated back in 2010.Thinking that we’d probably just talked it up and blown in out of proportion in our own minds we dismounted and walked down the precarious incline. Nope, we hadn’t exaggerated it, it really is that steep! Steeling our nerves we descended one at a time, watched over by circling vultures, until we were all at the foot of the slope. No photos or videos will ever do the gradient justice but suffice to say if it were a ski run it would be marked with black poles! Safely down we continued on our way, past previous years’ wrong turnings, until a call came over the radio – “Hang on – Si’s pannier has dropped off!” Shaken loose by the vibration of the uneven surface his expensive Touratech box had worked its way loose. However it was quickly reattached and, a small dose of heat exhaustion induced vomiting later, we carried on our way and pulled in to Biel 10 minutes later for another well earned drink. Over a double-round of Coke and water we established we were, in general, fairly knackered and the decision was taken to head to camp via the road and not via another section of trail. As it was we arrived fairly late at Camp, had a swim, beer, shower and then discovered the restaurant had already closed. Fortunately the barman offered to “whip us up” Calamari and chips as a stand-in which was exactly what we wanted anyway! Full of that and several beers we retired for the night. We’d had no word from Dave and all hoped he was doing OK.

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En route from the Ferry to first camp last night we’d just completed an amazing set of twisties followed by a steep climb up to a rugged ridge with a spectacular view complete with low clouds, sunbeams form the setting sun and a soaring Griffon Vulture when the 2 tail end riders, Dave and Si, disappeared from view. Turning around and heading back we discovered Dave’s electrical problem on the Tenéré had resurfaced, the regulator/rectifier had stopped working, drained the battery and killed the bike. 18 miles from first camp Steve decided to tow Dave the rest of the way. At 20mph it was a slow and scary ride for them with Si and I as outriders. Eventually we arrived at camp around 10.15 in darkness. Dismounting, Steve’s bike rolled off its stand and knocked Dave’s over. The morning light revealed the brake pedal had been pushed through the clutch case cover and oil was slowly weeping out. A recovery truck has been called and we’re waiting for it to arrive. However, it’s Sunday and it’s Bull Run Festival at nearby Pamplona so it may not come anytime soon! Implementing the “Top Gear Directive” we’re abandoning Dave here and carrying on without him. Once he’s up and running he can catch up. Didn’t expect this level of “adventure” on Day 1!

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Months of snatched moments, late nights and severe eye strain have led us here… … I’m quite proud of this one, and in exactly 4 days it all begins!

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Notwithstanding the rather cool name, I think I kinda like the new Yamaha XT1200Z Super Ténéré Worldcrosser – what do you reckon?

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Well, with extremely limited time and the footage from only 1 of the 2 cameras this is alright for a quickie!

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No offence to any of my Gallic friends, but the French are at it again with their prescriptive motoring legislation. Now ALL motorists have to carry breathalysers – even if you’re just there for a day trip or passing through! And yes, that does include motorcyclists (although not mopeds). Think we may get away with it on this years trip though, it seems the law comes into place 1st of July but they don’t start enforcing it until 1st November. On top of that there will be, from January next year, a requirement for ALL bikers to wear a prescribed amount of Hi-Viz material at all times, and it seems we’re already supposed to have reflective stickers on the backs of our lids… I never knew that! Then again, saying that, is it such a bad idea? Discuss!

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