Following the trek through France and the Vosges mountains, the tour turns north towards Germany and the Eifel region.
A few days into the gig, the following morning hit a little harder when we geared up the Suzukis and got our next stint underway. We were still very much in the Vosges region, gunning for Germany. Over the years, the border between the two countries has shifted so often that many towns on the French side feel distinctly German… both in name and architecture. What they also both have in common are cracking roads, which I was still relishing on the GX. It had now become my favourite bike of the three, offering the best level of comfort, but the downside was its fuel light was often the first to come on. I wasn’t keen to get off it, so kept it to myself for as long as possible until the other two pointed out that their lights were also on. By this point in time we’d just crossed over into Germany, with the only give away being the difference in signage. The border crossing was proper picture-postcard spec, as quiet and quaint as it gets. We’d continued our efforts to stay off any main roads, working our way towards the Nürburgring. Getting there meant leaving the Vosges region, which was sad. Even for a good stint into Germany, the typically harsh landscape stayed with us for quite a while, eventually morphing into rolling grasslands.
With the first fuel stop out the way, and having returned onto the GSX-S1000, bizarrely, everything was going to plan for once, to the extent we’d even found a decent bakery to raid, near Saarbrucken. With coffee, cakes and the obligatory ham and cheese rolls consumed, the gig continued towards the Eifel region. It’s a place I’d last been to savour in 2023 when we did a special supernaked test there. Naturally, the ‘Ring’ is the main attraction for going to that part of Germany, but the roads around it are top tier for enthusiastic riding. And the scenery is pretty stunning too. Slowly but surely, we started tapping into the region, with quiet roads, endless farmyards and just as many tractors littering the route.
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The scenery was no way near as dramatic as it had been in the Vosges, but it was stunning all the same. A lot of the small roads we were crossing were deceivingly high, and every bit as fun to blast around on. The icing on the cake was when we found ourselves in the Mosel valley. Either side of the Mosel river are towering cliff faces, littered with vineyards, all of which were lit up by their late-autumnal colour schemes. It really was a stunning location, and whilst the pace of the ride might have took a massive nose dive, the sights we were seeing more than made up for it. It was a chance to remind ourselves that trips like this are about going to new places and soaking up what they offer. Over the years, I’ve been guilty of riding in some of the most amazing places in the world but never looking up from the roads (…or trails) to appreciate the surroundings. By contrast, this trip was all about absorbing and enjoying every part of the journey. As nice as it was travelling down by the river, passing through the quintessential, stunning German towns and villages, a real highlight of the journey appeared when we began climbing out of the valley on a relentlessly twisting route, littered with switchbacks. It was as pleasurable to ride as it was easy-on-the-eye, giving us a wholly different perception of the tranquil Mosel and all its surroundings.
We reached the track around early-afternoon and celebrated over a handful of broken biscuits. Unfortunately, it’s near impossible to get out on a bike there these days, with just a few special trackdays a year facilitating two-wheeled antics. It’s crazy to think that just a few years back, we were able to rinse around the track with impunity, paying and playing until the lack of daylight brought an end to things. I’ll be honest, the draw of the place felt lesser on arrival, but having spent an hour or so watching pre-production cars drift their way around the corner in front of us, we felt fulfilled and justified the visit was still well worth it. The place is a petrolhead’s mecca, meaning there were plenty of other bikers in attendance too, along with carparks rammed with car enthusiasts, poking cameras through any gaps in the fencing they could find.
We might not have been able to tackle the ‘Ring’ but there was no stopping us from exploiting the best of the nearby roads. We headed to some of the top spots we’d discovered the last time we were there and gave the Suzukis a workout. Technically speaking, there were several parts of the Eifel we’d ticked off that day… the South Eifel, and High-Fens-Eifel. To ensure we really had an eyeful of the Eifel, we cracked on northwards into the last remaining segment – the Vulcan Eifel.
The roads in this part got much more wooded and were great fun to ride, more so because the roads turned out to be dry. They reminded me a little of the Vosges, albeit without any rocky faces to found, or at anywhere as much altitude. What we did see, though, were more scars from the war. The Seigfried line was Germany’s defensive system, in place to stop any unwelcome guests from popping over the border. The route we were riding meant a number of such installations came into sight. But we weren’t in a position to stop and explore. Breaking with tradition, we were on a mission to reach the evening’s accommodation before the sun set. Yet again, we’d been on the go for over 10-hours, having travelled a good chunk of miles in the process. A big ask on any trip, and especially so because throughout the entirety of the journey, we needed to stop and shoot pics and video to capture the journey. Anyway, we’d had a solid day in the saddle by the time we arrived at that night’s hotel, in a small town called Stadtkyl. We headed straight for the buffet and beer, watching from a safe distance as a Saga-style tour group went all-in on karaoke. It was a brilliant way to top the night off.
The original plan had been to get up and go like the clappers, ticking off Spa and the Ardennes before hopping on a ferry at Calais… and riding another five hours to reach home, once back on dry land. We soon binned that off, realising that whilst it was doable, we’d rob ourselves of an enjoyable time, taking in as many sights as possible. Calais was now to be that evening’s destination, whilst Spa was to be our first target. Stadtkyl is located right on the German border, and only an hour and a bit away from the Belgium racetrack. With this being the case, we once again rolled big on finding the most twisty, quiet roads the region had to offer. Surrounded by woods, our route once more crossed a border with little fanfare, though the difference in architecture and road signs hammered home that Germany was now a thing of the past. Technically speaking, we were now in the Ardennes, but it didn’t look massively different to the area we’d just left. How could it have? But what we were to see later in the journey would tell a very different story.
Having never been to Spa before, I was genuinely excited to see the place. It was impossible to miss, owing to the million-and-a-half signs guiding you to the iconic circuit. Naturally, it was wet when we got there but it was still great fun to get up close and personal with the track, watching some tasty cars hammer it around the place. Right there and then, I made a vow that I’d go back one day and sample the circuit’s delights for myself – so don’t be surprised if you see such shenanigans in the mag this summer. There was a real aura about the place, and it’s worth reiterating out of the three circuits we’d now visited on this trip, it was the only one regularly hosting two-wheel action. In fact, one of my mates is an instructor there, and he has since complained that I never told him we were visiting. Truth be told, we were only there long enough for a brew and a quick scout around before having to get on with our journey. Geographically speaking, we were in the northerly tip of the Ardennes, but it seemed the best bits on offer were much more southerly… so we got going in that direction. It didn’t take long for the roads to become simply spectacular; narrow, winding and undulating like a mindless rollercoaster. They were great fun to ride, once more being barren of traffic. What there was in abundance were trees – I can’t recall ever being somewhere with forests so dense. Whilst the French had the Maginot Line, Belgium had a natural, wooded fortress in place to keep the Germans from invading… or so they thought. Having never been to this area before, my mind was blown at how the Germans managed to get armoured divisions through them – but that’s exactly what they did in the summer of 1940. As we’d seen throughout this trip, there were also plenty of reminders of that era on this part of the ride, including countless pillboxes located in random places.
Something we hadn’t expected to see, and mostly hadn’t since leaving the UK, was the sun. It slowly but surely started breaking up the fog and drying out the roads, meaning I was able to indulge once more in the GT I was riding. I’m not sure I had a favourite Suzuki, but this was the bike that seemed the most well-rounded. More to the point, it was proving the perfect sparring partner for the majestic Ardennes. Every so often we’d stumble across a stunning small town or village, almost exclusively littered with beautiful stone-built properties. Then, as quickly as they’d appeared, we would be back in the forests once again, feeling a million miles from civilisation. The further south we went, the rawer the landscape became, with boulders and rockfaces punctuating the landscape. It was stunning.
Conveniently for us, we stumbled across a nice café around lunchtime at a picturesque place called La Roche-en-Ardenne, so dived in and ordered our staple cheese and ham sandwich for the day, complete with a gherkin… just to spice things up. The day was going very well indeed, but at some point, we’d have to start heading more easterly. As I’ve suggested a few times now, not a lot of thought had gone into the detail of our route, and as a consequence, we’d seen some really cracking and unexpected places. But one location that had been on my radar from the start was a city called Dinant. That’s where we headed next, soaking up all that the Belgium countryside could throw at us before arriving at this well-known destination. Saddling the sides of the Meuse river, the super colourful and historical habitat majors around its 13th century gothic church, that’s overshadowed by an amazing cliff face. Up top is an old citadel, but we didn’t fancy the hike, so marvelled from below instead. It’s also the place where a chap called Adolphe Sax was born… and went on to invent the saxophone. There were loads of them on display around the place, along with tourists, so we got going once we’d had an eyeful of what was on offer. In doing so, it also marked the end of our joyride. Whilst we were still many hundred of miles from home, leaving Dinant meant we’d soon be leaving the Ardennes, aiming towards Brussels and the many motorways that would follow. But it had to be done, and having seen all that we had, it wasn’t as if we were left feeling short changed. We’d already had an adventure, and now was the time for the final slog.
That night, after a tedious ride on relentless motorways, we made it to Calais. Dinner took place in an old railway carriage (…as you do), and no end of thoughts and memories were shared about the trip we’d just undertaken. The expectations from it had been quite simple… to see a few sights with my mates and have a good time. And that’s exactly how it had panned out. We also learned a lot along the way, not least of all that any of the regions we explored were deserving of three or four days each to enjoy them properly. We didn’t have that kind of time on our hands, but if ever I did, I’d do just that. For me, the Vosges was the most enjoyable, largely because it felt the most remote and mountainous. It was impossible not to feel like you were a long way from home, which technically we were. But not that far. Another reason why we’d chosen these three locations, as previously mentioned, was based on their proximity to the UK. If you’re prepared to go all-in, each of them can be reached within a day from where we’re based in Lincolnshire. Admittedly, you might fancy a lie-in that following morning, but that’s beside the point. As for the best racetrack, there was something about Reims-Gueux that was haunting. Seeing that place in person was unforgettable. That said, going back to the ‘Ring’ was hardly a chore, and Spa only got me excited about making a return trip in the near future. As tracks had gone, we’d hit the jackpot. Into the night, the comparing went on, with the one thing we struggled to agree on being which was the best bike. Funnily enough, I settled on the GSX-S1000, while Dave went for the GT and Gary favoured the GX. As similar as the three bikes are, the experiences they each provided us with felt wholly different… in a good way. To the extent, that next morning, we picked our preference and headed for the ferry. One smooth crossing later, the last long blast to the shire was forced upon us. It felt never ending, but with just twenty miles to go, I was back in the Wolds and felt on top of the world, pinning the naked around familiar roads… with Gary and Dave following suit. We had a right blast, and it proved the perfect end to what had been a cracking trip. With so many miles in such little time, it could be argued it was a bit ambitious, but it was also undoubtedly a belter. Back at base with smiles on our faces, the only question left was how long before we signed up to something just as daft again.
A massive thanks…
Tests like this are a huge undertaking and there’s no way this one could have been possible without the help and support of Suzuki, Bridgestone and P&O Ferries. We’re hugely grateful for all the support they put our way.
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