Stella Alpina Rally 2005
The Stella Alpina rally was started in the mid 60's by an Italian, Mario
Artuso. The premise is simple - on the second Sunday in July he drives a van
up the Col de le Sommellier, an old drovers track in the Italian Alps. When
he reaches a point that he thinks a well ridden road bike should be able
to attain he sets up a checkpoint to dish out the rally badges. Hardcore riders
can continue past the checkpoint and attempt to reach the summit at
9872ft/3009m.
The idea is to do it on a road bike with bonus points being scored in direct
proportion to the unsuitability of the bike chosen.
I left Blighty via Dover-Calais on a K75, my mate Alex had a CBX750 which
he had picked up four days earlier. We took five lazy, wine sodden, days to
reach Bardonecchia, the small town which is the base for the rally. We took
the longest route possible, stopping in Chamonix then riding over as many
silly roads as we could find en route. Very difficult to find a road that
isn't jaw droppingly epic in this area. After riding through Val D'Isere
and over le col de L'Iseran we reached Modane.
From Modane there is another epic road, the col de Mont Cenis which takes
you into Italy. Eventually we found the turn off for Bardonecchia and made
it into town late on Saturday afternoon. The town was chock full of Africa
twins, Teneres, etc, but also a refreshing number of road bikes (Blackbirds
and Hyabusas included). Commonest bikes were air-cooled boxers. After taking
the sensible precaution of stocking up on Vino collapso and fags we found
the road leading to the rally. For the first five miles it was a well surfaced
narrow lane with some very tight hairpins. Then the road ran out.
I don't mind admitting I'm pants at riding off-road. The trail wasn't that
difficult, quite wide, but with enough mud, gravel, hairpins and loons-on
enduro's to keep things interesting. I rode up at about 5mph, Alex on the CBX
roared off ahead like he was on a competition enduro. After what seemed like
a lifetime I caught up with him where he was pulled over at the side of the trail looking
totally dejected. His exhaust had come apart at the collector box and fallen
off after hitting a rut at speed, but far worse, one of the boxes of wine
has started leaking! To top it all off, it began pissing down.
Camping is free on the mountain, and you can just pitch up wherever you
like. Luckily we found a place to camp about half a mile on. We got the
tents up, Alex had had enough by this point and crashed out. Looking around
the campsite I actually realized how high we were. There were snow-capped
mountains visible when the clouds parted. I did the only decent thing and
continued to get ratted with the other nearby bikers. A group from
Montpelier, a couple of blokes from Bath with a van and a Triumph 350 and
a DR400. Someone got a fire going and someone else produced some Anis. Never
fails to amaze me how alcohol works as the ultimate translation machine.
To me this was the highlight of the trip.
The next day I woke up early and bodged the CBX exhaust using the remains
of a pineapple tin. It wasn't gas tight but it didn't sound like an F16 on
reheat any more. The campsite we were at was still below the checkpoint and
to be honest I was bricking it a bit at the idea of riding up the rest of
the trail, but after watching some of the bikes on the way up I ran out of
excuses, especially when someone on a Harley went past! Turns out we had
already done the difficult bit. I was more than happy to stop at the
checkpoint
and take in the view (large valley, snow-capped mountains, waterfalls, etc).
After getting my badge I rode back down to the tent. I showed Alex my rally
badge and asked him where his was. Turned out he had taken a wrong turn near
the top and missed the checkpoint. He got straight back on the CBX and roared
off towards the checkpoint a second time to pick up his badge.
We still had a couple of weeks touring ahead of us so we decided to head
down the mountain after this. On the way down I was overtaken by every bike
imaginable, including Sunbeams and Enfields. The sense of relief on reaching
tarmac again was awesome. At least I didn't drop the bike. To be able to
ride above 15mph after two days on the mountain felt great. From Bardonecchia
we headed south to Turin. The ride south was pretty spectacular,
being surrounded
on three sides by snow capped mountains. Within a couple of hours the
temperature
had risen into the mid eighties and the memory of being rain soaked and tired
had started to fade.
From Turin we followed the Italian/French border south
to Menton, then followed the south coast of France until reaching the
Pyrenees. Anybody
thinking of visiting Monte Carlo - top tip - make sure you have all your docs
on you and prepare to be pulled. I have never seen so many police in such
a small area. The implication is pretty clear, come and have a gander if
you must but don't even think of hanging around.
The starter motor on the
CBX burnt out just as we were leaving a campsite near St Tropez. Luckily
we managed to find a Honda dealer in Montpelier and a friendly mechanic
who managed to sort us out with some spares. Several hours of
judicious bodging
saw the starter motor sorted, and apart form ongoing problems bodging the
exhaust that was pretty much the end of the mechanical dramas. As
for the K75, I checked the tyre pressures once (didn't need any air) and
that was it. They may not be the world's most exciting bikes but they
are probably the most reliable. On a long run the K was turning in over 60mpg
even when thrashed to keep up with the CBX.
If you are riding anywhere in France in July do yourself a favour and check
out the itinerary of the Tour de France first. We didn't and got caught up
in the circus trying to reach Andorra via the N20 and the Pas de la Casa
(another classic piece of tarmac). The French bike cops were quite impressive,
doing 70mph on full-dress K series BM's between traffic, using one hand to
signal to cars while blowing on whistles. All this wearing short-sleeved
shirts, open face lids and obligatory shades.
After a couple of days getting
drunk in Spain, just over the border from Andorra, we began the long trek
back. The further north you go in France the less interesting it gets. A
bout of illness (food poisoning?) slowed us down on the way back but we still
managed to fit in a 450 mile day to reach Rouen two days before the return
ferry was due. Had to pay twenty quid to get an earlier ferry back but by this
point we were both happy to be heading home.
I would recommend anybody heading to France to get as far south as soon
as possible. Normandy and Brittany are not bad as such, just so devoid of
interesting scenery you may as well stay in Britain. I normally try and get
at least 400 miles south of Calais on the first day's riding. South of Lyons
in the east, or Bordeaux in the west, the climate begins to change for the
better. In the far south you would be very unlucky to get more than three
days rain in July. Make sure you have international breakdown cover (Carole
Nash do it for free as part of their policies) and book that ferry, you won't
regret it!
John Rodgers