After a few summers spent in and around Biarritz, beautiful mountain roads in the Pyrenees, and many kilometers in the heat of the tarmac, it was time for new adventures. It was on our way back home from Wheels & Waves 2016 that the fateful sentence was uttered: “I have this book about military roads in the Alps that we could ride.” At the next gas station this idea was presented to our fellow travellers. A wide grin, like only boys can have in the rush of motorized feelings, was on every face. Faces of joy painting pictures of their soon-to-buy bikes, making space in their garages, and trying to find arguments to explain that at home. A decision was made: the Milehighgravelclub was born.
Now, anyone can google what the Mile High Club means, but we would be spending a lot of time above one mile of elevation. Incidentally, no one bought anything up to date. Others with the idea we had might run to their nearest orange motorcycle dealer and spend their days comparing horsepower, suspension travel, fuel capacities and other secondary features. Within just weeks our garages were filled with … stuff. Let’s call it stuff, because nothing was bought after an extensive test ride — because nothing run quite like a motorcycle should. If there was indeed a piston doing any movement, then it was only with period-correct fuel, or registration and insurance that had expired before we were born. Everyone now had something with little mudguards and some rubber knobs — according to the maxim “Adventure begins when you bring inappropriate equipment to remote places“. On the starting line was: half of the remaining Bultacos in the world packed in small boxes, a Yamaha DT250 which had never left the Mannheim area, a DT175 which was reported stolen after the purchase, a pushable Suzuki TS250, a Honda XL600 and a XL500 in mint condition — oh, so there was one that actually was rideable. Now everyone had their work cut out for the upcoming winter.
After we managed to get our bikes in running condition, it was time for training. Training which ended abruptly in a small ditch with a broken wrist, just four weeks before our trip — and the mint XL500 had also done a little exercise in sliding on tarmac. We were ready.
We started driving through the night after a surpisingly long loading process. While we were re-tightening our tie-down straps somewhere around Ulm, all of southern Germany was hit by a massive storm, and we were right in it.
Our destination: a small mountain hut close to Bardonecchia. The hut ticked all the boxes of a good real estate deal — location, location, and location. Stunning views from the terrace, a road which no car and trailer could ever hope pass, and maximum distance to the nearest supermarket. A mere five kilometers were between us and the hut but there was only one way: leaving the cars and trailers in the valley and riding the bikes up. Luckily, the mighty Syncro could carry all of our 427 luggage boxes. Lesson of the day: Plan your tools and don’t take whole spare engines with you — even if you ride a Catalan bike. The last motorcycle shop before the summit cross was now opened and our worries of social acceptance vanished, as our landlord offered us his services as a guide for the “slightly illegal tracks”.
The well-known tracks in the area include the Assietta Mountain Road, Col de Sommeiller, Col de Jafferau and numerous other small tracks. Each of them just a pleasure to ride.
We enjoyed the slightly stunned looks of all those GS-Tenere-KTM guys as we worked our way up to each summit trailing blue smoke. It’s all doable without radio, heated underwear, or even skills — the only figure that matters is your bike’s weight and power. Little of both let you play it safe and enjoyable. We were lucky with the weather and breakdowns — from day two on. The first day’s theme was testing vehicle and rider. Lost license plates, electrical failures, whole luggage racks lost and never to be seen again, tools as a replacement for broken levers, and the fixing of a steering head nut with cable. Evenings are well-spent forging shift levers in your home’s pellet stove or enjoying hand-made pasta at your landlord’s. After complaining numerous times about the boiling point of water at 2500m elevation, he showed us his two-bathtubs-with-a-view-bathroom. “We both like to have a bath after hiking”. Bella vita.
Now to the obvious — riding enduros is however not loved by everyone in the Piemont region — so get your ass off the sofa, buy a 1000€ enduro, trailer it down there and don’t be scared by the “pros” telling you how much preparation is required. And please behave and stay on the open tracks — we all want to continue riding there. Dust in your beard just tastes like adventure.
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