almost Majella tour 2.

Well, where do I start... alright; this was something I had been planning since we were still there last year: the first tour was so good that I was already thinking about going back while we were still there, barely halfway through the loop.

This year we managed to get very close and we did put in a good effort, but it didn't really pan out.

While it was still fun to be out on our motorcycles for the better part of three days, we didn't even see a third of the Majella loop.

Inclement weather, a low-speed spill with subsequent broken clutch lever, and a flock of sheep with little regard for motorists all worked against us so that in the end we had to cancel the best part of the trip.

The German and I left on Friday afternoon and had a great ride through ever changing scenery and a dramatic choreography of clouds, thunder, bright sun, wind, rain, more sun and a sudden sunset to bring the day to a close.

We first headed towards Campo Felice, after exiting the autostrada, where we found a fantastic little shack selling all kinds of local delicacies and beer, ideal for a post-autostrada break.

We then reached the impressive Cratere del Sirente, and the little towns of Secinaro, Fontecchio, Vallecupa, and across a beautiful plateau untouched by time, onward and upwards toward Barisciano and the campsite in Santo Stefano.

Once the tents were set up, we had a well-earned meal and a couple of beers, then hit the sack. And then the heavens opened. It had been many years since I experienced rain that heavy while camping, though luckily all my gear worked and I was dry and warm; my friend was not so lucky, and woke up in the middle of the night with soggy socks. The wind that followed the rain was unquestionably strong. It lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, but what greeted us on Saturday was a beautiful (mostly) sunny sky.

Alessio grins with joy at the sunny blue sky, while a very good boy waits to go on his hike:

After a decent breakfast and a quick check of the bikes, we headed out towards the park, and began the loop just after the town of Salle, riding south until Campo di Giove, where we had planned to meet Massimo using a classic pincer movement (we are Romans after all) as he was leaving the capital around 11:00 and gunned it for over a hundred punishing miles of autostrada, often in the rain... and with no visor (!).

Having shed their luggage, the bikes go from touring to attack mode and the difference is enormous; already from the first stretch of serious riding it is so much better. I knew it would be a good idea to add the extra day compared to last year, and in that respect it paid off.

Perhaps the middle of the road is not the most ideal place to fix your pants...

Passo San Leonardo, getting awful close to them dark, dark clouds!

As the charming Eremo di San Germano di Pacentro comes into view, I slow down to enjoy the scene and imagine what it must have looked like when it was built, with no roads and nothing around but hills and valleys; a sure act of divine providence that gives me just enough time to yank on the Fontana brake and avoid a T-bone style collision with a BIG sheep that was trying to catch up to the rest of the flock on the other side of the road. It was one of those moments when you see everything in slow motion, Alessio screaming at me to watch out was just a faint sound in the background; the sheep and I made eye contact and I think it understood that it needed to move out of the way, because luckily it did. As it veered away it felt so close, I swear I could see every hair in its wonderful woolly coat. Phew!
Next time I'm around there I should definitely stop to light a candle or otherwise pay my respects at the little stone building...

We reached Campo di Giove shortly after and waited for Massimo, who then called to say he wasn't far... but that he had dropped the bike at low speed and busted the clutch lever. Obviously the most important thing is that he didn't hurt himself, but damn, what a shame.
While we tried to figure out how we could repair something for which we didn't have spare parts, Massimo managed to get going again and after a while we saw him ride up to the gas station. The first thing I noticed was a flash of Signal Red and the iconic, beautiful timing cover silhouetted under the dark engine block. Wow!

As it turned out, the damage was not as bad as it could have been, and we were able to patch it up with a zip tie, at least to get back to the campsite and then home again the next day:

Having to deal with a fall and a breakdown, no matter how small, is never fun. Back at the campsite late in the afternoon it all took its toll:

Like I said, still fun to ride around for a couple of days, maybe next time we can do more.

Throughout the trip the bikes performed really well and, save for Massimo's minor mishap, we didn't need anything but gas. (Massimo... minor... see what I did there?)

Massimo's bike is a great example of a no-nonsense version of a Norton Commando. A motorcycle like this can be very versatile, rugged and loads of fun.

A quick note on the new Avon RoadRiders: the profile is far more neutral than I thought it would be (I had been warned that they were the sort of tire that "drops" into corners) and I found them to be very steady. They offer good grip, and more importantly good feedback, so it's fairly easy to understand when you're getting close to the edge of the envelope (it's a math term, not a stationery item). A fairly wide, sweeping corner, with maybe just the slightest incline (up or down) is where I enjoyed the new tires best of all. To me they don't look as good as the Dunlop K81, but if they make me corner properly then I can live with that.

A well sorted Norton Commando engine cruising along at 3.500 rpm, breathing fresh air and with an oil cooler to help things along, is an under-stressed touring machine that can go all day. If the Isolastics are properly adjusted, the rider can go all day too! So although anything more than twenty miles on the autostrada is boring, tedious stuff, doing that on a Commando is really not a bad experience.

A well sorted Norton Commando engine at full chat is a glorious thing, and an experience that will never leave you wanting. Mine is not a standard engine, I would describe it as being in a mild state of tune: forged pistons run in the aluminum cylinder, the standard head is fed down a nice venturi by 32mm carburetters (as opposed to the standard 30mm) and the valves are operated by a 4S camshaft.
For those who may not be familiar with Norton camshaft profiles... count yourselves lucky. It is a thorny issue akin to "what oil should I use?" and ultimately best left to each rider to decide for themselves. The main difference between a standard cam and the 4S is that the latter delivers more torque somewhere between 5.000 and 5.500 rpm. It's a very nice On/Off type of thing and it pulls easily into the redline; not that you need to go there, especially with tall gearing and on a route such as the Majella park. Second and third gear, properly used, make for an amazing ride.

This thing looks fast even on its centerstand!

Perseverance is the name of the game; the Majella park is not something that's easy to tour, you have to earn it. It's a lot of miles, a lot of hard riding and it takes all day. It can get hot, or cold, it can rain, the roads are often rough... this is really not for anyone but the most stubborn and determined. If you don't approach this ride with the right attitude it will chew you up and spit you out. But, the reward for seeing it through is a collection of countless spectacular views and an experience you'll never forget.

The single most important thing I learned during the trip last year was that the park is just too large and too far to think you can do the whole thing in just a couple of days.

Last year we ended up spending the better part of the first morning and early afternoon just getting there (admittedly we did leave from Rome far too late) and by the time we had completed the loop and got to the campsite it was pitch black.

Thinking about the next attempt, I may have figured out another route that might save us a few miles, at the expense of some scenery and a slightly different timetable; let's see, let's try it out and see what happens!
But be sure, I will go back, I will make it to the top of that damn rock, and I will bring back a photo of my motorcycle at 2.100 meters above sea level.

Oh, and above all: thanks for coming you guys!

We're back!

Rambling tales from the road, coming soon...

Some maintenance and meditation.

I finally had a rare moment to go wrench on the Fastback; the list of things to do was, and remains, quite long but such is the reality of owning a classic bike: there's always stuff to do.

For the sake of clarity, it's not that "there's always stuff to do" because these bikes are unreliable, but because they are very... communicative. That is to say, it's very easy to become in tune with the machine and figure out the areas that can and should be improved. For example, my Commando wants a slightly looser Isolastic setting and possibly thinner oil in the front forks (the famous Roadholder!)

I was working on the clutch and front brake levers, and as I looked closely at all the non-standard parts a thought occurred and it was this:
When I think about it, I can't deny that my Norton is a bit of a bitza, there's no doubt about it.
We're not quite in ship-of-Theseus territory here, but getting close: while the frame left the factory together with the other parts listed below[*], pretty much everything else on the bike was replaced at one stage or another, which sounds like utter madness and was certainly not cheap.

Other Norton owners, however, may think this is totally normal. Some of the modifications I've made (alloy cylinder block, belt drive, aluminium rims and mudguard, rearsets), also made this about 10Kg lighter than a stock Commando. Not bad for an unintentional weight-loss program.

And the result is a great motorcycle that's cool like the other side of the pillow and fun to ride, and I don't really care that much that it is cobbled together as opposed to a pristine 100% original.

Out of the engine, all that's left of the original parts is the crankshaft, conrods, oil pump, (crankshaft pinion, intermediate and camshaft sprockets,) timing cover, rockers, pushrods and the outer primary cover. Everything else is new. Nuts huh?

The comforting thing to take away from this, especially for any would-be Norton owners who maybe have just the one project (therefore more justified in terms of expenditure) is that even a real basket case can yield a great bike.

But the important thing is, and I cannot overemphasize this, you need to get stuck in and get the f--- on with it, otherwise it'll be a long journey standing still.

Sure it will take time and money, but parts availability is probably the best of any vintage motorcycle, so you will be back on the road enjoying all that torque and that amazing sound.

After getting a few things done, I went for a short ride, though long enough to get the engine to temperature. Once back at the Monolith I quickly removed the tank and went about re-torquing the head and setting the valve clearance.  All is as it should, I'll keep an eye on this from time to time, but it seems ok now.

I've used the usual silicone sealant to prevent oil leaks/seepages, particularly at the rear of cylinder 2 where the oil return tunnel is, though I have a feeling that as long as you ride the bike like it's meant to be, that spot will always seep (I really can't call it a leak). And I'm not going to worry about it any more than I would worry about sweat on the back of a thoroughbred horse.

[*]
1971 original parts
frame
swingarm
Z-plates
gearbox
clutch diaphragm spring
clutch centre
clutch pressure plate
clutch plain plates
outer primary cover
fork sliders and damper tubes
yokes
clocks
taillight
fuel tank
fastback tail
rear hub
oil tank
battery carrier
rear mudguard

Spring cleaning.

More like end-of-spring by this point, oh well! Ok, let's get busy!
As you can see, the Fastback is on the lift and there's a lot to do.

I started by getting the wheels off so we can get new tires on. The Dunlop K81 (or TT100 if you prefer) it had on were well past their prime and lately I have been wondering if a different type of tire would make the bike ride better, especially when cornering. There isn't a huge range to choose from when it comes to 19″ but I remembered having Avon SuperVenom on the Interstate years ago and thinking they made that bike glide around corners very nicely; so I've chosen a set of Avon RoadRiders this time, as they're supposedly even stickier. Let's see, only one way to find out!

The quickly detachable type hub makes removing the rear wheel a breeze... in theory. In actual fact there is still a fair amount of effing and blinding as threads catch, room is limited, spacers get stuck or fall off never to be seen again... the usual stuff.
Still, it's not a bad set-up, and the idea of a rear axle in two parts is only terrifying at first, then you get used to the overall weirdness of a Commando, realize it's a kickass bike, and you just get on with it. Plus, it actually is convenient not to have to remove the chain and assorted brake parts on those (hopefully rare) occasions when the wheel has to come off.
We found a broken spoke, something that has happened a few times already on this bike and always on the rear wheel. It looks like the wheel might not have been laced properly to begin with, but it's also that the nipples don't seem to fit the rim all too well, and the spokes themselves are stainless steel; the consensus seems to be that although they do stay bright and shiny, they're perhaps too brittle compared to the more conventional zinc-plated iron spokes, and tend to snap. Really this happens because of the Norton's earth-shattering power and torque. Whatcha gonna do.

The new front tire is too wide to fit under the skimpy aluminum mudguard I have on the Commando, so I've had to fit an original steel item from an 850, at least temporarily while I figure out what to do with the other one (probably longer stays, although it could end up looking a bit goofy, we'll see).

I also took a look inside the clutch, which has covered very little mileage since the upgrade, and was in predictably excellent condition.

And here's a close-up of the DynoDave seal, honestly what a clever little thing this is!

There was definitely gearbox oil along the clutch pushrod, yet none past that seal.

I also got around to fitting the needle roller conversion by RGM, which I had lying around for ages; it's very cool, plenty of nice little bits for you to fit... but it's mostly for bragging rights, let's be honest.

There was also something wrong with the brake pedal bush, something else that had been on my "to do" list for years, and sorted out in a matter of minutes by uncle Fester and his matter-shaping magic; thanks bro, it's better than new now!

Yes, a hammer is never far when working on these bikes...

I fitted a tool tray from a late 850 that I'd had lying around for years and never used; the part number is 064173. It's not like this is going to hold all the tools and spares you'll need to carry along, but it sure is handy having another place to store a few small items (couple spark plugs, small wrenches) wrapped tight in a clean rag.

I was expecting to find the carburetters' float bowls and jets all gunked up and horrible, but to my surprise everything was bone dry, with only a few specs of impurities caught into the filters.
The needle on the number 2 carb was not working properly when opening the throttle, turned out to be just the retaining clip that wasn't on properly, not a big deal.

If the carburetters were alright, the electrics weren't: a first attempt at starting the engine after all this time (I'm ashamed to say it's been years) revealed no spark. A bit of CRC marine 6-66 on critical connections (ground/earth are so important!), a good clean to the Champion N7YC and all was working again.

Overall the bike doesn't seem to have suffered too badly from the long lay-up, and performed as expected on a short test ride.

Astronomical!

Witold powers the Norton out of the straightaway and sets up the line for the next corner.

The photo was taken by Gianluca using very high-speed cameras that are normally used to photograph celestial objects travelling at many thousands of miles per second (as is the case here).

The equipment was borrowed from the observatory visible in the top left-hand corner of the photo.