Old Irons 2018 - a report.

Once again, I had made plans and had to junk them; I'm getting tired of this trend.

Finding out at the last moment that the little Triumph was crippled, I had to quickly get the Fastback ready to wreak havoc, spew flames and sow terror across the land once again. So the exact opposite vibe to what I had intended originally.

Luckily my Norton is in very good shape at the moment, so all I did was top up the gearbox oil, shim the head steady (wow, more on that soon) and get the luggage ready.

A Norton Commando like mine or Witold's is just not the right bike for this rally; you need something more laid back, more at home on the grasslands. Witold's BSA is ideal, as would be an 'S' type Commando to be fair, or a Rickman-Métisse, a Matchless G80CS, otherwise you need a chopper or something really off-center like the little Triumph. Ah well, there's always next year. What's one more year...

Look, the Commando is a great bike, I am in no way disappointed that I had to ride it, of course! But, that Triumph is just so quirky and unlike anything else to be found up there... It really would have been a laugh to make the trip with it.

I took off at a leisurely 09:30 from the Castelli Romani area and headed vaguely east towards Palestrina, Capranica Prenestina (what a little jewel of a town!) and eventually coming up to the Tiburtina and the A24 autostrada where I was meeting up with the others.

Witold was having some trouble with a stuck throttle slide, it was a relatively easy fix and we had plenty of time:

We didn't quite know what to make of this thing, answers on a postcard please:

This is when the best thing of the whole trip came to be: five of us converged on that rendez-vous point and just like that we had an ideal group. Everyone enjoyed the trip and I think it all worked out so smoothly that if we can keep some momentum going, we could get the bikes out again once or twice before the season is over. I have a couple of itineraries ready to go, so all we have to do is... go!

After a tedious stretch of highway and tunnels (my god, that's boring stuff!), we exited at Torninparte and made the climb up to Valico la Chiesola (a whopping 288 meters higher than Ben Nevis!), then down to the little shack we found last time, where we stopped for "light refreshments" under the scorching sun, and a live band that was playing way too loud.

I'm sensing a theme here...

Impeccable riding shown by all, oil consumption perhaps a little too noticeable, but all in all the bikes performed really well.

We only had 75Kms left to cover, to get to the rally point, but the road is at times narrow and very twisty, so they end up being relatively slow kilometers that take more than you might think.
Well aware of this, we dragged our sun-stroked asses away from Campo Felice, and headed over towards Monticchio, Onna, and Filetto, before our final ascent on the Campo Imperatore plateau.

The scents we encountered along the way were just as vivid, engaging and spectacular as the views over mountains and valleys: linden, ethereal and slightly melancholy, spartium, bubblegum-sweet and strong, and pine resin, evocative of childhood summers spent with nary a care in the world.

Along the way we stopped at this breathtaking location for a few glamour shots:

Onwards! Knowing we're close to the rally, we pick up the pace and the fresh mountain air helps the motorcycles gallop along; I see smiles all 'round, everyone is tired but still having too much fun to quit.

How do all the ladies manage to resist us??! It's a mystery.

We found a wide enough spot to put all the bikes together; this rally seems to be getting bigger every year, and it's not like you can park anywhere, so it'll be interesting to see what this is like in the future. Our little encampment really looked the part, and quite a few of the guys riding American machinery came over to check out the Brits and shoot the breeze with us.

Nice to meet everyone, and nice to see that everyone was on their best behavior, all in all a much more chilled out atmosphere than last year, when some idiots got into an ugly brawl.

That said, we had a bit of a déjà-vu moment as the helo ambulance landed again!

Props to the pilot for a super-smooth landing (eh eh, props... get it?), and to the four paramedics who got someone on a stretcher and airlifted in under 2 minutes. We don't know what happened, hopefully nothing bad.

As always, it was really nice to see old friends again, however briefly among all the people who were present. It was a pleasure hanging out with Elena and Fiorenzo, as the sun began to set and everything mellowed:

As gradual and peaceful as the sunset can be in a place like this, it is sudden, and light is quickly overtaken by darkness and a remarkable shift in temperature. Off to the tents to get hoodies and other contraptions to keep warm in the evening, as food and drink keep piling on. The view back from the tents is striking yet cozy at the same time:

Someone put their pocket knife on the table and I suddenly realized I had forgotten my trusty Opinel! An unforgivable oversight I must remedy next time we're out riding.

Soon the moon rose dramatically, huge and blood-red at first (nothing to do with the previous night's eclipse), then clearing to a brilliant white and shining bright enough to give a silver sheen to the land, and a dark indigo tone to the sky.
In between was the jagged outline of the mountain peaks, looming above.
After the last swig of genziana, it was time to call it a night and retreat into our cocoons. I was perfectly warm despite the 8°C low, though others reported spending a rather chilly night.
One thing that seemed common to all was the impression that we didn't sleep nearly as long as we needed, and the - shall we say - effects of the night before were still very noticeable.

The bright morning light was perfect to showcase Toni's artistry, as three of our bikes glinted in the sun side by side:

Here's a few more:

Green and purple, very psychedelic and yet a perfect match to natural colors:

See? Green grass, purple flowers. Peace, man...

This may seem like a bit of a non sequitur, but bear with me; Pierre-William Glenn is a French cinematographer, and can be seen in this photo sitting on a presumably brand new Norton Commando in the very early 70s.

This next photo is just a silly homage, but one made with the best intentions, albeit with much less hair.

Time to get some wrenches out again, some simple maintenance awaits, and then a couple more outings; I wanna see these five together again soon!