the "Rising Star": August 2019

During the harrowing first Majella tour on top of everything else we put ourselves through, I ended up hitting reserve in the middle of nowhere, at night, in the woods, up a mountain with the nearest gas station surely out of reach.

I kept counting down the miles to the campsite, being as frugal with the throttle as I could be, while still moving forward and making a plan in case I totally ran out of gas; but to my surprise I not only got to the campsite, but made it all the way to the gas station the following morning, with a little bit left in the tank!

So I figured I could probably go 260Km on a very full tank of cold gas (you can pack more into your tank if the liquid is cold, did you know that?).

The two plastic jerry cans, plus the metal bottle Gianluca got me, add an extra four liters, probably worth around 80Km, which means this touring set-up is good for a realistic 340Km range, if not a bit more. Not bad at all...

1200S, the 'S' is for Starliner...

I am still reeling from the sensory overload experience that was the Majella tour 3. Once again I'm not sure I''ll be able to do it justice with my words and photos, for this is such a special place and such an engaging trip where everything is dialed up to 11.

We're calling it "Reverse" because we did the loop clockwise this time (instead of counterclockwise like the other times) and we switched bikes in that Alessio rode his Commando and I took my Sportster.

Changing direction may seem like a gimmick at first, but it actually transformed this into a very different trip: new views, getting to known locations at different times, up is down and down is up!

It seemed perhaps a bit easier this way than what we did last year, but this was still a grueling trial. This place is truly a second-to-none testing ground for riders and machines; if you can make it through this, chances are you can probably tackle some other big rides around Europe and further afield.

Alessio said it best: if you come here with one of our bikes (i.e. a classic, air-cooled OHV twin) and ride this hard all the way to the end of the loop without the wheels falling off or the engine blowing up, then it means your bike is well sorted.

Riding a classic motorcycle around this course is "strong wrists and stout hearts" type of stuff, we've learned that much about the Majella park.

Alessio also said it best when he said "put it this way, there are enough clues to suggest that this should be called Majella Run, rather than Tour".

While the pace is certainly sustained, and the focus is on riding clean lines, with irreproachable form, it is allegretto, not fortissimo; after all, the constantly changing (and constantly stunning) landscape is calling to be noticed, and your attention has to be - at least in part - dedicated to appreciating and marveling at the beauty of this place.

One of the hidden challenges of the Majella circuit is that trajectories are sometimes unpredictable, and it is very easy to find yourself overshooting a corner. Sometimes this is because there is dirt right in the middle of a turn, sometimes because the radius of the corner was designed by an unhinged maniac.

I used so called "trail braking" a lot, and it definitely made a lot of corners more manageable, but it's also a slower way to go around a corner if not done properly. Definitely something worth exploring though.

But this wasn't just about completing the loop, it was three days on a motorcycle to cure what ails you.

Day one was a long day in the saddle, with only a brief stretch of autostrada so we could reach the wooden shack and enjoy food and drink in the shade for a while.

Onwards towards the town of Sulmona, and an unexpected detour up the SR487, that turned out to be a great road, and a good sampler of what's to be expected along the Majella loop.

The intense heat that built over the course of the whole trip and beat us over the head, made it mandatory to stop somewhere shaded every so often. I have a feeling that weather conditions, other than absolutely ideal, compound the difficulty of this trip. Alessio and I agree that doing this in the rain would be horrific.

The bikes coped well enough with the heat, only complaining as we reached higher altitudes, although of course we didn't thrash them. At least not all the time.
The Sportster seems to have burned through a little bit of motor oil, while the Commando showed signs of oil emulsification, apparent at the end of the breather pipe:

Accommodation was in a simple B&B, nothing to rave about, and we're going to consider going to the town of Caramanico and use that as a base next time.

This big guy is called "Neve" and he is a very good boy, although he can't be trusted to go outside on his own.

A good night' sleep is essential to be alert and capable the next day. You don't need to wake up at the crack of dawn, but it's worth keeping in mind that the loop takes eight hours, even though it's only 160 Km (or 180 if you add the "lake detour")... but it's 160 Km of corner, after corner, after corner...

We stopped for lunch at the same place we found last year, said hi to the wolves and got going again, down towards Palena and the southern point.

More wolves there, this time in the back of a massive Ford pickup truck:

There's a reason the wolf is the ambassador of the park.
These two were not approachable by anyone, except the two girls who were driving the Ranger.

At the end of day 2 it is not uncommon to experience a kind of motion sickness when sitting still or lying down, as though the corners, hills and valleys just keep on coming. This is also when it is very likely that everything you've seen and experienced in the two days just gone, becomes jumbled up and hard to pinpoint on a map.
This is how I'm still feeling as I type this, and I expect it's going to take a few weeks before I can revisit what we've seen with more clarity.
A lot of it is also the sort of experience that's best lived in the moment; trying to hold on to an image of a landscape, or a sequence of turns is not going to do it justice anyway, so this is an exercise in being present.

This time the way back was also a day-long affair, as we included a detour to Ovindoli to go meet our new friend Eugenio, aboard his KTM:

An all-around fun guy, he took us "for coffee" along a dirt road that climbs a gentle slope and takes you to a breathtaking panorama over the valley below:

The place is called rifugio la serra, and it's fit for a hobbit: there is actually something very Shire-like about this whole region.

This was not part of the original itinerary and I'm very happy it happened, as we not only have a new friend to go visit, but we have discovered more and more roads and views that merit their own dedicated trip.

This particular spot along the SP60 has a real top-of-the-world feel to it. And while it isn't particularly high up (1,200m) the views it affords are stunning. The way down on the other side is no less pretty, and we took our time winding our way down. At one point I started hearing this popping sound, which I thought was the exhaust with the throttle shut off and riding down on engine braking; however this kept happening regardless of throttle position or engine load. I couldn't figure it out; then, as we rounded a corner I saw Alessio turn either side to check his exhausts, and immediately after gesture towards a small town further ahead: puffs of white smoke accompanied by bright flashes and the sound of gunpowder exploding solved the mystery: fireworks. No doubt meant as a triumphant welcome after completing the tour. Still a little weird in broad daylight, guys.