Majella tour 4. - Expansion pack

I had the best possible birthday this year: a four-day motocamping trip with my buddies. We headed once again for the Majella park, and changed things up a little bit by expanding the standard itinerary and skipping a couple of sections. All in all, it turned out well and everyone was happy.

Sandro and I met first and he led the way along the (in)famous colle di Montebove route; this has been the scene of much illegal road racing, whereas I think it we get to enjoy it far more at our slower pace while taking in the scenery. Witold and I had actually come up this way a while back without knowing anything about the speed freaks' predilection for this place.

Approaching the mountains, awe-inspiring as ever.

Once in Pacentro, we were joined by Walter and my dad, once again aboard the Morini and the Interstate. Witold had been delayed at work and still managed to catch up with us on his new ride (more on that later) right as we were wrapping up our wonderful lunch at the beautiful "Taverna de li Caldora".

We got back on the road and immediately up the SR487, once again getting that "welcome to the park" feeling as we followed the route you see above, and continued towards the little train station of Palena, and already my impression was that we were all present beyond mere concentration on riding, I think we were all truly in the moment with all other thoughts and daily hassles left far away and far behind.

Sandro rides a Mk1 BMW Nine-t, and it is an awesome motorcycle: killer styling, an exhaust symphony that goes from a deep subdued bass at idle that you feel as much as hear, to a loud, raspy blare that would put the trumpets of Jericho to shame. The engine is a big brute of a thing, with gobs of seemingly endless torque and far too much horsepower for what I'm used to. I like this bike a lot.

And Witold says he's found his all-time favorite engine in this 1994 Ducati 900 "Supersport". I know, it's truly shocking considering he has one of the meanest Norton Commandos around, but I have to admit this thing is on another level. This is not a machine, it is a living, growling, angry beast, and the sound coming from the race-only Termignoni exhausts is almost frightening. The bike itself is wonderfully small and compact, and betrays the obsession of its designers and engineers to create something with the singular purpose of going fast. There are no creature comforts whatsoever, no convenience, just a clattering metal soul, speed and fury.

And then there's the R100GS, that goofy, weird and oddest of bikes, that despite appearances manages to deliver a very easy and fun ride no matter where you go. After tweaking the ergonomics ever so slightly (handlebar a little bit more upright and a couple turns' more preload on the rear shock absorber) I found it much more usable than I had back in 2020. In fact, I remembered what it was like to ride around Corsica ten years ago (!) and I quickly changed my mind about selling it (same goes for the Milanek panniers, which are excellent). Witold nodded, pleased.

Instead of the usual left turn around the southern tip, we reached Roccaraso, Ateleta and then we encroached on the mysterious region of Molise for a short while, before heading back up to Sant'Angelo del Pesco and Pizzoferrato with its characteristic rocky outcrop:

Ideally we would have continued back towards the "classic" loop, but it was late in the day by that point, so we headed to a new campsite instead, which turned out to be a good location (completely to ourselves) and with everything we needed for the night, including cold beers and barbeque. Nice.

Man make fire.

Our first night in the tents was peaceful and quiet, although I probably need to replace my sleeping pad as I found it slightly deflated in the morning. Temperatures were around 15 degrees (Celsius, you savages!) and humidity low.

After a quick caffè & cornetto breakfast we tore down our camp and packed up, ready to get back to our itinerary. Our first detour of the day was to the town of Roccascalegna, to see the impressive castle that was built on an even more impressive rock, such that it looks like the prow of a ship breaking through a stormy sea.

Alright, checked the bloody thing off the list, time to get back to business, with one of the absolute best parts of the trip coming right up.

Pay attention to that little stretch in red: this is the fastest part of the circuit and it was an absolute blast to ride once more. The BMW really showed its "sport" side of the GS package, and was surefooted and smooth throughout. It was here that I had the sudden realization that the true appeal of the R100GS is in the combination of smoothness AND torque, such that you can be fully focused on the road with no distractions from an unhappy engine, but rather one that feels like a surging turbine. I could see Witold peeling away on the Ducati... but not by much. Sandro, right behind me on his Nine-t was starry-eyed by the time we reached Lama dei Peligni; what a road!

The heat suddenly built and we knew we would have had to stop, and soon. Luckily within a short while we reached the little lake at S. Angelo, and found us a very nice restaurant where we ate far too much and managed to cool off a little.

Confirming there isn't a millimeter left of "lean" in that tire.

Onwards again, this time with the clear goal of reaching the top (at least as far as motor vehicles are allowed) of the mountain, and keenly aware that the weather was about to turn.

Before long we had pulled over to put some layers on and close our jackets up tight. The mudguard and small windshield on the GS were already getting sprayed with mist more than outright rain, and by the time we reached the rifugio Bruno Pomilio we were truly up in the clouds.

The descent towards Roccamorice offers what is perhaps the most stunning panorama of the whole tour, although disappointingly the clouds were so thick that we could hardly see anything other than the road immediately ahead, and a sense of the sheer drop on our left.

This is where we significantly altered our itinerary and decided to head towards Santo Stefano instead of ending the day at Campo di Giove. If at first that might seem like unfinished business, I feel the value of this tour was more in the exploration of territory; "doing the loop", as I like to say, of the tightest possible circuit around the Majella complex yields a different experience. To that end, the Majella Tour 5 (whenever that may be) will be a return to the classic counterclockwise itinerary with no luggage on the bikes.

So, not keen on the idea of spending a night camping in the rain at Campo di Giove, we marched on to the lovely inn at Santo Stefano.

I can't remember whether Witold yawned, burped or stubbed his toe, but judging by Sandro's stance...

That's a lot of horses in one photo...

The new day brings sunshine and a cool breeze, we pack up once more, refreshed after hot showers, good meals and a healthy breakfast, and head up to the high plane at Campo Imperatore:

It was from here that we followed the very scenic route towards San Pietro, at the cost of missing out on the lower section of the SS80, though it was well worth it. I hadn't been up that way for almost ten years, and it was even better than I remembered, with the mountains suddenly becoming green and the forest reaching up the flanks.

During the last stretch of the upper SS80, because of the Ducati's roar and the Nine-t charging right beside me, in all this barrage of horsepower and exploding gasoline, I couldn't hear my own engine, and so remembered something that my friend Brian had once told me about flying airplanes: "trust your gauges". I did just that and timed the following gear changes exclusively on what the little rev counter was telling me. Flawless.

Once at the lake, the campsite, our true home, comes into view:

The tents are quickly pitched, and Witold seems to suddenly feel the effects of his Ducati:

Above, mist over our tents, then clouds rolling in over the mountains, across the lake and up towards us:

This somehow made our evening in the chalet all the more cozy, with the usual incredible hospitality of our friends Mauro & Antonella.

By the time our evening was over, we had reached that wonderful state of inner peace and of being "in tune" that only a place like this can afford.

A little rain during the night was no big deal, and everything inside the tents stayed dry.

Dawn on the final day of our trip brought some clearer weather and we headed down back towards l'Aquila where we parted ways with Witold, whereas Sandro and I avoided the autostrada and made our way up to the Rascino plateau and eventually back down to the Tiburtina for the final stage back home.

We didn't need to take out a single tool, or top up oil, or get the booster out to overcome a dead battery. Everything worked perfectly.

True, all in all we covered less than a thousand kilometers, so really not a huge distance at all... and yet they feel like plenty.

What can I say that I haven't already said many, many times (though still not as many as I'd like)... This type of tour is where everything comes together and truly makes sense, everything has a purpose. Who knows when we'll head out again, or what we'll ride, but one thing is for sure, this is why we do it: