the Campotosto Mystic Trip 6 - "a hermetic path to henosis"

I don't need to be the one to tell you that we live in hard times. This bad mojo seems to affect everything and everyone, including our ability to put together even a simple motorcycle trip and take off for a couple of days.

In 2020, I rode all of three days. The rest of the time I didn't even get to see my bikes, let alone wrench on them or plan for the future.

That said, against dire odds and at great cost, we managed to observe the yearly ritual of the Campotosto Mystic Trip, once again as the original three.

Massimo was supposed to join us with a friend, but he fell ill at the last minute and couldn't make it.

On a Friday in late September, I set off from the Monolith aboard the R100GS, which I hadn't ridden in seven long years (which is mute testament of what has become of my life). It was also the first time I used the rugged Milanek panniers, and the first time I rode the bike since it received a supposed "performance upgrade" with a lightened crankshaft: in my opinion this did nothing but introduce vibration at the lower end of the rev range, for a questionable gain in acceleration. If it were up to me, I would put it back the way it was (or... this might actually be the perfect excuse to fit a big bore kit from Siebenrock, I hear they're supposedly working on a 1130cc kit!).

The panniers proved to be very practical, but I noticed a concerning tendency to make the bike unstable at anything over 110-120 Km/h, no doubt due to their shape and size, which is anything but aerodynamic; not exactly ideal for long distance cruising at speed. Perhaps this wobble could be addressed with a firmer rear suspension setting and better tires: it currently has a set of Avon Distanzia, which I did not like as I found them very hard to "read" in terms of grip and lean angle feedback. The K60 Scout Heidenau it had before were much, much better.

I pondered all this as I made my way along the unmarked route that cuts across hills and rocky countryside to emerge along the A24 autostrada.

I met Witold on his battle-hardened Paralever, and we set off along roughly the same route we had followed years ago on our Commandos. It's always a very good idea to go on a trip with similar bikes, precisely what we did this time as well.

Whereas that time our plans were foiled by horrendous and actually dangerous weather, this time we only had to endure a little bit of rain, which we waited out along the way before being able to press on; we pulled over on a quiet mountain road and sheltered under some trees, after all it's the road that cuts across the forest, not the forest that goes all the way to the edge of the road:

A simple lunch along the way, then off again towards Passo Serra, the 1600-meter border crossing between Lazio and Abruzzo, where we stopped to go just a little bit off-road to take in the view and a couple of photos.

At the bottom of the SP30, down the other side, we reached Capistrello, then headed Southeast-by-South until the town of Sora, then up the SR666 and 509 climbing all the way to the stunning little hamlet of Opi, then finally to Villetta Barrea, at long last.

The campiste we found was out of the ordinary for two reasons: first, it sits in the middle of a deer preservation reserve, and the animals roam around, graze and do what they do right there where you're camping. It's impressive, but you can also hear them all night 'long, so keep that in mind as it is not a quiet night's sleep. Secondly, you're allowed to light a fire (in designated areas), which is most unusual for campsites in general, nevermind one right in the middle of a nature reserve. 

When the time came to get some dinner, we walked over to the center of town, which on one side is squeezed along the edge of a stream with crystal clear water, as well as being right at the bottom of a steep valley on the other side, so that the town looks very unique due to its location, clinging to the foothill and stretched along a thin strip of useable land.

We had a good meal, then sat outside the restaurant on a wooden bench perched up on the steep cobblestone alley that leads to the entrance, overlooking the stream, the meadow on the other side and the far side of the valley rising up to a cloudy night sky.

It was very dark by the time we walked back, as we approached our tents we saw a few people hanging around by small campfires here and there and thought "man, that'd be nice right about now".

Because it had rained and also because we had no real gear to light a fire - which we don't usually carry precisely because you're not allowed to light a fire anywhere, it was extremely difficult to get one going, but we managed thanks to some other campers who had come much better prepared than us and were happy to lend a hand, look at our motorcycles and exchange some stories over a beer or two.

Despite the ground being pretty wet and everything else in general being quite damp, we nevertheless managed to get a good night's sleep and wake up to the deer having their breakfast in the bushes near the tents.

Packing up with the aluminum panniers is indeed very convenient, especially if you're not using them to capacity: you just throw everything in there and shut the lid, job done in a couple of minutes.

We then walked over to a pub/cafeteria and had some breakfast ourselves, then it was time to go.

On day two of our trip, Marco was able to join us aboard his wonderful BMW R100 special: it was the first time I got to truly appreciate the lines and proportion of this fine machine while riding behind it, and I have to say I cannot find anything wrong or out of place. This thing is spot on.

Marco led us to a "baita" up in the woods somewhere near the town of Ovindoli, yet another very good meal and time to relax and talk nonsense about all the nonsense we like.

The afternoon ride included a detour to Piani di Pezza, a stunning belvedere that could pass for an Icelandic landscape:

The rest of the way was brilliant, with perfect weather and road conditions, all the way up to the lake; the SS80 is Witold's all-time favorite stretch of road and it's easy to see why: a formidable 25 kilometers of highly technical and demanding riding that rewards only the bravest of riders with a gift of the essence of "why we ride", that blissful state of being, that true Moksha, the henosis that's reserved only for a select few deserving of the experience. The only time I've been able to keep up with him on this road was during Pathfinder 2, and that's only because I had twice the engine displacement he did, and we were riding small, easy and relatively slow motorcycles.

Incidentally, a modern road navigation system will estimate a good half-hour for an average tourist to complete this course. Witold can do it in around ten minutes. Probably substantially less if we're being honest.

Marco is no slouch either, and it was impossible to keep up with them for more than a few hundred meters, after that they disappeared, roaring in the distance, while I had to settle to a more sedate pace, feeling all of the seven years away from the GS, and a full year away from any motorcycle at all. I know it's no use complaining (and I could blame the tires and suspension and awkward panniers all I want), but the truth is I'll just never again ride the way I used to, meaning neither as well as I used to nor as often as I used to, and it's a tough pill to swallow.

I found them waiting for me right by the massive containment wall on the southernmost edge of the lake, then we continued over the bridge to the little shack on the other side where we stopped for a beer just before the final stretch to the campsite. It was here that we saw two Canadair water bombers swoop low over our heads and down to the lake to refill and power out of the reservoir time and again, probably headed to a fire relatively nearby. Absolutely impressive to see such a steep dive executed with balls of steel (and yet so gracefully), then full power on and oomph! up and away again.

This late in the year, and with a goddamn pandemic underway, I was expecting the campsite to be empty; not so, in fact it was quite the opposite, I have never seen it so full! We met a very young couple from up north on a modern KTM, who looked at our airhead BMWs with amazement (for how could we be so foolhardy to ride such relics) then at us with disbelief when we told them we were being lazy and were in fact riding our "modern" bikes...

As usual, the evening and dinner being looked after by Mauro, Antonella et al. was a delight. The fading light outside, the lake and the mountains disappearing into the night (and it gets properly dark up there) while you're all cozy and warm in the wooden house, the yellow lights glowing in wicker lampshades, the sound and smell of the fire, the clinking of wine bottles and glasses, the smell of food wafting over you... There is no better place in the world.

A very good night's sleep is an essential part of any CMT, and this time too the forest sheltered us and let us awake the following morning to a glorious sunny sky, as a send off after a good outing on our motorcycles, among friends.

I don't know whether there will be a CMT7 in 2021 or at all, maybe this is it. At least I hope the others get to go and have a good time along the way.

some of us have aged in dog-years...

the Campotosto Mystic Trip 5 - "Rebirth"

More than two years after the last time we were there, we finally returned to our forest retreat in the mountains, and it was good to be there.

Witold is rightly enjoying his BSA, and is in that phase common to many rebuilds where the bike works, albeit with small issues that need to be addressed. This is a good thing, and the more things you fix, the easier it becomes to isolate a particular problem and make it right. After a while the result is a "well fettled" machine that can be reliable and a real pleasure to ride.
There are currently two things that need to be resolved: the throttle slide getting stuck in the fully open position (terrifying) and an unruly oil return line (annoying).

Above: an elegant solution of refined simplicity.

The itinerary for the day saw us meet partly along the way, as I come from the Monolith and have the pleasure of riding around 70Kms through the countryside before I emerge at the Vicovaro exit of the A24, where I joined Marco on his 980cc "sport scrambler" BMW, and Witold.

From there, we followed the Tiburtina at a brisk pace and peeled off northwards to the town of Tufo Basso, then Leofreni, Pescorocchiano, and on until we reached the ever stunning altopiano di Rascino, only this time we stopped at "Casale Calabrese" for lunch.
There is a short, but rough, trail leading up to the place, and it pays to tread carefully. That said, nothing that'll stop a British bike (or Marco's BMW):

Great food and hospitality, but it was soon time to leave, only I didn't make it very far as the rear chain on my Commando snapped... again.

It's unclear what exactly happened, whether I was just unlucky and picked up a stone that got in between one of the sprockets and the chain (breaking it), or whether this is a faulty chain, or again there could be a clearance issue more serious than what I had previously thought.
Long story short, this time it was not the master link that jumped ship, but two links that snapped. Luckily I had two spare master links, and luckier still the folks at Casale Calabrese had an angle grinder that they let me borrow so I could somehow fix the chain. Witold was, as always, very helpful and we got rid of the broken links with a screwdriver and a big hefty rock.
We sat in the middle of a field, with zero radio signal reception, some cows looking over us, banging on a broken chain with a rock; then we looked at each other and said, with the truest, utmost enthusiasm: "I've missed going out on the bikes, this is so cool". You either get it or you don't.
Then we patched up the chain with three master links and off we went, the chain audibly hitting something (for sure the Asatek shock absorber at times, and either the gearbox case, or the inner primary chaincase). Anyway, that chain is now done, and I have to replace it, but I also have to check clearances and alignment more accurately, as this is obviously a problem at the moment.
Other than that, the Commando performed beautifully, and it is now such a super-smooth ride that you can really appreciate the overall quality of the machine, the engine, the gearbox, the frame... it's all amazing.

This late in the year, with fairly low temperatures, high likelihood of rain (although we were so lucky, not a drop!), it's understandable that we had the place to ourselves.
We set up right under the trees, in the woods, and were perfectly sheltered from the wind that blew all night. The air was fresh and beneficial to astral travels once more.

Above: Marco's BMW is at the pinnacle of refinment, certainly the best it's ever looked or performed, thanks to uncle Fester's Mystic Motors outfit.

This wonderful place up in the mountains and so secluded, truly feels like home, and Mauro & Antonella are more than gracious hosts. I can't wait to come back here again.

As is tradition, we sat outside looking at the lake and the Gran Sasso peak in the distance, with a bottle of red wine, bread and cheese, all very local products of course.
As the afternoon gradually turns into evening and the light fades, you'll find yourself going indoor where the fire is getting nice and hot, and Mauro is busy grilling. The whole staff look after you with such care, it's really special.
Food and drink keep on coming, and it's all so good. A local shepherd had just dropped off a batch of freshly made ricotta, and it was still warm: delicious doesn't even begin to describe it.
Eventually you'll have to say "basta" and close things off with a bit of genziana moonshine: this time Mauro had a special vecchia riserva in addition to his regular recipe. Both were lovely, but the aged one was my favorite for sure, with almost no alcohol and a full-bodied taste from the sacred root.

After that, it's just a matter of burrowing into the tents and getting all nice and cozy. With a low of 7.4° that night (Celsius, you savages!), a good sleeping bag and an extra blanket are all you need to be extremely comfortable, which I certainly was.
Emerging from the tents in the morning, to a glorious sunny sky and crisp mountain air is enough to put anyone in a good mood. Even packing up is not a chore, but simply more time spent in this beautiful little corner of the world; a quick breakfast and hugs all 'round marked the end of the trip.

The Norton got me home under its own steam, though I rode very slowly the whole way back, constantly thinking "come on, just get me home, you can do it. Get me home and then I'll fix you". So the winter months are going to see one more bike up for maintenance (and the workshop has a busy schedule as it is!).

It was so good to go on this ride as the original three, hence the rebirth of the Campotosto Mystic Trip: it's regeneration or palingenesis if you will.
Thank you Marco & Witold, and here's to the next one.

the Campotosto Mystic Trip - what happened?

It was clear from the beginning that what we have stumbled upon with the Campotosto Mystic Trip, in our search for the expansion of consciousness, is not just a deep well of knowldge, but a living force; and while I humbly carry the mantel of its emissary, I do not control it.

To remind me of this, Karma has delivered a swift kick up the ass and thus our yearly trip did not happen this time.

While we're still enjoying excellent weather, everyone (myself included) seems to have already shifted their mindset to one of dread and anticipation of the horrible winter that is inevitably upon us. To quote a famous show, winter is coming.
This state of mind is not conducive to the CMT, and so we are better off planning maintenance and repairs for the coming months. I don't know what, if anything, I'll be able to do or when, but I don't anticipate much happening at all.

There is plenty to be done, I'd like to get the Triumph back on the road, repair the Sportster's gearbox, upgrade the Fastback's Isolastics, etc. I just don't know if I'll be able to go anywhere near the Monolith at all. It could be many, many months before I can.

So, I think this is where I'll sign off; don't expect any news before next spring.

And to those who will say that I've been on PLENTY of outings this year and that I should just shut up and be content with my lot, here's a handy list for them to consider as they make their way to buggering off:

Pathfinder 2: 2 days
Almost Majella: 3 days
Old Irons: 2 days
The wet one: 2 days
Majella 2½: 3 days

That all comes to a grand total of 12 days. Now, stay with me as this is where we rehash that most useful of basic math skills: proportions!
A year is 365 days, give or take. So, if 365 days is 100%, 12 days are...? That's easy, look:
365:100=12:x
x= 12⋅100÷365 which give us just shy of 3.3% of the time. That's how much of my time I've spent riding, and this was a very good year.

“The truth is not always beautiful, nor beautiful words the truth.”
― Lao Tzu

the Campotosto Mystic Trip 4 - "the equilibrium of the Chakras"

Well this was a lovely, lovely outing.

And as is known to happen with the CMT, this was not at all what I expected this trip would be. Unfortunately Witold couldn't make it this year, but we were fortunate to have Gianluca and Marco with a couple of buddies ride along for the morning. My sister Susanna and her Micheal also joined and that was a very welcome addition to our little band.

After reaching Borgo S. Pietro we stopped for lunch at a very nice restaurant with a good view of the lake and plenty of tasty food to keep you busy for a while:

Altogether, we had one hell of a trip, tiring, fun, fast and soaked in good cosmic vibes from start to finish.

As always, our host Mauro, a true mountain shaman and custodian of the forest, welcomed us and looked after us with the warmth of a log fire, wonderful food and wine and the long awaited genziana at the end. He then shapeshifted into a bear and roamed the woods, checking to see that the trees were doing well.
During the nightly astral travels, I sat in conclave with some oak trees and they told me things I have since forgotten, but, I get the sense that with a little luck, and a bit of peace and calm, all will be well.

The yellow autumn sun on Sunday morning was a fitting salute to the good summer we have enjoyed this year, and this trip was a fitting conclusion to the year.

We have a huge amount of maintenance to take care of over the harsh winter months, so that will keep us busy until next spring, when we return on the road looking for more adventures and more mysticism.

CMT4

The yearly Campotosto Mystic Trip is nearly here; we will return to the mountain ashram to visit even more dimensions and hang out with sprites and other forest elementals.

Photos and tales from the road when we return.

the Campotosto Mystic Trip 3 - "the belly of the whale"

Down and dirty, just one night into the belly of the whale, to seek Truth and emerge renewed.

You cannot hold onto the knowledge you gain, just know that you have known.

By the end of the first day, when you settle into your tent surrounded by the white noise of the Eternal Cosmic Cymbal, the tent is no longer just a tent, it is the Lotus, where upon its one thousand petals do you rest to contemplate each one as a different world and see yourself be all that you can be, and do all that you can do. You might even see yourself on a totally different motorcycle!

I am grateful beyond words for us to have been able to go on this trip, it was a welcome return to the best possible way to go motocamping; or to paraphrase the Avestan "Humata, Hukhta, Hvarshta", good motorcycles, good roads, good friends.

I took the Honda this time, because I really wanted to. I wanted to fit everything I needed in the aluminum top case, and I did. I wanted to swap the handlebar for a braced one, and I did. I wanted to see how it would actually ride with all the little things I've done to it: the Dynojet kit, the new exhaust headers, the larger gearbox sprocket, and the wider handlebar.
And I did: it is one hell of a fun ride, very lithe, very easy and only limited if compared to the big bavarian twins. I am sure that a group of four RFVC monobackbone Hondas would be a very, very fun thing to do...

If you want to experience the boundless mysticism of this event, and the altered state of consciousness that comes from shedding our linear understanding of time and embracing new dimensions, then join us next year when we return to the mountain, the lake, the forest and the temple.