Something is afoot!

The Norton sits at the southernmost tip of the Majella complex, a long story soon to follow...

Gift horse - part 8

We needed a new jet holder to complete the rebuild of one of the Bing carburetters, something that should always be performed indoors, on the dining table:

Both carburetters are now back on the bike. BMW's set-up here in interesting and eminently practical, especially if you consider that ergonomics are tricky: there really isn't that much room for equipment, seeing as the rider's legs occupy the same space. Another example of how much thought BMW put into this is to be found in the rubber/plastic manifold that connects the airbox to the carburetters, ensuring that the whole system is practically water-tight. The airbox itself is a beautiful casting that integrates well with the rest of the engine block; shame it was later changed to a plastic type (albeit with even better weather protection, courtesy of two snorkels in the highest possible point above the engine). This one cleaned up quite well as you can see in this comparison:

Here's a look inside the airbox, with the new air filter in place:

Should I?

I keep looking at this photo and thinking how it felt to ride the Commando that day, and I find myself wondering whether or not I should re-fit the original footrests:

I'm going to mull this over and not do anything at least until I have the Sportster back on the road.

Gift horse - part 7

It should be appreciated what BMW did for mass motorcycling by introducing an electric starter that was, by all accounts, more reliable than much of what was available on motorcycles of the same vintage, so much so, that the kickstarter soon became an optional extra on these bikes. I have had personal experience with Italian, American and British electric starters from the 1970s and... I was never impressed. In fact I was worried. I didn't include the Japanese as they were already in a class of their own of course: it should be noted that at the same time (early '70s) when most British and Italian sporting thoroughbreds were coming out, they had a kickstarter and required strength of the body and strength of character to get them running. A 1971 Honda CB500 Four, such as the one uncle Fester restored for my cousin, is positively modern by comparison in terms of reliability and usability. But back to BMW; as I said, their starters were reliable enough to persuade the factory to do away with the kickstarter altogether, a rather bold move considering that the "flat-twins" were never exactly small motorcycles that you could easily bump start if the starter or battery failed. The starter on this particular motorcycle was inspected and found to be good enough at least for now. It's the original Bosch unit, which weighs a ton; BMW later switched to Valeo starters that are lighter, somewhat more compact (see below for a side-to-side comparison) and supposedly stronger/more efficient. I think that if this R80/7 turns out to be "a keeper" it would probably benefit from a serious upgrade of the entire electrical system, including starter, ignition and charging unit. We'll see.

Here it is back in the engine housing, a rather fiddly task to complete:

Motocamping 101

This was a daring escape, an act of derring-do in the eyes of those who despise motorcycles and just plain hate fun.

We have all been looking closely at the news, trying to figure out what our overlords' whim would mean for our much restricted freedom of movement, and finally we just tried to go for it, and this was the result.

Only two of us this time, but I'm very happy that my cousin was able to join on his freshly restored 1971 Honda CB500 Four, a masterful restoration carried out with no effort spared by uncle Fester's "Mystic Motors Roma".

My Fastback is from the same year, and leaving aside the modern upgrades it has received, you can still appreciate the fundamental difference between not just two motorcycles, but two engineering cultures, and the historical context they were born of.

We set off fairly late in the morning from the Monolith, the enigmatic and hulking slabs of stone that jut out from the ground are perfectly smooth to the touch and with no discernible joint between them, as though hewn from an impossibly large, single block of limestone. Yet somehow they open, gliding in complete silence over the wet grass to let the motorcycles out. Some say only the song of swallows and sparrows will unlock the structure; others believe the first light of dawn, shone through some type of gem is the actual key to it.

As this was just going to be a quick outing with only a night spent in the mountains, all the necessary gear was loaded into the new Moto Fizz, which worked quite well on the Commando's frame, despite the Fastback's somewhat awkward tail. Yes, it's a huge bag and it can feel a little "top-heavy" on more technical sections of tight turns, but despite appearances I still had plenty of room on the seat and the mounting system is as simple as it is brilliant: not only was the bag rock steady for the duration of the trip, but there was no need to readjust any of the straps at all, and I was able to leave it mounted on the bike at the campsite, and access everything I needed to set up the tents.

There was enough room for two tents, two sleeping mats, two extra blankets and two sleeping bag liners (always camp in comfort), my sleeping bag, an inflatable pillow, the complete toolkit and set of spares, rain gear and a change of clothes. Like I said, it's a huge bag and incredibly versatile.

This meant that my cousin could carry a much lighter load comprised of a small backpack strapped to the seat, with his sleeping bag and a few other personal items.

This was my cousin's first outing of this sort and on a motorcycle, of any kind let alone a classic. He comes from a respectable background of darting along the mean streets of Rome on a variety of scooters, but this was new to him. I wasn't sure how he'd deal with the type of trip I typically do, but as it turned out I needn't have worried: he's not only a natural, but he seems to have really "clicked" with this whole thing, and hopefully he's now as hooked as I am.

We followed a tried and tested itinerary, with plenty of variety, well-defined stages, stunning views, starting with the now-customary warm-up to reach the Tiburtina at these coordinates. It's a bit of a serious start to the trip, and I'll admit to feeling slightly rusty at the very beginning, to the point where I questioned whether the new luggage would work, or whether the Commando would cope with the trip and me with the motorcycle. Again, I needn't have worried: all it takes is a few miles to stretch back into shape and away we go.

Also, as usual, as soon as I had had a chance to go through a couple of gears, feel the surge of torque from the big parallel twin and the Isolastic smoothing things out, I heard the familiar question in my mind: "honestly, why bother riding anything else?!". 

Compared with the last Campotosto Mystic Trip back in September, this was ten times more enjoyable and I put it down exclusively to the Norton: immeasurably more fun than the R100GS, there's no getting around that.

Add to that the fact that I didn't need to get a single tool or spare out of my kit, the Norton feels in better shape than ever and the rear chain issue seems to be resolved. 

We made a first quick stop in Capranica Prenestina, no doubt the most movement that town saw that day. Reaching it entails a long uphill segment with countless tight turns, so it's a good litmus to understand how everything is working. Everything appeared well, so we pressed on after a quick coffee.

Other stops along the way are always an essential ingredient of a successful motocamping trip. All you need is a bit of green and a bit of shade, then the bikes and your gear do the rest: bring something to eat and drink, sit down, stretch your legs and enjoy the sudden quiet and the scent of spartium, linden and cypress resin.

Above: a super clean paintjob on the Honda. Notice also the extra fuel bottle on the Fastback, and an important upgrade to my kit, a full face helmet! It's an Arai "Concept X" (also known as the Rapide) and it's fair to say I've never had anything so sophisticated, well-built and safe. I'll show it more in depth in a separate post, after I've had a chance to use it some more, but so far it's just great.

Another stop along the way is mandatory at the altopiano di Rascino, always an idyllic spot that seems not only far removed in space but also time. After an hour just hanging out there in the shade of a giant tree, the only traffic we saw was a herd of cows (you can see them in the background in the next photo) and their farmer making their way through, stopping to graze and nurse their young.  Acutely aware of the noise our six cylinders would make, we waited until they were out of the way before starting our motorcycles again and continuing towards l'Aquila.

Going up the SS80 without Witold or Marco feels like a totally different experience, and thoroughly enjoyable! I'm only kidding and I can't wait to have everyone together and on another trip like this.

We reached the lake as a steady breeze was blowing, then we stopped at the usually busy kiosk for a beer before moving on to the campsite. This time though there was hardly anyone there, despite the absolutely perfect weather:

The final approach to the campsite is always a wonderful moment, and we got there just as the light was beginning to mellow, reflected in continuously changing colors on the western flank of the Gran Sasso complex.

Our usual spot awaited, under the tree, where we quickly set up the tents and left the bikes on their centerstands for the night.

With that done, we joined Mauro in the chalet, and caught up on what had been going on since the last time we were there; as usual the food and the atmosphere is something that can't be properly conveyed with words, although you can imagine the smell of a fireplace, bruschette and meat grilling away, roast potatoes and all the rest of it.

The fading light over the lake gives way to a crisp night sky, and the weather changes too, with temperatures dropping steadily. The only other guests were three German couples who were touring with camper vans and very neat set-ups complete with electric bicycles to enjoy the surroundings with added range.

At the end of the night we signed off with the traditional genziana, bitter but smooth and with virtually no alcohol as per Mauro's recipe. He is the Mountain Sage, custodian of the Forest, shapeshifter into Bear.

We had a low of around 7.5 degrees during the night (Celsius, you savages), but we were perfectly comfortable.

The bikes slept well too, and humidity was extremely low.

Another new bit of gear I got to try on this trip is a new tent: I've had my trusty Ferrino for over 20 years now, and although it is a great tent, it is starting to show signs of wear that would probably mean failure in rain or strong winds.

The new tent is lighter and much quicker to set up. I don't think it would be as effective as the Ferrino (when that was new) in a storm, but seeing as the only time we get to tour is during spring and summer, it should be just fine.

We awoke to a brilliant and bright new day, with the lake a blue I had not yet seen. After a couple of breakfasts we packed up and headed back West, concluding the trip without incident or fuss (though Mattia almost learned the importance of always carrying extra fuel; I'll be sure to give him a jerry can for his upcoming birthday).

This is what motocamping is all about, the essence of it on which to build, for even more fun and more interesting adventures. Here's to the next one.