May 15, 2022

This morning we hiked down the hill to the old walled city. We walked through the city first, getting lost several times in the maze of narrow alleyways that sometimes dead end but almost never lead to a staircase up to the walkway around the perimeter wall. In fact, there are only two places to access the perimeter wall, and the ticket is 250 kuna per person (thankfully I didn’t do the conversion math before I paid for the tickets, or I likely would not have bought them).

The walk around the top of the old city walls is about 1.2 miles long and it snakes in and out and up and down several times. It offers some great views of both the city and the shoreline.

Looking down into the Old City from atop the wall.

This legend on the wall of town shows the damage from the shelling that occurred when Dubrovnik was attacked in 1991-1992 by the Yugoslav Army, Serbs, and Montenegrins. The black dots are direct hits to the pavement; the black triangles are hits to roofs; and the red blocks are buildings that burned. Nearly all of the damage was repaired by 1996.

Looking across at Lovrijenac, or St. Lawrence Fortress.

There are a few places outside the wall where there are now cafes, and you can also walk down stone steps from those points and swim in the sea.

There are quite a few churches within the walls, as well as a Franciscan Friary. This is St Ignatius Church.

This place (Dubrovnik) is Tourist Central, so down most alleys are sidewalk cafes.

The humor apparently translates just fine in Croatia.

I know nothing about Game of Thrones, but I understand these steps are fairly famous in Kings Landing. The cat doesn’t seem too impressed. By the way, I’d love to house-sit here, but not many people actually have cats; the cats choose who to have. Most cats are free-roaming.

By the way, beer, wine, and even mixed drinks are cheaper than bottled water or Coca-Cola here. I had a half liter beer at a cafe on the wall for $2.08. Diana had a half liter sparkling water for $2.63.

We’ll spend another night having grocery-store dinner on our terrace, before heading north again. This will be our farthest point south for now.

May 16, 2022

We loaded up the bike in Dubrovnik for the slog up the toll road to Zadar. Before leaving, I had to pay our host for the two nights, in cash, and I didn’t have enough, so once more I hiked down the hill to the ATM to get kunas. Although it was early, it was already humid, and I was soaked by the time I got back to the apartment. Oh well.

Diana finishes loading the bike as I take one last photo from our terrace.

And one last panoramic photo from a little higher up, looking out the window of our host Marija’s home. I’m already missing this place. It was so relaxing.

The toll road headed north from just after the Bosnia crossing reminded me of the 241 Toll Road that runs along the eastern edge of Orange County in southern California. There are few buildings or towns, and it’s mostly rocky hills with scrub, but a very nice divided four lane road with a number of tunnels through the hills. Unlike the SoCal toll road, this one was a little under $9 to go about 160 miles.

A little further north, it begins to look more like Highway 99 just north of Bakersfield; you can see the mountains in the distance on either side, but you’re sort of in the valley between, and headed straight. Unlike the 99, the “mountains” on our left were actually islands just off the Adriatic coast. This became more obvious as we turned west and headed down into Zadar.

Nothing against this sea town, but after Split and Dubrovnik, it’s just not quite in the same category, though it is a beautiful town in its’ own right. One of its’ main attractions is the Church of St. Donatus, built in the early 9th century on the ruins of an ancient forum. Literally ON the ruins. It’s amazing to see the broken antique columns, pillars, and stone beams from a previous era that were used as the foundation materials for the church. Among these filler materials are even remains of a sacrificial altar and the base of the statue of a deity with an inscription dedicated to the goddess Juno and the the supreme deity Jupiter.

The Church of St. Donatus, built on an even older forum.

As we approached the church, it was obvious that the underlying foundation was bits and pieces of a former empire. While the church was interesting, the method of building the foundation fascinated me more.

I guess the materials were readily available, but it sure makes for an uneven first layer of stones.

Maybe it was just the opportunity to snub the former people and their architecture? There are still pieces of some of these columns standing outside at the edge of the forum, but it had to be a lot of work to cut them to length and lay them in place.

A little further along the seawall is the Sea Organ. This experimental musical “instrument” is really an art installation that was built into the sea wall in 2005. Marble steps allow visitors to sit above the organ and listen to the “music” as the waves move the large tubes under the sea wall.

The Sea Organ sits under these steps, and is played by the waves hitting the “pipes”. Pretty small waves when we were there, which resulted in some deep notes that sounded to me more like the background music from an Alfred Hitchcock movie.

Next to the Sea Organ is the Greeting to the Sun installation. This 22-meter diameter solar installation has 300 multi-layered glass panels with solar panels within it. At night, a computer-generated light show is presented from the panels.

Around the polished steel ring of the Greeting to the Sun installation are inscriptions, one for each of the 36 saints for whom a church in Zadar is named. Next to each Saint’s name is the date they are celebrated, and the sun’s coordinates on that particular day.

On our way back to the bike after visiting Old Zadar, we just happened to stumble on the “Tuna, Sushi, and Wine Festival”. It was lunch time, and this was a no-brainer: for about $4.75 each, we each had a large tuna steak drizzled with olives and a mediterranean sauce, a dinner roll, and a glass of wine.

I think the last time I had a tuna steak that large in the US with a glass of wine, it was about $45. So, applying US prices to the meal, that means our lodging for tonight is basically free. 🙂

Next to the Tuna Festival was a Toyota display, with the new Aygo X model that I keep seeing billboards for. I really like this car. It’s a hybrid, typical European model with a 1 liter engine and 6-speed manual transmission. The base model is a little over $13,000 here, and the one in the photo (fancy wheels, nicer interior, not sure what other add-ons) is about $20,000. The Highlander next to it, on the other hand, is $69,000. Uh, no thanks.

The Sea Gate, one of the entrances to the old walled city, built in the 1500s.

As in Split, and Dubrovnik, there’s a lot of money sitting on the water here.

Tomorrow we head a bit further north to our last stop in Croatia.

May 19, 2022

As we left Zadar, we headed east and began to climb into the mountains. The speed limit on the highway here is 130kph, or about 81mph, and that’s how fast we were going when the first giant gust hit us from the left side. Just prior to this, there were lighted signs overhead warning of windy conditions and advising 60kph, or 37mph. But hey, how bad could it be? Cars were going 80mph. RVs were going a bit slower.

And then it hit. On a large bridge with total exposure on both sides. The gust hit us so hard that it felt like the front tire was lifted off the ground and pushed sideways. I leaned the bike into the wind at what felt like an extreme angle considering we were just trying to go straight. For a brief second, I was sure the front end had washed out and we were going down. But although the bike fought with us and the wind, it stayed on its’ wheels and we managed to avoid being driven into the guardrail as we blew across the lane.

I immediately slowed down to about 50mph, but even at that speed, the direct crosswind, which had to be more than 60mph, was a huge struggle. My arms, shoulders, and back fought with all I had to keep the bike leaned into the wind and in the lane. Eventually we settled into a 25mph (40kph) speed behind a motorhome that was doing the same, with our flashers on, and we fought the wind for what seemed like an eternity, although it was actually only about thirty minutes before we emerged from a tunnel on the east side of the mountains and the wind slowed considerably. There were a few tunnels during the crosswinds that allowed us a brief reprieve, but eventually there was one that was about two miles long, and this allowed me to release my grip and shake my arms out, regaining feeling from the death grip that I hadn’t realized had become so strong.

We continued north to Smiljan, the small village where Nikola Tesla was born. His childhood home has been turned into a museum of sorts, and a scaled-down reproduction of his 1899 laboratory in Colorado Springs has been built here, complete with a large working Tesla coil. We were handed flourescent light bulbs to hold while the docent fired up the Tesla coil, illuminating the bulbs in our hands wirelessly.

This statue of Nikola Tesla stands outside his childhood home at the Tesla Memorial Museum in Smiljan.

A Tesla coil sits in the corner of a scale reproduction of Tesla’s Experimental Station. The original was in Colorado Springs in 1899-1900, but when a local caretaker won a judgement for $928 against Tesla for unpaid services, it was sold at auction, and torn down for scrap.

Tesla’s childhood home, now a museum with a detailed timeline of his life and accomplishments.

The Tesla Memorial was interesting, but only whet my appetite for more Tesla background and history. While some of the exhibits have English translations, much of it is in Croatian, without English subtitles, so while we got the gist of it, I now want to learn more about his early childhood, experiments, patents (he had over 700 of them), and his time in America with Thomas Edison, George Westinghouse and more. In his last 30 or so years in America, he lived in hotels, and he justified it by saying that settling into one place would stifle his scientific creativity (never mind that he was bankrupt and had several judgements against him, including some from unpaid hotel bills. He was a brilliant scientist, but apparently a terrible businessman.) He also said a lot of other things that I might consider today the ravings of a madman, but there’s no denying his brilliance.

Back on the bike, we headed northwest to the Istrian Peninsula, and then south again to Pula, where we met up with Dalibor and Suzanne, our hosts for the next two evenings. Dalibor is an electrician, and after spending several years working at sea for a large cruise ship company, he now does consulting from home in Pula, while restoring and renting out apartments in a small complex very near the center of town.

Our apartment is on the left, just across from the Sex Shop, which is right next to the Catholic Church. The large tree on the left side of the street is where the amphitheater is located, about a block or less from our place.

The interior courtyard of our apartment. That’s our door straight ahead.

The living room, with all of our gear scattered about. This is the lap of luxury for us, at $68 a night. Bear in mind that most campgrounds in Europe cost $35 to $45 just to pitch our tent, so it’s nice to spend a little more once in a while and get a bed, a couch, a kitchen, and even air conditioning.

I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about staying here, only because there is no on-site parking, and one of my priorities — if not my highest priority — when deciding where to stay is the security of the motorcycle. In this particular instance, it was necessary to park about two blocks away, in an open parking lot that had an arm blocking the entrance and exit. As I parked the bike there after unloading our stuff into the apartment, I couldn’t help but notice that besides one car that looked like it had been parked there for quite a while, our motorcycle was the only other vehicle in the lot. Dalibor assured me that crime was not a problem in Pula, and I accepted his reassurances. Although I still added my usual routine of cable lock through the rear wheel, disc lock on the front wheel, steering locked, and bike cover in place. Over the years, I’ve found the bike cover to be the most effective anti-theft item, as once the cover is on the bike, it becomes nearly invisible, and no longer attracts attention. Whereas without the cover, just the Texas license plate is enough to draw a crowd. (However, we were beat out today by a car parked on the street near our apartment…a blue Cadillac with Nevada license plates. I’m glad I didn’t have to pay to ship that over here!)

The day was looking to be around 75F and 40% humidity; much cooler and drier than the last several days further south. Diana put together several points of interest and we set off on a walking tour of Pula. First off, the Amphitheater:

The Pula Amphitheater, built between 27 BC and AD 68, is the only remaining Roman amphitheater to have all four side towers entirely preserved.

Incredibly, this two thousand year old structure is not off-limits. There were kids playing on the floor today while tourists roamed around the inside. There are no “stay off” signs, no “no trespassing”, nothing. It’s available for public use. Several concerts and plays are held here each summer.

The Temple of Augustus, built between 27 BC and AD 14. Unfortunately it was struck by a bomb in 1944 and had to be totally rebuilt in 1947.

The Arch of the Sergii, once a Roman gateway to the city. Built in 29 BC

The Twin Gates, one of ten entrances to the old city. These were built in the late 2nd Century AD.

And finally….

When we arrived at our apartment to check in, and began off-loading our stuff from the bike, Diana noticed this scooter parked next to us. No idea how long it had been there, but it was there when we arrived. Note the plastic bags on the floorboard.

Yes, that is meat. Lots of meat. I would say fresh meat, but I have no idea how long it had been sitting on the scooter. Nor do I know how long it continued to sit there. But that’s a lot of meat.

It just feels wrong to go on a Dolphin Watching Tour that includes a Fish Dinner.

I saw this Gelato Shop sign, and thought, “Hmmm…that would be the perfect name for a local place that comes by and scoops your dog’s poop in your yard.” I’ve seen those services in the States, but it just has a better ring here in Pula. Or Poo-la.

And then I saw this image on t-shirts and tote bags in several shops, and wondered why Disney fans and others who are unhappy with the governor of Florida hadn’t adopted it. I have no idea what the original intent was, other than just a fun random act of Mickey.

Tomorrow we leave Croatia for our crazy rush across Europe to the other side. We’re both a bit bummed that we’ve planned this part of the trip too much, which doesn’t allow time for things that might suddenly pop up, like the fact that three other travelers from our past are all within an extra day’s ride, and we don’t have an extra day to go see them. Graeme and Katrina, from Australia, are in Northern Italy right now, having just recently arrived back to their motorcycle, which had been stored in Bulgaria during the Covid lockdowns. We met them originally while waiting for the ferry from Belfast, Ireland to Isle of Man in 2018. Jake, who stayed at our place in Texas just a little more than a month ago, is now in Italy as well. We’re still hoping to possibly cross paths as Diana and I pass through on our way to Normandy.

We’ve made a vow to not structure the trip so tightly that we can’t make alternate plans. This, along with having a definitive end date due to home maintenance and having cats at home that we’d like to see, is a big difference between the way this ride feels and the first trip in 2015-16. But we’re adjusting slowly. And…even though we have an “end date” in mind, we’ve already started making commitments to another exciting leg that could very likely start within days after this trip “ends”.

May 20, 2022

UPDATED May 30, 2022 to add detail about Romeo & Juliette

After more than a week of long days of riding, and rainy days and nights, the rain has stopped, at least temporarily and so have we. We’re finally settled into our campsite in Lydney, England (just north of Bristol) for a few days. So it’s time to go back and catch up on where we’ve been for the past week. Let’s start where we left off…

We left Pula, Croatia and headed back up the Istrian Peninsula to cut through the western corner of Slovenia and into Italy. Crossing the border from Croatia into Italy, it was like someone had said, “Okay, Slovenia, you get all the green and trees, but as soon as there is no more of that, Croatia begins. Strange how borders are drawn, based on rivers, terrain, etc.

It was a very brief ride through this sliver of Slovenia, although we had to stop at the border and check back in, as our Schengen Visa time began again as we crossed into Slovenia. Within a few short miles we entered Italy, and needed gas, so we stopped at the first station we saw. As I was finishing filling the tank, a blue 700 Tenere pulled up on the other side of the pump. We had seen a few other T7’s on the road, but this was the first with full luggage and two people, like us, and they seemed as excited to see us as we were to see them.

Sandro and his sister-in-law/navigator/mechanic (yes, SHE is all that) were on their way home. Like us, he had previously owned a Super Tenere before downsizing to the 700, and like us, felt it was the perfect bike for two-up distance touring on backroads.

We parted ways with Sandro, agreeing that perhaps we would meet up in Mongolia next year (a goal for both of us). Our goal for the evening was Verona, and since we had a number of long days ahead of us, we chose to take the highway for a while. At the first toll booth we came to in Italy, the woman in the booth asked “What is wahldruck?”

“Sorry?”, I replied, not understanding the question.

“What is wahldruck?” she repeated. I was lost. I had no idea what she was saying. I was there simply to pay my two euros and proceed on.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand”, I said.

Diana said, “She is asking “What is Wall Drug”. It finally dawned on me that she was looking at our pannier, and the giant “Where the Heck is Wall Drug?” bumper sticker that we picked up in South Dakota last year on the way back from Alaska.

“Oh! It’s a pharmacy, in South Dakota, United States.”

“So, it is store?”

“Um, yeah, sort of. It’s more of a giant tourist destination.”

Now she looked like she was either really confused, or doubting me. Americans have pharmacies for tourist attractions? No wonder they have a drug problem.

She took my money and the arm raised and off we went.

We eventually made it to Verona, and our campsite at Camping Castel San Pietro. The campground is on the top of the highest hill in town, or at least very near the old town of Verona, just across the river. On top of this hill is a castle — the Castel San Pietro — and just behind the castle is the campground. It makes for some incredible views overlooking Verona.

Beautiful views from the campground above Verona, Italy

We set up camp and walked down the hill and into town to grab a quick bite to eat. Everywhere were sidewalk cafes advertising Spritz Apertifs. As we crossed an intersection of two alleyways, I could see a large piazza about a block off to the right. We headed that way to check it out, and just happened to stumble on Juliet’s house.

As we sat having a snack at this sidewalk cafe, these doors across the way began to open inward electrically. It looked like the entrance doors to Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disneyland. It turns out, they are two large doors that lead into a large courtyard where multiple cars were parked.

Around the corner and down another alleyway was this large piazza, and just before getting there, was Juliet’s House.

This, we are all told, is the actual home of Juliet.

Yep, that Juliet, of Romeo and Juliet fame. We listened as a tour guide explained in English to a group of tourists: “Yes, this is the real house of Juliet. We know that Romeo’s family had a house nearby also based on records. You can see the family crest of the Capulet family above the entryway. The balcony has been replaced because the original was very ugly. Shakespeare adapted his story from the local legend that was recorded by an officer; he did not originate the story.”

With a little research after our visit, we found online that the original lover’s tragedy of Romeo and Juliette was said to be a true story which occurred in Verona in 1303, and was passed on in Italian folklore for many years, being told in different versions by many poets and authors in the 14th century. However, it appears that William Shakespeare mainly drew inspiration on a 1562 poem by Arthur Brooke.

Although we are also told that this is NOT the original balcony that Juliet uttered those famous words from, as the original balcony was replaced because it was “too ugly”. (Oh, and Shakespeare’s stage directions never had a balcony; she appeared in a window.)

This bronze statue of “Giulietta” stands in the courtyard. You may notice that her upper torso is much more polished while the rest of the statue has a typical tarnish to it. This is because legend has it that if you rub her breast you will have good luck. There’s been a lot of breast-polishing going on, and we saw a lot of it in the few minutes we stood there.

How much of the story is factual, and how much is evolved folklore is hard to say, but it has definitely been good for the local economy.

We walked a bit further to a local grocery store next to the ancient coliseum and bought some food for dinner, then began the hike back up the hill to our campsite. When we arrived, tired and sweaty, I found that the campground store, in addition to everything we just hiked two miles to buy, had a bar serving Spritz apertifs. So we ordered two and sat on the patio enjoying the sunset.

Later that evening, as we lay in our tent, it became clear that the road to the top of the hill, which has several switchbacks as it climbs steeply, is used as the Verona version of the Pikes Peak Hillclimb at night by the local scooter riders, as well as a few cars. Apparently the only requirement to compete is that you must have a very loud exhaust. This went on until nearly 3am, the combination of screaming scooters and squealing car tires. It’s a shame, because aside from these late-night scooter clowns, it’s a beautiful campground.

Fortunately the noise died down around 3am and we were still able to get a few good hours of sleep before another long day of riding the next day.

May 21-22, 2022

We left Verona on a mission to make it to Chamonix, France before nightfall. While only 250 miles, much of it snakes through small towns and over the Alps on twisty climbs, and I decided that today we would take the smaller roads and avoid the tolls. Which made it even longer of course.

On our way out of Verona, the GPS started adopting new habits. For the first time this trip, she suddenly decided to announce turns over the intercom system. Up until this morning, if Diana and I had the intercoms on, I couldn’t hear the GPS announcements. If I shut the intercoms off, the GPS announcements would come through my headset. Now, in the middle of a conversation, the GPS would cut us off to announce a turn, then there would be a ten second lag before the intercom would come back on. Which was just enough time to require the next turn announcement, so it was nearly impossible to have a conversation.

About this same time, the turn announcements started occurring about a half mile after the actual turn, which rendered the announcements useless.

Before leaving Verona, the GPS suddenly re-booted in the middle of traffic, and came up in portrait mode rather than landscape mode, making the map nearly impossible to read. Shutting it off and re-starting it seemed to solve this problem at least.

Several times during the day, it also would announce that “External Power Has Been Lost”, but at the same time the symbol in the upper right corner indicated that it was indeed still connected to the bike’s power and charging.

One last note on all this: after two days of these antics, it has stopped doing any of that and is now back to normal. I didn’t remove it from its’ dock or change anything, but it definitely seems to have a mind of its’ own. And this is the same GPS that we used for five months last year to Alaska and back, with no issues. I’m thinking Garmin did an online update that somehow went awry.

Okay, back to the ride: a little more than an hour out of Verona, I received a phone call (which scared me, as my phone rang in my headset and the GPS announced that “Jake” was calling. I had never received an announced phone call over my headset AND GPS before. You may recall Jake had stopped at our place in Texas about five weeks ago on his way through from Mexico. He was now back in Europe on a different bike and continuing his European ride. He had been following our route on the blog, and had called to say that it looked like we would be literally crossing paths in another hour or so near Gallarate, Italy. We agreed to meet in Gallarate at a pasta restaurant for a quick lunch. Jake was headed to Varese for the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride the next day. We would have loved to tag along, but we had unfortunately committed to a tight schedule. It was great to catch up over pasta, and with several long days ahead we hit the road again. (This punishment is regrettable, in hindsight. More on that later.)

Not sure when we may see Jake again, but we’ll keep in touch.

On we pushed, skipping the toll roads and riding through the small towns, criss-crossing over the toll road and back multiple times. Eventually we arrived at the first climb into the Alps, crossing into Switzerland and up and over Simplon Pass, with spectacular views of the high mountains.

We dropped back down into the valley on the Swiss side, and continued into France to Chamonix. Our campsite for the night was at the base of Mt. Blanc, the highest peak in the Alps.

Looking up at Mt Blanc from our campsite. This photo was taken about 11pm.

The next morning.

During a clear, star-filled night, several times I heard what sounded like the crack of lightning followed by thunder. It took a while to realize that what I was hearing was an avalanche on the glacier high above us.

The next day would be our longest of the trip, not just so far but ever, as far as I’m concerned, as 400 miles is almost three times the daily average that I adhere to. We were also breaking another of my rules, which is not to ride more than four days a week. All of this effort to ride across Europe in a few days was wearing us out and preventing us from seeing anything. We (I) had made a schedule because we had certain things we wanted to do or see on certain dates, and this was beginning to wear on us. I’ve since concluded that in the future we will not make such solid plans, and not reserve places ahead of time, so that we can slow down and enjoy our surroundings. If this means covering less ground and seeing less of the big tourist sites, then those will have to wait.

Since we had arrived at our campsite in Chamonix rather late by our standards — it was around 8pm, even though it stays light until after 10pm — and the owner of the campground was not around, we stopped on our way out the next morning to pay. She was very surprised to learn that we were even there the night before, and also surprised that we bothered to pay before leaving. Apparently, and sadly, it must be common for campers to just use her facilities and leave without paying. Her English, like my French, was non-existent, but the conversation flowed easily with simple words and gestures.

Leaving Chamonix, we again took the toll road, as we had a lot of ground to cover yet again. We ended up on the E15 motorway, and my exhaustion, combined with the lack of consistency in toll booths, began to frustrate me. In a matter of fifty or so miles, all on the same road, we approached three toll booths. At the first, only cash was accepted; no credit cards. No problem: we had Euros, but I was trying to spare them for places that only took cash, and this was one of those places. At the second, there were four lanes marked for credit cards, and all four were also marked “No Motorcycles”. Eventually we found that the cash-only lanes that allowed motorcycles also took credit cards (I still haven’t figured this out completely. The toll booth somehow recognizes that we are on a motorcycle as we approach, and displays the motorcycle rate. So why can’t it do that in ALL of the lanes? Or do they just recognize that it takes motorcyclists longer to pay a toll because we have to dig in our pockets, and possibly remove a glove, so they keep some lanes open for the supposedly faster-paying cars?). At the third toll booth, you had to take a ticket, which you later inserted in a machine at the next toll booth to pay, and again where some lanes were marked “No Motorcycles” and some were not.

Likewise, we stopped for gas at a gas pump that only took cards. Except it wouldn’t take my cards. When I asked the cashier, I was told that I could use any other pump EXCEPT the one I was at. (Every other gas station since, except one, has not been a problem. We encountered one other station that although all of the pumps looked identical, only pumps 2 through 9 would take my credit card. Weird.

At the end of a very long day, we arrived at the Municipal Campground in Dreux, France, only to find that it is no longer a campground, or open to the public at all. A quick search on the GPS found another campground less than a mile away, which had available space for us.

On the way to the campground we passed what seemed to be a “compound” of almost fantasy proportion, looking like something from a movie set or a theme park attraction.

An odd sight along a city block in Dreux, France. It looked like a movie set, and it turns out that although it wasn’t built to be one, it has been used as one multiple times, in movies like Thunderball and The Pink Panther Strikes Again.

The palace was ordered built in the 1550s by King Henry II for his mistress Diane of Poitiers.

This Byzantine chapel holds the remains of Diane of Poitiers.

The long haul to Dreux, just outside Paris, meant that we would have a shorter day tomorrow to get to our campsite in Normandy.

May 23-24, 2022

We had set up the tent in Dreux without the rain fly, but by 11pm the first drops of rain were hitting the tent, so I jumped up and quickly put the fly over the tent. It rained on and off most of the night, and in the morning it still looked dark and ominous, but a break in the rain had us scrambling to tear down camp and pack up before more rain started again. We packed up a wet tent and headed west.

It didn’t take long for the rain to resume. After about an hour, we pulled into a service area on the side of the highway (these usually have a gas station, a restaurant or two, and a store, and are accessible without leaving the tollway). We decided to have breakfast and wait for the rain to ease up. We ended up staying longer than expected, which allowed us some amusement as well. Here are a few views of “French-ness” that entertained us during this rainy day break.

Apparently it’s okay to take up motorcycle-specific parking spaces with your car as long as you turn your flashers on. This car sat here for more than an hour while it’s owners ate lunch. We retaliated by taking a car parking space closer to the entrance, which was available to them as well. (Note the “A” sticker in the rear window of the car. That stands for “Apprenti”, or French for “Learner”. It’s required for new drivers to display this sticker. It’s apparently not required for them to display their intelligence.

Likewise, it’s apparently acceptable to park your Mercedes in the handicap parking space and go inside to have lunch, as long as you leave your flashers on.

This is our electrical adapter plugged into a French outlet. Every other outlet placed it straight up and down. For some reason, this one placed it at a 45-degree angle. Thumbing their noses at the rest of the world?

A little more than two hours later, after having breakfast and lunch, we got back on the road. Today was only 160 miles, but we had one long stop planned in Caen, and we hadn’t planned on the rain or the long stop at the service area, so a short mileage day was still going to be a long day of riding.

We arrived at the Memorial de Caen, a large World War II and Cold War museum built atop a former Nazi command bunker. This museum is full of artifacts from World War II and particularly the Normandy beach landings, and the displays tell the story of the fall of France over a six week period during the war and the later liberation of France by American, British and Canadian forces. I have to admit that I knew just the basics about this part of the war, but the museum at Caen did a superb job of helping me understand the events leading up to D-Day, and the push onward from Normandy to Germany to end the war.

We were so focused on the exhibits and learning that we neglected to take many photos at this museum. It was well worth the visit and we’d like to return and spend more time there in the future.

Leaving Caen we had another hour ride to get to our campsite, which was located at Omaha Beach, a significant location of the D-Day invasion.

Our campsite at Omaha Beach. In addition to the overwhelming feeling of being on such a historic battlefield, this campsite was one of the nicest facilities we’ve stayed in. The small building next to our tent is two rooms: the front room is a kitchen with fridge, sink, prep counter and storage shelves, while the rear door is our own personal bathroom with toilet and shower. Just to the right of the white building on the far right you can see Omaha Beach.

It was a bit odd at first to notice that nearly all of the campers around us had German license plates. However, this is a place of historical significance to the entire world, and there is no denying that not only did a lot of Germans lose their lives here, but today’s Germans want to learn what happened here as well. I struggled to think of how it might feel to a German citizen seeing the entire area showing its’ thanks to America, Britain and Canada for liberating them from the German war machine. Somewhat similarly, we visited the memorial and museum at Hiroshima, Japan a few years ago, and at first I felt a bit uneasy being an American there, until you realize that everyone is welcome and encouraged to learn from our past.

The next day we had a long list of D-Day sights to visit, beginning with the Church of Sainte-Mere-Eglise.

During the initial stages of Operation Overlord (the D-Day invasion), early in the morning of June 6, 1944 and under cover of darkness, paratroopers from the US 82nd Airborne and US 101st Airborne Divisions dropped into the town of Sainte-Mere-Eglise. A number of the paratroopers died when they became caught on utility poles and trees and were shot by German troops before they could cut themselves loose.

One famouse story involved paratrooper John Steele of the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, one of four regiments of the US 82nd Airborne Division. His parachute became caught on the town’s church spire, and he hung there for more than two hours, pretending to be dead, before German troops cut him down and took him prisoner. He later escaped.

This monument was created on the church commemorating Steele’s story.

Then to Utah Beach and the Landing Museum there.

Looking out onto Utah Beach.

One of the many memorials to the men who fought at Utah Beach. Many of the first to land had the job of clearing a path across the beach for the men and vehicles that would arrive just behind them. The 4th Infantry Division landed 21,000 men on Utah Beach.

And on to Pointe du Hoc

Pointe du Hoc is a 110-foot high cliff just west of Omaha Beach. On the morning of June 6th, 1944 an assault force of Rangers in ten landing craft were to land on the beach and scale the cliffs, taking over the German guns in casements at the top of the cliffs. Once there, they were to fire flares to alert another larger force of eight Ranger companies to commence the second wave of the assault. But due to navigational errors, the initial force arrived late and lost their element of surprise. The larger second wave detoured to Omaha Beach instead. When the Rangers scaled the cliffs, they found the German guns were not there, which set off a search to find the guns and eliminate them to prevent firing on later landing forces.

These large casements were mostly empty, the guns having been removed earlier by German forces and moved inland to repair and refit while the casements were reinforced. The land around the entire area looks today like large, deep, grassy craters, which is of course what they are. The entire area had been bombed so heavily that the land is forever changed.

Then to the American Cemetery

The Memorial at the American Cemetery

More than 9,300 are buried here, most of whom lost their lived during D-Day or the following operations.

It’s a very beautiful yet difficult place to see.

And Longues Sur Mer, to the German artillery battery there.

The German artillery battery here is the only one that still has all of its’ original guns in place.

Some of the guns were obviously destroyed during battle.

The Longues Sur Mer battery was captured on June 7, 1944 and was not operational after that.

And finally Arromanches, where the Allies created an artificial harbor in order to bring men, vehicles and supplies in until they could capture and rebuild Cherbourg.

Our time in Normandy had been too short, but our understanding of the great sacrifices that were made here to turn the war had grown tremendously. There is much more to see and learn here, but with an enriched view of the battles we can now do more research and hopefully return soon.