Motorcycle Touring - Nice, France from the Back of a Motorcycle

Motorcycle Touring through France was my idea of a great adventure vacation, and I was not disappointed. Traveling through France on the back of a motorcycle was truly one of the most perfect two weeks of my life. I had never been to France, and the idea of a motorcycle trip there was most enticing. When we learned that our group was planning a trip, we signed up immediately. Motorcycle Touring through France would be a great adventure vacation!

We flew to Nice on June 15th, 2006 on Swiss Air - a perfectly civilized way to travel. After a brief layover in Zurich, we took off for the French Riviera.

A view of the French Riveria from the plane.

We stayed in Nice for one night, and waited impatiently for the motorcycles to be delivered to our hotel. I knew that I had been assigned to a Ducati, and was hoping it would be a bright red one. I was not disappointed. We watched from the top of our hotel for the truck with the motorcycles, and finally spied it.

Waiting for Our Motorcycles

Because we are all mature adults, we hurried down to the street once we saw the motorcycles coming to meet the truck and make sure that everything got unloaded safely.

Our bikes on Trailers in Nice, France

From Nice, we traveled north, and quickly reached some great curvy semi-mountainous roads. My experience with my pretty red Ducati was not great, however. This particular motorcycle had a tendency to stall - no take off was smooth. I tried and tried to make friends with my pretty Italian bike, but no amount of warming up or clutch maneuvering worked. It sputtered, spat, lurched and then quit. Over and over and over again.

Trying to make friends with a motorcycle, while adjusting to a foreign country can be troublesome. For one thing, early in a trip, we usually designate someone to be the leader - the person with the map or the GPS, assigned to navigate the route to our next destination. I was not that person. I was not a leader; I was a follower. And in order to follow, you need to be able to go.

This is a picture of my pretty Ducati - doing what it did best, nothing.

My pretty Ducati - before it stopped running.

With my stalling, sputtering Ducati, we traveled farther north to Chamonix, a lovely little Bavarian village. Thank goodness we had a day off, and I turned the Ducati over to our traveling mechanic for some much needed TLC.

From our hotel in Chamomix, we could see the top of the mountain, Mont Blanc - named for the fountain pen......or perhaps the other way around?