2008 Honda Nighthawk 250

This is a report of a trip I did in July, so a bit outdated but I'm longing for another trip so I thought it was best to get it out of my system by writing it down somewhere.
A bit of background info on the bike I used and how this trip came about.

I fancied a smaller bike for some time and found this Honda Nighthawk 250 for €450 a couple of months ago. After charging the battery and bodging together some old indicators to replace the broken ones, I had a fully functioning bike. I took it on a long weekend to Germany to see what it could do and it performed really well, I hammered it on the highway, did some watercrossings and a bit of offroading and still got over 30km/l with all the camping gear on. Only downside was the Pirelli City Demon on the rear. Horrible when dry, even worse when wet. One morning I took off at the lights, made a left turn and the rear slid out underneath me. Except for a broken clutch lever and a hurt ego nothing was broken but that tire was definitly going.

A couple of friends tell me they have rented a house in Montenegro to spend the summer and ask if I'm coming too. I'm not one for spending a long time in one place but a couple of days I can manage. They will drive there by car and I foolishly agree to meet them there, taking the worst-perfect bike to do the job.

Skip forward a month or two and the bike has new Pirelli MT75 on the rear, some pieces of metal welded together to hold my luggage, a modified moped centerstand and a usb outlet to charge the phone. Oh and I changed the speedo for one that reads in kilometers, instead of miles. But it's off because the front tire is larger than stock. So when (or if) indicated 100km/h it's actually 110km/h.. not bad. To top it all off the clutch slips when the engine is cold, but when warm it is fine, for now at least.

That's a 500 euro adventure bike right there!!

After packing the last things and saying goodbye to my mother, I set off at around 11 AM from the middle of the Netherlands. The night before I welded a last-minute bracket for the TomTom navigation device I have. It has a 'avoid highway' option which I like. Maps.me does not have that option unfortunately. So I headed of in the direction of Luxemburg, about 350 kilometers away. Following the rural roads it took me about 2 hours to get to the Belgium border. Being in the Schengen-zone there is not much of a border, on these rural roads it is indicated with a sign or nothing at all. Following the line on the screen made for easy riding and I was able to enjoy the scenery even more.

Pretty soon I was in Luxembourg and decided to see Wiltz. This is a little town where it al started for me. When I was 16 years old and friend and I rode our old mopeds (A Honda 50, and a Vespa) to Wiltz. I never forgot that trip so 9 years later I am back. But the place we camped back then was closed and overgrown. I checked the map and a little further I spotted Esch-sur-Sure, which had a couple of campsites. The place was 14 euro's, but more important, they had a bar with cold beers. After cooking some dinner I went to grab some beers at the bar. I was soon joined by a Bosnian dude who was working on a construction site in the neighborhood. At first he was friendly and I didn't think much of it, he probably had some more beers somewhere already. When I told him I was heading to Montenegro he suggested places to see. I even facetimed with a friend of him who invited me to stay in Bosnia when I passed through. But he became rather rude to the waitress when his beer was empty, I told him he could not say those things but he kept being a d*ck so I kinda had enough and left the scene. I walked through the forest back to the campground and heard the owner and the Bosnian guy raising their voices. Next time I'll just read a book instead.
Nice to see a young rider on a cheap bike doing a trip. That's the way to do it.
Hi Joris, it seems the travel bug bit you hard in Africa
Will be following again to see what this adventure brings.
Well, you and some others really taught me that you can take any bike to almost anywhere. If you take your time and have a little bit of perseverance you'll get there eventually. Yes, it did indeed. It's normal life for me at the moment, but I'm pretty certain that in the near future a long trip will happen!

durtwurm and vicmitch like this.
The next day I wake up to sunny skies and pack up slowly, I'm on holiday and in no rush.
From Esch-sur-Sure I accidentally end up on the highway. But the traffic is moderate so at a snail's pace I follow the road to Thionville. From there I head west around Metz and take a loop through Parc de Lorainne, which is small but very beautifull! The TomTom doesn't avoid highways anymore so I pack it away and use my phone instead. Following the small roads in between the E21 and E23 past Nancy. There are a lot signs telling me the Tour de France has followed the same roads, painted bicycles, flags, banners. I cannot be more than a day behind. The 250 really loves these county lanes and soon Vesoul is behind me and I'm heading to Besançon. The rolling hills filled with corn and wheat get more steeper with every kilometer, and it's not long before steep rocks line the road. Must be getting close to the Alps now!! The sun is getting pretty low on the horizon so it's time to find a place for the night.

On the map I spot a little lake in the village of Le Pasquier. Upon arriving there are a lot of French families having a picknick and doing some fishing. So I don't even stand out cooking my dinner on the side of the lake. This evening it consist of two microwave meals, which you can find in any supermarket in France. I clean my plate in the lake and dive into my book, which is 'The Kite Runner' by the way. In my opinion a good read and a small history lesson of Afganistan before it all went bad. A little later an older gray bearded gentleman joins me, he had brought his binoculars and was watching the birds. We had a little chat about the lake, the birds and the weather. But I wished I could speak more than just a couple words of French at that moment. The sun has dropped below the horizon so I follow the road a little further until it turns to dirt. Keep going a little further and I'm on a nice grassy field. This will do perfect! Pitch the tent, jump in and sleeping within seconds. Around 3 o'clock I'm half awake and feel something pushing against my hip. There is a massive storm rolling by, blowing the side of the tent against me. No rain but very strong winds and lightning flashing all around. I make sure everything is secured and try to go back to sleep. Later when the wind dies and the rain hammers the tent I fall asleep knowing it'll be alright.

I did not take many pictures in the first couple of days, but in the Alps the scenery got better and I stopped more to admire the view.
It's Sunday morning and the nightly storm has subsided. Heavy clouds fill the sky, but atleast it's not raining anymore. While packing up the wet tent, a car comes driving towards me. I panic a little because I'm highly visible on this field and shouldn't be there of course. The car stops about one hundred meters away from me, and out comes a man and his dog. Pff.. nothing to worry about.

Back in the saddle I follow the road signs to Genève. France has become really modern in the last couple of years. Most of the supermarkets are now also open on Sunday, something I still haven't seen in a lot of other countries. I grab some chocolate pains for breakfast and some other groceries for the rest of the day.

Soon I'm riding along Lac Léman and into the city of Genève to see one of the highest fountains in the world. At 140 meters it's really high but the rain does not do it justice on this day. Might have to go back one day when the weather is nice.

So, onwards to Thonon-Les-Bains and the start of the Route des Grande Alps. With a perfect timing the clouds disappear and a smidge of sunshine warms the air and more important, dries the road. The route immediately snakes up and around mountains with dense forests, sporadically intermitted by freshly mown fields. After Col de la Colombière the rain returns, which makes riding these roads definitely less enjoyable. Although I'm wearing my rain pants, I'm still quite soaked and cold upon reaching Val d'Isere.

I take a brief notice of the time, which shows five o'clock. Not the best timing for going up Col de l'Iseran, but my goal for the day is Bardonecchia in Italy so I push on. It's slow going, I'm using everything of what little power the 250 has, but fifth gear soon becomes useless. When I reach 2000 meters the fourth gear is to much and I have to resort to high revs in third gear to keep going. Even that one is getting a bit long, but I make it to the summit at 2770 meter. It's still raining and that makes it awfully cold. I've crossed the snowline somewhere around 2500 meters so having shoes filled with water and clothing that is soaked does not make for the best experience. A quick picture and I'm heading down again. The temperature rising with every meter I descent. The sun eventually breaks through the clouds, oh such a good feeling. A short stop when reaching the valley to set the navigation on Bardonecchia. It leads me through the Frejus tunnel where they charge a whopping 28 euro for a motorcycle, which blows the daily budget.

A couple of years ago I read about the Stella Alpina rally. A motorcycle gathering that is held every second weekend of July in Bardonecchia. The goal is to ride your motorcycle to the top of the highest motorable pass in the Alps, the Col de Sommeiller. Unfortunately for me, I arrived in Bardonecchia on Sunday evening of the second weekend in July. I managed to miss the party by a day. But there were still a lot of bikers on camping Bokki. They would stay one more night and would leave the next day, which was nice. I pitched my tent, took a perfectly hot shower and enjoyed some beers while being surrounded by high mountains which were lit up by the setting sun. Besides the rain it was a good day!
I wake up and it's not raining, yay! I might have missed the Stella Alpina, it does not mean I can't ride the Col de Sommeiller. So let's go, let's hit that 3000 meter mark. This morning I'm quite pumped to take on the highest motorable pass in the Alps. Just before I leave I have a short chat with an English guy. I ask him if he's been up there and how the conditions are. He replies with a comfortable answer 'Oi, the road is in perfect condition, you have the perfect bike for it. You'll have a blast'. Highly motivated I grab two croissants in town, while being watched by the locals sipping on the their espresso's. One is used right away, the other one goes in my bag. The climb starts with some tight hairpin corners, followed by a bit of new tarmac snaking along the mountain side.

After Rochemolles the road deteriorates quickly, from sealed to potholes to nothing at all. Gravel, sand and big rocks are all that is left from the road that once led to the top. I come across some heavily loaded bikes heading down. Passing the field half way up the pass I see some more bikes and tents, left overs of the Stella Alpina Rally. I'm not stopping, just riding on, higher and higher. Hairpin turns are getting more frequent, turn after turn I'm heading up. The three highest gears are useless, just first and second gear left. I see a parked car, a red Fiat Panda 4x4, the last vehicle between me and the summit. More hairpins turns, sometimes there is not even a road, but just a flat spots filled with loose rock. I can only use first gear now, and full throttle is far to rich with air this thin. I must nearing the top now, when I ride between two snowwalls I stop for a picture. The melting snow turns the road into mud, which makes the hairpin turns harder. But I'm happy with my bike which is very light and low, it's still doing fine. The narrow streettires keep finding enough traction and then I'm there. A wooden fence marks the end, the summit. I carry on, with some speed I charge into the snowbank, but the bike loses traction immediately.

I check the GPS, which shows just under 3000 meter, ah crap. I walk through the snow for a bit and then finally it says 3001 meter. What a climb and what an unsuitable bike, but that doesn't matter because it has reached the summit. It's half past nine in the morning and there is nobody around, just silence and a incredible view.

Short video

It's one way to the top so after a while I begin heading down, the same road all the way down. Five hairpin turns ahead and several hundred meters below I see a Toyota Landcruiser slowly making his way up. At every turn he has to back up at least once to make it around the corner, the rear dangling precariously over the edge. After passing them I shut of the engine and cruise downhill, enjoying complete silence. Near the end I meet some guys on offroad bikes going up. I cruise on down, and shout a quick hello. They look thoroughly surprised, seeing this nighthawk roll by. I'm getting the hang of these hairpins and the speed is going up. I'm bouncing down the road and soon pass the field with leftover bikes and tents. Two BMW's are just leaving, I go in front and they soon disappear in the mirror. The road gets better and better, going up I went slow but downhill I'm flying. Blasting down the mountain feels great. Every drainpipe crossing the road provides the opportunity to get a little bit of air. Back on tarmac it's so much fun, having ridden' on dirt the whole morning the limits are easy to find. Within minutes I'm back at camping Bokki and packing my stuff to head further south along the Route des Grande Alps.

Following the route, I see dark clouds forming in the valley I'm in. I make a choice and try to avoid the rain by taking a route that leads me up the mountain and away from the valley floor and the dark clouds. Purely by chance this road runs directly to Col de la Bonette, one of the highest paved roads in the Alps. Avoiding the rains fails miserably, and right at 2802 meters the rain catches up. Accepting defeat I head down numbed by the cold and rain. Reaching Isola I get back on the Route des Grande Alps, thinking to myself that I should have just continued on the route. But all that won't change anything now.

Col de Turini makes it's appearance. Riding these roads around dinner time and in dry conditions, there is literary nothing to slow you down. I rode like a lunatic, pushing the 250 hard. The famous tight corners are so much fun on this little bike. Cresting the top I just keep going. Having abused the engine heading up, the tiny drumbrakes get even more punishment on the way down. I feel they are getting weaker after every turn and try to maximize engine breaking. Right outside Moulinet I find a little campsite to spend the night. Again everythink is soaking wet, would tomorrow be better?
-zie egret.
Working on some updates but life's getting in the way sometimes
On Tuesday the rising sun casts a warm glow over the tent, which makes for far better mornings and always puts a smile on my face. I'm still debating whether I should ride the Col de Tende and the Ligurian border ridge road (better known as the Ligurische grenzkammstrasse) or skip them and head to the coast instead. Over breakfast I make up my mind and decide to just go for it, I will regret it if I don't. Taking in only a couple of liters of RON 98 when fueling, with the idea to keep the bike as light as possible. I move heavy stuff like waterbottles from the topcase to the sidebags to get the load down low, 'cause I have little to no idea what the road will bring. The road leading to the pass is beautiful, snaking it's way along the Roya river through rocky gorges.

When I reach the French side of the pass, there is a big red and white circular shaped sign. This time I choose to abide the law and take the tunnel to the Italian side where you can follow the paved road almost all the way to the top. The last bit to Fort Central is unpaved but easily ridable. The skies are getting a bit cloudier but that doesn't deter me from pushing on and following the line on the GPS. After a couple hundred meters I meet two German bikers, a couple hundred meters later I know why. There is a barrier across the road, with a sign next to it saying it's closed on Monday and Tuesday and the entrance fee is 15 euro for a bike. Ah crap.. so close. I really don't want to go back now and manage to wiggle the bike through a small gap between the mountain and the barrier. Alright, let's go! I even send a text to family back home that I'm on the road and that I will let them know when I'm in Italy tonight. All alone on a supposedly closed tough road on a mountain ridge on a highly unsuitable bike might get interesting. The track immediately gets worse with broken pieces of pavement, big rocks and loose gravel. I round a corner and I see the end of the fun. Another barrier, accompanied by a ticket booth manned by an Italian guy. He tells me the road is closed today but that I can come back tomorrow. My mind was already set on doing this so it is a bit of a disappointment, but I can only blame myself for not doing enough research beforehand. I ride back to the Fort and mess around for a bit. From there you have a perfect view on the French side of the Col de Tende.

Short video

Would be nice to ride down there, wouldn't it eh? Ah sod it with their closed roads, I'm heading down there. But again I find the road blocked.. argh… this is getting annoying now. This time it's a pile of gravel followed by man size boulders blocking the way. The pile is easy, the big boulders are harder but there is a rough path on the right side. Just go for it, but that doesn't work and the bike bottoms out and is stuck. A couple of hard pulls on the handlebar and it's free again, but still on the wrong side. I give up, I'm done.. this just isn't my day.

I ride away, stop and look back at those damned boulders blocking the way to this dream of mine that I have wanted to ride for a long time. Put your back into it man.. So I start dragging rocks around to make it less steep and fill in the voids with smaller rocks to make it rideable. Even removing the sidebags and topcase to lighten it. This time it's easy and in one smooth go it rolls over the rocks. I grab my luggage and see the two german bikes I met earlier approaching. Also looking for some adventure because of the closures. From the other side of the boulders they ask if I'm ok, being all by myself, and I say that all is fine, things considered. We wish each other luck and I start the descent. Perfect gravel and no roadblocks, Yes, Go Go Go! I pass a pickup truck containing two shephard's surrounded by their sheep. I don't stop but give them a friendly wave, they look surprised. Maybe because there is no traffic allowed. In my mind I can already see the gendarmerie waiting for me at the bottom. The Col de Tende is amazing, halfway down the gravel changes to tar and all the figures of 8 I once practiced come to good use now. Applying the rear brake, looking over my shoulder to where I'm going and with a bit of throttle it rolls through perfect. The corners are so tight, it's hard to imagine this once was the only way to get across the mountain. 48 hairpin turns if Wikipedia is right, but there doesn't seem to be an end. Well, eventually I do reach the last one and that's it, cross that one of the list.

The tunnel is one way traffic so when the line of waiting cars is allowed to go, I quickly sneak in front. I starts to rain so I don't mind being in the tunnel for a second time today. Reaching the Italian side it rains even harder. Ah.. pull over fast and wait in a small shed. I can do with some beach time now, the fastest way to the Mediterranean is back intro France. So when the line of waiting cars gets the green light I sneak in front again and take the tunnel for the third and last time. When I left France it was a light drizzle, 20 minutes later it has turned into a full size storm filling my shoes within minutes. But frankly, I just don't care.. the fastest way to the beach is what I want. Which is Ventimiglia, but that turns out to be a mess. San Remo sounds decent and looks a little nicer but still does not appeal to me. The coastline is packed with apartments and other crap. When I finally do find a beach I have to pay to get on it. I tell the man that I don't need anything, no chair, no umbrella, no nothing, I just want to sit on the beach for a while. But there is no other way, the cheapest option is a chair. Reluctantly I hand over 5 euro, bastards.. After swimming for a while and diving into my book for an hour or so the sky darkens and slowly starts releasing it's liquid payload. Not much, but enough to be annoying. Time to move on again. But to where? Italy still doesn't have it for me, weird language which I don't speak, a bit messy, rainy and way to much people. Aimlessly I wander along the coastal road heading east.

I see a lot of beautiful Italian women riding on their old Vespa scooters, the sun is out again and the road winds it's way along the coast from little town to little town. The dark clouds in my head are disappearing with every minute I ride further. There are so many bikes and scooters on the road in Italy and they use every opening in traffic to get ahead. It doesn't take long to get accustomed to that style. Just follow the center line and they all make way for you. This is actually really good fun! Most of them are 50 to 125cc scooters, which I can outrun at every traffic light. I find a campsite filled with Italians, with a supermarket around the corner. With some food (nasty freeze dried paella) and beers my fake Helinox chair feels like the best couch. All in all, not such a bad day.. you could be working.
Very nice! The amount of options and solutions you get with a small bike is always a fair trade for bigger and stronger motorbikes. At least for me. Good choice with the beer, I also preffer Birra Moretti to Peroni as I would always choose Guzzi over Ducati.
Keep posting
-zie egret.
Thank you! I must say, I'm really impressed with this bike.. so much that I've recently bought another one, this time with a disk brake though. At the moment it fullfills all my needs as a commuter and travel bike. It's supercheap to buy, can be fixed with a handfull of tools but hardly anything breaks so doesn't need fixing and uses around 30 to 40L/km (70 to 90 miles per gallon). It isn't fast, the suspension is crap, the riding position is less than desired but other than that, I love it!
Ha, I like either of them beers, just as I like either of the V-twins. It's just a matter of what's available at a certain moment.
I had 2 cb 250. Both with disk brake at the front. Then bought a cbf 250 wich is a 249cc as opposed to cb250's 234cc. I must say cbf is stronger, with better suspension and engine but not on par with cb250's built quality. Riding position is also better on cbf but I was happy with both of them Hondas.
-zie egret.
Finally the rain is gone. Upon opening my tent I am greeted with blue skies and the monotonous chirping of crickets. For me that really is the soundtrack of a good warm summer day. Today's goal is Cinque Terre, but again I'm in no hurry to get going. So reluctantly I gather my stuff and get back on the road. Following the coastal road, avoiding any kind of highway, takes me through a lot of little villages. There are so many, and all of them are filled with a long lines of cars and scooters going somewhere.
Riding through Savona feels weird. The last time I was there I was with someone who had stolen my heart and we were taking the ferry to Corsica to explore the island. Although already a couple years ago I still remember it like it was yesterday. At that moment it felt like pure heaven and I have some fond memories of those days. This time it's a solo affair, and recognizing the places I have previously been those memories hit me harder than I had expected. I think it's best to just keep riding to see new places and make new memories, so that's what I'll do. Next big city on the map is Genova. It has the biggest harbor of Italy, but it still has this old Roman feel to it. Long wide lanes through the center, small narrow alleys left and right, many universities and old buildings. Perfect place to ride around for a bit, get some lunch and stretch the legs.

After Sestri Levante every sane person follows the autostrada and the less sane are left with an empty winding road leading you through forests, at times so dense it reminds me of the Gabonese jungle. For more than fifty kilometers I meet only a handful of cars and bikes, and have to overtake only one. Such a difference with the highly populated area I was riding through an hour ago.

Cinque Terre consists of five small coastal villages. The pictures on google make every village look perfect and for no particular reason I choose to head to Vernazza. It's only accessible by foot but you can park along the road heading in. After a five minute walk downhill you enter Disneyland. I expected some tourists, but the vast amount of them is far too much for what these little villages can handle. Every ten minutes or so, a train full of them is spilled out on the streets. I can hardly imagine what it is like for the people who have lived here for all those years. But they are probably long gone to make way for AirB&B apartments. The selfie-o-meter is rocketing so after soaking in the sights it's enough for me.

Onwards to the next village, Riomaggiore. It's around dinner time so with a slice of pizza, a cold bottle of beer and my book I make myself comfortable on the rocks next to the little harbor and reflect on the things I experienced in the last days. The sun is slowly but surely setting and around nine there is little daylight left.

Time to head out and find a place for the night. Riding towards La Spezia hoping to find a nice spot to pitch the tent. The steep hills offer little flat spots and when I do find one someone put a fence around it. This could get interesting.. I try some side roads before entering the city but everything is closed off. Through the city and into the hills again, this costs me another 30 minutes and it's completely dark by now. Same story on this side, everything is locked, lightened or just non-existing. At 22:30 I'm getting desperate, I can't see a thing and riding these mountain roads in the dark is just crap. I follow a backroad to Pulica and finally find an overgrown dirt road leading away from the road. It's a steep descent and in complete darkness, bumping and sliding everywhere I ride on not knowing where it will take me. After a hard section with mud and big rocks the path flattens out and I'm done, this is where I'll sleep tonight. The five minutes it takes to pitch the tent it's a mosquito feeding frenzy. But finally I can close my eyes and get some hard needed sleep.

Waking up the next morning and it's a bit misty, cold but beautiful!
The next morning low hanging clouds cover the mountain, combined with the complete silence it gives me an eerie feeling. After packing I head up the mountain to get back on the road. Riding down this road in the dark was fun, but heading back up in the daylight I can see why it was so bumpy. Using only first gear, trying to pick the best line -which is non-existent- I plough on. The front wheel bounces left to right over fist-size boulders and though washouts. If someone had been watching they surely would have laught. With hardly any influence on direction I alternate between washouts, the banks, big boulders and sometimes the track. I can't stop 'cause that would mean rolling or sliding backwards immediately. Luckily I make my way back to the road and continue in the direction of Pisa.

The first thing I notice is that this leaning tower is actually not that big. It's a beautiful thing and it's definitely leaning but it all feels a bit fake. The marble shines like it is polished every day and the amount of people holding it up- or pushing it over is immense. Walking around and gazing at the history I have to be careful not to step on the manicured grass. Call me stupid, but these over-touristic places just don't do it for me. Maybe in another, better moment but for now I have seen enough and can't wait to get back on the road.

Friends of mine will arrive in two days on a campsite in Montescudaio in Tuscany, which is nearby. So I have some time to kill and what better place to do that than on an island. Isola d'Elba will do just fine. Without any hassle I manage to get a ticket for the crossing and it costs €33,50 and one hour to get me and the bike across from Piombino to Portoferraio. Rolling into the harbor I have no idea what Elba has to offer. After a quick stop a supermarket and a google search for 'best beaches on Elba' I ride to Scaglieri. There is one campsite which unfortunately is fully booked. They realize I don't need much space and therefore place a fence in the middle of one reserved pitch, neatly splitting it in two. The price remains the same but I can't complain really, it has a perfect view over the bay. Half an hour later I'm enjoying the clear blue water and the beach.

The day ends with a bottle of red wine and a take-away pizza from the restaurant while enjoying the sunset.
great trip and great motorcycle! I'm enjoying reading, continuation of a good trip!
Waking up to this beautiful view, and with no plans for the day it becomes a lazy morning. Well past ten I set off to circumnavigate the island. Breakfast is supplied by a small supermarket in Marciana, which I consume on the boulevard. Another supermarket in Marina di Campo serves lunch. It takes about one hundred kilometers to ride around the island, all roads are in pretty good condition and even during high season a joy to ride. Some snake up mountains, others give amazing views over the coastline. Pretty cool place to spend a couple of days.

Reaching Porto Azzurro I have done enough riding and relax on the beach for a couple of hours. The sea is very calm in this bay but the water is a bit nippy but that doesn't deter me from spending a lot of time just lazing in the water. The bay is surrounded by hills and on one of the hills I spot a car driving on a dirt road, creating a big dust cloud. When the sun starts to go down I ride to this dirt road to see if it might provide me with a place to pitch the tent. The road branches of in different directions, all leading to houses. All but one, this one doesn't have tire tracks and after a couple hundred meter ends at some derelict buildings. This is where I'll sleep tonight.

The evening is spend in Porto Azzurro, which is very lively because of some local festivities. There is a band playing, kids are running around and the elderly villagers shuffle along on the boulevard. While the band kicks out the last of their Italian songs, I ride back on the dirt road to pitch the tent. Even at night the view over the bay is incredible. There are a couple of big yachts lighting up the water, which provides the end of another rather good day!
Last night I saw an advert that said the ferry would leave just after nine. Wheels are rolling at seven so that gives me plenty of time to ride the last bit of the island, from Porto Azzurro to Rio nell'Elba to Portoferraio. Again, perfect roads and for the first time I managed to drag the centerstand in tight corners, which makes me laugh so hard.

With enough time to spare I reach the port, and begin the search for a ticket booth. All closed.. alright first some breakfast and maybe they'll be open by then. Breakfast consumed and still no one at the ticket booths. I decide to ride a bit further in the port to find someone who can guide me in the right direction. Of course, tucked away around the corner, I spot a small booth. The woman manning the counter provides me with a ticket for the first ferry to sail, which sets of at half past eight. Perfect! Fifteen minutes later we depart for mainland Italy.

As Elba glides past, the seagulls trailing the ferry put up quite a show. Diving and fighting each other in mid-air to obtain pieces of bread that are thrown from the highest decks. On the lower decks people quickly get out of the bombing zone produced by the processed breadcrumbs. The ferry crossing is quick and smooth and before the island disappears behind the horizon I'm already back on solid ground.

The ride from Piombino to Montescudaio takes me through the famous Tuscany fields filled with weaving yellow grain. A couple days ago I took the same road and saw only a dry and boring mess. After finding some kind of peace on Elba it's not the fields that have changed but it's the way I look at the things around me that has changed and I can now really appreciate the sight of flowing hills and long driveways lined with cipresses.

Around midday I arrive at the campsite where I'll be staying with some friends. A quick call confirms that they have arrived before me so I wait a couple of minutes for the receptionist to look the other way and quickly ride through the entrance and on to their place. From then on it's feet up and time to enjoy the sun without wearing motorcycle gear. We drive to the beach, jump of cliffs, get smashed around by big waves and burn our feet on the bloody hot rocks alternated with sipping cold beers and admiring the local wildlife. It feels so good to spend some time with friends! Back at the campsite we have dinner with ten people and after lots of beer and wine the night ends at the karaoke bar. One more and then, off to bed.

The plan was to stay just one night, but when by the time we are all awake the sun is already high on the horizon. I'll stay another day then. We hang around the pool, play cards, swim some more, play some more cards, have dinner, play more cards and then of to bed again. A vacation within a vacation. It's good to have some days of rest. I also decide to take the ferry from Ancona to Split in Croatia instead of one from Bari in the south of Italy across the Adriatic sea. Doing this will give some more time and save me from riding the length of Italy.
What a journey! Love your writing style, and your riding style!
Enjoyed your trip report. Lots of interesting things along the way. The luggage rack/saddle bag mounts you made are nice.
I also have a Honda 250 Nighthawk 1990 model. It currently has 37K miles, mostly around Oregon USA with many camping trips.
Dave
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