Traffic Lights, Twisty Roads and Back on Coal
Day 1 to Day 6 – From Bavaria to Mum, Then Back Into the Wild
02.07.26 – 07.07.26
One and a half weeks.
That’s how long I managed to stay home.
After almost six weeks and 6,500 kilometres around Italy, you might think I’d had enough of motorcycles for a while.
Maybe sit on the sofa.
Watch television.
Do normal things.
Behave like a responsible adult.
Yeah, nah.
That lasted about eleven days.
To be fair, I did try.
Household stuff.
Gardening.
Sweating through the German heatwave.
Sorting photos from Italy.
Writing blog articles.
And, naturally, staring at maps while pretending I wasn’t planning another motorcycle trip.
We all know how that ends.
Sooner or later the map gets bigger, the route gets longer and the motorcycle starts looking at you from the garage as if to say:
“Mate, are we going somewhere or what?”
Fair enough.
Time to ride again.
This trip wouldn’t be another 6,500-kilometre expedition through Italy. The main purpose was much simpler and much more important: visit my mum in Haan, near Düsseldorf.
But riding directly there on the Autobahn?
Absolutely not.
Where’s the fun in that?
The rough idea was to wander north through some of Germany’s nicer riding areas: Altmühl Valley, Rhön, Thuringian Forest, Harz and Sauerland. After visiting Mum, I’d eventually point Coal east towards Upper Lusatia and the Ore Mountains, perhaps sneak across into the Czech Republic for some fuel, then work my way home through the Upper Palatinate and Lower Bavaria.
That’s the plan.
Which means there isn’t really a plan.
Perfect.
And this time the mighty old BMW R1150RT could enjoy her well-earned semi-retirement.
The weapon of choice was Coal.
My black BMW R1250 GS Adventure.
A motorcycle built for exactly this sort of nonsense.
Let’s go.
Day 1 – Aying to Würzburg
02.07.26
After all the preparation, gardening and pretending to be a productive member of society, departure time finally arrived.
Almost 10:00 in the morning.
Not exactly an expedition-style dawn departure.
But who cares?
The weather was brilliant.
Around 20 degrees in the morning, climbing towards 28 during the day.
Dry.
Sunny.
Comfortable.
After weeks of southern Italian heat, this felt almost civilised.
Coal was loaded.
Navigation ready.
Rider ready.
Engine started.
Adventure number two of the summer officially began.
And approximately five minutes later…
Traffic jam.
Of course.
Munich Says Hello
The original idea had been to use the Autobahn around Munich.
Not because motorways are exciting.
They’re not.
But sometimes they’re useful.
Get around the city quickly, escape civilisation and then start enjoying the smaller roads.
Excellent theory.
Reality disagreed.
Traffic.
Lots of traffic.
Red lines everywhere on the navigation.
Cars barely moving.
Wonderful.
So I abandoned the Autobahn and tried to bypass the mess.
Which naturally meant riding through all the towns and suburbs around Munich.
Traffic light.
Red.
Ride 300 metres.
Traffic light.
Red.
Another 500 metres.
Traffic light.
Red.
At some point you begin to suspect the traffic lights communicate with each other.
“Black BMW approaching.”
“Copy that. Turning red.”
Stop.
Start.
Stop.
Start.
Clutch.
First gear.
Second gear.
Red light.
Repeat.
Motorcycle paradise it wasn’t.
Finally – Proper Roads
Eventually I escaped.
The city disappeared behind me.
Traffic thinned.
And finally the journey began properly.
A-roads turned into B-roads.
B-roads turned into smaller roads.
And smaller roads started twisting through the Bavarian countryside.
Now we’re talking.
Coal felt completely at home.
Smooth tarmac.
Rolling countryside.
Forests.
Small villages.
Fields.
Curves.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing that would make the cover of National Geographic.
But bloody enjoyable.
After Italy, however, I noticed something strange happening inside my brain.
Every time the navigation suggested a smaller road, I became suspicious.
“Hang on. What’s the catch?”
Is there tarmac?
Is there half a road missing?
Has a landslide taken away the next corner?
Did somebody use the surface for artillery practice?
Is Google Maps secretly sending me down a goat track?
Italy had changed me.
I had developed road-surface trust issues.
German Asphalt Therapy
Fortunately Germany started the rehabilitation immediately.
The roads were excellent.
Not all of them, obviously.
Germany isn’t perfect.
But compared with some of the mountain roads I’d ridden in southern Italy?
Luxury.
I’d say around 98 percent of today’s roads were in very good condition.
Smooth surfaces.
Clear markings.
Predictable corners.
No potholes deep enough to hide a Fiat Panda.
Wonderful.
And this was Bavaria.
One of Germany’s wealthiest federal states.
That money shows in infrastructure.
You might complain about German bureaucracy, taxes, construction projects that take approximately three generations to finish and roadworks appearing whenever the weather becomes nice.
But when a Bavarian B-road is good…
It’s really good.
350 Kilometres Is Enough
The kilometres passed easily.
Coal is ridiculously comfortable for this kind of riding.
The R1250 GS Adventure doesn’t care whether you’re on a motorway, a wide country road or some little twisted backroad through nowhere.
It just goes.
Compared with the old RT, everything feels easier.
More suspension travel.
More torque.
Better ability to deal with imperfect surfaces.
And, let’s be fair, roughly two decades more motorcycle engineering.
After about 350 kilometres, however, the temperature climbed and my energy started dropping.
That’s usually the moment when travelling without pre-booked accommodation becomes fun.
Where am I?
What’s nearby?
Where looks interesting?
Where can I get food?
Most importantly:
Where can Coal sleep safely?
Würzburg appeared on the map.
Good enough.
Würzburg… Sort Of
Würzburg is one of the best-known cities in northern Bavaria, famous for its wine culture, historic old town and the Würzburg Residence, the magnificent Baroque palace recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
There’s also the Marienberg Fortress sitting prominently above the Main River, which for centuries was the residence of Würzburg’s prince-bishops and remains one of the city’s defining landmarks.
Interesting stuff.
Did I visit any of it?
Nope.
This isn’t that kind of trip.
Instead I stayed outside Würzburg in the small town of Giebelstadt.
Quiet.
Relaxed.
Exactly what I wanted after a full day on the bike.
Dinner at Landgasthof Lutz was excellent and, surprisingly, reasonably priced.
After weeks in Italy I had become used to certain things being cheaper down south, so finding good-value food back in Germany was a pleasant surprise.
After dinner I went for a walk.
Did I discover anything spectacular?
No.
Did I need to?
Also no.
Sometimes a quiet walk after 350 kilometres is enough.
Then early to bed.
A very good first day.
Day 2 – Würzburg to Haan
03.07.26
The night wasn’t brilliant.
The bed was too soft.
Way too soft.
The sort of mattress where you lie down and slowly disappear.
By morning I felt like I’d spent the night wrestling a giant marshmallow.
Breakfast?
Medium.
Not terrible.
Not memorable.
Let’s call it functional.
At 08:00 I was back on Coal.
Fresh air.
Full tank.
High motivation.
And around 450 kilometres between me and Haan.
Normally, riding the sort of route I’d planned, 450 kilometres would comfortably become two days.
Maybe three.
Stop for coffee.
Take photos.
Explore something.
Find a nice village.
Have lunch.
Take it easy.
That was the philosophy.
Then somehow I completely ignored my own philosophy.
Main-Franken – Apparently Very Nice
The first part of the route crossed the Main-Franconian countryside.
Beautiful area.
Rolling hills.
Vineyards.
Villages.
At least I think so.
I didn’t see much of it.
Because today I accidentally entered travel mode.
Not touring mode.
Not exploring mode.
Travel mode.
Ride.
Ride.
Ride.
Somewhere in my head a little voice kept saying:
“Come on, keep going.”
So I did.
Through the Spessart
Then came the Spessart.
Now this is an area worth exploring properly.
Forested hills.
Quiet roads.
Small villages.
Especially beautiful in autumn when the leaves turn orange, yellow and red.
One place worth mentioning is Mespelbrunn Castle, a wonderfully preserved moated castle hidden in the Spessart forest.
I’ve seen the area before.
It’s lovely.
Today?
No castle.
No sightseeing.
Keep riding.
Coal was happy.
I was happy.
So why stop?
Rhön, Sauerland and Something in Between
The route continued.
Rhön.
Then more countryside.
Then Sauerland.
Then whatever was between those places.
Honestly, when you spend an entire day riding, geography eventually becomes:
“Nice.”
“Also nice.”
“Forest.”
“Village.”
“Petrol station.”
“Where the hell am I?”
But the important thing was that the roads remained enjoyable and I wasn’t getting particularly tired.
That surprised me.
The kilometers kept accumulating.
Three hundred.
Three-fifty.
Four hundred.
And at some point the psychology changes.
You stop thinking:
“That’s a long way.”
Instead you think:
“Mate, it’s not far anymore.”
Dangerous thought.
Because once that happens, you’re committed.
Welcome to Rhine-Ruhr
Then came the final 50 kilometers.
The Rhine-Ruhr region.
Oh joy.
Goodbye forests.
Goodbye flowing roads.
Hello traffic.
Hello industrial areas.
Hello endless urban sprawl.
And hello to approximately seventeen billion traffic lights.
At least that’s what it felt like.
Fifty kilometres remaining.
Sounds easy.
Except somebody ahead drives 40 where 60 is allowed.
Then red light.
Then traffic jam.
Then another red light.
Then roadworks.
Then another bloke driving 40.
At this point I began having conversations with traffic lights.
Mostly impolite conversations.
Red?
Swearing.
Green?
Celebration.
It doesn’t take much to entertain a tired motorcyclist.
Maybe a Speed Camera. Maybe Two.
At some point something flashed.
Hmm.
Interesting.
Then later I think something flashed again.
Also interesting.
Speed camera?
Maybe.
Probably.
We’ll find out.
Germany occasionally sends souvenir photographs after your holiday.
Very thoughtful.
One Final Motivation Push
I briefly considered stopping somewhere before Haan.
Then looked at the navigation.
Fifty kilometres.
Seriously?
Stay overnight fifty kilometres from Mum?
No chance.
So I called my favourite accommodation in Haan, Hotel im Park.
Room available.
Beautiful.
Suddenly the final kilometres felt much easier.
A destination does that.
After roughly ten hours on the road, I finally arrived.
Around 450 kilometres.
A long day.
Longer than planned.
But Coal and rider had made it.
The motorcycle could rest.
And now came the actual reason for this entire journey.
Time with Mum.
For the next few days there would be no riding.
Walking instead.
Probably good for me.
After all, motorcycle touring trains many things.
Balance.
Concentration.
Endurance.
But your legs?
Not so much.
Day 6 – Haan to Bad Pyrmont
07.07.26
Four nights later, it was time to move again.
The main mission of the trip was complete.
I’d had proper quality time with Mum.
Coal had enjoyed a holiday in the car park.
And I’d actually used my legs for several days.
Miracles do happen.
Now the trip changed character.
There was no reason to hurry anymore.
No appointment.
No destination I absolutely needed to reach.
Just ride.
Explore.
Relax.
Perfect.
Unfortunately today’s riding wasn’t perfect.
It was…
Meh.
Escaping Rhine-Ruhr
The first challenge was simply getting out.
Even using the Autobahn for part of the route, it took almost two hours before the scenery finally stopped consisting of:
Traffic.
Industrial buildings.
More traffic.
Warehouses.
More industrial buildings.
People.
Traffic lights.
And yet more traffic.
The Rhine-Ruhr region has many advantages.
Motorcycle touring isn’t necessarily one of them.
Eventually, though, the buildings thinned.
Green returned.
And I reached the Hochsauerland.
Much better.
Finally Some Curves
The Sauerland delivered some decent riding.
Not spectacular.
But enjoyable.
Forests.
Hills.
Curves.
Some nice views.
Exactly what was needed after two hours of urban escape.
Coal stretched her legs again.
And I finally started relaxing.
Then the wind arrived.
Welcome to Windmill Country
As I moved towards Paderborn and Lippe, the landscape changed.
And one thing became impossible to ignore.
Wind turbines.
Lots of them.
Seriously.
There were moments when it felt like somebody had planted giant white propellers across every available hill.
Germany’s energy transition has massively expanded wind power, particularly in northern and central parts of the country.
And on a day like today, you understand why.
Because it was windy.
Properly windy.
Not stormy.
But strong enough to keep pushing the big GSA around.
Now I know wind energy is part of Germany’s electricity mix.
I know the country needs alternatives after shutting down nuclear power.
I understand the arguments.
But aesthetically?
Yeah, nah.
I’m not a fan.
A beautiful open landscape with hundreds giant turbines doesn’t become more beautiful.
Quite the opposite.
And I can imagine living next to one of these wind parks isn’t everyone’s dream either.
Still, Coal didn’t care.
She just kept going.
Enough for Today
After around 250 kilometers I started feeling tired.
Not dangerously tired.
Just that familiar signal.
Neck stiff.
Back slightly unhappy.
Concentration dropping.
Time to stop.
No reason to push.
A look at the map showed Bad Pyrmont nearby.
Why not?
I’d heard of it.
Never really explored it.
Decision made.
Bad Pyrmont – When European Royalty Came for the Water
Bad Pyrmont has a surprisingly long history as a spa town.
Its mineral springs have been known for centuries, and by the early modern period the town was already attracting visitors hoping the local waters would improve their health.
During the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries, Pyrmont developed into one of Europe’s fashionable spa destinations.
European aristocracy came here.
Wealthy families.
Artists.
Writers.
Politicians.
People with money, questionable medical conditions and plenty of free time.
Back then, “taking the waters” was basically the luxury wellness holiday of its era.
Drink mineral water.
Walk through beautiful gardens.
Socialise.
Be seen.
Repeat.
The town’s spa tradition shaped much of what still exists today: grand buildings, parks, avenues and the famous spa gardens.
Its palm garden is particularly unusual for northern Germany and adds a slightly exotic touch to an otherwise very German spa town.
A Sleepy Kind of Charming
Today Bad Pyrmont feels different.
Quieter.
Much quieter.
Maybe even slightly forgotten.
Some hotels have closed.
Restaurants too.
You can see signs that the glory days of traditional German spa tourism have changed.
But you know what?
I actually liked that.
There weren’t masses of tourists.
No coaches unloading hundreds of people.
No queues.
No chaos.
Just a sleepy little town with plenty of character.
I went walking.
No motorcycle.
No route planning.
Just exploring.
The park is beautiful.
The palm garden is genuinely impressive.
And the whole place has a relaxed atmosphere.
Two hours of walking is enough to get a good impression if you’re not planning to visit museums or study every historical building.
For me, that was perfect.
Back on the Road Again
This little German trip had already reminded me how different motorcycle travel can be even within the same summer.
Italy had been dramatic.
Huge mountains.
Mediterranean heat.
Ancient villages.
Terrible roads.
Incredible food.
Calabrian hospitality.
Abruzzo landscapes that make you stop every five minutes.
Germany is different.
More orderly.
More predictable.
Better roads.
Less drama.
Occasionally far too many traffic lights.
And yet the same basic feeling remains.
Load the motorcycle.
Pick a rough direction.
Don’t book too much.
And see where you end up.
That’s the magic.
Coal had already carried me from Bavaria to Haan and back out into the countryside without complaint.
The old RT had earned her rest after Italy.
Now it was the GSA’s turn.
And I could already feel something changing.
The main purpose of the journey was finished.
I’d visited Mum.
From now on there was nowhere I needed to be.
No deadline.
No reason to push 450 kilometres in a day.
No reason to swear at every red traffic light.
Well…
I’ll probably still swear at them.
I’m only human.
But from Bad Pyrmont onwards, the trip could finally become what motorcycle travelling does best.
Wake up.
Look at the weather.
Drink coffee.
Start Coal.
Choose a direction.
And ride.
Tomorrow?
East.
Somewhere.
That’s enough of a plan for me.
#dustysocks
