Multistrada 1200 Continental Power Touring – 5 Days, 1956 Miles

“I am off to eastern Germany/Poland/Czech Republic in about 30 minutes (850 miles in one go through the night by Multistrada 1200….nothing else will do it” 🙂
Written by Ducatisti.co.uk member ‘Longwayhome’ (aka Robin), Jun2011

NB: Larger versions of all photos here

As an intro, a little about my MTS1200. At home she is called “Catty” and is a 1200S Sport with the addition of the Touring parts i.e. the heated grips, centrestand, and the smaller pannier set plus the Ducati topbox and electric filler cap. We have a Mivv Suono exhaust, an MRA Vario screen mounted on 50mm long home made spacers to move the top edge forward. There’s a Bagster cover on the tank with a Tweety bag for passport and handbag duties. A Tomtom Rider V2 satnav called Alice looks after navigation and talks to me via Scala Q2 Bluetooth headset. My wife wears another Scala for an intercom.

The story of our trip.
It’s ten o’clock at night and my alarm goes off. I’ve had three hours sleep but it’s time to get up and ride. The Multi is primed and full of fuel so all I have to do is click the panniers onto the rear bodywork and my wife and I are ready to roll by ten-thirty. It’s a really dull route to Folkestone, all dual carriageway and motorway but this late at night there’s little traffic and the bike soon settles down into a lazy, legal(ish) lope through the New Forest while we have a chat on the Scala about all the things we have forgotten to pack. The A31 turns into the M27, then the M3 while we rumble through the darkness. Here’s the M25 but the ramp is closed! We ride on 5 miles, make a U then ride 5 miles back to the westbound ramp and head on counter-clockwise. We fill up at the services, 129.6 miles for 13.37 litres and head on for the tunnel.

We check in at 02:04 to find there’s no train until 03:27……what happened to the 02:27? Never mind, grab a drink and catch a handful of extra Z’s, I’ll need them. Join the queue at 03:15, onto the train and we’re rolling under the channel on time. Time for a sandwich while the train takes the strain. The miracle over we roll out at Calais at 05:00 and hit the Autoroute. It’s pitch black but the Multi’s lights, once adjusted, are the best there are and we carry on at daylight speed. Belgium arrives in a flash. I’m fading and need a nap but I don’t like the first services we try, they’re soaked in diesel and want pre-pay before fuel. I don’t like that and let the Mivv tell them so. The next services aren’t far and there I fill again, 118.4 miles, 12.26 litres, then find a seat at an outside table by the restaurant that won’t open for another 25 minutes and settle down for a powernap. It’s drizzling but I’m dressed for it and I soon switch to off.

It’s 07:00 and the restaurant opens up and we move inside for coffee and croissants, use the facilities and head off by 08:00 all ready for the day. Here’s the Netherlands border and I look around marveling at how suddenly the colour of the vehicle number plates around us switch from red-on-white to black-on-yellow. We thunder on and cross into Germany at 10:40. The Multi is still comfortable, I have no aches, no pains and that surge every time I go for an overtake is pure joy.

Essen rolls over the horizon. The autobahn runs downhill into the city and splits either side of the train tracks. The lanes narrow and the traffic squeezes in from either side. The road is greasy but the bike tracks true across the much-repaired asphalt as we drop into the tunnel under the river at city centre. Now we hear the Ducati’s rumble. I can’t resist a burst of throttle and then a long overrun. The tunnel booms as we hit the right note and I shiver with pleasure. It’s good to share the joy. We climb the hill and slowly escape the city although the traffic stays tight. I am aiming for a service area I know where the food is good but I am stretching the tank range out to do it. Still, although I’ve used less because of the wet weather through Belgium I’m not going to make it so……jab the Tomtom screen once, then once top right on Navigate then once bottom left on Petrol Station and wait……there we go, 3 miles to the next exit and then to a Shell station in a small town and fill up. 201 miles and 18.32 litres. 20 miles after that and we are eating lunch and we’re near Dortmund.

We seem to have escaped from the rain showers now and with a belly full of schnitzel each we settle down to the autobahn. It’s a 130 limit here on the A40 and so it’s a steady pound watching the traffic, looking out at the glorious countryside and checking through the instruments. I keep myself amused by doing range calculations and mpg figures from the last fill-up and comparing them with the on-board figures. These seem to be about 10% optimistic but repeatable so they can be useful. I marvel at how my seat is still free of discomfort. This bike fits like a glove. On a long run like this, very small niggles can get quite irritating but I can’t really find any. Maybe the indicator button is too far from the bar. Time to fill up again, 146 miles, 14.78 litres.

Now we have passed Kassel the traffic dwindles to the occasional truck and the odd car and we come to the end of the 130 km/h speed limit. Time to test the Testastretta! I roll the throttle on from “purr” to “growl” setting and feel the surge. The speed reading dances and flickers and the wind gathers voice as the effortless rush wrenches the horizon toward us. What an engine! I back off and let the speed settle at a steady 100. Miles per hour, that is. Sit the bike in lane 1 (slow lane) wait to catch something, here’s a truck, compare speeds, check mirrors and find that big black car in lane 2, check his speed and decide, overtake before or after? Before. Give the beast below me half a handful and hear the noise, feel the rush, swing out and round the truck with 125 on the clock then roll back into lane 1 as the big Audi whistles past. Then repeat again and again. This is an intense activity and it focuses the mind, makes time fly by and miles fly past. My wife and I find we can still talk at the 100 cruising speed, but it does need a raised voice. This must be entertaining her too as I haven’t felt her doze off for an hour or so. It is now a lovely summer afternoon as the shadows start to stretch. That’s another tankful gone. 1 hour 32 minutes at an AVERAGE speed of 98. Believe it, yours can do this too.

Filled with ARAL juice this time (168 miles, 17.51 litres) we fire off again. Now the unrestricted stretches of autobahn are broken up with 130 sections where traffic joins or leaves our four-lane. The Germans take these seriously so I do too, letting the engine brake pull us down to 80 through the limits and then enjoying the blast back to 100, plus a bit to make up the lost time you understand. There’s more traffic now between Chemnitz and Dresden and a scattering of limited sections so I am quite busy changing lanes and speeds. Then, over the horizon comes into view a truly massive machine. I recognise it as one of the massive bucket-wheel excavators built before the wall came down that power this part of Germany by digging up brown coal and feeding it down miles of conveyor belt straight to the power stations. I stare at this monster for all the seconds I can spare before it fades into my mirrors. Wow! I start planning another trip here just to get a proper look at that. Speaking of mirrors, these really are good ones. The stylish shape actually gives an excellent field of view and while they may not be millpond-still, I can pick out everything I need in the fractions of a second each glance takes.

Alice perks up and tells me “exit ahead”. That’s Bautzen coming up. I peel onto the off-ramp and then need a real pull on the Brembos to scrub off the speed I’ve got used to over the last few hours. I make the right turn onto the two-lane exit road which then crests a rise between grassy banks and there in front of us is the picture-postcard town that will be our home for the next two days. Alice struts her stuff by guiding me effortlessly through the town, over the bridge in the centre and up into the cobbled old town to a square filled with musicians, party goers and all manner of locals enjoying a summer fair. Among them I see a friendly face I know. We’ve arrived, it’s exactly 7:00 in the evening and we’ve covered 837 miles in the 19 hours and 25 minutes since we left our front door. I still don’t have any aches or pains and really I could get back on and ride some more. So that’s what I do….but only the 3 miles to our Gasthof following Bernd on his CB seven-fifty.

The Visit
The next morning we rode back to the town square below the cathedral to find the Motorrad club stand and meet up with those we know.

The town is enjoying a party and before long I’ve been introduced to the Mayor and the local MP. Bernd and Tilo took some time out to show us around the old town where there is an antique water pumping house complete with a tower which we climbed to get the best views of the town. We saw theatres, court houses and an assortment of significant buildings all beautifully presented in the local stone and style before returning to the square.

At two o’clock a couple in the club were being married in the cathedral and we were invited to join in the greeting outside the cathedral doors. This involved a dozen or so bikes, including a police bike, surrounding the doors and producing as much noise as possible as they emerged as husband and wife. The Multi and Mivv combi were well qualified to help in this and when the married couple were presented with an MZ and sidecar with flowers and ribbons to ride, we all set off around the town stopping traffic, blowing horns and greeting all we passed on the way to the reception. Here we left them and rode back to the stand at the fair with our helmets still inside the top box.

We were just eating a regional sausage-in-a-bun when Wolfgang informed me that the club had been allocated a little too much time on stage and would I mind riding up onto the stage so that he could talk about us visiting the town fair! Happy to oblige I followed an Africa Twin up a ramp and onto the stage in front of the crowd. Having been introduced, presented and talked about I was applauded, quite warmly I might add, before I fired up and rode back down the ramp a celebrity. A barbecue post-festival party finished the evening off with much laughter and bonhomie.

For Sunday a “touristic” ride had been arranged by Wolfgang so we turned up at the appointed filling station at 10:00 with Bernd and waited for the others to turn up. We were amazed when the next bike to arrive was ANOTHER MULTISTRADA 1200! The couple arriving on it seemed as surprised as we were. They hadn’t seen us the day before but were responding to Wolfgang posting the ride-out on their website. We compared bikes and mods and extras in the way bikers do when they don’t share a language. Theirs had a digital Scottoiler fitted and the DP touring screen plus some really pretty tricolori wheel rim decals. They were fascinated by my Mivv Suono while I was wishing my bike was cleaner……

We set off as a group of eight bikes following Wolfgang who had planned a route to take in views, beauty spots and coffee stops. Apart from the popping Mivv on overrun startling the odd pony-and-trap we had a wonderful ride. The Multistrada is as perfect for gentle back-road sightseeing as it is at continent crunching, the supple suspension and flexible motor making light work of the varied surfaces.

Where I really felt pampered though was the low speed maneuverability. Where a two-up FJR1300 is obviously some work to foot around a U-turn, I enjoyed riding round feet up. I even found pleasure in stopping and then pulling away at T-junctions without taking a dab. Easy? Reasonably. Showing off? Yes!

We were out for the whole day and a whole tank of fuel (168 miles, 16.63 litres), we rode into the Czech Republic and then into Poland before crossing back into Germany through Gorlitz, a town that spans both the river and the border.

A wonderful ride, a wonderful day finished off with a wonderful gathering of friends at Uwe’s house in Bautzen, sipping whisky while the sun settled to the sound of our laughter.

Trip Home
The ride home on Monday morning started well with a good German breakfast of egg, sausage and bread but I soon screwed it up. Alice had lost her voice, or in plain English my Tomtom needed to be reset before the Bluetooth connection to my headset would reconnect. I’d forgotten to do this and rode on figuring I’d just read the screen until the first services and reset there. Then the sun came out and I couldn’t see the screen, so I missed a turnoff and rode 40 miles down the wrong Autobahn. Having turned around and retraced my route (another 40 miles) I’d spent an hour going nowhere. It was also getting hot. Very hot. Catty’s dash said 32 degrees and I decided that Hein Gericke’s sun-reflecting leather must be working as I wasn’t quite broiling in it. When we finally stopped for fuel (156.9 miles, 15.59 litres) we decided that instead of making Belgium we’d be content with Kassel and enjoy a more leisurely ride through the countryside, leaving the motorway thrash for tomorrow.

Central Germany, two-lane roads and a Multistrada equals pure joy. Rumble through small towns, cruise through open country or pretend you are Rossi through the hills, However you ride the response is perfect. Two-up with luggage you show your toe sliders no mercy. Traffic you want to pass is annihilated with a breath of throttle yet the bike is so settled that you can engage in sightseeing at any time. This bike was built to travel far by the road less traveled.

Of course I managed to spoil the last bit of riding by plotting a route that took us to our Gasthaus by courtesy of the very centre of Kassel, which is a pretty large city. Urban mode, relax and ride like a scooter. Emerging from the city we had 20kms of country to cross before finding Schauenberg and Fritz’es Goldener Stern.

Funnily enough we were there last month as well so Fritz was quite surprised to see us again so soon but he had a cold beer in our hands in record time. Sat outside in the sunshine still in our leathers with a cold beer listening to the ping and ting of a cooling Multi was another good-time-moment. It’s odd that we should be regulars to a hotelier over 500 miles from home but we have that kind of bike.

Very well fed and very well rested we set off the next morning rolling by 07:30. Then the rain started. The drizzle warned us so we pulled over and wriggled the nylons over our leathers and pulled the rain cover over the Tweety bag. We had a lot of miles to cover before we would be home.

We pounded along the Autobahn for a few hours and despite the wet-n-dry weather we made good time until we hit Essen. The road works west of Essen had produced a jam that stretched right through and out the other side so that we were still well east of the built-up area when the traffic came to a wet and miserable stop. I didn’t really want to filter through but it was inevitable so…..visor open, squint through the rain and off we went splitting the narrow lanes of a wet Autobahn under repair. This is where one can really appreciate the low-speed control on the Multi and the motor is very well suited to providing the bursts of motion called for as each gap presents itself. It took over an hour to cross Essen but I reckon the cars we passed by are still there somewhere in the tunnel under the river.

We wound the speed up again, stopped for fuel (189 miles, 19.09 litres) and a lunchtime coffee somewhere in the Netherlands and headed on. We hit Belgium. Or rather Belgium hit us with rain like the inside of a car-wash. I had that sudden visor-fog white-out experience and opened my visor to find it looked just the same! Something that takes getting used to is the Multi’s response to crosswinds. She twitches and leaps in response to every gust, leaning over fast and then recovering just as fast. Twitchy, live but never unstable. I learned to trust that she would keep moving in a straight line, loosened my grip and let her roll on.

The appalling Belgian motorway surfaces feel like a flat tyre and the Antwerp Ring Road is as awkward as ever, Alice is talking to me now and I am grateful for the detailed advice on which lane to take after each motorway junction and ramp. Eventually we emerge onto the coastal plain as the sun comes out, warming us as we run south-west toward Calais. This is the land where the sidewind lives. I am sure there must be a constant wind from the west at fifty miles an hour. Every time I’ve ridden that route the wind has been the same. No wonder it’s lined with wind turbines.

I lean the Multi’s shoulder into the gale and we blast on. We’re still cruising at about 80 and have been throughout the storm. The now very worn Pirelli on the rear has shown to be strong in old age as I had forgotten about it. A stop in Belgium for another fill (177.9 miles, 17.79 litres) and we set off on the last Continental leg. A friendly French rider on a BMW RT overtakes with a happy wave of the boot and I up my pace enough to keep him in sight about 100 metres and four cars ahead.

Calais arrives and we peel onto the ramp for Le tunnel sous La Manche at 15:10. After the hours of riding it feels most peculiar queuing among the cars for the train. We have just enough time to grab a coffee which my wife then holds while we ride to the train and filter on to it. Again we enjoy the brief subterranean trip while sipping the coffee and debating where to stop for tea.

Folkestone, motorway, home. It’s 19:05 on a pleasant evening and we put the kettle on. Trip 2 reads 1956 miles for our five-day weekend of which 553 have been since finishing breakfast at Fritz’es that morning. I have no aches, no pains and I even give the Multi a wash before putting her to bed. She is indeed a mighty steed. It’s been a memorable weekend. Hard work sometimes but worth it. Of course I could have stayed at home and cut the grass…………

NB: Larger versions of all photos here