Wonderful coastal scenery took me back to Sperlonga for my second visit. As I approached my Ostello I stopped off in the town for provisions and euros. I booked in and set off for a swim. Now that I was homeward bound I looked forward to enjoying more swims as I travelled along the Riviera towards Nice. Alas this was not to be for what was to happen to me next would make this impossible............... The beach was crowded and I had difficulty finding a spot to settle. I couldn't get in the water fast enough and eventually emerged deciding to read my book and loaf in the sun. As I lay down on the red-hot sand turning to the left and then to the right it seemed I was back home in the Peak District !! No I am not talking about sand dunes - but topless ladies everywhere!

I awoke in considerable pain and was horrified at my state. I was badly burnt on my feet and stomach and my lips were swollen. I had used sun block but had not reapplied following my swim because of my distraction. I must also have been very tired.

After an uncomfortable night I resolved not to revisit the beach and indeed I was never able to do so for the rest of my journey along the Riviera. Thankfully I was still able to enjoy riding LRU and visit interesting places on route. Today I walked to the town and wandered along the harbour and waterfront. On my return I decided it was a priority to give LRU a thorough checkover. I had cunningly selected a parking space for LRU behind an outbuilding and as the hot penetrating sun traversed the clear blue sky I managed to move her around so that she was always in the shade. Now I was pleased to be thinking of my homeward journey even though I was a bit dispirited by my painful condition.

On my way back to Roma I made a day of it visiting the WW 2 war graves of the Americans at Nettuno and the British at Anzio. Amazing that on a hot scorching day you can feel that cold shiver down your spine at the sight of so many white crosses standing alone for each of so many young lives lost.

Using the famous Via Appia to get onto the Roma ring road I navigated myself to the Via Flaminia and then on to the Ostello where I stayed overnight. I would be heading for Pisa in the morning on my route for Marina Di Massa.

I had not bargained for the crowds at Pisa so my visit was brief. It was however long enough to view the famous leaning tower and lose my map wallet containing routes, maps, compass, trip notes etc. I was glad the depression and disappointment which set in after this was short lived. A direct consequence of my loss was that I arrived late at my Ostello at Marina Di Massa - but not too late for an excellent meal.

I was now conscious that Sue had said to me 'Don't come home in those dirty jeans 'cos I'm not washing them!' This was indeed a challenge because I was geared to washing my smalls. Jeans presented me with heavy washing and difficult drying. I should have mentionned that I was down to riding foolishly in my swimming shorts - such was the heat. Having travelled a few thousand miles on LRU's saddle I now know how a fried egg and a bacon rasher feel in the frying pan ! I must say it was a first to find myself washing my jeans in the dark in the open air washing facility.

Saddened that I could not take advantage of the shimmering sea it was enough to be cruising along on LRU with my still wet jeans strapped on the back. I found Finale Ligure a most interesting place. Upon my arrival I found the Ostello was a castle high up overlooking the town and sea. It was deserted except for one young lady relaxing on a sun lounger in the only place of shelter to be found from the terrifically powerful wind which whipped up on my arrival. All about parasols were tumbling and tables and chairs were overturning but the young lady slept on. Having booked in I had an excellent dinner with a young man from Japan.

In the morning I enjoyed breakfast on the now serene terrace with an Italian couple and their two young children from Roma. The young man from Japan approached me as he was leaving saying, ' You go on your journey to Manchester. I leave present for you by your bed.' I climbed to the top of the castle, entered my room and found a one and a half litre bottle of water. It presented me with a storage problem even though it was appreciated. I didn't realise how useful it would become as I placed it in the plastic bag which contained my now dry jeans and my lunch.

Today - 2nd July - I would be crossing the border from Italy to France. What an amazing journey - All those cliff-hugging tunnels and viaducts across rugged gorges displaying incomparable views down towards the sea and also of the towns and villages far below. I lost count of the tunnels and felt like a mole when they eventually ceased. LRU's 6 volt head-light left a lot to be desired. This surely cannot be a desirable place for anyone to breakdown let alone a 'cinquanta due' year old S 7 Sunbeam deluxe. However you have to stop sometime and I felt I'd found the perfect place. It even had a magnificent cliff top sea view - but what a smell ! I soon discovered that what I trusted was a hard packed secure chunk of Gorganzola cheese had splattered all over the legs of my jeans. Fortunately some lunch was left and after scraping off the jeans I sponged them down with my Japanese water. I would soon need them as I headed north to Grenoble.

Monte Carlo was a fascinating place as was Nice - my overnight pit stop. Before I set off for Grenoble the next day I called at the local Honda dealership and they changed my oil for me.

The route to Grenoble was scenic with many bends as the road mainly tracked the railway. What a great country France is for cruising in and LRU seemed to revel in it. I now received the french style ankle waving recognition from French motorcyclists. Many of the places I was to pass through were visitable but I was just passing through. My route was Lyon, Roanne, Bourges, Orleans, Chartres, Evreux and Liseux to reach Caen in Normandy.

After a good nights rest in the F1 accommodation at Caen (www.hotelformule1.com) I headed for St Mere Eglise and basked in the sunshine. I was happy since on a previous visit it had been raining and on this occasion I had time to visit the Paratroopers Museum. On my way back to Caen I also visited the American Omaha and Utah D-Day Landing Beaches which I had previously missed.

I was glad that I had set off early for the ferry because I encountered thick fog which impeded my progress on my approach to the terminal. I was not used to this.

I arrived in Portsmouth and visited and had a cuppa with my old schoolfriend Don before pushing on to Eastbourne to visit my mother and other members of my family. I spent three restful days in Eastbourne and my daughter insisted on washing my jeans again. I wondered why people seemed to be avoiding me on the ferry!

I was heading for the Sunbeam Owners Fellowship Annual Cotton Rally in Staffordshire via Wantage where I would stay overnight in the Youth Hostel. Some might say that with the Cotton Rally site only 45 miles from my home in Manchester I was taking the long way round via Italy ! I arrived at the Cotton Rally at 4pm after a leisurely ride getting used to riding on the wrong side of the road instead of the right. Sue awaited me at the camp site and had booked us in for bed and breakfast at the Old Furnace B and B at nearby Oakmoor. (www.oldfurnace.co.uk). We had not seen each other for four weeks and I was pleased to be informed that my two black and white furry friends were OK.

Fellowship at these Rallies is always outstanding. An added bonus was the presence of Tim Britton, editor of Classic Bike Guide, whose subsequent article appeared in the September 2003 issue. This article made mention of my 3,990 mile trip which gave me six weeks of contented riding.

On my last day Sue arrived home in her car before me and had already opened the garage door. As I drove in and switched off she said to me
"What kept you ? Don't you ride slowly."
"I guess I'm just an old cruiser." I replied and pointing to LRU added, "Cinquanta due years old!"

Tony Gibbins - LRU 435.