Up the Hill to Co-Co

The plan

Last day, chillest day. As on the days before, I was in no hurry to get going. The finish line — the Co-Co Coliving in Denia — was within arm’s reach. A few more kilometers, just past Valencia.

So: a slow start. Sunrise on the beach. A small breakfast. A shit. Luggage strapped on, coordinates in, and off around ten in the morning.

The route

I wanted to do something different for the last day. For once I actually had the time, but I also wanted to arrive.

So I hammered along the motorway as far as Gandia, left it, got lost for about a minute, and then joined the back roads for a bit of regional flavour on the way into Dénia.

Yes, there were a lot of roundabouts. Yes, there were a lot of Sunday drivers. Seeing something other than asphalt and coastline was worth both.

Climbing up to Co-Co

I’d been dreading it, and one look at the road climbing into the hills above Dénia confirmed it: this was not going to be fun. Not for me. Not on this bike.

It also dawned on me that for the next two weeks I get to choose between two irritating options: hauling 240 kilos of motorcycle up and down these hills, or my own backside. Everything — shops, life, food — is down in the town. The coliving is not.

After hitting higher revs on that climb than I’d managed all day on the motorway, the gates opened and Co-Co welcomed me in.

What I’ve learned about the motorcycle so far

When I bought Roach — yes, the motorcycle has a name now — I was told that touring on a chopper is a terrible idea. Your back in particular will hate it. It will hurt. You will suffer.

Twelve hundred kilometers in, fast and slow, narrow, steep and flat: not one problem. No dead leg. No complaining back.

Only my right thumb had opinions, from holding the throttle all day.

What I’ve learned about the gear so far

I spent most of the planning phase worrying about the jacket. Heavy black leather, aimed at a country where September still does 36 degrees. I was fairly sure this was how I’d find out what my own core temperature is capable of.

The Rev’it has a ventilation concept that genuinely works. Warm, yes. Cooked, no. The single time I properly noticed the heat was somewhere in the French mountains, standing still rather than riding — which is the motorcyclist’s permanent loophole. Everything is fine as long as you don’t stop.

The only thing I swapped were the summer leather gloves, for the Held all-year ones. Not because the summer gloves failed at anything. The others were just more comfortable, all day, every day.

Boots, jeans, jacket, helmet: no complaints after twelve hundred kilometers. Which is the highest praise motorcycle gear ever gets, because you only ever notice it when it’s wrong.

What I’ve learned about luggage so far

Too much of it, packed in the wrong order.

The two fixed Honda side bags were unreachable for six days. The 90-litre rollbag strapped across the back sat on top of them like a lid. Excellent bags, sealed shut by my own packing.

Naturally that’s where I’d put the snacks, the rain gear, the tools and the first-aid kit. Everything, in other words, that you only ever want while the bike is loaded.

The learning is simple enough: on a loaded tour those bags hold what you need after unloading everything else. Blankets, clothes, shoes. The stuff for when the riding is done.

Splitting the rest across a 90-litre and a 20-litre rollbag felt clever on the kitchen floor. Important things here, everything else there. In practice it meant looking for one item in two places, several times a day — and the important things I never needed once.

Next time it’s the big bag alone. Or better, one bag with a fast-access pocket for the things I couldn’t reach in the side bags.

The Kriega sling bag I brought for snacks is useless: it sits exactly over the jacket’s ventilation. The tank bag can’t hold the tech, the paperwork and the snacks at the same time. It’s one or the other.

Four bags and a collection of baggies, and not one of them lets me get at a snack while moving.

The verdict so far

On day one I was convinced I’d mess this up. The procrastination was really just me overthinking everything that could go wrong, instead of being calm and rational and simply setting off.

I haven’t messed it up. Not yet. To be fair, there hasn’t been much to go wrong so far. Here’s hoping it stays that way for a while.