Arctic Blast
Arctic BLAST
North by Norge
MARK HOYER
EVEN TODAY, WHEN YOU TELL PEOPLE YOU ARE OFF TO RIDE A motorcycle from Italy to Norway, they take notice. It is a trip of nearly 3000 miles, which on Europe’s smaller, less-direct-thanInterstate-40-through-New-Mexico highways, is a very long trip.
We (11 other journalists and I) recently took such a journey, and it was indeed a long, epic ride. But it cannot compare to the similar journey Giuseppe Guzzi took in 1928. According to the Moto Guzzi historical account, Giuseppe and his brother Carlo, the company founders, “invented comfort” for that very ride, primarily by fitting a workable swingarm rear suspension to one of their 500cc motorcycles. That bike was at first known as the G.T. 500 but was later dubbed “Norge” (Italian for Norway) in commemoration of the big trip to Lapland in Northern Europe.
So the new-for-’07 Norge 1200 sport-tourer is a celebration of Guzzi’s Gran Turismo heritage, just as it is a celebration of that long-ago journey. Our trip to the Arctic Circle also marked the route that Moto Guzzi intends to use as a factory-organized riding tour in the future.
Our departure from the factory near Lake Como was all quite grand. The day before our early-morning saddle-up time had local dignitaries, company execs and factory workers all gathered at the old gates for various ceremonies and hand-shaking among men wearing red sashes who were handing each other plaques and posing for photos. Unfortunately for me, I was still at the airport due to miscommunication between the Italian and U.S. arms of Piaggio’s press department that had me arriving too late for the party.
I did make it after the big show was over, however, with enough time for a quick spin on the grounds. Walking through the old factory gates, under the MOTO GUZZI sign, with a train station across the street, you get an immediate and wonderful sense of the company history. The bricks are weathered and worn. The first shop we came to had in it several engines torn down, a few greasy lifts and a bunch of ancient castiron tools tucked away in corners. There were big presses here and there, plus a cabinet full of old Stahlwille measurement tools. Oh, yeah, and a new MGS-01 track bike parked in the middle of the room!
In the shop’s sort of reception area was one of the two 500cc V-Eight Grand Prix bikes from the 1950s usually kept in the museum, which is just across the alley. Fittingly, a couple of the shiny chrome letters that spelled “Museo” were just slightly crooked at the entrance. Upstairs, beyond the gift shop, were the bikes of Guzzi’s history. Apparently there is yet another floor that has a wide selection of engines built by the company over the years, but we had to depart for dinner.
It was with bread and wine that I first met my group of traveling companions. Around the table there were two Fabios, a pair of Stefanos, a Daniele and a Ceceo. I was one of two Marks (actually the other was a Marc) and the lone American. There was only a small chasm of communication between us all, as I have been working on my Italian, and most of the guys on the trip-Spanish, German and French included-spoke the English pretty well. One of the Stefanos, our tour leader it turned out, called my name and raised his glass, shouting,
“Un brindisiV’ I gazed around the table of 25 or so, and they all looked at me expectantly. The younger of the two Fabios, seated next to me, said quietly, “Un brindisi...” I still sat there like a moron until he said, “You must say it.” So I said, “Un brindaseeT just like that, almost as a question, and in a very American accent. But the whole table cheered and raised their glasses, so I grabbed mine and figured out right away that it means, “A toast!” Best Italian lesson I ever had.
Early the next morning we departed from the factory gates. A trio of trashed Guzzis of various earlier vintages (’70s and ’80s stuff) led us out of town in parade-like fashion, each of our greasy and very used pathfinder bikes equipped with a red flag duct-taped to its handlebar. We journalists, in contrast, rolled forward in our Silver Magnificence, sporting Guzzi's latest style and tech nology, riding around the great Lake Como, winding through towns, running red lights and heading for the hills, then the Alps and the Spluga Pass into Switzerland.
It was a wonderful start in gorgeous weather on an uncrowded road and a good reminder of why I’ve liked Guzzis all along. There is an easy lope to that 90-degree, air-cooled Twin, which, combined with the way it carries its weight low, makes for a relaxing yet invigorating ride.
The nice thing about Guzzi’s latest stuff is that it retains all that historical character M-G lovers love, but offers modern refinements. They are smoother and better-running than ever, and the finish and quality have improved leaps and bounds since the Piaggio takeover. Of course, I’d be happy riding a moped in the Alps, just because the air is so nice and the roads usually double back on themselves what feels like hundreds of times per mile.
That brief whip over the mountains was a huge contrast to the rest of the day. After a quick coffee at altitude, we shot down the mountain to Freiburg, our gateway into Germany, the rest of which was a blur. Apparently we made an impression, too, being blurrier than the rest of the autobahn’s no-speedlimit traffic. We were going with the 100-mph flow for a while, but the throttle stop beckoned, so I rolled on and pulled to the front, drafting along with another guy for a while, then hitting a downhill stretch where the Norge found its head at an indicated 217 kph, which pencils out to about 135 mph.
It was funny to watch the TomTom Rider GPS unit’s screen, because it wouldn’t update fast enough at that speed, so I blew an off-ramp. But the beauty of the little TomTom, like other GPS receivers, is that it just recalculates and tells you where to go. The unit features a Bluetooth interface so that if I had packed my Dainese Airstream Course helmet that has an integrated wireless headset system (works with my mobile phone, too), I could have had voice com mands such as "turn right" spoken to me inside my hel met. My initial impression of the TomTom (optional equipment on the Norge) is that it is more like a toy and less like a tool than a Garmin, although in day-to-day use, the TomTom gets the job done efficiently. It got me to my evening stop, after all, even after blowing another off-ramp.
It was good to sit at the bar, even in our bland Hannover hotel, at the end of this 1000-kilometer day. That’s only 620 miles, but with jetlag running me down, it felt like a long, long way.
The Norge was a surprisingly good traveling companion. My first impression climbing aboard was that the pegs were too close to the seat for my 6-foot-1 self. This impression vanished, and what I found was a very comfortable motorcycle with a riding position suited to long days. Wind protection was good, with no buffeting. The manually adjustable windscreen allowed me to increase protection, and a push-button electrically operated unit will be available as an option. The seat was excellent, even after 12 hours on the road, although the heated handgrips played a cruel joke on us. The activation button was there, plus an LCD readout to show what level the grips were set, but our pre-production bikes had neither wiring nor heating elements!
Meat of the good riding and grand scenery really came after we caught the ferry from Hirtshals in northern Denmark over to Kristiansand, our first taste of Norway. Once we got north of Oslo, the world turned into a storybook land straight out of classic European literature. Small farms surrounded by forests in rolling hills, haystacks, barns, it looked like a painting of The Idyllic Scene, except it was real and we were passing it at 80 mph. Tour leader Stefano Sacchini (Dr. Brindisi himself) did an excellent job of setting a good pace and keeping the group together, largely because of his experience with the Adventure School twin-cylinder rally-bike tours and riding courses he runs out of his Rimini headquarters.
Sparse traffic, thin population and excellent roads meant lean time increased a bit in the northern part of Norway. We might have gone faster, but the scenery was jaw-dropping at every turn. Rugged high mountains, rivers, streams, waterfalls, lakes, rock formations, so much Earth it was hard to take in.
After a night in Mo I Rana that stayed light until well after I went to bed, we rolled toward the Arctic Circle. We had been fortunate to have fine weather over the whole of the trip aside from this day’s rain and drizzle, which occurred right about the time we rode past the entrance to the Arctic Circle Raceway. What, no stop? I guess “hot” laps were out of the question this far north...
To the credit of the bike, it had virtually disappeared beneath me. We were usually on the road about 12 hours with all the stops and photos, and the Norge proved to be a great bike for that kind of saddle time. Cornering clearance was somewhat limited by the poorly angled, low-hanging centerstand, but the ABS brakes worked great, and enough front and rear spring preload was available to hold the bike up in corners. Plus, with rebound (the only damping adjustment on the bike) cranked tighter at the rear, high-speed handling was predictable and stable. Still, this is a comfort-oriented chassis setup best used for a flowing, not charging, pace.
During a stop on the last run to the North Cape in the barren tundra that is Lapland, tour leader Sacchini turned to me and said, “I hope we can make it before nightfall,” and just let his voice trail off as he looked at me and smiled. I said, “Me, too,” and then caught myself just about the time he started laughing at me for falling into his joke trap. Of course, we were so far north at this point that at this time of year it never gets dark: This is the land of the midnight sun.
Our arrival was quite festive and we, amazingly, got to ride the bikes right out onto the vista point next to the globe monument the tourist board stuck out there so people like us could have a photo taken. Champagne was popped, banners and flags unfurled, and everybody shook hands and congratulated each other for the accomplishment.
Really, it had been very easy. The Norge represents the best of what Moto Guzzi has to offer these days in terms of tradition-infused modern motorcycles. I guess in a small way we have ol’ Giuseppe to thank for making all of this possible. So, Un brindisi, Signore Guzzi! U
For additional photography of the Arctic Blast tour, visit www.cycleworld.com
