I woke up this morning with a sore throat. Not dramatic, but just the kind of start to the day you can do without when you’re on the road. I actually wanted to take another nice detour through the Jura today, continue south, take in a bit of countryside and then head north again. But that didn’t work out. I quickly decided to cut the plan short and head home or towards the Route des Crêtes. Simply because I had no great desire to get seriously ill somewhere abroad.

So first I try to start the day reasonably well: find a pharmacy, get something for my throat, preferably a hot coffee and maybe some cookies to nudge the morning back in the right direction. I found the pharmacy. Of course, they didn’t have exactly what I had in mind, because everything here has a slightly different name and looks different anyway. But at least I got something for my throat. I also had madeleines au chocolat, croissants and coffee. However, the coffee gets a maximum of 2 out of 5 cups. Nice store, lots of choice of pastries, but unfortunately only a capsule machine. And that’s exactly what the stuff tasted like: an unremarkable lungo with a little milk, technically coffee, but without any passion in the cup. ☕😄

Right at the start of the ride, I noticed that the clutch was somehow different than usual. Not dramatically, but also not in such a way that you simply ignore it completely. It’s more like this unpleasant “something’s not right”, which you first observe and at the same time hope that it might go away. So I drove on for the time being, hoping that it was just a technical whim and that the whole thing might return to normal.

On the way, I arrived at the Gorges de la Saine, more precisely at the place with the sonorous name Bief de la Ruine. The name alone sounds as if a nature movie in Cinemascope should be shown there. On site, however, the famous waterfall was rather restrained. Let’s put it kindly: the backdrop was there, but not the water. So instead of a thundering cascade, it was more of a dry rocky channel with a bridge. But even that had something to it. The Jura is still the Jura: rocks, forest, gorge, tranquillity. It doesn’t always have to be roaring and spraying to make an impression. 🌲🪨

I then took another closer look at the clutch and finally realized that the reservoir was practically empty. By then it was clear: I’m not imagining it. I even consulted my digital co-driver, and his opinion was pretty clear: it’s better not to drive on like this. Since there was an independent motorcycle dealer nearby, only about 15 minutes away, I turned around for that very reason. So this little loop at the start of the route wasn’t the result of a spontaneous detour, but of the moment when a bad feeling turned into a real problem and the nearest garage suddenly became more important than any planned route.

The real concern was not just that the clutch would feel different, but that at some point it would no longer disengage cleanly. And that’s exactly the kind of problem you don’t want to have when you’re on the road. Because if the clutch no longer disengages properly, even a simple stop suddenly becomes a risk. It was precisely this thought that I kept in mind the whole time.

When I arrived at the independent motorcycle dealer, it quickly became clear that the feeling was unfortunately not exaggerated. He took a quick look and quickly realized that there was a leak in the clutch system and that fluid was leaking out. The reservoir on the clutch lever was correspondingly empty. Much worse: he couldn’t repair it himself and didn’t have any suitable parts. So I was sent on to Besançon. This was the official end of the day. Instead of a relaxed Jura arc, it now meant an extra 100 kilometers, an hour and a half drive, completely off the planned route. 🛠️

I had actually planned to visit a famous monastery in the Jura today – the Baume-les-Messieurs Abbey, which is spectacularly situated in a cauldron surrounded by rock faces. That would certainly have been great. However, the most beautiful monastery scenery is of no use if you don’t know whether the clutch will completely wipe out your day. So that fell through too.

In Besançon at the BMW workshop, the hydraulic fluid in the clutch was refilled. But the real problem remained: the clutch slave cylinder is obviously leaking. The bottom line is: as long as I’m using the clutch, I’m losing fluid again. Nevertheless, it was not possible to repair it today because there was nothing free in the workshop. So the only improvised solution was to fill the reservoir, drive on, watch and hope.

The good news: after topping up, the clutch immediately felt much more normal again. The pressure point was back where it should be and the bike rode as I know it. The bad news: the bad feeling is still there, of course. Just because it works again now doesn’t mean that it will stay that way.

Afterwards, we continued on to the Restaurant zur goldenen Möwe to have an iced coffee (3/5 cups) and decide on the day’s plans and today’s destination: Montbéliard. And although the day was completely out of control in terms of the route, the scenery was anything but boring. Between Besançon and Montbéliard, there were always some really beautiful sections: large rock faces to the left and right, castles on the heights, valleys, river sections and that typical Jura scenery that makes you want to stop all the time. I noticed one particularly large castle, as well as another one high up on the mountains elsewhere. Of course, I couldn’t really identify them on the way, and I hardly stopped today anyway because of the whole situation. But it was beautiful. Really beautiful, in fact. Just in a way that makes you constantly oscillate between “Wow” and “Please just hold on until you reach the hotel”. 🏰

So now I’m sitting in the hotel in Montbéliard, it’s already half past six, and at least the topped-up fluid has lasted this far. The clutch is working again with a recognizable pressure point, driving was much more relaxed than before. Nevertheless, there is still this uneasy feeling in the background. I don’t know whether there will still be enough fluid in it tomorrow morning. I don’t know whether the old lady will still be able to do the Route des Crêtes. And I also don’t know whether France and her might simply have a toxic relationship. Every time I’m here with her, there’s something wrong. Last time electrics, this time clutch. Always France, always alone. At some point you’re allowed to start taking it personally. 😄🇫🇷

In the end, I had two options today: Either head straight for Germany, i.e. cross the border as quickly as possible to have a better chance of getting insurance, help and getting home. Or to stay in France for the time being and see if the problem could be contained. I decided to stay in France for the time being and basically wanted to continue towards the Route des Crêtes. Whether that really works tomorrow depends entirely on how the clutch behaves and how much fluid is left in the system.

You can really put a tick in the box for today, because it was one of those days that interferes along the way and suddenly shifts everything. Landscape became improvisation. Plan became workshop. And a leisurely day in the Jura became a stage with a question mark.

What happens next will be decided spontaneously. And that’s exactly why this will be the last post from the road. The rest will follow later from home – with the resolution of whether the old lady and I made it home under our own steam or whether France had the last word again in the end.

Conclusion: Today was one of those travel days when you’re still thinking about a sore throat in the morning and a few hours later you end up thinking about workshops, hydraulic fluid and Plan B. Nevertheless, it was always nice – just different than expected. Now it’s time to wait, hope and see what the old lady can do tomorrow. 🏍️