Up and over the pass and it's my first real taste of the Alps for a few years. Little traffic, no trees, but boulders, scree and short grass everywhere, along with the odd cliff, occasional precipice, traces of snow up in the distance and a crystal clear greeny-blue stream rushing along the side of the road. Stark, magnificent and clear, clean air - mountain scenery is always stunning if you've not been up there for a bit. Hairpins galore, steeper gradients, the Duc's working hard in first and second now… it's mid afternoon, warm but getting cloudy, I'm not making enough time and don't care.

Into Austria, the roads open out and I'm in a wide valley, mountains on either side with Landeck and the smooth, wide and gently curving 315 ahead. Cruising at about 170kph, there's a bit of traffic, then another bike coming the other way, waving me to slow down. As I roll off the throttle I see a police car stopped on my side of the road, doors open, occupants on either side of and leaning into a (presumably) pulled Ferrari. I gulp, change into top and two uniforms gape up at me, all in perfect synchronisation. For a second we just look at each other, then the uniform closest waves his hand wildly up and down… which I take as a suggestion that perhaps I should slow a little, so I brake, pass and speed up discreetly only when they're out of sight. I heard later that I should have bought a vignette for Austria, too…

From Landeck it's north to Imst, over another pass to Garmisch, then down out of the Alps onto the German plain and eventually to Rosenheim, via a short stretch of Autobahn (renowned throughout Europe for their lack of speed limits), and hit 235kph at one point … then get flashed by a camera at around 160kph - OK, the signs said 120kph limit, but that was surely advisory? And who'd expect speed cameras on an Autobahn?

Into Rosenheim about 8:00pm, and soon give up asking pedestrians for directions because while they all seem really helpful I don't speak enough German to understand them. So phone in, and get an escort to the flat. Longest day so far - nearly 11 hours in the saddle, two passes and 691km covered, I'm tired, but there's Bavarian beer and myself to be drunk so make the effort and wake up late.

Spend the day adjusting and lubing the chain, adding half a litre of oil to the bike, chatting, eating, drinking and catching up with old friends. Plus sorting out a route and writing down some basic Italian phrases ("Avete una stanza per una notta, per favore?" "Senza plombio" and "Birra, per favore" covered all the bases).

It's raining in Rosenheim when I leave on the 15th and still drizzling when I hit the Brenner Pass. Fill up in Austria (cheapest petrol in Europe) and buy a vignette - I've been pushing my luck and the Austrian one's only 4.3 euro. I've decided to cross the Alps and try to get to Monaco today - a challenge but I reckon do-able if the weather is dry, the roads and signposting aren't too bad, and I can do a fast first 120 kms into Italy on the Autobahn. But when Autobahn turns to Autostrada and I turn to smaller roads it quickly becomes clear that only the first 120kms of that plan was going to come together.

Italia - a world all of its own but don't expect to find much of it using their road signs. France has excellent signposting in towns but can be dubious outside them. Germany has good signposting outside towns, but usually none at all in them. Italy is just random, plus they don't put the road number on the signs. They do repeat it endlessly along each road, though, just to let you know if you guessed right at the last junction - it would be so much easier if they put them on the signposts but this is style conscious Italy and presumably road numbers look messy on the few signposts they do choose to erect. Or something. Anyway, at Vipiteno I wanted the 44 to St Leonardo, couldn't find any signs to the place or the road so took the only route that went west of the Autostrada. And a few kilometres into it, yup, SS44 markers start appearing every km or so.

Weather is still drizzling, so roads are a bit damp and slippery and I think about changing my route but decide not to - I'm looking at doing the Stelvio pass and really don't want to miss it. (Stelvio is 2758m, the only pass higher in the Alps is Col d'Iseran and that's by no more than 12 metres. In fact, the Stelvio is the third highest in Europe - apparently there's just one, in Southern Spain, that tops Col d'Iseran).

Gradually climbing, spending more time above the tree line now, and loving it despite the grey weather. The road's getting narrower and the surface getting lumpy - obviously it's had more fixes than a local election, but at least there's no gravel.

I'd filled up in Austria hoping this tank will get me over the pass. As I start the long climb proper the rain stops, the fuel gauge hits one bar and the warning light comes on. I know I can usually get 80 kms on the light, and even though I'm climbing the fuel consumption doesn't drop hugely (I'm displaying instant consumption). Plus once I reach the top it'll be downhill from there on in, the top's surely not more than 15 kms away and the next town looks to be about 40 kms past it. Onwards and, er, upwards!

First Swiss Pass. No trees!

I soon lose track of the number of hairpins and the up up up is relentless. After climbing for about 20 minutes I think I can see the top, but as I round a bluff I see I'm nowhere near - not even halfway. The rain stops, but it gets colder - on with the heated grips (magic! Warmth without thick gloves. Should've fitted them years ago). Soon I'm getting seriously sick of hairpins - it's an almost constant routine of into first, turn, squirt 100 metres, up to second, back to first, repeat. It takes an age to reach the top, and around the halfway mark I start to worry about fuel - it's very steep and as I go up and around yet another 1 in 1 hairpin it strikes me that if the fuel pump isn't at the back of the tank she could end up starved of petrol and I'd end up stalled in an unpleasant place. So it's with some relief I reach the top - and have a view of lots of clouds with a few bits of Alp sticking out of them.