The swamp was eerily quiet as we worked to lift the F900 GS from the mud. Matthias was already brushing himself off when we heard it—a voice, soft at first but unmistakable. It came from beneath the bike, speaking first in German, then French, and finally English: “Do you need help?” In the middle of nowhere, deep in a French forest, we had to wonder—were we hearing things, or was this the beginning of an even stranger twist in our adventure?

Welcome back to the second part of our TrailRando adventure across France, as told in the last edition of BTA Magazine. What started as a ride through Alsatian vineyards and hidden mountain passes has transformed into something far greater. Over the next few days, we’ll traverse rugged trails that test both rider and machine, weave through enchanted woods where time seems to stand still and cross epic plateaus surrounded by untamed beauty. Along the way, we’ll discover villages straight out of a dream, paired with exquisite French cuisine and wines that deserve their own stories.

This is the essence of adventure riding in France: the perfect blend of challenging tracks, breathtaking scenery, and cultural indulgence. So, strap in and join us as we pick up the story from where we left off—deep in the heart of the French countryside, with mud on our boots and the thrill of the unknown ahead.

The Voice in the Woods

We were stuck in the mud, working together to help Matthias get his beloved F900 GS back on its wheels. The situation was already chaotic—everyone shouting directions, trying to coordinate, and slipping on the swampy ground—when the mysterious voice added to the confusion. I raised my hand to signal for silence and asked, “Who is this?”

The voice replied instantly, calm and professional: “This is the BMW support service. The bike has reported a fall, and we’re contacting you to check if you need assistance.”

For a moment, the swamp went quiet as we stared at each other, stunned. Then, breaking the silence, someone quipped, “Looks like the bike is smarter than all of us.” The laughter that followed eased the tension.

We thanked the disembodied voice in the bike for checking on us, assuring them that Matthias was fine and that no assistance was needed. But we couldn’t help marveling at how effective the BMW Motorrad SOS system was. We all knew about the bright red SOS button on the handlebars, but hearing it activate unprompted in the middle of nowhere was a revelation.

The system, known as Intelligent Emergency Call (ECALL), is designed to offer immediate assistance in case of accidents. Sensors on the bike detect collisions or abnormal angles that suggest a fall, automatically triggering a call to BMW’s support center. A microphone and loudspeaker built into the bike allow direct communication with the rider.

It’s smart enough to distinguish between minor spills—like this one—and serious accidents. When activated, it sends the motorcycle’s exact location, along with the vehicle’s identification number and the rider’s language preference, to the BMW Call Center. If necessary, emergency services are dispatched. In less critical situations, riders can manually cancel the call using the SOS button.

The system’s brilliance lies in its simplicity. In Matthias’s case, the F900 GS correctly identified the fall as low-speed and non-critical, so it didn’t automatically escalate to emergency services. Instead, it offered help, leaving us impressed with how seamlessly technology had our backs—quite literally—out in the wilderness.

With the bike upright and Matthias ready to continue, I joked, “At least now we know the bike can talk. Maybe next time, it can ride through the mud for us.” Laughter rippled through the group as we radioed through the Cardo system that we were back on track.

We pushed on, following the GPS line through the woods, dodging low-hanging branches, weaving around fallen trees, and carefully maneuvering past patches of swamp. The forest seemed endless, every turn revealing more layers of shadowy green, until finally, we broke free and emerged into a vast, sunlit meadow. Under the bright morning sun, the fields stretched out before us, rolling gently over hills that seemed to go on forever. It was the kind of scene that makes you feel small but somehow connected to everything around you—a reminder of why we ride.

The track led us over hills and through clusters of trees, each new bend offering another postcard-perfect view of this quiet, unspoiled part of France. After miles of these stunning landscapes, we reached Cléron, the birthplace of the famous L’Edel de Cléron cheese. There, nestled among the rustic charm of the village, was Le Hameau du Fromage, a restaurant that might as well have been designed for weary riders like us, seeking sustenance and a taste of the region.

We parked our bikes, mud-speckled and gleaming under the sun, and joined the rest of the group inside. The tables were already set, each one bearing plates of L’Edel de Cléron cheese, served alongside roasted potatoes, salad, and freshly sliced charcuterie. It was a feast for the senses, made even better by the fact that we were eating this cheese right at its source. Glasses of water—not wine—were poured, as we still had hours of riding ahead. But the atmosphere was celebratory, with laughter echoing off the walls as we shared the stories of the morning.

The conversation naturally turned to our unexpected encounter with the BMW SOS system. The table split into two camps: the older riders, reminiscing about the days when you rode alone, with no gadgets tracking every move, and the younger ones, excitedly arguing that technology like the SOS system opens up new worlds, adding safety and connectivity without taking away the essence of adventure.

One of the veteran riders leaned back, eyes twinkling, and said, “Back in the day, if you tipped over in the mud, all you had was yourself and a few curse words.” Laughter rippled through the group. But one of the younger riders grinned and countered, “Yeah, but now, even if you’re out here alone, you’re never truly alone. That’s a game-changer.”

It was a lively debate, with no clear winner—just shared stories, differing perspectives, and a respect for how riding has changed over the years. As we savored the last bites of cheese, we couldn’t help but feel lucky. Here we were, in the heart of France, surrounded by good food, good friends, and endless miles of trail still calling our names.

After lunch, with spirits high and stomachs full, we set off once more, ready for whatever the afternoon’s ride had in store. Trail Rando’s route promised a descent into the heart of the Val de Cusance, and soon enough, we were snaking our way down a dizzying path carved into the mountainside, the road clinging to the rock as it twisted and dipped. The sound of the Cusancin River grew louder as we descended, its cool waters a constant companion as we traced its winding banks.

The scenery shifted as we rode along the Doubs River—a stretch of calm, glassy water framed by dense green forests. Fir trees towered above us, their branches casting dappled light onto the trail, while wildflowers added bursts of color to the meadows beyond. The air here felt different, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, grounding us in the rugged, natural beauty of the Jura.

Old villages, each with its own charm and history, appeared in succession like pearls on a string. We passed through Château-Chalon, perched proudly on a promontory overlooking the vineyards that stretched far below, revealing the region’s deep-rooted winemaking heritage. The Ladoye-sur-Seille viewpoint offered us a glimpse into the Baume-les-Messieurs valley—a vista so stunning it felt like stepping into a painting, each ridge and valley brushed with shades of green and gold.

As the route ventured deeper into Comté country, we were indeed in the land of cheese. The scent of aging cheese seemed to linger in the air, mingling with the earthy richness of the land. Every turn of the road offered a new view, from the rolling vineyards to the pastoral scenes of grazing cattle, their bells softly ringing in the distance.

By the time we reached Logis Golf Hôtel, a luxury property with a restaurant worth every mile of the day’s ride, we were ready to let someone else take care of us. Over an indulgent meal, we swapped stories and gave each other a hard time about every missed turn and mud-splattered boot. There’s nothing like fine food and a little friendly teasing to top off the perfect day.