A 570 mile day on the R18

In normal times there would have been a ‘normal’ press launch for the R18, instead of which I lowered myself onto the bike for the first time at 9am on a Sunday morning at Mey, on the northern tip of mainland Britain. It was ridden there, as part of the Great Malle Rally, by Bike contributor Jordan Gibbons. There was no engineer’s briefing and minimal information about the new bike. Ahead was a one-day, 570 mile slog back to the East Midlands, so the most important question about BMW’S most significant new bike in years on this chilly morning – does it have heated grips?

The R18 might have been made for the Pacific Coast Highway, but the North Sea route between John o’ Groats and Inverness is almost as spectacular, with sunlight breaking through the fast moving clouds and reflecting off the steel grey sea. Settled down into the R18’s armchair position the bike scudded south, its 1802cc engine barely breaking a sweat at a low rpm, high mph cruise, wind blast alleviated by the Kriega bag strapped to the tank. That cruiser stance – wide arms and body weight planted through the spine – isn’t ideal for long, fast rides, but the ergonomics work better than most similar bikes.

The R18 is sufficiently agile to enjoy the corners, but there are lots of other bikes (some made bybmw) that’ d be more appropriate for this trip. Squads of 1200GSS, tackling the North Coast 500 anti-clockwise, were headed north.

Deviating for fuel at Inverness we encounter the first roundabout and the first graunch of footrest blob on tarmac, and then settle into the speed regulated A9. It’s like watching a slow TV programme from the comfort of an armchair. Controlling your pace (no cruise control) takes self-discipline, but the scenery is so spectacular that it’s no hardship to take this section at leisure.

At Edinburgh, even after 275 miles, I’m feeling perky enough to take the A7/A68 combo south. The curves leading to Carter Bar are an exuberant peg grinding pleasure that warrants a stop for tea at the hut on the border. The subsequent whoops of the A68 a challenge of nerve. Further tea is taken at Scotch Corner services, and it’s finally time for waterproofs.

The last 150 miles of the A1 are just a slog, and I have to make a fourth fuel stop just 20 miles from home. Good bike.