The end is nigh

I had a decent kip and had my breakfast. I didn’t know whether to make the trip home in one go or stop half way. I had done the same trip a couple of times before so I knew what to expect, coldness, tiredness, hunger. It was 800 miles from here to my front door, I had done it straight off before, 16 ½ hours driving and 1 ½ on the ferry from Dover to Calais, that’s errrrr, 18 hours. I set off and would decide what to do as I got up the motorway. As the time was around 9.30am when I set off, it would mean getting home around 3.30 in the morning, we’ll see kid.

The kilometre signs were counting down quite nicely. The tolls for using the autoroutes were counting up quite nicely as well. I knew there was a decent hotel just outside of Reims where I had stopped before. I decided that if I could see the hotel from the motorway I would break the journey into 2 parts and stay there for the night. Reims came………..and went. I couldn’t see the hotel from the motorway so I pressed on and on and on.

It was foggy, dark, cold and then turned to rain and high winds the closer I got to Calais. The wind was severe; it nearly had me off on a number of occasions. First you have to lean into it, and then when it stops blowing briefly you have to get it into the vertical position rather quick. I knew of a bloke who had come off his bike in just these conditions doing the same thing.

I reached Calais and looked for a hotel. There were plenty of hotels kicking about but I needed one with parking facilities because……….anyway, I was quoted €60 for one in particular. Although I was really cold and shivering a bit, I weighed up the odds. Do I pay €60 and get wet and cold tomorrow, or do I pay nothing and be wet and cold for a few more hours? I decided on the latter option.

The weather by now was really throwing it down. I stood at the side of my bike waiting to get on the ferry. I watched everyone in their nice warm cars looking at me and wondered if anyone of them had the nouse to offer me a seat. I had done this throughout my trip, analysed different cultures and peoples attitudes. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that everyone just sat and watched, and probably laughed, at me getting wet, British culture? But then again, not everyone in the queue was British, there were all sorts of nationalities, so……western culture? Who knows kid? Anyway, this went on for quite a while until a fellah did ask me if I wanted to sit in his car until we boarded, ‘Cheers mate’.

We boarded the ferry. We didn’t know this as yet but they were experiencing difficulties loading and unloading the ferries in Dover as a consequence of the very rough seas and high winds. We docked about 1 ½ hours late, not later, late, but we were safe. Now let me tell you kid, them theer seas were reet rough.

Coming off the ferry I went through the ‘Nothing to declare’ channel, oops! I later found out I should have gone through the ‘Goods to declare’ channel and paid customs and excise duty on the bike. This was to cause problems later when I tried to register the bike in the UK, but thats another story for when i write my book.

Pulling out of Dover at midnight, I faced the high winds and heavy rain as I wound my way up the hill towards the M20. It was much the same as heading towards Calais, but these conditions were a bit worse. The heavy rain was consistent, but the wind died down a bit. Rivers were flowing across the carriageways; cars were slowing down in order to avoid aquaplaning. Sorry, but i didn't stop to take any photos. I crossed the Dartford crossing, it was free at this time of night, what about that then?

The rain died down after the Dartford crossing so I gave the bike a bit of stick. Once again once again the fuel consumption took a battering but I didn’t really care, I just wanted to get home now. The rain came back, the wind came back. I risked it and just carried on at the same speed regardless. The fuel went onto reserve but I just couldn’t get my fingers to operate the fuel tap as they were that cold. I ground to a halt on the hard shoulder, got off and had to concentrate hard in order just to turn the tap onto reserve, then I was on my way again. I refuelled about 10 miles from home, chilled to the bone, but not really that wet to say I had just ridden in the worst conditions I had ever ridden in for that amount of time. Thank you Mr Thomas and Mr Dianese for making such great motorcycle clothing.

I rolled down the drive to my house around 4am, around 19 hours from when I set off the previous morning. The 10 year dream had come to an end. I stayed in the shower for about 40 minutes until I was warm enough to come out without shivering.