|
Trip Diary - Photo Diary - Start the trip in the UK - USA - Mexico - Belize -
From: Mark With just 4 hours sleep in two days and two nights, we decide to pick up the bike from customs and head for the nearest town to catch some sleep. We buy coffees and talk to cabbies in a weird mixture of Spanish and English, back tracking when we realise we’re not still in South America. Around us growls a strange and unfamiliar language, guttural and aggressive. Thankfully the paperwork at the Lufthansa cargo office and EU customs is quick and efficient and we are soon united with the bike thanks to the very helpful staff.
A quick ride to Offenbach, avoiding the Dibblers with a speed camera we saw earlier (I doubt they would appreciate the sound of our exhaust since the baffle had fallen out) and we’re booked into a motorway Motel. A filthy MacDonalds breakfast and a whinge about missing good food and coffee later and we’re riding west towards the Nurburgring. The ‘Ring’ is situated in the far west of Germany, near Luxembourg. It’s 13 miles of track, twists and turns through more than 100 covers, whilst simultaneously rising and falling over 1000ft through the surrounding Eifel mountains. Threading through deep forest, the track is used not only as a racetrack for events such as Formula1, not only as a testing ground for the likes of Jaguar, BMW and Alfa Romeo, but also as a piece of tarmac insanity, open to everybody who can afford the 20Euro price for two laps.
After a quick tour of the decent enough museum and visitors centre, we finally find the piss poorly signposted entrance to the track. Bearing in mind that the track was soaking wet, we were riding two up, fully loaded and that most of the traffic on the track appeared to be private sports cars, we decided to take it easy. This was probably wise, considering the oil slicks, blind corners, power sliding Subarus and steep 180 degree turns that were peppered along the track.
With emotions constantly flipping between awe and terror, we finally made it back to the pit lane and into the Café for a well deserved hot beverage and some banter with a bunch of biker lands from Cambridgeshire – the first obvious sign that we were near to home. Leaving Germany, we rode into Luxembourg. All I can say on the subject of Luxembourg is WHY? What is the point?
The ride though Belgium, saw us pass through Bastogne and the Ardenne region in the South East of the country. Originally put on the map (and later whipped off it) by the Battle of the Bulge in WWII, we passed through a small market town full of monuments, museums and tourists. Onwards towards the coast and down out of the hills and into the flat lands of Flanders. Ever onwards towards the coast, nodding and waving at groups of bikers, all out for their weekly fix of fresh air and adrenaline.
Finally into Oostende and we’re met by a warm, sunny town, where everybody is now speaking Dutch. First there was Spanish, then German, French and now Dutch. After riding for months and months, with nothing but Spanish being spoken, hearing so many languages in such a short period of time and distance does nothing but emphasize how small Europe really is. 500 miles? Pah, ‘tis but a stroll in the park! We bask in the sun with the rest of the Belgium bank holiday crowd and look across the North Sea towards Blighty and home. Our last day of full riding starts with a cheese feast breakfast, classical music, a strangely friendly, but slightly surreal hotel owner and a cat called Snowboard. There is something about Belgium, which it’s hard to put a finger on it. It’s is a streak of weirdness running through the country that is quite subtle, but still very distinctive. As we cross into Holland we cue up for a photo by the sign and nearly knock a cyclist over. Everything is starting the fray as we slowly approach home. The clutch is starting to give in after 20,000 miles of load, various bits on the bike and working their way loose, we’re starting to bicker and squabble over petty things and I can’t even cause a Dutchman to fall off his push bike! The ride up the Dutch coast is slow, nose to tail stuff, but the scenery is pretty different to what we’ve seen on the trip. Big wind turbines line the road as it stretches along the tops of dykes, dissecting huge lagoons to our right and the North Sea to our left. Over bridges, under long tunnels and through flat lands, we finally reach Rotterdam (via an aborted attempt at staying in Den Haag). Tired, so tired, we’re nearly there. A brief scuttle around De Hook den Holland to pick up chocolates and stickers and we’re on the ferry. 6 or so hours pass by with expensive tea (“How much? You could buy night on the lash for that in Bolivia and still have change for a cab ride back!”) and newspapers. Finally, we roll off the ferry, past the Dullville riding Brummies and in Harwich.
We’re back! But there’s no reception? No TV crew. No throng of people. No Big Brother entrance. Just us and the bike….and the white ribbon finishing line my younger sister had put across the posts of the drive when we arrive at my folks pad….and our family…..and the catching up with friends (old and new)…..and the looking for new jobs….and the stripping and servicing of the bike….and the washing….and the photos and memories of the trip…..and of all the good people we met and now call our friends.
Ps. If it floats your boat, here’s some stats for you to mull over… Duration of total trip in days: 322 Number of countries: 21 including England. Mileage: Flat tyres: 9 Journeys by plane: 5 Total number of speeding tickets: 2 Number of bad accidents: 1 Pints of beer consumed: N/A The bike before the journey…
and after the journey…
By: Daisy Bell
Germany WEATHER: Raining
_____________________________________________________________ Luxembourg WEATHER: Raining lots
____________________________________________________________ Belgium WEATHER: Threatening to rain
_____________________________________________________________
Netherlands WEATHER: Best described as ‘perky’
____________________________________________________________ England WEATHER: Cold nights, sunny days…for the time being
Many thanks to all the special and wonderful individuals who have made this trip so memorable. Also thanks to the following for the many hours of amusement provided, probably without their knowledge: Angry Claus, Bruno Bronte, Guru Freddy, Harley Parrots, International Playboy Steve, Jean-Michel Jarre, Julieta Venegas , Miss Haversham, Senor Satin Chic, Tuc-Tuc Elvis and Willie Nelson. Right, shall stop pretending to write my first album cover notes and say Hasta Luego (NEVER Adios). xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
.jpg)
.JPG)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.JPG)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.JPG)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
| ©2006 Mark Bell |