So, the new forum "time machine" deleted my thread. So good job I did all the work in Microsoft Word then so I still have a copy. Nice try Mr Rat.
“WHAT!” I hear you say. “He finally went and did it?”
After thinking it through and always having a reason not to, I finally decided back in April that I was going to fix something for 2015. So I booked a Portsmouth-Santander crossing. I have spent a large part of the time since April on researching, learning to use Garmin Basecamp and changing my mind on exactly where I was going to go from Santander.
Now picture the scene of one of my recent posts. I dropped the bike for the first time ever, just 24 hours before I was going to leave for a ferry, with not much hope of getting any repairs done. Now imagine the sense of relief I had when all that was wrong was that the ball was missing off the brake lever.
So here I am, typing this from a foreign land while part way round a 2000 mile trip.
Day 1 – Home to Portsmouth, 95 MilesIt’s 1pm and I am just about to leave home for the Portsmouth to Santander Ferry. The Battle of Britain Spitfire and Hurricane flypast was supposed to happen in Swindon at 12:52, but despite having my camera ready I never did see the planes. But the bike was all tidily packed into the E22 panniers.
The ride down to Portsmouth was uneventful and despite it being a day with showers predicted, it turned out to be dry all the way. I’m sure you all know where Portsmouth is, but here is the route anyway.
I filled up just outside the ferry terminal so I wouldn’t have to worry about that in Spain and took my place in the boarding queue. It was surprisingly warm for a mid-September “showery” day and I was glad I didn’t have to queue in the rain.
Just after I took this picture, a BMW1600GT pulled up next to me and the owner recognised the forum logo and said he used to be a member. He couldn’t remember his username (useful!) but said he got some panniers from a nice bloke in Durham who used to be a fireman. I suggested that was Jeff999 then and he confirmed he knew the name and it was him. So, Jeff, you are a top bloke according to another bloke I met in Portsmouth. I cannot identify him using the search, perhaps Jeff can tell us who it may be?
I got chatting to the bloke in front of me too. He was off down to Lisbon and said it was his first trip down to Spain, despite having done a few Alps trips. He thought that the ferry was docking in Santander at midday so wasn’t too happy when I told him it was 6pm and the ferry was already going to be an hour late to leave. He had 120 miles to go for his hotel, so was only a little cheered when I told him I had 150 miles to do.
Fortunately they started loading the bikes first and I was third on, so the bike was quickly strapped down by the team and I went up to the world’s smallest cabin.
The rest of the day was uneventful, the meal went down nicely and I slept really well.
Day 2 – Santander to Valladolid, 155 milesOn Day 2, the weather Gods took revenge. The crossing was awful. We were already late leaving as the Ferry had been delayed on the way up from Santander, but the weather was really bad on the way back down again. Thanks to the remnants of Tropical Storm Henri, the Bay of Biscay was a nightmare. I got breakfast in quite early, but the sea got really bad and I started to feel really queasy. I’ve no idea how I wasn’t sick and spent several hours laying curled up on my bed so I could get to a toilet/sink really quickly.
The captain had all the doors locked to prevent people going outside and the Duty Free shelves were totally wrapped in Cling Film. I ventured up there after a few hours to get some of the super strength Ginger Biscuits which are supposed to minimise the symptoms. They did work quite well for me, but several hours sleep probably contributed too. The arrival time to Santander kept getting put back too. After another delay was announced I decided that I better try some tea, which just led me to get another bag of biscuits. There were only two packets left, so I will get some as soon as I get on for the return.
On the way down to the bike deck there were lots of riders joking about whether they would find their bike standing or not as the crossing had been so bad. Unfortunately, some of them were right. It was carnage down there and there were four bikes close to me that were on their sides and lots of others with a neighbour’s bike leaning in it. Most of the casualties were GS’s and most were new too. I genuinely felt sorry for them. I couldn’t see the whole deck from my area but rumours were that there were a dozen fallers. The damage was all cosmetic other than one knackered brake lever. My bike appeared to be standing in a puddle of petrol. I was never sure if it was from the horizontal bikes or where I had brimmed mine before getting on board and it had sloshed around and down a breather pipe.
I’m going to take the view that return trip cannot be as bad.
The boat finally docked at 10:15pm local time. It took me 45 minutes to get off the boat and through customs, so that was 11pm and I still had around 150 miles to go. My first ever ride on the wrong side of the road (I have never driven there either) and the roads were empty. Santander was a little drizzly, but that had stopped within 5 miles. The rest of the ride was on empty motorways and nobody overtook me for over 100 miles.
Into my hotel at 1:30am and surprisingly awake.
Day 3 – Valladolid to Gibraltar, 515 milesThis became my longest day on a bike, by about 100 miles. Time wise I have been out longer, but nothing like the distance. I had deliberately picked a cheap Hotel, Valladolid Ibis (£34), with a petrol station next door. So, a quick fill-up at 7:30am and I was away. It was dark, cold and the bike was smothered in dew.
I had planned a couple of petrol stations at 190 mile intervals and was homing in on the first one by 10am. I got the distance about right going by the flashing pump symbol as I pulled up. However, they had no petrol, so back on the motorway hoping for a miracle, which appeared 10 miles down the road. So, that’s tank two for the day and back on the motorway. This was always going to be a long slog day, so I wasn’t going to hang around.
Midday passed with 326 miles showing on the trip meter and road signs showing I was closing in on Seville. Yet again I judged the petrol perfectly and pulled in to Carrefour in Seville with the pump symbol flashing again. Time for some lunch and a picture.
Seville turned out to be my first real experience of the wrong side of the road without a central reservation in the way. It was busy and a good five mile stretch to get to the next Autovia. I was in two minds on whether to take the toll road to Jerez but the Sat Nav said continue, so I did that and stayed on the more interesting and more challenging, older road.
There were some fabulous road signs around Jerez. Fair enough, it was a WSB Weekend, but these signs were permanent.
Just outside Los Barrios, the rock of Gibraltar appeared over a hill and then vanished again as I went down into a valley. That was good enough for me, a real sign that a long day was nearly over and a sense of achievement that, although I wasn’t actually there yet, I had done it.
I went down into La Linea and along the harbour front, to find ….. No border queue ….. it really had been a good day by then. I ignored the Sat Nav in Gibraltar as it looked to be sending me up one way streets and just rode to my Brothers house the way I knew. I pulled up at 4:15pm, so just under 9 hours for 515 miles.
My Brother thinks he’s opening a showroom.
The rest of the day was Beer, Chat, Beer, Chat, Beer, Curry and Beer, Chat.
Days 4 to 8Holiday (for me and the bike). Down in the town for beer, coffee and churos on Day 4 and a family car ride to Cadiz on Day 5. Gibraltar Car show on Day 6, a walk over to Spain on Day 7 and spent Day 8 resting (meaning eating and drinking) in Gibraltar.
