The ‘I’ve lost impetus to write more posts’ issue, was only obviously a temporary issue as I scribe again.
Something I meant to mention since I returned to Tenerife, and also possibly another reason I’ve been struggling to write of late, is people.
Like travel, my inspiration for the blog comes as much from people as it does places.
Continue reading “Smile and the world smiles back”Over breakfast I was having a conversation with Shirl, I may have briefly mentioned her in the past, so apologies if I’m repeating myself? Although she is very much a real person, whom I have known since I was 12, the conversation was a virtual one, conducted through that modern medium of text.
Shirl & I were class mates when our family moved to Grange in 1969. I went to Cartmel school for the last few months of that school year, and despite my inadequacies actually returned for the new school year in September. At school, Shirl and I were never more than classmates, she seemed quite clever, whereas I was swimming around the middle of the fish pond, only interested in football, art and tech drawing, although I did develop an interest in geography, which may not come as such a surprise? My footy interest connected me with my great friend Les, Goody and soon to become Shirl’s boyfriend Will. Us four lads became joined at the hip through football for the rest of our school life. As the years passed and I met Rachel at 17, Shirl, Will, Rachel and I connected to all become friends, we even holidayed together. Shirl and Will married whilst still teenagers ‘It’ll never last for a couple getting married so early’. They’re still married and have two daughters, and grand children coming out of their ears!
So, back to breakfast.
Continue reading “Is it any wonder I don’t listen to music?”It’s now 4am Tuesday, in 12 hours time I’ll hopefully be at my hotel in Tordesillas, 400 miles north of Huelva. But life is in the now, and now there’s nothing more for it than to make a cup of tea, because we all know that a good English cuppa makes things better.
The first ten hours of the crossing were fine, the next ten were a bit choppy, the next ten were sick bag distribution time, damage limitation in the restaurant and stopping the waves from seeping under the side sliding doors in the public areas. By 4am it was make a cup of tea time coz there had been no chance of sleeping since midnight, despite me putting my motorcycle earplugs in to muffle the cacophony of ship and wave related noises! Yes there are creaks in the cabin like it’s some kind of galleon, there are times when it feels like I’m going to slide up the bed, down the bed, sink into the bed, take off from the bed or just fall out! The shuddering of the cabin is so random as not to help sleep, as I wait for the next big bang and shake. But now there’s a hollow banging of metal somewhere, I hope it isn’t somebody trapped?
Now I think of the other passengers, the poor souls who are not having a cup of tea to make things better, those who are struggling a lot more than I am with this crossing. But even I’ll be glad when we make land, although if it’s stormy across the appropriately named BoB (Bay of Biscay) I’ll be tempted to keep riding up through France!
I suspected that when we got somewhere west of the Battle of Trafalgar site, the waters may be a bit more protected. I think that has turned out to be the case as the last two hours were considerably quieter, unless it was just that cup of tea?
Safely on (wet) Land
I arrived at my hotel at Tordesillas at 4.30pm, so just over the twelve hours since my very early morning cuppa. It is warm and sunny, but it’s the first ‘warm’ and ‘sunny’ I’ve experienced today.
395 miles of the 400 that I’ve done have been cold, wet and windy, and riding towards Seville it was dark and busy. All in all 395 miles of all the things I dislike about motorcycling, which has me wondering why I’m actually doing it at all!
Time now to get out in the sun and hopefully post some better photos later……
Just some photos from the last few days so you’re up to speed.
The cafe at Santillana de Campo, 100 miles south of Santander, couldn’t have been better, it ticked every box I needed ticking!
It was only 9.30am, which really did have all the makings of a true time of an hour earlier, and I’d already racked up 70 miles in freezing temperatures.
I knew the ferry departed sometime in the afternoon at an even number, for some reason the number 4 stuck in my mind, but on Tuesday night I thought it best to check. I was right, it was an even number, the number 2, with check in at least an hour before. No problem, allow a good three hours and I’ll be there in plenty of time.
I woke to a stunningly beautiful morning, a cloudless sky and a frosty Reg, as the sun was just beginning to make an appearance the temperature was zero, it felt very much like a winter’s morning. Although the sky was the palest of blues it faded to a thick band of white along the horizon, you know, that band of white that says ‘This is bloody cold’!
When planning the trip I knew that the vast majority of the six weeks I would be away would hopefully be in the twenty degrees, so the bike gear I chose was appropriate for that, which means it wasn’t appropriate for this! It was a compromise I was prepared to make, so knew that I may have a few days of discomfort, and this was going to be one.
I layered up with as many as I could comfortably wear, without feeling and looking like a Michelin Man, and headed off for the first leg of the 170 mile journey to the ferry. It was very cold and quite busy with commuters until north of Palencia, where I could set the cruise control for a slightly illegal 82mph
Dismounting the bike after an hour in temperatures ranging from zero to 5c, my speed making that about -13 to -3, was enough to seize up pretty much everything that would normally move. It was as if all my joints had been set in plaster, a tricky scenario when bringing about 400kgs of bike and luggage to a standstill. Fortunately I managed to get a foot down before Reg and I just crumpled into a heap on the cafe forecourt, and I found a suitable place for Reg to sit in the sun whilst I stripped off in the cafe. Everything that could be decently removed was, even my boots to help thaw out my feet in the very bright and sunny cafe.
I made the most of my break, a Spanish version of a small bacon butty washed down by two of their so called ‘large’ coffees. With both Reg and I suitably refuelled the rest of the ride wasn’t as demanding as I expected.
The snow covered Picos Mountains made a lovely backdrop to the patchwork of lush green grass and orange and brown ploughed fields. As the motorway meandered its way, a la M6 through Tebay gorge but on a much grander scale, between the lower mountains, it confirmed to me that northern Spain really is my favourite part of this country.
Much of this part of Cantabria makes me think of Austria, with the lower snow covered mountains and rolling green foothills and woodland areas. What distinguishes this part of Spain from its alpine cousin is the red pantile roofs of the houses, there is no doubt this is Iberia.
The ride down to the coast felt so easy, in every respect. We seemed to go downhill for about 70 miles, Reg was purring along as the temperature kept creeping up. I was surprised that whilst still at snow level, the temperature gauge was showing 12c, and it continued to climb as we descended. By the time we arrived at the port it was 18c and very comfortable.
There was a group of bikers whom I was directed to park amongst, and we shortly all boarded the ferry before all the other riff-raff, a very good day’s timing!
Apologies for no photos, ship’s wifi is limited!
After giving Reg his first proper bath in six weeks he seemed to purr with contentment when fired up, happy now to be home from a hard trip, or maybe he’s just reflecting my mood?
After five days of travelling by road and sea from Tenerife, I arrived home at 2.30pm yesterday. To say that I will now reflect on the tour isn’t exactly true, as I started doing that even whilst away. It’s early days, but at present the trip is making me question so many things about travel, the time I spend doing it and motorcycling.
I saw all the places I set out to see and found some extra gems, I rode in a climate I set out to ride in and some climates I’d have preferred not to. Geographically it really did what I hoped it would, and again I made several new friends with whom I remain in contact with.
The Numbers
In total Reg racked up another 3,914 road miles, which roughly equates to half travelling between Carlisle, Tenerife and back, and the other half exploring the two islands.
I spent a total of 138 hours at sea which, despite various sea states, had no adverse physical effect on me, but it’s a long haul. The ferry crossing between Portsmouth and Santander is 622 miles and between Huelva and Tenerife 702 miles.
Thank you all for following me on my six week, 4,000 mile road trip, you helped me more than you realise by filling in some of void I found that comes with solo travelling.
