Sunday 15th July – 329.7 Miles Home

Man! Writing this it all seems so final. The ride back up to Calais (the ferry from Caen to Portsmouth is inexplicably expensive nice as it would have been in my diminished state) was not as bad as I'd expected, normal enough roads with a bit of motorway towards the end. My mind was else where so I just floated along for the most part so it was probably just as well that it was nothing too taxing. I felt incredibly weary and although I was looking forward to seeing my wife again (and not to mention my desperate need for a bath and some clean and dry clothes) I also felt an overwhelming sadness that the reality of life would have to creep back in.

All in all the journey to Calais was pretty uneventful. The weather was lovely and the bike was running well. On the motorway parts the lads had a tendency to hair off and leave me but we always met back up at fuel stops or any junctions. At the ferry port we were surprised to find that our tickets were twice as expensive as the journey out but at least we seemed to have timed it right and pretty much boarded the ferry straight after buying the tickets after a minimal wait in the baking sun. The ferry had a lot of bikers on board all heading home with great stories of European tracks and the like.

We grabbed a sandwich and a cold drink. I fell asleep through the remainder of the short crossing waking with a dead arm for my troubles. Disembarking we knew we were due a fuel stop but all the garages were on the other side of the road so we figured that we'd fuel on the motorway and just plug at the final few miles. I was cutting it fine on my little 15L tank. Particularly as, after the lads had done their usual haring off and leaving me pootling along at 80, I managed to pass the exit for services (I thought that it was after the junction another half a mile and only realized my error when I saw Rob and Si pass overhead on the bridge) D'Oh! I rode on to the next junction in the hope of seeing a garage there ad then opted for heading back down the motorway to the same services I'd passed. I literally coasted up to the pump. The lads were no-where to be seen.

The rest of my journey included a small part of the M25. Definitely something I haven't missed, it was it's usual car park type traffic. Filtering with hard luggage was a new challenge though (don't think I'll head into town fully loaded somehow – to easy to forget my extra width!). It was great to be home! All my stuff stinks, I'm as stiff as a board and desperately need a holiday (the prospect of work is really quite depressing), the bike is a mess and will probably benefit from a full service to be quite frank let alone a good wash (much like myself)!

Tips for my next trip: I would take less t-shirts and more socks and pants. For at least a month before departure I would ride like a complete fairy to avoid any untimely or costly 'offs' (the knee issue was a definite hurdle I could have done without). I would change out my chain and sprocket and any other likely consumables. I think I'm going to get some of those language tapes, my handle on the various languages encountered was, quite frankly, embarrassing and finally I would take the same friends again – Good traveling companions are worth their weight in gold.