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Day 10 Saturday – 15^th August – Home again

The sunlight streamed in through the hotel room window.

Very soon we were showered and packed and joined the others for breakfast.

Otto had phoned and said that the truck was beyond repair and that it would be recovered by the AA. They would hire a van to cart all of the belongings which people did not want to carry on their bikes and had put on the truck. Unfortunately, some people had left their ferry tickets within the luggage. They were about 10-12 hours behind us, so we decided that the main party should press on and meet them back in Dover.

To further complicate things, Paul’s 535 had developed a fault which later proved to be in the carb.

There was a division in opinion as to when we should leave, some wanting to strike out early for the ferry and others preferring to leave at mid-day after a walk around Koblenz. A compromise was struck and we left at 10.30am, this gave us ample time to meet the ferry and some leeway should we experience any further breakdowns.

Again, Anne took the lead and after briefly getting lost in Bonn we were finally on the Autobahn and heading towards Aachen.

We belted on, and eventually crossed the border into Belgium. Now we could feel the end in sight.

We slowed up at the site of a fire on the central reservation attended by the Belgian Bike Cops and the Fire Brigade.

As we speeded up again, a cop suddenly swooped amongst us and made a b-line for Andrew who was riding the trike. Pulling him over, he signalled to the crash helmet slung over the back seat if the trike which Andrew obligingly donned. Mutual "thumbs up" were exchanged and the cop sped off. Andrew pointed out that the official Belgian concern for motorcyclist safety was a bit foreshadowed by the fact that the cup was riding in grey flannels and a short sleeved shirt, but never mind.

We had heard a rumour that trikes had been banned in Belgium, but this was obviously not so.

We crossed into France in the late afternoon and hacked on. After a fuel stop we realised we only had about 80 miles to go and may make an earlier ferry than planned.

We went for it!

It was now quite cold and jumpers and Arab scarves were broken out for warmth.

We finally arrived back at Calais, and found that we could indeed make an earlier ferry. The Stena line people were very understanding and soon sorted out the tickets for those people who had left them in the truck, however we had one problem. Lorraine’s 535 had been strapped on the truck on the way over so she had not needed a ticket for it – now she did!

Ken took Lorraine to the other queue to buy a ticket whilst the rest of the group boarded the ferry, all except for Steve who waited for them at the top of the ramp. The seconds ticked by and we hoped they would make it in time.

Soon the bikes had been strapped down for the journey and we went up into the lounge area. We were relieved to meet Lorraine, Ken and Steve at the restaurant and all went in for an excellent carvery meal. During the trip I discovered that Karen and I are related. This was a shock as we have been friends for about 3 years and didn’t have a clue. Another first for the VOC!

Back in Dover it was now 9.30pm and quite dark. We were soon disembarked, through customs and saying our farewells. Some of the group returned to the digs but we scooted off up the M20 towards London.

(Otto and the others were not to arrive until the Monday, stopping off in Bacharach on the way back and at the time of writing, the truck has still not been repatriated)

It had been a tremendous trip and by the time I arrived home I had clocked over 2000 miles since I started. I have never been on a journey like this and will always remember the week spent in excellent company, the riding, the scenery and the fantastic warmth of the people.