Am so sorry it took me so long to get this last part of the trip done! 8)
I get in and book the room with no problem but then find that they do not take credit cards! Eh Gads! I have some GBP on me and work out that 100 Polish is about £20, great and the girl at the desk speaks English to a degree. I get my £20 and she then says no, Euro! Euro is not now nor I hope ever will be British pounds! So after much talking and getting so tired my eye begins to weep blood again, I was getting rather worried about it this stage. She takes my passport and informs me that I may pay in the morning. Fine then, I am in no mood to argue and I head for a thaw out bath and then almost crawl into bed for some well needed sleep.
I woke late, about 9am and get washed when I notice that I have a small cut over my tear duct and was the reason that my eye was weeping, this was a great relief to me and then I went in my pockets and I got my small change from coffee and buying bits and bobs. I have 40 Polish and a load of Euro coins and get an idea. Yes, got it as I paid for my room in half Polish and then convert the rest into Euro and can get my passport back with my small change. Also getting rid of my small change is a bonus. I was still left with about 200 Ukrainian but I just roll that up and shove it in my pack.
Back on the road and this time I have full day light and open roads of Europe. I take my time getting my gear ready as I now know that this pays dividends in the later hours of endurance riding and off I roar towards Germany. I made short work of the few hundred miles to the German border and in fact there is no border really to speak of. Yes I am back in Europe and no more check points apart from the French!
I was now feeling rather warm as my body had grown accustomed to the bitter sub zero cold and so a day riding the sunshine for hours on end was actually the fun part. It is firmly in your mind that the night is going to come and you feel a sort of instant shift in the temperature, like pockets of cold that lets you know the real pain is about to begin again.
This helps drive you on in the daylight and take as much advantage as possible, so much so that it was not until I reached the Berlin ring road that I stopped for fuel, no coffee, a quick smoke and leap back on the monster and tear up the road towards the Netherlands as fast as possible. The autobahn is wonderful I this time I took full advantage that I knew where I was going and could go as fast as I dare. No more flashing to move over this time as I drop the hammer and cruise at 130mph. Now it is me doing the flashing to get the cars to pull over as I rip past Hanover and keep the throttle on. I have to stop more for fuel but that is fine as it still cheaper than UK fuel at 55mph!
I am now heading towards Antwerp and the night has set in again, the slow lowering of the sun gives a slight sinking feeling as my fingers first notice the drop in temperature. I was doing well and with 10 hours of riding behind me I was thinking that I could make France all in one night and get the train back in the morning. I just wanted to get home and end this now and that was the prevailing will that made me grit my teeth and hit the damn Antwerp ring road. It was busy, not as busy as Berlin but still enough to slow me down and anything that made me go slower was a real drag.
I pulled over on the Euro way or motorway or whatever they call them over there and just plunked down on grass verge exhausted. I lay back in the dark and the loud sound of trucks growling past and pulled off my helmet to have a smoke and just look at the stars. I needed some peace, I needed some strength and I needed it now. The stars have always been a form of inspiration to me and I am sure to many others that ever just sat and looked at them, not to name them or know anything or as tool to get in some girls knickers because you’re all sensitive and so on but to just look. I lay back on the grass on this busy road at night smoking and looking at the stars and I could feel my issues of cold, pain and frustration simply ebb away as the cosmos grins back at you. You, my friend are a little baldy monkey on a little machine sucking poison on the side of a little ball of dirt and water. Yeah, it does kind of put things into perspective and I grin, sit up, put on my gloves and helmet, get on that bike and head for home.
When the cold is too much to take or the bike needs fuel I pull over, smoke, look up with a grin and then get going again. It was not till I got a sign for Calais that I even notice that I am making some head way. Then all of a sudden I get a sign for Tunnel of Euro, well La Euro something but it has a picture of a choo choo train! Good enough for me I thought and it is amazing how you get a second winded will of conviction when that finish tape is in sight. Pure psychological adrenaline and I pull into Calais tunnel at 1am and need to hit London by 10am to do the trip in 7 days. My ticket is booked for 6am but I am so pumped and up for this now that I book on right away and pay the little extra.
As soon as I get on the train and park my bike up I roll my gloves up and lay on the side to fall asleep. It is warm and the gentle rocking the train floor as she heads for UK is bliss. Seems like seconds when I hear a distant ding noise going off and I come around to find we are pulling into Folkstone! The ding noise was for me! They have cameras on the train and this was my alarm call to get off. I must remember to thank them for that as I get my kit ready and flick the electric start that guts the engine back into life.
I fly out of the train and then I get a bonus, time zones! I am an hour back from CET and so the 30 min train ride took minus 30 minutes, how cool is that! I pull into the petrol station and fill up with the new shocking ouch price but I am home and I do not care. I do not have to ask the girl is she speaks English and the counter is full of pasties and sandwiches not cakes and sausages!! I have a chat with the girl as it is late on the night shift and I am feeling like I made it already but still have 140 miles to go to London. 140 miles would seem like a long ride normally but I had just done 812 miles none stop and it seemed like popping to the shops.
I send a text message to Dymitri that I am back in the UK and did Inter want to do anymore filming or could I just go home? He shows some pity and says I must be so tired, go home. I did not argue and I start up the M20 towards London and I hit London at 02.40am, I even stop off at the M25 service station for a celebration Costa Rica coffee, as sit there and look at the empty car park but for some trucks and think back over the week of what I gone through and the times I had thought that I am just not going to make this one, I look to the motorway of the M1 and think about doing the rest of the trek to Liverpool that same distance. Over 900 miles I have done from when I woke and set off at 10am in Poland and it was now 3am at London add a couple of time zones in that and I just did 900miles in about 18 hours of riding hell. That works out at a constant average of 50mph if I never stopped for fuel or had traffic jams or all the other things that I never took into calculation. I was now aware of just what endurance riding was all about and it is about character and strength of will.
I finish my coffee and get on the bike slowly as the cramp in my legs is getting the better of me after sitting down and as I hit the M1 I come into a thick patch of freezing fog. One thing that will always stick with me from time learning to ride motorbikes was Boyd’s words ‘freezing fog is suicide, put in the garage, take the bus or the car but just leave the bike alone’. Boyd and Karl’s advice had seen a complete novice rider get from Liverpool down to London, London to Hanover, Hanover to Krakow, Krakow to Kiev, Kiev to Lagencia, Lagencia to London in 7days. I was not about to ignore their advice on this and I pulled into Milton Keynes service station and booked a room for the night setting off at first light when the ‘death’ fog had been burnt away.
It was a strange feeling seeing the signs for Liverpool as I head up with the commuters and day trippers. Apart from the bike looking like hell then no one would know or even care what I had done alone and without a clue of what I was getting into. Some novice biker from a council estate in Liverpool rode 1800+ miles in 7 days and shook hands with two Ambassadors of state and raised just on £1000, not bad going, not bad at all and I was rather pleased if I did say so myself.
I pulled into my parents estate (council not grounds!) and the back gates open as ride the bike in and duck my head I am greeted by Dad, Mum, Debbie and my niece Chloe all clapping, it was wonderful to be home. I slept longer than I had in a long time that day and night and the next week the rest of family came around for some drinks, something to eat and to take the piss out of me, it was beautiful to sit and banter with the family again and I have some wonderful memories of the trip.
I wonder how long it would take me to do that by pushbike ? …………………………
James.
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