Motten to Hoek van Holland
The plan tonight was to meet some friends of mine in Frankfurt for a decent Saturday night out, have a meal, get generally squiffy and have a good time, after which I'd be heading North. But I've got a bad head again this morning and last night in the early hours it was dreadful. So I don't think it a good idea and I've decided to pull the plug and just get home.
The alarm is set for 7.30, or at least I think it is, until I find myself sitting up in bed and having a scratch at a quarter to nine just a bit confused. My best couple of hours of sleep in my little ashtray were the ones immediately before and after when I should have woken up.
Odd. I feel like I've got a hangover without the beer.
I go downstairs. I'l l get coffee and juice and we'll call that breakfast for today, I don't feel like eating. The owner is there. Last night when I checked in he'd said '38 Euros, ok?' to which I'd said fine, before he marched me up to the Senior Service suite.
He then produces the booking.com document and says that 'Ah, the cost is actually 47 Euros. I didn't see this last night, I would have given you a much better room. But I must charge you this.' I tell him 'best of luck with that' and go and sit down. Cheeky sod.
By the time I get packed and go back to pay (for a minute I just though of fecking off) he's not around but his burly waitress has printed off an A4 invoice with a bill for 38 Euros. I had already sorted out the exact money so was ready to say stuff it. No need though. I pay up and off we go no fuss.
Heading North West is kind of strange using fastest route. It zig zags far to west and then north on the Zumo almost at a right angle, obviously routing to Autobahn as fastest. I can't do that all day, so I make my way directly North West blighty bound and we'll see how we go.
Criss crossing Deutschland..
It’s a decent ride; a quiet Saturday morning in the hills. The roads are damp, but it is warmer.. all good stuff. The head is clear and I manage a couple of enjoyable hours before deciding to have a pit-stop.
I pull in at a McDonald's for an apple pie and a coffee. I recall a recent thread on here with many folks expressing a disdain for the place. I can't remember my last visit at home but on the road abroad they can be a proper little oasis. Now I know you would not want to navigate the globe using them in totality, but they are useful in their place. The food, well.. 'meh' to that, but a bun is good.. when its cold outside the hot apple pie is hotter than the sun, the coffee is OK, and the fishburger is alright. Plus, you can download the locations and stuff them in your Zumo so you can always find them and drop in with minimal fuss. You get free Wi-Fi, even in Germany now. And not forgetting, the la pièce de résistance of the motorcycling visit, the
McTrap (TM). Yessir, clean lavvys, with an hourly seal of approval from a local student.
Of course, we know that proper rufty-tufty adventure motorcyclists live to curl one out in a ditch by the side of the road before camping out and cooking their hedgehog. Each to their own
The aforementioned Wi-Fi is used, and after a short browse at options I book a ticket on the Stena Hook of Holland ferry back to Harwich. I did like it on the way out. Fair way to go still but it'll be a decent stop tonight and a simple ride home tomorrow.
Sad to be going home. I'm..
..Füchtorf.. to say the least
(Note to camera operator: use zoom)
After a bit more rural stuff and a fill up courtesy of Aral we're soon on to the Autobahn. I switch from music to podcasts, they're proving a real boost for me when the riding is boring. One Danny Baker's 5-live Saturday morning show and we're carving through Cologne on the motorway at a rate of knots. The traffic is very heavy and there's lots to watch out for. We break clear of the city but and before too long there's a final leg stretch before crossing over to Holland at 4.30pm. The light goes off and it starts to rain. It rains harder, the dutch traffic is difficult and impatient, but I press on.
My sole transit stop in Holland is on the motorway. I stop at a Shell Garage, I need some sweeties, my mouth is like the bottom of a hamster cage. It's pouring of rain outside and I'm bundled up, snug as a bug in a rug, so I don't de-kit. I patiently queue up with my packet of mentos. I present them on the plate with my 2 eurobobs. The spotty fella just looks at me. I look at him. Time passes. After a good thirty seconds he makes a gesture at me to take off my helmet. Oh please. What, now? 'I haven't bought any petrol, I've queued here for five minutes, this is not a stick up, I just want mentos'. The two euro piece and the mentos wait on the tray, motionless.
I can virtually hear the whistling piece from 'A fistful of dollars' before drawing the guns.. who is going to blink first?
He makes more hat off gestures, I look blankly. Eventually he gives in and I'm given my change.
I should have taken off my helmet and revealed my new storm boy balaclava with my eyes poking through to see what the poor kid would have done. That would have been a good gag, but I wasn't for fiddling around with my noggin given present circumstances.
Holland is supposed to be a small country, isn't it? But it feels like it goes on forever. The traffic is mad, it's raining hard and there are a lot of roadworks with a lot of standing water.
All said I do Ok though.. I get to the Hook of Holland port at just gone 7pm and see the sign pointing to 'Engeland'.
I completed two Danny Baker shows and a Radio 4 Friday Night Comedy pod which all finished on the final road in to the port. Handy. Very useful, those pod herberts, they certainly help stem the boredom of those motorway miles.
The check in opens minutes after I draw up. I'm through and on the boat in ten minutes. The biking gods were on my side.. a nice end to a long day.
The good ol' bike is moored up..
..and it definitely needs a wash.
On the ferry I decide to have something to eat so I go to the posh restaurant. I'm not sure if its not all that, or I just am switched off to food, but I don't really enjoy it. The service is particularly considerate though. I'm definitely a convert to Stena line
As I'm finishing one of the officers comes in and says to the manager of the restaurant to take all of the glassware off of the tables tonight, it's going to be a rough 'un.
The bloody headache returns when I get up after dinner. I have already ordered an Afflingem beer, so quaff it. There are two pissed brummies having a dispute with the purser, having claimed they've been diddled in the Casino. That takes my mind off of it a bit.
And so back to the comfortable cabin and off to sleep.