The non-adventure Adventure - North-East

Jeppers, then a new trip is on the cards. There is no massive religious quest here. I'm off on a trip to just explore, be me,have some time with the family in somewhere different and visit an old/new friend. Something fuuny will happen I am sure!

Life and expectations of life have changed somewhat over the past few years. Blessedly, a general realisation that owning shit does not really equate to much happiness has been creeping into popular culture, although there is still a lot of dull money=happy mentality that prevails.

However, humanity is beginning to feel the full marketing force of a new thing entered the sphere, that of ’experience.’ Going on a cruise, Eating weird things, going to some place with 10 000 other clones, being shot over a quarry on a wire, rolling down a hill in an inflatable donut, renting a jet ski, it could go on.

Now I am not going to dig (too much) any of the above things, well maybe the jet ski, but just like owning shit, thrill after thrill will only result in a diminishing return of pleasure. How to counter this? Well I have my methods and it is all about how what your experience can changes you.

After a few too many crashes on the past few trips I had been on, I had decided early on that my next would be a very relaxed road going affair. While I had managed to continue my trip after breaking my collarbone halfway though last year I was not wanting to repeat any sort of experience like that.  No, it was going to be all roads, culture, sights and a bit of nice food.

Problem was that the finances would not stretch to hotels and Michelin starred restaurants so campsites, wild camping and dropping in on friends it would have to be.

So, where to?

Denmark had been on the radar for a few years now and I had been hoping to do a cheeky little 2-week trip between visiting all of my mistresses in Oslo, Sochi and St Moritz.

What really interested me was that in 2018, Denmark was quantifiably the happiest place in the world. I needed to rock up and change that!

Since my research, Danish Nigel Farage types have made big indents into Denmark, dropping happiness quotients down a few notches. Well done to that cock end and his clones.

However, just like the people in the country I live in, I’m sure I would find the Danes to be friendly and helpful. It doesn’t take long before I am in great need of this!  

So the plan….. Helpfully drawn on a vape instruction leaflet (I need a new mortgage to buy a pack of 10 fags to draw the ubiquitous back of a fag packet plan these days).

Planning sophistication

Leave UK, on the cheapest overnight ferry to the continent, Harwich to Hook of Holland. (Cheapness is going to be a big factor here). Slide my way through Holland, Germany and get onto the Jutland peninsula. Chase the tide to get out to some fantastic wee Islands, learn a little about the history of the Danes and then through yet more ferries to turn up, in the very nick of time, at Copenhagen airport.

I had managed to persuade Julie to spend a few days with me in Denmark’s affable capital, but she didn’t want to contemplate travelling by herself so we managed to persuade both Elliot and Harry to join us and have a fun family break together, somewhere different.

We had managed to book some brand new accommodation in a newly developed area of the docklands for what seemed to be a quite reasonable price. It might be that we are expected to be living mannequins in an Ikea store, but, you take a chances….

After that it would be a sharp exit from Denmark to go and visit Fedro in Hamburg, Germany. Fedro (Davide) was there when I joined the Pegaso (my old bike) forum 12 years ago and was always of great help and had a smashing sense of humour. 

Pegaso glory days in the Sahara

The two of us had moved on to new bikes, but we were still lynch pins of the forum, so a visit was most necessary. I was it appeared going to have to sleep with the dog in its bed but I hoped that was that sense of humour!

From there through Germany and into Holland and eventually actually go to the Van Gogh museum which I missed out on 12 years ago after getting a little too merry with some Dutch Hell’s angels on the ferry, oversleeping and leaving the ferry without my wallet and 800 Euros in the cabin. Good fortune saw me reunited with the dough and no harm done. Things like this is my middle name.

It was a reasonable plan. However, it takes me and my magnetic attraction to monumental disasters and out of nowhere, somehow, the nicest people in the world rescuing me, to make a good story. Lets see how it goes!

2 weeks to go

Well, the best laid plans….

Always a problem when you plan something very early on, you read, you watch videos, you see things and then you get ideas.

And then you think about them and then they play on your mind and then you have to do something about it.

After going over my plans, it stuck me that there would be more excitement on a golfing holiday to Prestatyn than what I had organised. I had 2 weeks to make some memories and I was not setting myself up for such. A major dispensation of the boring/lightweight with an injection of fun/fruity was then achieved. To achieve the latter, the road bias tyres had to come off and on with some 50/50 knobblies. I’m not sure they will like the autobahn, but I soon found that I can’t do over 100mph on them in any case!

Avon meeh's off Kenda Big Blocks on

I set myself objectives of racing the tide to get onto little islands with 40 people on them to spend the night, riding on the Trans-European Trail, blasting over beaches to visit bunkers sliding into the sea.

That was more like me, but the likelihood of horizontally positioned motorcycles was beginning to escalate. You take your chances!

I was trying to go as light as possible and to do this really well, stopping in hotels and guest houses is the best way to do it but, I could neither afford and such things can sometimes stop me being able to eat whenever I need to. Being a type 1 diabetic, I have a medical pass for this and when it is needed there is no stopping me! Instead, I would have my tent, camping gear and a whole load of food. You take what is important!

The final dry run bike pack saw everything fit into place nicely. Weight towards the back would not make off road riding so easy but more important than anything there was nothing on the side as panniers were a great way to suck a leg under and snap it. We were ready to go. I just needed to get to the off day.

 

If there is a hook somewhere, there is something that can hang off it

Friday 1 September 2023 Well, today and part of tomorrow was an unmitigated disaster. Things started in a very positive light. The 17mm socket I was needing to take arrive half an hour before I left. Today was going to be a good day in my unsuspecting mind. Heading across country, I hoped to avoid too much traffic but this was not the case. Everything was busy and as per usual the Derby area had a significantly larger quotient of dickheads on the road. From there through Melton Mobray and past Rutland Water, I stopped for my first break at a fully rammed service station which made me begin to twitch a little. However, I was making good time and everything was going to plan. Getting off the M11 at Safron Waldon, I started to make it across country on small A roads, again very busy to Colchester. The bike was beginning to feel vague, like the front tyre was going down but a quick look over the handlebars saw it was fully inflated. Oh well, it must be the road surface I thought. A few miles later it really wasn’t getting any better so I thought I would stop in the little town of Haverhill. The rear was flat and must have been for some time. Now I had ‘goop’ in the tyres something that should fill small holes, so I thought inflating the inner tube might just seal up the hole. No it didn’t. Right puncture repair it was. I still had plenty of time so a puncture repair would be easy to do. The wheel came off like an F1 team, beads broken like they weren’t even there and the tyre spooned off like clearing up ice cream off your plate. It was only when I saw the state of the inner tube that I realised I was in deep shit.

A 4 inch nail had gone straight into the tyre and innertube and also the rim tape shredding the innertube and rim tape (I guess riding 3 to 4 miles at 50 to 60mph might not have helped).

It was 5:10pm on a Friday, I needing a rear innertube fast and I was in the middle of nowhere (sorry Haverhill). The first place I called was in Colchester 30 miles away and they had everything I needed, but I was not going to get there in 20 minutes. At a fast jog it could have been possible, but I really needed my Weetabix to do that. So, I was going to miss the ferry. Worry about that later. I needed somewhere to overnight. Worry about that later. First of all, I needed to be recovered to somewhere near Colchester where I could get the new tube on. I had my European breakdown cover and my domestic breakdown cover, so I called them both at the same time. The Euro breakdown quickly appeared to be out of their depth and told me they didn’t have anyone and could I find a hotel. I then called the RAC who seemed to be a bit non committal but their app told me I would be picked up at 6pm which wasn’t too bad. So I booked a hotel near Colchester, and managed to adjust my ferry to the next day without too much trouble or expense. A plan was developing out of the disaster and that is all you need to turn a disaster into a mild-humorous story down the pub. Looking back on it, I was sat on the edge of a whirlpool of despair. The time got set back to 7pm and I began to chat to the staff at the garage who all had their negative opinion on motorcycles. It seemed that souped up cars were the mainstay of entertainment in Haverhill, every few minutes a VW polo with a massive wing on its back to stop it flying off into the outer atmosphere parked up and revved its tits off before stopping and filling with fuel. Time now back to 8pm. I got my camping chair out and bought some none descript sandwiches from the shop. At least the place was a 24 hour shop although I was correctly a bit sceptical of it being a 24-hour off licence too. Back to 9pm. I put a call in and was told by the most surly shit I have ever encountered that they were going as fast as they could. Soon went back to 10pm. It was dark now and I was trying to avoid eye contact with the large number of Essex lads gobbing and f’ing about every menial part of their lives as they went to buy large quantities of booze from the shop. I really don’t find any endearing qualities in the Essex accent. Sorry Essex. I am afraid the circumstances were turning me into an unpleasant bigot.

11pm The arguers are beginning to tun up now. They’ve probably been through a case of beer and are requiring a top up in between shouting at each other about ‘Kerry’s tattoo’ and ‘You was lookin’ at ‘er again, I saw you, you &^9^%8&5. Oh yes love, 20 Lambert&Butlert too….’ I could write a book. ‘The trials and tribulations of the ‘ner do nothings of Haverhill’ It would be like something Nadine Dorries would write so I shelved that Idea. 12am – shit this is a 2-day blog entry. Saturday 2 September – Part 1 -Clinging onto the wreckage. Its alright having problems that you can do something about because, well that is self explanatory. Your problems in other peoples hand is a bit of a ball-grinder. I’d been sat in my seat going from steaming to having a giggle at shop customers, but things began to get a bit darker when the shop closed it’s doors and only did a cashbox service. People got really upset they could not go in and getting a 15 pack of Stella and it had to come through the cash box with it looking like an episode of ‘The Cube’ (can I say that?) I was left to my own thoughts. They went back to the book I often quote ‘These are the days that must happen to you’ and on the same page as the bit about a bike being the forged passport, Beretta and half a million pounds in used notes under the floorboards, which funnily enough at this precise moment, was not buttering any parsnips!, came a note on what it takes to take a motorbike trip by yourself especially. Here it is, talking about choosing to ride off on a bike by yourself. ‘Could anyone do it? Anyone who’s prepared to lose control to gain freedom. Out here, foot stamping won’t shine the sun, won’t pay the bribe, won’t fill the belly or empty the ferry. Lose control and groove on the temporary nature of things. Wet now, dry later. Tired now, sleep later, Lonely now, laughing later.’ Wise words from a bloke who really doesn’t at all look like Yoda, in fact, no one knows what he looks like because he hasn’t been seen for years! So, I grooved on the temporary and after getting to be a ‘priority case’ I was told that ‘Dave’ was on his way, and I could even track him on an app. I was reserving the phone at this point for essential only, as the battery was down to 20%. 1pm arrived and passed while I grooved on an imaginary app showing a car transporter coming my way. I was a tad shocked at my attitude and had to have words with myself not to take out my now 9-hour wait on this poor chap. It was not his fault. Imagine the crushing feeling of seeing an RAC van, not car transporter turn up. I was not going to be rescued, I was going to have a long conversation. What a crushing cock slap. Dave got out and looked at the bike and sighed. I told him, that I had explained it all 9 hours ago. But unless he had a 4 inch 18inch tube for a bike, his 1 hour drive was pointless. He got on the phone and was told that there was nothing available. The 95 quid hotel I had booked was beginning to look a bit useless. What was needed was a large recovery vehicle. Dave politely made conversation but left a 2am as his shift had ended. Mine did not seem to have an end. There were some right rum characters turning up for booze at this point. I lay down to see if I could get any sleep on a concrete slab. At least I was a little less visible. One chap did make me laugh, obviously suffering from a severe case of the late-night munchies. He when to the cash box and was asking for pecan slices. When told they only had yesterday’s doughnuts he rhymed of an impressive line of pastries and bread based produces (somewhat like Talkie Toaster of Red Dwarf) to which he was told they had none. He bought all of the day old doughnuts. 2.30am I got a call. A trusted agent of the RAC (I was not holding out any hopes) told me that someone was on their way and would arrive in 60 to 90 minutes. I was heartened I was finally picked up at 3.45am, a full 11 hours after I had come to a rest. The rescue driver knew his bikes and loaded me on very carefully given the state of the rear wheel and tyre.

So off to the Dragonfly Hotel, something like a Premier Inn and we tried to offload the bike as quietly as you can do at 5 in the morning. The Bloody birds were singing. I dragged the bike to a lamppost and locked it to it and pulled my bags towards the entrance. This was going to be the next ‘event’. I had sent a message that I was going to be late and got a reply back to say don’t worry someone will be around. I did, however, stay I was likely to be arriving at 1am though. Anyway there was someone there but the computer refused to acknowledge that I had made a booking, mainly because I was supposed to be arriving the day before. It took a lot of doing this and that and I was really struggling to keep a pleasant demeanour. My charming personality was being tested to the core! Keycard in hand I dragged my bags to the room, put my earplugs in and tried to catch some z’s. Saturday 2 September 2023 -part 2 – Things get better For reasons unknown I really did not sleep well, I think I had been wound up so tight for so long, I was not really ready to sleep. I need to work on the grooving. Quickly getting up and loading up the bike after getting the wheel off, I was met by the hotel’s handyman who said he would keep an eye on the bike for me. Everyone was being very kind and it was doing a lot to make the memories of yesterday pale somewhat. I headed down to TC Motos who had agreed to put the wheel together for me. I just did not want the hassle of doing this by myself when there was a professional to do it. Money well spent in my mind. I was picked up by a really nice taxi driver who was a smashing chap and dropped off. The mechanics told me to go down the road to the local café while they were fitting it and I got major stuffed on a breakfast. Don’t really eat breakfast, so this was the full innings.

Wheel was all together when I got back and I called the same taxi who effortlessly dropped me back at the hotel.

Everything slid together like it should and I was ready to go. Things were going so smooth that I asked for a cup of tea at the reception desk and was given one by the receptionist who referred to me as ‘sweetness’. Today was payback for the shit of yesterday. I did a lot of emails and blog entries but it was time to move on so off to Harwich and see what that had to offer. Vaa was feeling good but I was not yet confident to start pushing too hard. Blasting out a bit of diesel on a roundabout brought this to home and I was taking a slow and steady approach with the new wheels.

Harwich beach was the first stop. A very nice, average to be honest, Victorian seaside resort with the usual less than pleasant side salad. Big statue of Queen Victoria holding a football? I think David Starky needs to be asked about this? Was she the goalie?

I then made my way to Harwich at a very slow pace and found it to be a very nice seaside town. Parking up at the sea front I took a walk along it which was very nice.

Half of today would be to find places where I could attempt to catch up on a bit of sleep. The pavilion was good but a bit hot. I then went into Weatherspoons and after my 5th tea did manage to drop off for a bit whilst doing the blog. After that, a trip to Morrisons to fill up with fuel and buy some supplies. Tomorrow will be a long day in the saddle. Finally a trip to the seafront again as the tide had gone out, and with very few people on the beaches, I could lie in seclusion feeling the worn flint rocks of the beach under my fingers and still trying to drop off. I might have done a bit, but it was not significant. Finally, it was off to Weatherspoons again for a cheap meal before getting on the boat. I would not settle until 21.30 at the earliest when on the boat and I needed to eat much earlier that that. The place was heaving, mainly with families and some of the kiddies were right little shits, screaming, kicking balls and talking at volume 11. One kiddie really was making a noise and to be fair his mum was trying to rain him in but he was going full ‘John Wick’ on it. His mum gave him the hardest slap I have ever seen a child get. The whole pub went quiet. I was expecting the little blighter, when he had got to his feet , to start shouting for ‘Adrianne’! Instead, he did a lot of blarting and mother did comfort him a lot while scowling at the entire pub who soon got back to their own business. Essex Mum Justice. Now I know that I have said a few less than complementary things about Essex people in the past few posts and I would like to say that these comments were made under significant stress. Just so we are clear about that. I ate up and left as soon as possible. Now the ferry was leaving at 23:00 and they said they would be starting checking in at 20:00, so I reckoned turning up at a cheeky 19:30 would be just about OK. I got there at 19:35 and was one of the last ones to queue up. Everyone else had got there way before me! It didn’t take long to be booked in and I was directed to Lane 1 with the rest of the bikers and push bikes, we would be going on first so hopefully off first.

There was very few of us bikers so we soon got chatting. Danes, German/English and Dutch/English along with myself. Usual biker things were done. We looked over each other’s bikes, we moaned about the British weather and customs/security at ports. A new thing to moan about began to develop. How long was it going to take to offload this bloody ship? We were waiting to get on and there was a huge queue of people waiting to get off. At getting on for 22:00 we got the word to go, Up a ramp, round a circling incline, across a dock, up another ramp and round a corner till finally we came across the bow of the ship its mouth wide open ready to swallow up any misfortunates to come across it. It was small fry, push bikes and motorbikes first. We strapped down the bikes and headed for our cabins. I had optioned to leave everything on the bike but just take my topbox, which was quite heavy but it was just one thing to deal with. With it being my first time on a Stena overnight ship I took the option to use the stairs rather than queue for the lift. Thinking I might have to go up 3 or 4 decks, I was ready for the burn. This was a differently designed ship. I had to go up 10 decks. Deck 3 - Burn Deck 5 - Respiratory difficulties Deck 7 - Language malfunction Deck 9 - Muscular nuclear meltdown Deck 11 - Dragged up the last 2 decks by Bob and Marg First thing to do when I got into my lovely cabin was to take all of my now soaking clothes off. I had been upgraded to a window cabin which was rather spiffing but I soon shut the blinds when I realised that there was a walkway just outside. I would have a shower in a bit, first thing first. Explore the ship. I was totally at one with all of the little children running around like mad things. I wanted to do the same! Maybe later when everyone had gone to bed? I really liked this ship, it had loads of great places to stand outside and facilities. Getting myself a drink from the bar, I stood at the back of the ship watching them load the containers. Coming around the corner at a fair old rate, the loaders were sliding the containers like a moto GP bike. Watching the containers come flying below me was giving me James Bond notions of jumping onto the top of them. Best go have a shower.

I ran into Kaj and Lone who had been two upping around the UK. Being from Denmark, I was needing to interrogate them on a few ins and outs of the country. We settled down to talk and were soon joined by the other bikers. Before long we realised it was getting very late when we were also going to have to add another hour onto the time we left the UK. I think I am also ready for a good sleep! Sunday 3 September 2023 Of course I had not set my alarm to the correct ship time so it would go off in another hour while riding down the road and I would be pressing every button on my intercom shouting ‘Cardo answer the bloody phone’ for at least 20km. I was awoken by the announcement for all people to rejoin their vehicles. Throwing everything into the topbox, I tripped, stumbled and rolled down the 10 decks, something like Laurel and Hardy did with the piano. I was last on scene with everyone else orderly ready to go and I was throwing tie straps about like a circus act. Kaj and Lone had foolishly agreed to lead me on the quickest route through Holland and Germany as they made their way back home to Denmark. It was going to be a long ride and I was holding them up, but they were far too gracious.

Finally on the move, it was very nice to get to passport control before all of the cars. However, in my head I had a list of things that I needed to do that had not been done. Oh well, I was at least on the move. Passport control was more like a tourist information meet and greet. Passport – Hello, welcome to The Netherlands, where are you going? Oh that sounds nice. Do have a lovely time and enjoy your time in our country. The Groove had now fallen into a very deep track and everything today would groove at a very fast, but in a very satisfactory groove. Out of passport control I was waited for, and I slotted in behind Kaj and Lone’s big V-Twin Suzuki cruiser. These dudes had a good 800 or more km’s to do, so I was desperate not to add any more time/milage to that. Always a good option when arriving in a country where they drive/ride on the opposite side of the road is to get on a motorway/dual carriageway first. The rules of these roads are similar wherever you go and it allows you more time to get your head into gear. The golden rule always applied. At every junction, see it through in your mind and say ‘right, right, right’. So far it was going well. Following someone also helped! Finally off all of the service roads we were on the motorway and it soon became apparent that we were not going the way I had planned, however, speed was my friends main objective and that had now become mine to try to make up for the lost day at a garage in Essex. Did that really happen to me? It seemed like it was someone else’s life as I sped through Holland looking at the trees, houses and landscapes. I was on my way. First stop came very early because Kaj and Lone’s bike has a very small tank and could only safely do 150km. However, this turned into an advantage as the day went on as the frequent breaks allowed for a longer distance to be completed. The first stop was quite a spectacle. Filling up was no problem but to see the chap at the till…. He was firstly taking money for petrol at a busy motorway servo. He was also using at least 3 languages (all official), and seemed to speak them with great proficiency. He was also a full-on barista making coffees with one of those squirty squirt proper coffee machines. As if it could not get any better, he was keeping an eye on the pay for bogs and letting in anyone who did not have any money or the right change. That young lad needed an award as he was doing it all with a smile on his face and good humour. Back on the road, I was somewhat more comfortable because I had got my earplugs in, intercom set up and sat nav in place. Where we were going to I hadn’t a clue but it seems like we were heading more east and it soon became apparent that this would be the quickest way given the higher speeds on German autobahns. And soon we left Holland behind. I would be back soon, because I promised the lady at passport control that I would. Kaj did not want to ride any faster than 130kph for too long and that suited me fine. I was still a bit concerned about the wheels on my bike and with the rear tyre only being rated for 160kph, I was not wanting to create another quite avoidable ‘event’. The kms were being gobbled up. Lunch stop and we swapped details with me being given the option to stay with them when I got to Denmark. I was not sure how things were going to pan out with being a day behind, so I was not sure on my movements. I was going to have to have a sit down and work things out. I could see we were heading toward Bremen and that was definitely somewhere I knew was along the way. Traffic began to get heavy and keeping up was sometimes difficult. You had to have very long eyes for your mirrors as even though you were travelling at 130kph, some cars would be coming up at 180 to 200kph behind you! From Bremen we got to Hamburg and through the Elbe Tunnel. Traffic was stop start a good 5km before the tunnel. Kaj did the naughty and started to filter between traffic, something we had been told would be worth a ticket. I think we both thought that the slight possibility of a ticket was worth getting a move on. Many people moved over for us so it didn’t appear to be an awful social stain. Through the tunnel and out of Hamburg the traffic subsided and now it was time to see some really fast autobahn smack-heads, well over 200kph. I was amazed at how far we had got. I was expecting to be wanting to stop close to 500km but we had pushed through that easily. I reckoned that I would make it to Denmark tonight. But perhaps only just. I think riding together had been helpful, just to forget about the beginnings of butt-rot. At our last stop, I was going to make a 140km push on to Tonder where I knew there was a campsite. Leaving Kaj and Lone, who had further to go but on a slightly different route, I winded it up a bit to 140 to 150 kph just to get there at a reasonable time. The autobahn was quiet now and the kms just disappeared. Coming off the autobahn was quite a shock. 50kph, through a village. It was like I was getting overtaken by houses. A little cross country road deposited me on the border with Denmark and it was with a very light heart I entered the campsite, 720km from Hook of Holland in just 9.5 hours. I think I may have done a bit further through France once but never this efficiently! I set up camp in this very amenable campsite with every facility you might want. There were plenty of people about, mainly elderly and no one too interested in me. It suited me well as I was not in the mood for long conversations. It had been a big day!

Cook up with the usual blurge. I must say the protein content, a can of spam originally bought by the boys to go fishing with a couple of years ago was not looking too good but after little food all day, it made some fairly decent hors d’ouevre as I got the cook on.

There was a lot of moisture in the air and things were getting wet fairly quickly, including me, so after dinner and washing up I retired early. Tent was comfortable and ready to bounce a few Z’s about. Monday 4 September 2023 No need to be up at a silly time but the amount of moisture in the tent made getting up better than lying in it. It had been a warm humid night and everything was wet. Making a most welcome morning cup of tea I saw the walking school bus heading to school. There were about 150 kids all dressed in their high-viz jackets. What a difference to my own country where just about every kiddie gets ferried to school in a Wilmslow Panzer in the parents mistaken believe that they are ‘protecting their children’. Every now and again, those things go Blitzkrieg. Packed away and on the road by 09:30, I was making it up as I was going along. I wanted to stay the night on the island of Mondo which was not too far away but I needed to kill some time to ensure the causeway was open. I would head to Ribe, the old capital of Denmark and spend some time there first. How was I going to cope with the 80kph speed limit – 48mph? It seemed to be painfully slow at first but, after a while I got into the groove. Old, young, lorry driver, bus all did 80kph out on the open road so good time was made. It was also a fantastic tourist speed because I could do a lot of my staring at trees, houses and the landscape without becoming part of it. Soon into Ribe and an incredibly civilised free car park. I wandered into town down old streets which were universally cobbled. It appears that there is some sort of hardly any cars law going on, but I was not aware of how it worked. A car would come by every 5 minutes or so.

Soon in the centre and the rather fabulous Cathedral. One of the statues outside looked like a bloke who’d been caught reading a porno book.

I may be doing his great deeds a mis-service there. Through the streets, quite early in the morning before it got too busy, the place was full of waterways, very old looking buildings and had a very easy going feel to it. It felt very Danish.

I was getting a bit of a hunger on and I knew precisely what I was after hearing a bit about it. A Smorrebrod, a sort of open sandwich. I spotted a 400 year old place and reckoned that was the place for me. Taking a seat in the lovely old place, I was well looked after by the staff and out came something that I’d go all Michelin starred about. Oh wow, a bit of rye bread with the most lovely and massive amount of smoked salmon with a horseradish sauce. With it, lots of fantastic fruits and berries. It made me feel like a king and it was only 10 quid. I am likeing this Danish grub!

I had worked out the tide at Mondo to be lowest at about 12.30, so getting a little past this, I set off. Arriving over the dyke protecting the mainland the view was somewhat impressive. A huge plane of mud flats with a small causeway to the island. Seeing as there were cars coming from the Island then I could be fairly sure that the causeway was open. Only one way to find out!

It started out nice and easy with muddy gravel but every now and again it would turn into deep gravel which was not so well compacted and a bit of speed was needed to keep her head going in the right direction.

The sky became very big and a wonderful feeling of remoteness began to develop. This is something I love and had not been part of my experience so far. Stopping every now and again I was not sure that this causeway was ever flooded at all but you could see from the limpets on the road that it was, it was just there were no waves, it was a tidal zone.

It was nice to hit asphalt on the island of Mondo and it was again up and over the dyke that protects this island. I wondered if it had ever been breached and what that would have caused. Into the village and shop I found that the causeway would be open at 9am, so I could get off the island in goodtime so was happy to stay, get off the tin mistress and have a walk about. I set up the tent to let it dry out and after changing into some more comfortable clothes I had a look around the island.

Surrounded by a 5m high dyke, it was clear this place faced a constant battle against the sea. A very poignant statue stood on the beach with a character looking out to sea. On it were all of the heights of the floods that has occurred, a good 12 heading back all the way to the 1600’s. You don’t really know you are alive until your life is in danger and I think the 40+ people who lived on this island had a better idea of what it was to be alive than the majority of us. I walked down the beach and around the dunes finding a great big chair which, I thought, had my name on it. So I sat down and surveyed all I could see. Walking away from it I saw a sign saying ‘Private’, so my walk gathered an extra element of speed. Things were pretty busy in the few cafes as all of the tractor busses had brought perhaps 200 people to the island. They would go at 15.15 and then everything would close. I went into the shop and bought some roast beef for my meal tonight and a few Mando beers made with honey, hawthorn and lime flowers and sea buckthorn. We will give it a go!.

od beer I went to the café as the last people were leaving and ordered a Mando beer because I could and I was on holiday. It was really something, quite a craft beer! Getting back to the tent which had now nicely dried, I got set up ready for the night and made my dinner. The sun would soon be setting so I found my way into the dunes and got myself settled down with a Mondo beer to watch the spectacle. The sun going down over the North Sea. Something most British people fail to comprehend!

I was doing a bit of face slapping, mainly because of the insects, so I didn’t stay too long. However, it was a wonderous site, and so much better for only a few people being around. Back to the tent I wanted to blog update and charge a few things up. Most campsites in Denmark have an indoor social room, perhaps to escape insects or maybe to be social. I was going to give it a go, mainly for a power socket. The couple who were camped next to me were in there and we exchanged a few jokes so I knew we would be OK for minor social contact. Tuesday 5th September 2023 Getting myself to the crossing at a little after 9am, the tide was high but the causeway was clear of water.

It was fun riding over the causeway splashing through the puddles right next to the sea and watch the eider ducks dart out of the grass and fly beside me. On to the mainland, I could see the Trans European Trail (TET) crossing the road I was wanting so a few fun diversions on mainly farm tracks were made. One track was a grass track which led to a bird watching platform. It ran beside a ditch and watercourse which looked very deep. The slope of the wet grass track began to significantly slope towards the ditch. ’Sweet mother of vulcanised rubber, don’t fail me now’! I made it through quite easily, but it was a bit nervy on a heavy adventure bike..

Back on the road, I was needing to put a lot of km’s behind me today to get me into a position where I could catch up on my timings. So it was a matter of head down with a few planned stops. Through Esberg, I stopped at Man meets the Sea. Great big 6m high dudes all looking out to sea. It was quite interesting.

Then head down to get the coast road around the Ringkobing Fjord a large inland sea. There were one or two bunkers in the sand that I wanted to take a look at. A queue of traffic formed in front of me and I was told that the road was closed because of an accident. Finding my way into the dunes, I walked to the sea and had my lunch with not too bad a view looking out to sea.

Back to the road and the traffic was still queuing. I would have to find my way around. Going back on myself lost me more time so I headed inland to find faster roads that would get me north in a quicker time but on which I did not have anything planned to look at. The ride was fairly boring but eventually I came across a few hills which made a change and a bit more fjordlands.

Finally at the point where I had aimed to get to, I was disappointed to find this ‘wild camping’ site did not have any running water and was mainly a bunker in which you could camp. It smelt of wee a bit, so I didn’t bother. I found another campsite nearby and booked in there, it was pretty quiet and I cooked up another meal and got to sleep quite early. I was needing to get to places at certain times tomorrow and I needed to be away at a decent time.

Wednesday 6 September 2023 As if by magic this morning, wind and moisture levels in the air meant that I woke up with a dry tent. Seeing that it would be packed away for the next 4 days this was most welcome. Away it all went and I double checked everything was strapped down well because today we were going to get onto the sand. Hopefully. I was wanting to visit the sinking bunkers at Lokken but to do that it involved a 3km ride over the sands of the beach to the north. Looking up the tide tables, high tide was going to be at 10:37, about 30 minutes before I arrived. Buggerations, I did not have time to wait, but I would see what was available when I got there. Turing up at the site, there was very little beach but there were a few vehicles on there. Were we doing this, yes we were.

When I had planned this trip, visiting a lot of old German bunkers on the Atlantic Wall was high on the agenda. Constant screw ups had meant that my only experience of a German bunker had been weedy one which smelt of piss. I was not wanting to be done over this time. I had also ridden over 600km on autobahn on perhaps the worst tyre, Kenda Big Blocks to ensure I could lord it over this sand. I was not going to let the tide pee in my lunchbox. So onto the beach and the sand was in the main firm and giving good traction. It was not long, as long as there were not too many people about, that I was doing power slides and kicking out the rear. This was well worth the poor handling on the black-top. After a while, I rolled up to the bunkers, some still in the sand, others being slowly eaten by it. A few still clinged to the cliffs but were not looking too happy with their situation. The sea would soon right them. Leaning up old VAA against a bunker, I began to explore (sides stands here are not much use). A few steps high up encouraged me to make a jump for them and haul myself up to see what was inside but I know what sort of embarrassment that would lead to Lardie Croft would end up on his back. I walked into some of the easer ones to get to.

Waves smashed over some of the bunkers now washed out to sea and it made a poignant reminder of how one generations need to fight and kill one another is superseded by a much more intelligent approach from a newer generation. Pic of bunkers It was not far off high tide and it was time to get moving again. And moving again it was. Really mice sand for motoring on. Some sweet sounds made and big tracks made. My iniquities soon swallowed up by the tide. After that, I needed to be in Copenhagen, quick. This was the final part of me making up time to catch the flight coming in tomorrow with Julie and the boys. Getting to the motorway, I was able to get some 130kph+ on to get to Aarhus and pick up a ferry to Zealand, the island which has Copenhagen on. I was told by a number of people that Aarhus was a gem of cultural and social sophistication, but I did not have time, so sorry Aarhus. I did not make it, but perhaps next time? Onto the ever so efficient ferry. I loaded up the bike with a Danish biker and we sat telling stories and eating very nice hot dogs, something of a Danish tradition.

We were spat out by the ferry on Zealand, close to the end of the queue of traffic and for a good few 30km things were a little slow as Bob and Marg got their camper out of 3rd gear. Things turned better as the 80kph (sometimes 90 if you were lucky) roads funnelled into 130kph motorways that seemed way too fast when compared to the domestic road speed maximum speed. However, I did make advantage of it. Coming into Copenhagen, admittedly at rush hour, I was confronted with something I had never seen in this country before. Queuing traffic! Knowing filtering was OK in this country, I wobbled my may past a lot of traffic which was generally OK with this. A number of toss pots let their country down with big assed cars driving in an intimidating manner, but there was my ass and the closer they got, the closer they got to kissing it (I had not wiped particularly well that day). Making a stop at an inner city Netto for supplies I headed for Charlottenlund Campsite where I set up camp at this very busy campsite within the backpackers area. I was surrounded by mainly cyclists who seemed to be existing on minimal pills and pastes for their sustenance. What a fucking miserable existence.

Cooked up a prepacked Mediterranean pulses and rice do that takes 2 mins to warm up along with half a can of sweetcorn with some shitty processed meat that was admittedly a bit shite. At least I enjoyed my food. All the other minor eating people looked like they wanted to load themselves into the guns and shoot themselves at Sweeden.

Oh yes the guns, I forgot. This campsite used to be a military fort ready to shoot at Norwegians, Swedes, Fins, Russians, Poles or Germans. The guns were bloody huge. I am glad I was camped next to one. Seeing that Putin was only a few 100kms away. A couple of Germans with an impractically large inflatable boat had two overly boisterous and scrappy sausage dogs with them and the little buggers were running around the campsite like Ton and Jerry. One of them did a shit in front of a couple of very serious looking Dutch cyclists and they went all John Wick about it. Even worse the German couple went very relaxed about it. There was a lot of international tensions going on that evening. I was not going to step in as peace maker as out country has vowed to leave the solar system by 2050, so what could I do? Went to bed early. I needed to be places tomorrow. Thursday 7 September to Saturday 9 September. I am not really going to get too much into our time in Copenhagen as it is not really my story to tell. But as an overview, I parked up the bike in a garage and booked in at the very new rented accommodation. My charming personality managed to get us upgraded to a penthouse apartment which was probably wasted on me, but everyone else was very impressed when they got there. I took the metro which looked like something off the first Total Recall to the airport and picked up Julie, Elliot and Harry.

We had a great few days, visiting different parts of the city renting bikes, going into Freetown, eating, drinking and buying stuff. What a cool city, so very relaxed, welcoming and fun. On our last night we went to a Korea restaurant which was mainly served by robots. It is true, here I have proof. We were somewhat lucky with the weather, which would have to be a plus in any destination, but I would recommend Copenhagen to anyone, young or old. Yes, it is expensive, but no more expensive than central London and the quality of food and service is quite special. Sunday 10 September 2023 I woke very early with a bit of a nagging thought. Did the metro run on a Sunday? Because if not the whole mother of shitstorms was about to break onto a lot of happily tired but ready to go home campers. I kept my gob shut. Getting to the metro, I was somewhat relived to see it ran as usual. We got on and sat at the front, with a big window displaying the track in front. The whole system is driverless. I like Mick Lynch, but, well, mate, it works well here. Dropping everyone off at the airport, I was now on a mission to leave Denmark behind and I wasn’t too keen on that. This place and it’s people are fantastic. I wanted to stay! Wandering down to the car park I began to think… Where had I put the £400 sat nav that I had been using on the bike. Humm, don’t really remember. Minor panic set in and this was somewhat relieved when I got to VAA and there attached to it was said sat nav. However, I knew this meant something else which was perhaps a little less problematic.

Turning the key the fuel pump did not prime indicating a mega flat battery. It had been sucked dry by the sat nav. This was not what my excellently planned exit of the city was expecting. However, there was a little ramp nearby and I was hoping to execute a bump start, although the fuel pump not priming gave me doubts. First, I had to pay the parking fee. I tapped in my reg number, but it did not recognise my plate. Oh well, I will sort it out if and when I get VAA going. It was already getting hot so the push up took a bit out of me so I ditched jacket and helmet. Lining everything up, keys in switched on, in neutral and kill switch off, I gave her a bloody good launch down the ramp. Jumping onto the footpeg, I missed and jumped onto the gear lever knocking her into an unideal first and even as she was falling down onto her rhs there were some signs of combustion. I was happy as I was thrown over the handlebars. This little shit will go! Everyone drinking coffee and being incredibly cool immediately got up to try and help. One dude quick on the scene implored me to not try and pick up the bike, but this little shit had so many bits of breakable things hanging off her, I thought it best to do it before anyone yanked on something that would come off in their hands! A little Indian chap came running out of his coffee house and immediately took charge of the situation. Myself and a Cool Danish chap (whos Sunday coffee break had been massively shat on) were demoted to pushing because the Indian chap told me that ‘he knows bikes’…… Well mate, let me sit you down and tell you…. No, he had taken command and I think he was loving it so I was happy for him to make the story for the moment. So Cold Coffee Danish Chap (CCDC) and I gave the bike a good push and it’s temporary owner locked it up harder that what Donald Trump is going to be (just give that one a fortuitous breeze and a bit of time). He had left it in first. It took me some time to explain the gearbox of every motorcycle built after 1985 to this guy but once he had got it, I was willing to let him and his magic motorcycle skills breath life back into my somewhat stalled trip. CCDC was looking back at his coffee as it developed a bit of a skin on its surface, but like a true top banana Danish dude, he was willing to give it another go. We pushed a good push and as the clutch went in, it was very half and half but suddenly it spat and bang! Beautiful four stoke combustion. That was pure music to my ears. Problem is, Indian chap was now heading down the residential road virtually on the back wheel. He was having a blast! CCDC turned to me and as cool as anything said to me ‘One problem solved, another created’! We fell about the place laughing! It was before 9am and people had been partying hard well after 3am. I had been complaining to my friend on the ferry from Aarhus that the exhaust note of my Italian HP Corse aftermarket exhaust was not very characterful, but hearing it tearing around the streets of Nordhavn, I was beginning to think that it was a pretty cool sound. It would be better a little of to my right and under my bum. However, small details. The bike’s new owner did a few more laps, I think, once hitting the rev limiter before he brought the bike back and parked it right in front of Mrs CCDC who had enjoyed the spectacle, but did not want the view of the bay blocked by a chugging motorcycle as it gradually put charge into its battery. Everyone was thanked profusely and the bikes temporary owner wanted to make a video of me. Hopefully I will make the news, Somewhere. Back to the apartment, I had done a few extra laps to hope that there was enough charge in the battery for a start. Loading up, I dropped in the keys and told the staff how wonderful our stay had been. We had a few metro cards with a few useful amounts of Kroner on them and one of the staff, a student was so grateful for them.

Back to the bike. The moment of truth. Clutch in, a very slow start, but she fired and from here on we were moving. A good few motorway miles would set things right. Being Sunday morning, it was easy to exit the city and given I was following the main trade route from Copenhagen to Germany, the roads were quick, easy to navigate and fairly quiet. I began to notice a lot of Swedish vehicles and soon realised that this was the main route for Swedes to get to Germany without having to endure long ferry crossings. It had been bright sunshine but as I was getting to the south of Denmark, areas of significant mist and moisture were developing . Visibility would sometimes get quite poor and it was necessary to drop the speed down quite a bit. Mile by mile, things were getting more Germanic, and although I love Germanic, I was missing Danish. Life goes on. Loading up the bike on the ferry was easy enough and I ate, rested and watched the views. Out of the other side, I was looking for ‘Fedro’ -Davide, someone who I had known on the Aprila Pegaso Forum for 13 years. He was going to show me something of Schleswig-Holstien and a little bit of its off road. Getting off the boat, It was fairly clear who I was meeting, a most handsome Italian who had immersed himself into Germany. The Aprila Tuareg next to him also helped with the identification. Also, he was the only person waiting for anyone! I do like a bit of certainty when it is available! However, what a meeting! A proper Italian hug and a long discussion on what brought us here. I love people who are passionate about riding bikes in whatever way they like. So off we set into the most northern state of Germany. The Trans European Trail (TET) tries to link as many non macadamed surfaces together as possible but the laws and traditions of some countries will either limit or allow this. In the UK the laws are under a lot of debate but the TET is probably about 50/50 on/off road. In Germany, the sections we rode were more like 90/10 on/off road although the majority of on road routes were tiny roads through forests and farmland. What a treat to follow someone on these trails.

Davide is what I would call a very experienced and spirited rider, it was fun to follow and although I was a bit more loaded and perhaps more reserved, the riding was fun and I don’t think I held him up too oftenA few times he was waitibnf f9r me!. It was easy to see which way to go because there was a big load of dust blown up by his very impressive Tuareg 660.

Would I have waited a year and a half to buy the Tuareg 660? Seeing it now in the flesh, sitting on it and watching it go, I am inclined to say, yes. It is a superior bike to mine in so many ways. However, I am not a chop and change biker, I cannot afford it. I have to model my bike to me, and those investments needs to remain good for many years. I’ll probably next trade my bike in, those next years for a hover board. Back to the trails, the beauty of the landscape was quite amazing

The amount of forest was breathtaking. There was a fair bit of dust.

After 3 hours we decided that we needed to head back to Davide’s house. It took some time on very crowded roads and after telling Davide that I was happy to flaunt the traffic laws of Germany we popped around long traffic lines, queuing traffic, some of which become quite aggressive. Ahhh, fuck ‘yer. Its not as if we were holding anyone up. I was back in uptight, stressed out land, where within Denmark, I was in chill, cool, lets have a Twix and work this out land. And I don’t say this to dis Germany, because I think Germany is a bit more chilled than the UK at this present time. I tip-toed past Davide’s car to put the bike in his garage. Intoductions were then made to his two sons and his wife Silvia. There was also Eddie the dog who had just had his shower. E ate and generally gibber jabbered about bikes, riding, family and dogs. I really did feel very at home. There house was surrounded by trees and despite being in a busy suburb of the city, it was very quiet and secluded.

Davide wanted to show me the city, so we loaded up into his daughters little car and took a tour of the city. Firstly into the centre with the huge lakes and municipal buildings.

Then to the Elbe River which is impressively big. After that to see the lift and vehicle lift to transport vehicles under the Elbe. Over 100 years old. Quite amazing.

Then off to the Reeperbahn which on some degree is a dirty red-light district, but I was educated to find it as being a massively artistic strong point of the western world never mind Germany or Europe. So fair enough, I saw a few problems there, but does not greatness always bring problems? More than anything it struck me as a place to have a mega night out for both men women or anyone in-between. I was being walked around the historical red-light district of Hamburg by an Italian born German who was giving me a very nuanced view on what was going on with some very vivid stories. I had a marvellous guide! On our way back, Davide told me that Hamburg, the second biggest city in Germany was titled 'The Free and Hanseatic City of Hanburg'as up to 1871 it was an independent city state. It was Germany's Largest prot and that was not to be denied as it went on beyond what could be seen. We made it back and I settled off to sleep. Oooh, I forgot to pay for my bike parking. Oh well…… Monday 11 September 2023 Davide had to go out early so I didn’t catch him but I had a good long chat with Silvia and had a look at a few of her trees for her.

Sat nav said there was some sort of problem on the nearby autobahn so it sent me through the city centre again. Joining the autobahn lower down, I found it to be not too busy. Silvia had suggested that I go and have a look at Luneberg about an hour south of Hamburg.

This I did, and sliding into town I found a free motorcycle parking place. Germans are so cultured.

The town was a lovely relaxed place, with cobbled streets and old buildings. Perhaps its crowning feature was the crane by the docks and riverboat in the river. A really lovely town.

I had been planning to visit the German tank museum in Munster, but I had decided that I wanted to finish early today as there was talk of possible thunder storms later on. Back onto the motorway, I was wanting to see how these tyres would cope with three figure speeds. The answer was clearly no as the bike ran into a tank slapper just after passing 100. We will keep it below 90, always. However, now the traffic was not so busy, the character of the autobahn really came out. Some people came past at quite silly speeds. I was doing 130-140kph and these people would woosh by. I had tried to mix up a bit of fast autobahns with some rural roads to get a better feel for the area.

The tree lined roads were very pretty and sometimes, when high up, they gave great views over the nearby countryside. I had seen the Begen-Belsen concentration camp was close to my itinerary and I wanted to visit. Very different to Dachau, which I visited 10 years ago, this place had been destroyed after it was no longer used as a refugee resettlement centre quite a few years after the war. The only thing there was open fields with heather and small trees on it. It was haunting.

There were a number of memorials to the mass graves along with a silence room and memorials for many of the groups of people who had been interned there and lost their lives, prisoners of war, resstance fighters, communists, homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses’ Jews and conscientious objectors. Also Anne Frank.

What concerned me most was that my own country was not to far away from the very acts I saw before me. Dehumanising people and shoving them away in a corner to rot on a boat full of disease. It takes just a handful of evil men, or women, to do something like Bergen-Belsen, but it requires the vast majority of people to stay quiet and not stand up for the weak and oppressed.

I toddled along for many a km after that deep in thought. Back onto the autobahn, I was going to make a big push to get to my accommodation in Ladbergen. Screaming onto the autobahn to join at 130kph, I found the speed had been dropped to 60kph for roadworks. I had wasted a bit of fuel there! I had booked a self service motel in a service area at Ladbergen and for just 60 Euros, it was not bad at all. Clean, showers and everything that was needed.

I slid VAA under the roof as it looked like it was about to rain and some thunder and lightening announced this fairly dramatically. Armed with a few beers and a Burger King, I settled in for the night and was well asleep by 10pm. Tuesday 12 September 2023 It had been raining pretty heavy in the night with a bit of thunder and lightning. The weather forecast gave rain in the morning but clearing for the afternoon. This was the first real rain of the trip so I should not complain, but I set out with far too much optimism and paid the price. I did not put on my waterproofs as it was clearly just a few spots of rain and I didn’t take off the sheepskin seat cover as I was sitting on it so how could it get wet? Everything went wrong. It may have been light rain but just following a big lorry for a few kms would really soak you. Far too late I pulled over, pulled off the now soaked sheepskin seat and put on my waterproofs over my pretty wet bike clothes. How intelligent I had been. However, I was now not going to get cold and I just had to get into the groove and press on through the rain. Wet now, dry later. A big shot of lightening and thunder soon put that merry little ditty down the bog, and I was looking for ways to check out. Perhaps nurse a coffee at a coffee shop, but none made their presence known. I came across an Opel car dealer and if I had the language skills, I might have been able to fake interest in the new Opel Astra, go for a test drive (cars a great in a thunderstorm) and see how we got on. I kept going as the very useful weather radar feature of the sat nav shoed me the rain would soon be over. The heavy rain went to showers and then drizzle and as soon as I passed over the border to the Netherlands, it stopped and the sun began to show its face. Draw from that what you will. The Netherlands was the last country on my tour and I have blasted through her but never taken a good sniff. Now was the time. I had planned to mix fast motorway sections with some very rural roads to get a better feel for the country. These first few kms where on rather uninspiring motorways and fast roads. Generally flat with huge canals and rivers the place was good fun to be in. Although the speed limit was 80kph, like Denmark, it was not limiting as it gave me time to have a good nose. I was heading towards Arnhem, but a few road closures really put the cat amongst the pigeons and I ended up riding through many a residential street. However, always good to take a look at how other people live. They do like their Dutch flags here! The weather came to a point where it looked like rain was unlikely so Off came the waterproofs (well technically) and I began to dry out a little but the centre of all wetness was my underpants and it would take some time for the moisture from here to wick away. Wet nethers, never good in the Netherlands.

Eventually, I ended up at Arnhem and had my lunch sat under the bridge. I then wandered off to a little village to the west where there was a fantastic Sherman tank parked up by the roadside.

Turning into the street, it was clear that by the amount of works going on it had been removed. A poor show for me, but I am sure it will be back. I turned back to Oosterbeek and went to the Coop buying some sweetcorn, a pasta sauce, pasta and some beer. It was a bit much to carry without a bag and this was confirmed when the pasta sauce bottle slipped out of my grasp and smashed on the floor, Oh the shame of it, when the beers were safe in my hands! I was invited to go and pick up a new pasta sauce which was very kind but I think just about everyone there whished me dead in a terrible way, I was going to liken the event to Brexit or something clever but perhaps keeping my big gob shut might be helpful. The campsite was a couple of km down the road from Arnhem in Oosterbeek which was a pretty cool name if I am honest with you. Right by the branch arm of the Rheine, it was a very relaxed site full of mainly elderly Bob and Margs in their campers. Living the dream.

I was given the very last pitch on the site which was next to a worryingly large military tent. It was likely to soon be raining so for the first time this trip, I got out the tent porch and set it up so I had somewhere to sit if it was raining. On with dinner and a few drinks. The owners of the big military tent returned, 3 average white men, I don’t think they were in a band. I got slightly worried. However, I was beginning to get a bit concerned, they didn’t speak to me or make eye contact. They kept the door to their tent closed all the time and were ‘doing things’ in there. It then started to rain so I took to my chair under the porch and brewed up a long line of teas. I heard the average white men talking in Dutch and they were clearly talking about Top Gear things and showing each other videos of Dutch dubbed top gear. I didn’t understand a word of it but you could tell which was which talking. They were all probably low intellect, car enthused nobs. They were probably building a car to drive over the river in their tent or even with it, or something like that. As long as they were not the white supremacists planning a terrorist atrocity that I had first thought they were. I was a little worried because, with all the sun I had put on, quite a tan over the past few weeks and was sure that I could be put down as a legitimate target. The rain got pretty heavy but the forecast was for much better tomorrow so a fairly early turn in was in the order of the day. Wednesday 13 September 2023 It had been raining all night and although not raining now, more showers were forecast. Things were all pretty wet from condensation but the weather was looking better Amsterdam way. I hate to pack soggy camping stuff away but, I got into the groove and did it. I tried to say goodbye to the average white males but again they ignored me. There had been quite a commotion coming out of their tent at 3am when I woke for my nightly diabetic checks. I had visions of them trying to wire up a bomb and all three had different ideas on whether it was blue or red. About 100m from the campsite, I reckoned I was safe. Over the bridge in Arnhem and then over the Nijmegen bridge, two major bridges in Operation Market Garden in 1944. Soon onto the major road network of The Netherlands and I was on my way to Breda because I had an appointment with a German tank. Of course, the road was closed! I tried to sniff out a way around the blockage and eventually rode through a few housing estates and got onto the right road. Looking around me, I was struck by the fact the sun had come out and it was going to stay out. As I was in the groove and expecting a day of wet and poor views, this really was a bonus and all of a sudden I felt alive. Every opening of the throttle, every view, every speedbump. Motorbikes are so cool!

The motorways were now quite busy but soon I was in Breda and there it was, on a busy street corner, next to the Panzer café, a Panther Panzer V. What an amazing site in a Dutch town. The town had been garrisoned by Allied free Polish fighters after it had been liberated in 1945 and they gifted the tank to the town. I guess if you are stateless, you make a gift of anything you can. The residents of Breda, graciously accepted the gift and have looked after it ever since.

Oh no - The Germans! Back on the road, I had planned a little local ride around some spots near to Breda. I was treated to open roads, views of rural Holland, a stop at a site where a Halifax Bomber had crashed in WW2 and somewhere where someone landed a 300kg fish when out fishing. There was even a statue.

You don’t get that on a cruise. From here I was wanting to pic up the TET route as it seemed to offer a fantastic route into Amsterdam away from the motorways. However, getting to the start of the TET route was a challenge. The motorway soon grinded to a halt, but I was given the opportunity to filter between lanes with many drivers spotting me and adding room to allow this. Filtering is something which has differing legal connotations and social expectations in differing countries. UK – Legal -yes, Socially - generally OK but some people will try to kill you Netherlands – Legal – I think so (hey these people smoke weed legally) – Socially, yes lots of people will open up a gap. Denmark Legal -Dunno. Socially – yes, people will make space and seem to accept it. Germany – Legal – No. Socially – generally people will make room but some people get well enraged and lean on the horn. I did a good 40km of occasional decent traffic and then filtering my way through stop start traffic. The concentration required for riding between traffic is quite intense as you are looking at both lines of traffic, looking for signs of people wanting to switch lanes, or anyone wanting to commit murder (it has happened)! After 5 minutes you are getting a bit frazzled but usually the traffic starts to move better so you can slot in and let your brain cool down. Soon it starts all over again! I got to the turn off junction without having to put my foot on the ground which is always the sign of being able to navigate horrid traffic. Picking up the TET I headed out of a town road going into a rural single track and as soon as I got around the corner, there was a barrier across it with a chap there to dissuade any excursions into the no go zone. Chappie said to me that it would be fine to go and pulled the bollard away for me to pass. Result. Cheers dude. I didn’t come across a single bit of traffic work on the road, so nice as that chap was. What the fuck?

Things got better and better. Speeds were very low, but although there was nothing but black top, the way forward was beautifully peaceful and rural. Beside canals and rivers with occasional windmills and a content feeling.

The road soon latched onto a big canal which would lead me into Amsterdam. There is more than one way of doing things and this route at less than 50kph may have been slower than the motorway, probably not, but I was having a blast, looking at the wildlife, the boats, the fishermen, feeling good. This is what travelling is all about.

Eventually, I had to depart from the canal and join the usual roads. I was very efficently deposited at the campsite which was the nearest one to the city centre. At about 3 km from the city centre, it was closeish. The place was packed. People were camping a metre away from each other and I reckoned they would not be that keen on my tractor snore. I found a spot away from most in a damp patch. I am such a selfless hero. My little camping chair was sinking into the ground something rotten though. There was quite a respectful quiet and relaxedness in the campsite which gave me hope for getting a decent night’s sleep. We will see. Hopefully nothing will blowi up! Thursday 14 September 2023 Today, some art! I needed to find a cravat and some half mooned spectacles. Taking the very efficient metro to the nearest station and a little walk from there I got to the Van Gogh museum well before my 10am timeslot. I sat on a wall seeing what was going on and if I might manage to get in before the time slot. Plenty of others tried and all were turned away. I did not envy the job of the girl at the front gate. She was having to turn away every person who had not booked a timeslot and just about everyone was impolite or ignorant of her.

People who do these ‘menial jobs’ need to be treated with respect and decency. And here we are at a museum that celebrates ‘that nutter painter down the street’ that no one had time for when he was alive.

Getting into the museum was effortless although I was slightly concerned that there were so many people here. However, the numbers were controlled well, and although busy it was not too busy.

The first painting I saw was one of his self portraits and seeing it in three dimensions was a treat, the brush strokes were so vivid and bold, it really added so much seeing it in the flesh.

Everyone walked around in quiet reverence, it felt more like a convent. Some of my old favourites like The Potato Eaters and Field with Crows where there, but most of the more famous works were not and were, probably for legal reasons, barely mentioned. No Starry Night, Café at Arles (I’ve got that one on my wall, not the original) or that one of the church that was on Doctor Who. There was one of his Vase of Sunflowers but not the really famous and expensive one. There was a lot of talk about mental health issues which was very good and a lot was there to dispel so many of the myths that have been put about. I was beginning to get a bit cramped by all the people and after only 2 hours I needed to get out. Through the shop and buying some gifts for the family, I took the metro back to the campsite and made myself something to eat with a few nice teas. I foolishly walked into the city centre because I wanted to take one of the free ferries, but it was a long walk.

I think that Amsterdam has gone a bit too ‘bicycle’. By that I mean, that pedestrians seem to be considered less than cyclists. Footpaths were often just places to park bikes or would just end and bike lanes continued. Footpaths would have a tree right in the middle of it and you would have to step into a bike lane and face instant death from the silent killer. Added to that some of the speeds of the electric bikes and scooters in the bike lanes were quite scary. Crossing the road was a bloody nightmare. Oh, and the trams would try and mow you down at every opportunity too. They were coming at you fron every angle. Some bicycles were weapons grade.

After a while, I needed a break, so I went into an Irish pub and settled down with a few Guinesses and watch the world go by. Amsterdam is famous for its canals, weed and brothels, which isn’t really a marvellous top 3 but I may be upsetting the Amsterdam Tourist Board there. So lets rate them. Canals – yes very nice making a wonderful way to slice up the city.

Brothels – To be fair, I was here in the day so most windows were not inhabited but the few that were made me jump out of my skin. You walk around the corner and there is a young lady with virtually no clothes on winking at you. To be honest, it was a bit grubby and hugely sexist. Why was the female clientele not catered for? I half thought of renting a window out and trying my luck. This trip had been expensive. However, my undies had holes in them and I suspected that some people might laugh at me. The only other way of making some big money to pay for the trip was to buy a big wedge of weed and sneak it into the country. It was a foolproof plan. To be honest, I was expecting to come across loads of Stoners falling all over the place, totally off their heads but I had not come across one. So there is a preconception righted.

Nice..... Indeed, although there were loads of ‘cafes’ about it rare rare to get the stink, which I was most pleased about because I have a violent reaction to that pungent smell. Apparently, it is illegal to smoke it on the street, although some people had got around that with ‘The Smoke Boat’. I bet the doorman of the 5* The Grand Hotel was overjoyed with it being moored outside his door with a particularly rich selection of bedraggled stoners crewing the vessel. It was like the bad guys boat from Pirates of the Caribbean.

In my whole life I have never properly smoked weed, I once did have a half hearted drag on a doobie, but it was a much more Bill Clinton type of affair rather than going the full Snoop Dog on it. Lots of shops and cafes were serving danger cake but It was not something that I was going to try. You don’t know if they used a teaspoon or a shovel to add the psychoactive substance. The truth of it is that I am far to much of a moral hot head about cannabis because I have been to the Rif mountains in Morocco where half of the world’s weed is produced. I have seen firsthand how it has destroyed the soil and enslaved the people. There is no Mr Big Escobar like dude running the show, but the people are locked into a life of growing weed. Kids don’t go to school, they grow weed. It’s a shit drug, its not harmless and if you use it for too long it turns you boring, paranoid and dull. I am running for City Mayor for Amsterdam next month. I am expecting a landslide victory. I headed back to the campsite using the E9 public transport ticket that lasts for 24 hours. I was absolutely rinsing it. However, I had done 22 thousand steps today, where my home average is usually about 6 to 8 thousand. I was ready for a sit down. I cooked up my last meal which freed up loads of space in the top box for gifts and stuff. People were coming and going from the campsite and I had wisely chosen to camp on a damp patch, Just a few others had done this and there was decent space between us unlike the rest of the campsite where guy ropes were crossing. I had managed to mismanage my device charging routines and there was just about enough charge in the powerbank to keep the phone working tomorrow. Off to bed at a bit of a late hour as I did not need to be up early in the morning and I had lots of fun things to write about. Friday 15 September 2023 It was a bit sad that I was leaving Europe this evening. I had been enjoying wherever I went so much, had made good friends and learnt so much about the places I had been and the person that I was. There will be time for more some other time. There was no need to get motoring early. I could pack up at a leisurely pace and I was going to have breakfast in the café where I could charge up my phone which was in a sorry state now, I had been amazed at how peaceful the massively overpopulated campsite has been. The majority of campers were young people and if you were a judgemental so and so, you would expect this campsite, the closest to the city centre to be full of stoned mad heads, making noise to all hours and probably doing dangerous stunts on electric pushbikes and playing didgeridoos . No, it was very quiet and what a credit to the youth of today all these people were. I never once sniffed any sticky leaf in the campsite either. Yesterday I saw a Ducati Desert X riding through the city centre. And there it was parked up next to my bike who was trying to stand up a bit straighter in such company. Its owner Paul had ridden all the way from Malaysia and was doing a tour of Europe. We chatted for a while and I gave him a bit of advice on Spain and Morocco. Now that really is a proper adventure! All packed away, I rode down to the café and got myself a toastie, coffee and orange juice. Just before I left a blood test had come back showing I was low on Vitamin B12 (which may have been a reason for being a bit off colour) so I was now trying to boost this in my diet and also taking Folic Acid tablets. I wondered why I wasn’t getting pregnant? The orange juice was just the ticket. Back out on the road, I was filled with an overriding feeling of ‘don’t bugger it up now’, but I soon had to put that out of my mind because on a motorcycle, you always hit what you are looking at! Off to see the windmills of Zaandijk.

Sat next to a big canal were 4 traditional windmills all turning and doing their business. One was grinding stones to make dyes which was not the usual water pump or mill. The windmills had attracted quite a gang of selfie-stick wielders, but on a nice bright sunny day, it was very pleasant to be by the canal and watch the sails go spinning around.

The aim was to get closer to Hoek van Holland where the ferry would be leaving from as the day wore on. The roads were not too bad. Given the price of fuel in The Netherlands, about 2.15 Euros for a litre of 95 E10, cooking fuel, I had filled up with just enough to get me to the port and I was hoping to splutter into the Morrisons at Harwich. The whole endeavour would save me about £1.50 but I had got obsessive about it and arguing with myself was not a way to finish my tour. Riding past Amsterdam Airport, I was amazed at how big the place was. One of those huge double-decker planes came into land and once it had found its way to the terminal, it looked like a little toy. A bit further on, my second stop for the day, Den Haag, The Hague. I was wanting to check out the International Court of Justice and see if Putin’s time slot had been announced, but traffic in the town centre was murder, there was nowhere to park and I was getting frazzled trying to find my way.

Forget that, I’m going to the beach. Den Haag’s second claim to fame, or perhaps it’s first is that it can do a good job of rivalling Blackpool for a beach destination. Indeed, it can somewhat surpass it as there were no turds on the beech. I parked in a scooter only parking space right next to the beach. Poor old VAA looked a bit lardy when parked in the minuscule space, but I was not prepared to walk a long way. I was going to claim the ignorant tourist card if anyone moaned. Down to the nice clean beach with lots of beachside restaurants with some interesting menu choices. Roast seagull anyone? Pic of seagull There was a huge pier offering lots of the similar pier-based activities found in the UK. It was a warm day and there were plenty of people out. I went into a bar, ordered a half of IPA and sat by the window watching the world go by. Check in for the ferry was still a long way away.

There was only so much of that that I could do, so back to the bike which has been unmolested, I set off for my final resting place to wait for check in to open. It was about 30km away and the bike had done a good 20km on reserve, I had done 70km on reserve before, but I was worried that I would be coming close to embarrassment. Traffic out of Den Haag was really heavy and I was doing a lot of sitting and idling. , Maybe I wouldn’t make it to the port which would be double embarrassing. However putting a minimum fill up of 5 litres seemed criminal. Fortunately, many petrol stations in N Europe are fully automated with no staff on site. Pulling into such a station, my card was authorised and I put 2 Euros of fuel in, less than a litre. There was no-one there to tell me I couldn’t. A minor victory in a pointless war. The bike was still flashing that it was on reserve, but I could guarantee that I could make the port now and plenty further. I found a Lidl to buy supplies for my dinner and on the ship. Setting sail at 22:00 didn’t really make for a decent meal for someone who has to fairly religiously eat at 18:00 to 18:30 latest. I would eat something while waiting in the queue. And so to my final stop for this trip while in Europe, the rather nice Hoek Van Holland Beach. Obviously, a busy place in the summer given the size of the car park, it was just ticking over when I got there. A good stare out to sea with a coffee and in the end I fell for some fish and chips (not as British as you think – Battered fish is from Portugal and chips are from Belgium). This had been a fantastic trip, no big adventures, a few little ones and a few to be expected disasters. People had been 99.99% marvellous, always keen to help. The making of new friends and a proper cultural explosion were all most welcome additions to my life. I was a bit sad that it was ending but this is what I had planned and I was ready to head back home.

Arriving at the port there was no drama in loading up. You never feel you’ve put enough tie straps on your bike, but equally to put 7 or 8 on might look a little over cautious. I was parked in a place with no other bike beside me, so I was happy with one. If VAA fell over, it wouldn’t hit another bike and that is all that mattered! Whenever I got back, the next day The crossing was good and, this time, I was up and ready to go for when we landed. We even got through customs pretty quicky and effortlessly. I even made it to the Morrisons fuel station. I must have saved 2 Euros. So well worth all of the mental anguish. The trip back home was uneventful. Busy roads, poor driving, awful road surfaces and long distances, were a bit of a bind but, I had one final groove to get into and I needed all of my concentration to make a suitable uneventful end to the trip. Getting to some god forsaken servo, somewhere near Cambridge, lower regions were telling me they needed some food, I was off the ferry at 06:30, so I foolishly went and ordered a McSomthing What a crushing disappointment of shit that was. It was nice to have a big tea though. I was trying to avoid big motorways, so took a direct route on A roads, which was OK but at times a little frustrating. It didn’t take me long to realise that I was, on the whole,frustrated. I wanted to be back home and it was still a long way away and nothing I was seeing was new interesting or at all inspiring. Got home The End Countries visited : 3 Mile/Km travelled: 2270/3632 Crashes: 0 Bike dropped: 2 Max speed: 100mph Amazed: Numerous Appalled: Never Would recommend: In an instant