“Take me to Portugal, take me to Spain …” Jim Morrison – circa ages ago

It’s Saturday morning and I am on the ferry to Santander (the port, not the high street bank).

Quick update on the previous post – Ditched the bum bag and got a small tank bag. Fits my phone in the top so can use sat nav for about 30mins before my battery dies. Love technology.

The few nights prior to leaving I was nervous as hell. “What have I forgot”, “What if …” Etc. Head full of it. The bike seemed much less concerned however.

The journey from the Potteries to Portsmouth was uninspiring. Hate riding motorways so wrote a few directions via A roads. However, I failed to add the ‘9’ to the end of A429 and wasted an hour looking for the A42 – Doh!

My tea and pee stop in Stow-in-the-wold then revealed my loobman had a dangling tube and was dribbling. Which clown fitted that!!? All good in the end and got to Pompey in a leisurely 6 hours, albeit windy, freezing cold and surrounded by distracted drivers eager to get home for weekend.

Hotel had no facilities for parking bikes. A local guy was at pains to tell me that a few bikes had been nicked from outside (and he would keep an eye out for me – The kindness of strangers!). Into reception I marched (limped to be precise, dodgey hip and saddle sore) and requested a room next to where I could lock it to something solid. I then slept with the window open so I could hear any potential thieves. Reality was all I could hear was a 50mph winds, thus had little sleep.

20 minutes to unlock and reload the bike and off I set to the port. Check-in and Embarking was interesting. Showed my passport but never once removed my helmet.

Jim Morrison never mentioned the ~30 hour journey time in his song as I recall. If he did the ferry trip would have probably become a pilgrimage of Doors fans, hence the cafe / bar would not be populated with just truck drivers, 2.4 children families and middle aged bikers in creased clothes with very tired eyes.

Home for the day …

I am not sure what the equivalent name is for turbulence on a ferry but this thing is now up and down like a fiddler’s elbow. I suspect the sick bags will be running low shortly.

Apologies for typos. They were getting uploaded before I proof read them. Thought I was just saving, not publishing

Oh BTW … I am getting down with kids …

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