Sunday, we get up at the sound of sparrows fart... or was that the sound of Bowsers' groaning as he lurched around all hangdog hangover'd , doing his packing up. Or maybe it was the alternative peal of bells aka portaloo doors banging as the early risers relieve themselves of last nights load.
For us anyway, it was a case of get everything re-packed grab a quick cuppa and say our goodbyes to all the folk who had muttered envious comments about the coming journey the previous night. Pete emerged looking far too healthy for the amount he had drunk the night before
Okay, 9:30 and we need to be checked in by 13:00 to get on the boat which sails at 14:00. A mere 120 odd miles in 3 and half hours... simples.
But no breakfast due to the size of the queue so a quick blat, south on fen land back roads, then down the A1 onto the A14 making rapid progress, then M11 and stop at the services near Stanstead for fuel and a pasty. 10:30 still got 90 odd miles to go ... no probs.
Back onto the M11 then sweeping on to the M25...roadworks...hit the PTT .."We should make it okay...if there are no more hold ups" ... clear of the roadworks and their narrow lanes and into the "bike lane " we go , carving through the Sunday snarl up like a hot knife through lard, sweeping into gaps between 4x4's and the odd white van.
Dartford 10 miles says the sign.."Bugger" says I , as we hit the almost stationary tailback for the crossing. Wind has picked up so loaded up with panniers and roll bags we are both dreading it. We come down the other side with no side wind issues after all due to the slower than normal speed over the bridge, but with 60 odd miles still to go... it's 12:20.
We hit separate toll booths to speed up the process, "We need to nail it, to make it !"..."Copy that " says Jules with the irony in her voice loud and clear over the airwaves. We take off like scalded cats into the maelstrom of the usual Dartford Le Mans start, to try and get into a moving lane. I damn near stoppie the fully loaded GS as a white van carves into my lane inches in front of me, as Jules takes off into the distance. ABS does have it's uses.
I catch up with Jules just after the M2 turning so it is M20 all the way now, and making progress at , ahem, "slightly above" the National Limit is a task that our bikes don't often have to do for extended periods so we have a potential maintenance morning tomorrow. The GPS is now a useful tool; as it is able to show an ETA using motorway routing... of 13:30!
We keep it nailed almost to our redline's and the ETA drops steadily by the mile. The EuroTunnel terminus hoves into view. The temptation to take the hit on the cheap Norfolk Line ferry fares, and let the train take the strain flares briefly in our minds ,but the GPS now says ETA 13:10... a few more minutes at license risking speed should see us on board before it sets sail!
Suddenly we are at the end of the motorway! Seemingly now dawdling along the A-road into Dover, I check and decide an indicated 80 MPH even at this point is a wee bit fast for a potential speed trap road. ETA now says 13:05, we should just do it by the skin of our teeth.
We start to hit static of other users on the radios as we enter the Norfolk Line check in queue, so decide to turn them off and save the batteries. Paperwork handed over and we get our boarding cards... 13:30! Then after the deep joy , well for me , of handing over passports and "crossing the border", we get pulled by in by Customs. Bummer... how long will this take.
Customs lady responds to my helpful grin with a face that has sucked it's fair share of lemons.
I got the usual "Have you ...yadayadayada" questions... then came.."Have you any penknives,multi-tools or pepper spray in your luggage?" Okay , pepper spray was pushing it , but with a small gulp and fighting an urge to touch the tank bag (with a multi-tool and a penknife in), I replied "Not that I am aware of"... not fully a lie and not fully the truth...
Next question made me happy... "Where are you heading and for how long?"
Hmm lets see , "tonight a Campanile in Dunkirk, tomorrow a B&B near Spa, then Klotten on the Mosel, then back up to the Haute Fagnes for the following weekend" of course not declaring we were off to meet a bunch of Belgian and Dutch friends and some more of Excalibur MCC to go to a rally!
Suddenly it seemed more of a journey...
13:59! We made the boat with seconds to spare; the gates raised up just after we rode over them and the ropes were being tossed off of the quayside as the bikes got tied down... next stop Dunkirk!
