Steinenberg

Place.

Inevitably I got less than a total of an hour’s sleep on the train that reached speeds of 250 kilometres per hour and stopped at the major German cities of Leipzig, Frankfurt and Stuttgart, before arriving at Ulm Hbf at 6.03am. I had just 7 minutes to get my connecting train and I ran around like a lunatic in the huge station trying to find an information board to identify what platform my next train would be departing from. In the nick of time, I found a print, yes printed, information board with the necessary information and was able to board the correct train.

Unfortunately this train arrived late into the Aulendorf. It arrived at 6.52am, but my next train was due to depart at 6.51am. As soon as we stopped I found a guard who told me my train was leaving from Platform 2. Inexplicably I got on to a single carriage train on Platform 3 that I thought had its destination as Kißlegg. As soon as I got on and the door closed, I realised my stupidity. I tried to open the door but it was locked. I had to run up to the driver & ask him to open the door. As he did my train on Platform 2 pulled away with me looking forlornly on.

The next train to Kißlegg was not until 8.03am, 80 minutes later. There was nothing for it but to sit out. I had a tepid cappuccino, which I drank in 2 minutes flat, then sat on the platform bench cursing my stupidity. At least Josef will get more of a lie in!!

I caught the 8.03am train & started cursing as it rolled into Kißlegg, just as my next train was due to depart. As it happens at least 20 of us (of all ages & sizes) were on the same next train & we all had to run at least 100 yards along the platform to our waiting train.

At 8.40am, I arrived in a very rainy Leutkirch. I rang Josef and less than 10 minutes later he arrived in his van and drove me to Moto Punto. My bike was sat proudly outside. We went inside where my panniers and top box were waiting. Josef made me a cup of coffee whilst I used his toilet facilities, enough said. I then repacked my panniers, got dressed into my motorcycle gear, then came the moment of payment. He gave me an invoice for €382, which I was quite happy about, well as happy as you can be when you have to spend money on unforeseen mechanical failures.

I pulled out my visa credit card, only for Josef to tell me his machine wouldn’t take visa. We looked at our options & it was agreed that Jackie could send the money to him by bank transfer, which I know is never easy to send money to a bank account abroad. Josef was so laid back & was happy that if not, for us to send him cash at a later date. (I later found out that Jackie was able to sort out a bank transfer to him).

Whilst on the phone to Jackie, Josef took another call, then passed his phone to me. The caller identified himself as Siggi, the man who stopped and gave me Josef’s number. Siggi gave me number and said he was a keen motorcyclist and regularly came to the uk. He wanted me to have his number and be ‘motorcycle friends’.

At 9.45am, the sun was now out and I finally mounted my motorcycle to head home. I was yawning and not sure that I could make it to midday, let alone 3pm, the usual checking in time for hotels.

At the 1st garage I got fuel, I couldn’t understand the cashier, but a trendy middle aged lady helped, then asked if I had travelled all the way from the UK in winter. I confirmed, to which she gave me a thumbs up and uttered the word “Respect”.

I headed north back to Ulm, around the southern side of Stuttgart and then onwards towards Luxembourg. I was riding on good fast roads and noticed that the Germans were considerate drivers, who read the road conditions well.

After the 2nd fuel stop, I got a second wind & I was feeling as fresh as a daisy but with a snotty nose. I went through just the odd shower until I arrived at the southern end of Luxembourg where it poured down in the Friday afternoon rush hour. It was not nice.

At 3.50pm, I entered Belgium and the heavens absolutely opened. It was torrential rain to the extent that there was so much water on the motorway that the white lines were not visible. It felt dangerous but I was now on a mission.

Just past La Louviere, the traffic came to a grinding halt which turned out to be a horrific crash on the opposite carriageway where a transit van had buried itself in to the back of an HGV. There was no chance that anyone in the front of the transit would have survived.

I was cold and wet so I stopped at the next services, bought a coffee, ate a packet of biscuits and contacted Jackie. She had kindly researched the cost of booking the next few channel tunnel trains and it was considerably cheaper to book the 07.18am train in the morning. I did and booked a cheap hotel for £46 in Calais. I wasn’t disappointed to stay in France for another night for only about £10 more than struggling to go straight home that night in my cold, damp clothes.

It was another 2 hour ride to my hotel, Hotel de la Plage, in Calais. I arrived at 9.10pm, checked in, stripped off my clothes, had a hot shower and fell asleep pretty much straight away.

Song of the Day - Respect by Aretha Franklin.

NMA Song of the Day - Get Me Out by New Model Army.Read more