Spain 2016
Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2016 6:33 pm
Spain 2016
Before you delve into one mans story of a road trip to Spain. I just thought I would explain that I write these blogs as much for myself as anyone else. As sad as it seems I look back over my previous stories and it brings the memories right back. So if you can wade through, great, if you just want to look at the images, that’s fine.
I tried to keep this trip report as short as possible bearing in mind we were away for nine days.
I failed.
Originally we were going to go to the Alps but the weather reports were not good and a lot of the Alpine passes we wanted to travel to, or through, were blocked by snow still. This was verified at Calais port by a couple on a BMW 1200GS who had travelled down that way and had to make numerous detours and changes of plan. So ten days before departure we decided Northern Spain would be a good bet. JJ had a route sort of planned as he was going to try this run on his 1970’s BMW later in the year. However we found out about the fuel strike on the Friday as we were going to travel on the following Thursday. We kept scanning the internet for more information to see if the situation was going to get better or worse. It was getting worse. I made a few phone calls over the next few days just to see what every ones opinion was, as to what we should do? The consensus was to wait until two nights before, then make a decision. On the Tuesday I rang BCP and said the fuel problem is worse not better it looks like we are going to turn left at Calais into Belgium then down through Germany. ‘Oh’, came the reply, he said he had spoken to JJ and they were getting enough fuel together to get to Spain.
How on earth are we going to get enough fuel on the bike along with all our kit to travel about 750mls with no fill ups. I rang JJ with my head spinning. I reasoned that Germany would be safer and I didn’t fancy running out of fuel somewhere in the Pyrenees. My protestations were met with a stony silence……. We are going to Spain aren’t we JJ. Give me twenty minutes I’ll see what I can sort and I’ll get back to you. I manged to find 4x5 ltr fuel cans, 1x2ltr and 7x1ltr containers. I don’t know how, but I then managed to find a sports bag big enough and disguise them well enough to get through customs without arousing suspicion. So did the others. All in all I took, 36ltrs of fuel either in the bikes tanks or in containers. I could hardly lift the sports bag onto the seat. It was plainly, a ridiculous situation. Our plans to travel light were most definitely out of the window.
The ferry was on Thursday and we were hoping to catch the 11.05 am crossing to Calais. Myself and JJ were staying at Petes on the Wed night so we could get a very early start on the Thursday morning. We’ve stayed at Petes a couple of times now. Mrs BCP, better known as ‘Woar Gert’ (apparently a Black Country term of endearment) is very accommodating but it was a bit of a squeeze with four in a bed. A curry was on the cards for the wed night.
So me and JJ turn up at Petes with JJ’s van stinking of fuel, like some bullet riddled WW2 bomber. We felt a bit giddy and sick as we got out of the van. We swapped the bikes into Petes van had a quick natter and headed off to the local curry house. Which wasn’t local at all. I felt like I’d walked the Black Country Way by the time we got there. JJ was well happy as we had passed a goat tethered in the field we walked through. JJ has a thing for goats. The goat looked suitably and understandably nervous. Curry downed, we then took a taxi to one of Pete’s local hostelries. All was going well until a local Black Country lad started to speak to us. I casually mentioned in passing that Pete was not from around these parts but was a Brummie (he isn’t) who had recently moved over from Digbeth (Birmingham) but was originally from the Hagley Road (Birmingham). Well what can I say. The roof nearly came off the building. Petes parentage was called into question on numerous occasions, at great volume and he was asked in no uncertain terms what the \++*&* he was &^%$££$ doing in this *((*&^& pub. The language was dreadful. Pete tried to protest his innocence but alas the die was cast. Honestly, how we didn’t end up fighting I’ll never know. It was funny though.
This is Pete on the left and his new best mate just before I said Pete was a Brummie
As we wobbled back to Petes, he kept mumbling ‘woartoveye towld yow, them dow lark Brummies up ere, yowl gerus lincht man’.
Day 1 Thursday Dudley to Dover to Les Andelys, France. Miles for the day, 160 miles
After about 3hrs kip were in the van on the way to Dover. Now Petes van was stinking of petrol. Only about 100 ltrs in the back. Just before the Port we take a left and up the steep winding hill to the secure parking we had booked. The young lady who booked us in was, err very nice. Nige would have referred to her as ‘proper tidy’. We unpacked all our kit. It was about 10.30 in the morning and getting quite warm. None of us had tried all our gear on…and the fuel, until now. It was a ludicrous situation, stupidly top heavy, with hardly any room on the seats . Me and Pete had our fuel disguised in very large bags, JJ had a top box on the back of his bike and another one strapped to the seat behind him both with fuel in. We literally wobbled out of the car park back down the very steep hill towards the ferry. I have never been on a bike that felt so unstable and indeed unsafe. We got to the bottom of the hill and stopped, just, at the roundabout. I looked over at JJ and asked if everything was ok. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anyone look so pained and forlorn sitting astride a motorbike. All he said was ‘I can’t do this, I want to go home’. This cheered me up no end as I was thinking exactly the same. He went on, ‘We are going to have to rethink this, there’s no way I can get to Spain like this’. I glanced at Pete and could see his knees were about a foot past the front of his leg shields . We wobbled to the ferry to meet up with Nige, not quite knowing what this first day held for us. I don’t know how but Pete has a massive disagreement with the lady who’s booking us into the Port. I thought security will be called any minute and we’ll be carted off. I think the argument ended with Pete saying in his poshest voice ‘I’m a customer don’t you know. So don’t be so rude.’
We couldn’t see Nige at the port so we had a natter with all the other bikers.
Waiting for the ferry
On this one you can just make out JJ's twin box, I'm going to ruin your holiday, box arrangement
The Ferry itself, was like a nut house. There were screaming and shouting school kids everywhere . Before long we’re at Calais and hit the A16 past the ‘refugee, jungle camp’ towards Abbeville. There was a mass of French strikers on the opposite side of the carriageway blocking all the traffic and the first few petrol stations were closed completely. I was leading and trying to keep the speed between 45-50mph. Incidentally, this was the speed for most of the nine day trip. Anyway back to reality. My backside was absolutely creasing me . Being perched on the front was agony after only twenty miles or so. Another petrol station was looming and I could make out a figure waving at us. Nige. We pulled in and he joined the happy, not, trio of Cubbists. Our destination for that night was a small town called Les Andelys, situated on the banks of the river Seine, about 145 mls from Calais. At Abbeville we took the A28 towards Rouen and came off at Neufchatel-en-Bray and went across typical rural French roads to Les Handlebars, our new name for Les Andelys. We stopped at the top of the town for food at the supermarket.
Les andelys our first stop of the day
It was a bit rough so two of us kept an eye on the bikes. All provisioned up we made our way through the small town to the campsite. The town was actually quite nice as indeed was the campsite situated right on the banks of the Seine. In my best French I managed to book us in. We were very relieved to get off the bikes for the day. Without doubt the worst 145 mls on a bike ever. We set up camp and set about re arranging fuel containers etc, to try to create more room. We refuelled from our cans and I think all of us threw one fuel container away, at the campsite, to create that much needed room. It was still early so we made our way to the campsite bar and had a few beers and a basic but very tasty meal of Normandie Poullet.
Les Andelys campsite and bar
View of Les Andelys Chateau from the campsite bar
Drink? It would be rude not to, cheers
We ate our meals watching the barges go past on the Seine, very relaxing. I nearly wet myself laughing when Pete mentioned JJ’s plight of the top box perched on his seat right behind him. Pete said the box had ridden JJ all the way from Calais like Sea Biscuit. Proper funny.
Boats on the Seine
Day2. Friday. Les Andelys to Ruffec. Miles for the day, 267 miles
We woke up at about 7.30am a bit later than we normally do. Like previous trips we were a bit disorganised on the first morning. We finally got our act together and pottered out of the campsite about 9.15am. We’d only done a handful of miles and JJ pulls over. ‘I think I’ve got a puncture’. Out comes the pressure gauge 29psi, hmm that’s a bit low. Out comes the bicycle pump and after about 2 minutes of vigorous pumping JJ manages to lose about a pint of sweat and another 5 psi out of his tyre. There’s no puncture, just a knackered pump and a knackered and frustrated JJ. Like a Night in shining armour I pull out my Ebay special CO2 tyre inflator kit and all of a sudden the tyre is up to 55psi. Err best let a bit out eh JJ. JJ suitably impressed, vows to buy one of said inflators. Our route to Ruffec took us through Evreux, Tours, Chatterault, Poitiers then into the small town of Ruffec. This was the day the lad from the C90Club site came past in his MX-5 and gave us a wave. At least I think he was waving? The seating position on the Cubs was now far better, not perfect, but ok. The weight however was still an issue. But we reasoned that the more miles we do the lighter the bikes will get.
Pete fills up on the way, from on of his smaller fuel containers. I said it was ridiculous
I found myself a Barbie doll by a roundabout on the way to Ruffec. Pete was quite taken with her
Just a wee bit overloaded, perhaps
The weather had been kind to us for the first two days, this was not to last. All the bikes were running well and coping with the weight ok, power wise. A sterner test of the Cubs lay ahead. We headed into Ruffec, up and into the main town then out the other side in search of the campsite. Half a mile later we arrived. We booked in and were shown to our pitch for the night. The weather was really quite warm and still, a lovely summers evening.
Ruffec campsite
Curry for tea? Now there's a surprise
Good Lord, what a mess you lot. We did leave it tidy
View across the French fields from our pitch
Pete, Nige and JJ headed for the nearest Supermarche and I wandered down to the campsite bar where I got nattering to and drinking with a Dutch guy. Nice bloke. Dunno what he made of me? The lads took longer than I thought and all I could do was drink and talk. Something that comes quite easy to me. Finally they got back and I bade my farewell to my new mate and wandered back to the pitch. Pete had bought some dreadful cider to drink I think it cost about 40p a gallon. An English guy came over to us and was talking about the fuel shortage and how he was worried about getting enough fuel to get back to Calais in his camper van. Pete had only just discarded his 20ltr metal Jerry can next to the nearest caravan. He offered it to the guy who was proper made up with it. Pete was made up to get rid of it. We hit the sack at a reasonable hr about 11.00pm from recollection.
To be continued
Before you delve into one mans story of a road trip to Spain. I just thought I would explain that I write these blogs as much for myself as anyone else. As sad as it seems I look back over my previous stories and it brings the memories right back. So if you can wade through, great, if you just want to look at the images, that’s fine.
I tried to keep this trip report as short as possible bearing in mind we were away for nine days.
I failed.
Originally we were going to go to the Alps but the weather reports were not good and a lot of the Alpine passes we wanted to travel to, or through, were blocked by snow still. This was verified at Calais port by a couple on a BMW 1200GS who had travelled down that way and had to make numerous detours and changes of plan. So ten days before departure we decided Northern Spain would be a good bet. JJ had a route sort of planned as he was going to try this run on his 1970’s BMW later in the year. However we found out about the fuel strike on the Friday as we were going to travel on the following Thursday. We kept scanning the internet for more information to see if the situation was going to get better or worse. It was getting worse. I made a few phone calls over the next few days just to see what every ones opinion was, as to what we should do? The consensus was to wait until two nights before, then make a decision. On the Tuesday I rang BCP and said the fuel problem is worse not better it looks like we are going to turn left at Calais into Belgium then down through Germany. ‘Oh’, came the reply, he said he had spoken to JJ and they were getting enough fuel together to get to Spain.
How on earth are we going to get enough fuel on the bike along with all our kit to travel about 750mls with no fill ups. I rang JJ with my head spinning. I reasoned that Germany would be safer and I didn’t fancy running out of fuel somewhere in the Pyrenees. My protestations were met with a stony silence……. We are going to Spain aren’t we JJ. Give me twenty minutes I’ll see what I can sort and I’ll get back to you. I manged to find 4x5 ltr fuel cans, 1x2ltr and 7x1ltr containers. I don’t know how, but I then managed to find a sports bag big enough and disguise them well enough to get through customs without arousing suspicion. So did the others. All in all I took, 36ltrs of fuel either in the bikes tanks or in containers. I could hardly lift the sports bag onto the seat. It was plainly, a ridiculous situation. Our plans to travel light were most definitely out of the window.
The ferry was on Thursday and we were hoping to catch the 11.05 am crossing to Calais. Myself and JJ were staying at Petes on the Wed night so we could get a very early start on the Thursday morning. We’ve stayed at Petes a couple of times now. Mrs BCP, better known as ‘Woar Gert’ (apparently a Black Country term of endearment) is very accommodating but it was a bit of a squeeze with four in a bed. A curry was on the cards for the wed night.
So me and JJ turn up at Petes with JJ’s van stinking of fuel, like some bullet riddled WW2 bomber. We felt a bit giddy and sick as we got out of the van. We swapped the bikes into Petes van had a quick natter and headed off to the local curry house. Which wasn’t local at all. I felt like I’d walked the Black Country Way by the time we got there. JJ was well happy as we had passed a goat tethered in the field we walked through. JJ has a thing for goats. The goat looked suitably and understandably nervous. Curry downed, we then took a taxi to one of Pete’s local hostelries. All was going well until a local Black Country lad started to speak to us. I casually mentioned in passing that Pete was not from around these parts but was a Brummie (he isn’t) who had recently moved over from Digbeth (Birmingham) but was originally from the Hagley Road (Birmingham). Well what can I say. The roof nearly came off the building. Petes parentage was called into question on numerous occasions, at great volume and he was asked in no uncertain terms what the \++*&* he was &^%$££$ doing in this *((*&^& pub. The language was dreadful. Pete tried to protest his innocence but alas the die was cast. Honestly, how we didn’t end up fighting I’ll never know. It was funny though.
This is Pete on the left and his new best mate just before I said Pete was a Brummie
As we wobbled back to Petes, he kept mumbling ‘woartoveye towld yow, them dow lark Brummies up ere, yowl gerus lincht man’.
Day 1 Thursday Dudley to Dover to Les Andelys, France. Miles for the day, 160 miles
After about 3hrs kip were in the van on the way to Dover. Now Petes van was stinking of petrol. Only about 100 ltrs in the back. Just before the Port we take a left and up the steep winding hill to the secure parking we had booked. The young lady who booked us in was, err very nice. Nige would have referred to her as ‘proper tidy’. We unpacked all our kit. It was about 10.30 in the morning and getting quite warm. None of us had tried all our gear on…and the fuel, until now. It was a ludicrous situation, stupidly top heavy, with hardly any room on the seats . Me and Pete had our fuel disguised in very large bags, JJ had a top box on the back of his bike and another one strapped to the seat behind him both with fuel in. We literally wobbled out of the car park back down the very steep hill towards the ferry. I have never been on a bike that felt so unstable and indeed unsafe. We got to the bottom of the hill and stopped, just, at the roundabout. I looked over at JJ and asked if everything was ok. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anyone look so pained and forlorn sitting astride a motorbike. All he said was ‘I can’t do this, I want to go home’. This cheered me up no end as I was thinking exactly the same. He went on, ‘We are going to have to rethink this, there’s no way I can get to Spain like this’. I glanced at Pete and could see his knees were about a foot past the front of his leg shields . We wobbled to the ferry to meet up with Nige, not quite knowing what this first day held for us. I don’t know how but Pete has a massive disagreement with the lady who’s booking us into the Port. I thought security will be called any minute and we’ll be carted off. I think the argument ended with Pete saying in his poshest voice ‘I’m a customer don’t you know. So don’t be so rude.’
We couldn’t see Nige at the port so we had a natter with all the other bikers.
Waiting for the ferry
On this one you can just make out JJ's twin box, I'm going to ruin your holiday, box arrangement
The Ferry itself, was like a nut house. There were screaming and shouting school kids everywhere . Before long we’re at Calais and hit the A16 past the ‘refugee, jungle camp’ towards Abbeville. There was a mass of French strikers on the opposite side of the carriageway blocking all the traffic and the first few petrol stations were closed completely. I was leading and trying to keep the speed between 45-50mph. Incidentally, this was the speed for most of the nine day trip. Anyway back to reality. My backside was absolutely creasing me . Being perched on the front was agony after only twenty miles or so. Another petrol station was looming and I could make out a figure waving at us. Nige. We pulled in and he joined the happy, not, trio of Cubbists. Our destination for that night was a small town called Les Andelys, situated on the banks of the river Seine, about 145 mls from Calais. At Abbeville we took the A28 towards Rouen and came off at Neufchatel-en-Bray and went across typical rural French roads to Les Handlebars, our new name for Les Andelys. We stopped at the top of the town for food at the supermarket.
Les andelys our first stop of the day
It was a bit rough so two of us kept an eye on the bikes. All provisioned up we made our way through the small town to the campsite. The town was actually quite nice as indeed was the campsite situated right on the banks of the Seine. In my best French I managed to book us in. We were very relieved to get off the bikes for the day. Without doubt the worst 145 mls on a bike ever. We set up camp and set about re arranging fuel containers etc, to try to create more room. We refuelled from our cans and I think all of us threw one fuel container away, at the campsite, to create that much needed room. It was still early so we made our way to the campsite bar and had a few beers and a basic but very tasty meal of Normandie Poullet.
Les Andelys campsite and bar
View of Les Andelys Chateau from the campsite bar
Drink? It would be rude not to, cheers
We ate our meals watching the barges go past on the Seine, very relaxing. I nearly wet myself laughing when Pete mentioned JJ’s plight of the top box perched on his seat right behind him. Pete said the box had ridden JJ all the way from Calais like Sea Biscuit. Proper funny.
Boats on the Seine
Day2. Friday. Les Andelys to Ruffec. Miles for the day, 267 miles
We woke up at about 7.30am a bit later than we normally do. Like previous trips we were a bit disorganised on the first morning. We finally got our act together and pottered out of the campsite about 9.15am. We’d only done a handful of miles and JJ pulls over. ‘I think I’ve got a puncture’. Out comes the pressure gauge 29psi, hmm that’s a bit low. Out comes the bicycle pump and after about 2 minutes of vigorous pumping JJ manages to lose about a pint of sweat and another 5 psi out of his tyre. There’s no puncture, just a knackered pump and a knackered and frustrated JJ. Like a Night in shining armour I pull out my Ebay special CO2 tyre inflator kit and all of a sudden the tyre is up to 55psi. Err best let a bit out eh JJ. JJ suitably impressed, vows to buy one of said inflators. Our route to Ruffec took us through Evreux, Tours, Chatterault, Poitiers then into the small town of Ruffec. This was the day the lad from the C90Club site came past in his MX-5 and gave us a wave. At least I think he was waving? The seating position on the Cubs was now far better, not perfect, but ok. The weight however was still an issue. But we reasoned that the more miles we do the lighter the bikes will get.
Pete fills up on the way, from on of his smaller fuel containers. I said it was ridiculous
I found myself a Barbie doll by a roundabout on the way to Ruffec. Pete was quite taken with her
Just a wee bit overloaded, perhaps
The weather had been kind to us for the first two days, this was not to last. All the bikes were running well and coping with the weight ok, power wise. A sterner test of the Cubs lay ahead. We headed into Ruffec, up and into the main town then out the other side in search of the campsite. Half a mile later we arrived. We booked in and were shown to our pitch for the night. The weather was really quite warm and still, a lovely summers evening.
Ruffec campsite
Curry for tea? Now there's a surprise
Good Lord, what a mess you lot. We did leave it tidy
View across the French fields from our pitch
Pete, Nige and JJ headed for the nearest Supermarche and I wandered down to the campsite bar where I got nattering to and drinking with a Dutch guy. Nice bloke. Dunno what he made of me? The lads took longer than I thought and all I could do was drink and talk. Something that comes quite easy to me. Finally they got back and I bade my farewell to my new mate and wandered back to the pitch. Pete had bought some dreadful cider to drink I think it cost about 40p a gallon. An English guy came over to us and was talking about the fuel shortage and how he was worried about getting enough fuel to get back to Calais in his camper van. Pete had only just discarded his 20ltr metal Jerry can next to the nearest caravan. He offered it to the guy who was proper made up with it. Pete was made up to get rid of it. We hit the sack at a reasonable hr about 11.00pm from recollection.
To be continued