Friday 7th August 2015
I slept well and woke about 06:30. The sun was already blazing down. It was going to be another warm day.
Today was the last day in Europe for Mark and I. This afternoon we both had ferries to catch back to the UK. Mark was booked on a ferry from IJmuiden to Newcastle, and I had a later ferry back to Harwich from the Hook of Holland. We had loads of time as we were only a couple of hours from Ijmuiden. My ferry didn't leave until 10pm, so I had all day to get there.
I went for a shower just after 7. As I got back to my tent, the Danish couple were starting to pack up their tent and belongings. They headed for the barn to get some breakfast. Mark and I followed suit. I could already smell the bacon.
Gijs had prepared a feast for us. Fried eggs, bacon, bread, cereal, cold meats and cheese, fruit juice, and lots of strong coffee. It was just the thing for starting our last day. We all sat and talked about our plans. The two young Harley riding guys, appeared and looked slightly better after sleeping off their beer and sunstroke. They admitted to still feeling rough. But, they soon perked up with a bit of food inside them. There was some rock music playing on the stereo in the bar while we eat. One of the tracks had a bit of digeridoo playing on it. With that Gijs pulls his digeridoo down from a shelf behind the bar, and starts playing along. He was good too.
Mark and I settled our bills after breakfast. We were not sure how much it was going to cost us, as Gijs just kept saying, " Don't worry about paying. Just take what you want and settle up when you leave". But, we had need not of worried. 42 Euros for both of us, including pitching tents, food and beer. Bargain! We were all made to feel like family rather than guests, by Gijs and Madeleine. I would happily stay there again, if I was travelling this way.
Mark and I set off from De Motorschuur at about 10:30. We are escorted out of the village by Gijs and Madeleine's two dogs. They sprinedt along side us barking away, until we get to the village signs. They then barked goodbye, and trotted back home. It is obviously something they do for all their guests.
As Mark and I don't have any plans for the day other than to catch our ferries, we decide to head for the Afsluitdijk. This is a huge 32 kilometer long dyke that separates the sea from a large fresh water lake on the north west coast of Holland.
This part of northern Europe is very flat and boring. The roads aren't the most exciting either. Most of them are fast A roads or motorways, with their main aim being to get traffic to and from the sea ports. They started off with smaller roads. These had signs to prohibit tractors, mopeds and bicycles. We were then directed onto busier roads with an increase in traffic volume the further west we went.
We arrived in Gronigen after about an hour. Heading around the city on the E22 I spotted the large Gasunie building. It has murals of the old factories and the Gronigen skyline on the side. It is supposed to have a full height waterfall and hanging gardens in the central stairwell. It looked pretty stunning from the outside.
We continued on the E22. A few junctions further on I spotted blue lights up ahead. A Police motorcyclist was riding the wrong way along the hard shoulder, and straight towards us. He was moving his bike to protect a broken down car a few metres further up the road. It looked like a bit of an unsafe thing to do, to me. I wonder if my `customers' back home would of approved.
Mark must of got bored with my slower pace today, and overtook after another half hour of riding. At Drachten, Mark signaled for a fuel stop and we stopped at the next services. I don't know if it was the petrol fumes or something else, but a strange thing happened to Mark as we left the services.
Thinking he must of been on a moped rather than his Caponord, Mark thought it would be a good idea to take the cycle path back to the main road. I chose to use the road instead. Two young boys on mountain bikes looked a little worried as a fully laden adventure bike headed straight for them! But, we got back to the main road without further incident.
We headed north west on the N31. The views were blocked by large trees on either side of the road. These continued for another ten kilometres, before the views opened up again to reveal more flat green farmland.
The road passed over and under a series of canals, using bridges and aqueducts. Some of these and the road layout looked very new. My satnav confirmed this by trying to direct me straight across a field. So much for up to date mapping!
A series of small industrial ports started appearing alongside the road as we got nearer the coast. The brightly painted boats looked like toys, rather than working vessels.
As we neared the sea dyke, signs for Amsterdam began to be displayed. This meant that there was less than two hundred kilometres of my trip to go.
As we joined the A7 motorway which would take us over the sea dyke the traffic slowed to a crawl. One side of the sluice gates was closed for maintenance, so a contraflow was in place. Several cyclists whizzed past on the cycle path along side the road. They were on racing cycles rather than the old lady bikes that seemed popular elsewhere in Holland.
Once across the sluice gates we were set free on our correct carriageway. The sea dyke was an impressive feat of engineering. It was a bit windy on our bikes in places though.
Half way along the dyke, an observation tower has been built. I would of stopped, but Mark had already passed the turning by the time I had spotted it.
Once on the other side of the dyke, Mark and I rode for another twenty kilometres before pulling over at a roadside picnic area. This is where we would go our separate ways. Mark's ferry was due to leave in just under two hours. We said goodbye, and I watched Mark disappear up the motorway. I found a shady spot under some trees, and have a bite to eat. After about an hour relaxing, I decided to set off towards Amsterdam.
I had loads of time, so I settled into a nice pace along the next stretch of motorway. I got buzzed by a Ferrari 360 spider going at considerably faster than the speed limit. It sounded lovely.
Arriving in Amsterdam, my satnav starts to play up. An accident has closed the route I want, and so I am diverted on to the A10 which circumnavigates the city to the East. This is a much longer route, but with plenty of time I don't panic.
Then a couple of junctions later, I am redirected again. This time I am heading back in the direction I have just come from! I got to a junction and have a choice of three routes to take. I think I need to take the first exit. My satnav says to continue as we are and then turn off a few kilometer further on. Just as I pass the exit, Miss Garmin changes here mind. " I said you should of turned off!". Then the screen goes blank while she has a sulk. Balls! If she had been a real woman sat on my handlebars nagging away, she would of got a punch in the face!
I was now heading for the back of a huge tailback. All I could see was stationary traffic and brake lights. Double Balls! Miss Garmin comes back online, and tells me to take the next exit, go under the junction and back along the other carriageway. As I passed under a sign gantry, I could see the E19 and Rotterdam signposted in the opposite direction. It's was two kilometres to the next junction.
Right, only one thing for it. I engaged my Englishman abroad riding skills to the max, and filtered at speed through the barely moving traffic, expertly avoiding all contact between door mirrors and my panniers. Lots of revs got the attention of the less attentive drivers, who move aside to let this crazy motorcyclist through.
I find my exit, and take the slip road down to the junction below. An impressive glass building in front of me gets my attention, and helps reduce my blood pressure. As I wait for the lights to change, I look around and see that there are some stunning looking buildings here.
With both me and Miss Garmin now back on track I leave Amsterdam towards Schiphol airport. It is pretty cool, as the huge planes taxi to the runways by crossing over the motorway.
I stop just after the airport at some services for a drink and an icecream. I sit for a while in the only shade there is, and calm down. It is 4pm and I have another thirty kilometres to go to get to the port. As I sit next to my bike, a young man walks over for a chat. He looks at all the stickers on my panniers, and asks me about my trip. He tells me that he is planning some trips on his bike soon. He wishes me a safe journey and walks back to his bike. He comes riding past a few seconds later on a little 125 Yamaha. I give him a wave and wish him well.
Leaving the services I come up behind a Police car on a recovery truck. This is a further reminder that as of Monday I would be back at work. I try not to dwell on the potential disaster zone waiting for me there.
A few kilometres from the port at the Hook of Holland, another diversion takes me around the agricultural greenhouses and industrial estates. There are sheep and goats grazing all around the estate, on any little patch of fresh grass.
There are some nice looking steel art installations too.
I latched on to a fast moving truck which seems to be heading in my direction. It was from a firm from Essex, so I guessed he is heading for the ferry.
There were lots of young ladies riding around on scooters and bicycles. It still freaked me out to see scooters riding along the pavements. None of the riders I see are wearing helmets. It is probably not cool and messes up their hair.
In a few minutes I was on the road into the port. I could see the red and white control tower in the distance which is where the ferry will dock.
On one of the roundabouts of the approach road, I found a photo shoot going on. A large pair of deckchairs were in the middle of the roundabout. Sat in the chairs were a newly wed couple. The photographer saw me coming and stepped out of the way. I waved for him to continue, and put my hazard lights on to warn other traffic. Not that there was any!
A few minutes later and the snaps are taken. I shouted good luck, and they waved me goodbye.
There was already a good queue waiting at the dock gates. I rode to the front and joined the other bikes. I grabbed a bottle of drink from my tank bag, and sat on a bench in the shade to wait until the gates opened. Another biker tells me that the gates usually opened at 7pm, and they started loading soon after ready for our 10pm departure.
He was right, and at seven the gates opened and the bikes are directed to gate 3 to check in. There are also lots of cyclists in our queue. We then all joined another queue behind the ferry. In front of me were three guys from Harlow. They had been touring France and Germany for the last nine days. There were also some German bikers on a pair of BMW's and a Candian who was touring the world on his old KLR650.
We waited a further hour before we are allowed on to the ferry. There was a special area for the bikes, where we all started to strap our bikes down. A nice chap on a new MV Augusta pulls up beside me. He has trouble finding somewhere to attach the straps, as there was not much to attach things to, on his fragile bike. With a bit of thinking we got him sorted though.
We waited a further hour before we are allowed on to the ferry. There was a special area for the bikes, where we all started to strap our bikes down. A nice chap on a new MV Augusta pulls up beside me. He has trouble finding somewhere to attach the straps, as there was not much to attach things to, on his fragile bike. With a bit of thinking we got him sorted though.
I found my cabin on deck 11. I am out of breath by the time I get there having hauled all my bike kit up seventeen flights of stairs. My cabin is right at the front in the middle. I have a captains view from my window. It looks like I am steering the ship!
I then realise I have left my overnight bag and change of clothes in my bike pannier. Balls! I have to go all the way back down to my bike and back to fetch them. I manage to get the lift back up again, as it looked more inviting than the stairs. I look a right mess, as I catch sight of myself in the mirrored walls of the lift. No wonder I was getting funny looks from the young German family who were sharing the lift with me.
Back in my cabin I found this little button on the air conditioning control panel. I sat under the vent for a while. I then had a shower and got changed into my other clothes, before taking a walk down to the passenger decks.
I had a bit of an explore and then go in search of something to eat. As this is the last day of my holiday, junk food fits the bill. A nice looking double cheeseburger and fries turns out to be crap. At least the Pepsi was icy cold.
I had a browse in the duty-free shop. Nothing much takes my fancy. So, I buy a bar of chocolate for desert. I made use the free WiFi in the passenger lounge to upload a couple of pictures to Facebook before heading back to my cabin. I sat and wrote up my diary as the sun goes down.
The captain announces that we will soon be under way, so I walked back down to the passenger deck again and head outside. It was still warm outside and I stayed out on the deck for half an hour as we chugged out to sea. It was just after eleven when I settled in for the night and go to bed. Tomorrow morning I would be home.
Saturday 8th August 2015
Once I had managed to tune out the sound of the air conditioner creaking in the ceiling panels, I drifted off to sleep. There was no off switch on the control panel and turning it right down made the creaking worse. I found a happy medium, and wedged a folded up piece of paper between the vent and the ceiling. It was tolerable. I was too tired to care in the end.
I woke around five, and heard a bit of noise coming from outside. Looking out of the porthole window, I could see we were just docking in Harwich. Shit! Did I miss the wake up call? I didn't think we were supposed to be docking until 06:30. I walked down to the main stairwell to see what's happening. The place was deserted. Back in my cabin, I checked the information service on the TV screen. It confirms that the ferry will be docking at six thirty.
I take a shower, get dressed and started assembling my things. An announcement comes over the tannoy at 05:30 to wake us up. Breakfast was now being served in three different restaurants. I didn't want breakfast. I only live twenty miles up the road. I just wanted to go home.
I took a walk down to the outside passenger deck for some air. The restaurants are rammed with aggravated kids who were still half asleep, and their even more aggravated parents. So, I bought an expensive cup of mediocre coffee and took it back to my room. I sat and watched the sun come up while the cargo was unloaded down below.
The call to say the cargo deck will be opening comes over the tannoy at six thirty. I grab my stuff and fight my way down to my bike. I started unstrapping it and managed to knock my helmet off the seat. There is no damage. The nice man with the MV holds on to it for me while I sorted out our two bikes, and hung the straps back on the wall.
The bikes have to wait for the cars and caravans in front to move before we can get off the ferry. With them out of the way we made our way off the ferry and towards passport control and the customs hall. All the bikes were directed to the `special lane' on the end. The car lanes are moving a lot faster. Then I see all the cyclists up at the front of our lane. Some of the bikers have had enough of waiting and have joined other queues. But, soon we all start moving again, and are making the same progress as the car lanes.
Signs on the booths tell us to remove our helmets. None of the bikers are doing so. When it is my turn I ask the attendant if he wants me to take my helmet off as I hand over my passport. "No it's fine". One look into the `eyes of truth' of the customs official, and I am handed my passport back. " Thank you, sir. Have a nice day". Well, how the hell he could tell if the passport photo matched my face through the small opening of my full face helmet, I will never know. It must be all that specialist training they have. At least this was one of the borders where they actually checked your passport.
With nothing to declare other than a bad attitude caused by breathing in the rich petrol fumes of the old Triumph in front of me, I passed through customs and out of the port. Telling myself to ride on the left and to ride clockwise round the roundabouts, I set off towards Colchester in a little convoy of other bikes.
A couple on a pair of new BMW's led the way. They were not hanging about. The MV guy and I tagged on to the back of them. The GS pair started to do some slightly risky overtakes, so I sat back a little. Using my training and picking the proper gaps soon had us all back together again. I blasted passed them as we got onto the A120 dual carriageway.
But, a few hundred metres later, blue lights lit the horizon and the traffic was diverted up the off slip at the next junction. The Police had closed the road. There was no diversion signs, so all the other traffic was looking a little lost. Balls! This would mean a longer ride through the middle of the city, or a detour out into the countryside. I chose to go the scenic route, and took the first exit off the roundabout. Mr. MV followed me, looking a little confused. But, as we started to turn off , I could see traffic going down onto the A120 the other side of the junction. Double Balls!
I performed a quick U-turn and signaled for Mr. MV to follow me. We headed back down the slip onto the A120 again and were once again going in the right direction. I found out later on the local news, that a truck had hit the bridge and caused some damage.
Twenty minutes later I was at a familiar junction. I was nearly home. I signaled and pulled off into Feering village. Mr.MV waved goodbye and headed for London.
I turned into my driveway, switched the ignition off, and I sat there on my bike for a bit. I had done it. I had ridden to the Nordkapp and back. All those dreams I had had over the years had become reality. 7389.7 kilometres in 25 days, crossing six countries.
I stood and looked at my mighty, and trusted Triumph Tiger 800XC as it sat there all weather beaten and covered in filth. I couldn't of wanted a better bike for the trip. Yes, it had a few tiny scrapes here and there. But, each one had a tale to tell. The panniers were still covered in mosquitoes from the Arctic. The oil leak Finn had spotted in Sweden had not got any worse, but was still there encrusted in dust. It looked like a proper adventure bike. I imagined I looked a little worse for wear too.
Then I looked at all the luggage I had on the back. That's a lot of unloading, a lot of unpacking, and a lot of cleaning to do!
I had really enjoyed this trip. I would recommend a motorcycle tour to Norway to anyone. I would love to go back again one day. Maybe in a campervan with a bike on the back. If you want to tick the Nordkapp off your bucket list, then do it. But, if you just want to see the stunning scenery, and ride the empty flowing roads, stick to the south west region. The area south of Bergen is the most stunning.
If you wish to venture further north, the Lofoten Islands are worth the trip. But, be warned. The distances between places on the map can be huge in Scandinavia. Both in mileage and in time. What can seem to be a few hundred kilometres, can take all day due to the winding nature of the road or having to wait for ferry crossings. This is where I fell foul a couple of times. Also don't try to rush. Take your time and have lots of stops. Be like a Norwegian. You will enjoy things a lot more.
Here is the last part of my vlog:
