Pedro

I have met a one dude from Yorkshire previous to this trip, met him several times in Germany, and he's a very nice man. For some reason I expected people from up there to feel friendlier than the south, but that was not the case.

When I said in the previous post that staying in people's homes doesn't happen in my Morocco trips, that wasn't really fair to Morocco. Indeed they are a most hospitable people, it doesn't happen to me a lot maybe because I'm not a sociable person, all of these people are people Sofia got to meet through motorcycling when she lived in the UK. One after the other they all connect and are still friends after all these years. To have that with people that you've met because you dropped a wallet and they came after you to return it, or such coincidences is both a testament to the quality of these people and Sofia as well. Anyway, being a celebrity, I was quickly made to feel at home too Simon and Carol, and little Aubrey, were legends, we got to their place, had a shower, and were quickly out for a proper Indian. I don't know what the dishes were or their names, but a couple were ultra tasty, something with what looked like spinach pesto was my favourite, and I pooped green for two days. The first morning there we went to visit @Sofia's old flat in Sunningdale from many moons ago. It's a lovely neighborhood that I know she misses a lot along with the life she had at the time, it was a little teary eyed moment. I gave her some space as she was on the phone with an old friend who lives next door but wasn't in country. ("In country" sounds like he's in the SAS, he was just on holidays). Then, we made our way via small pretty streets to Windsor's farm shop, where they sell groceries, of which some are grown within the property, others are grown in Chile, Spain, Holand, etc, the butcher part of it looked really good like most butchers do in England. Every cut of meat neatly organized and proficiently displaced, if you go to a butcher in Portugal you better know what you want or else you're screwed. Next to that shop there's a café, which is were we went to meet the legend that is Pat Creagh. Pat is an Irishman who teaches motorcycling stuff, and somehow got to be a good friend of Sofia's back in the day, he has very good jacket taste and we hit it off instantly, I call this picture the binary code. The Irish and the Portuguese have a lot in common as a people and particularly the northern Portuguese have a similarly colorful language to the Irish. We became friends since our sense of humor is similar, plus we both enjoy giving Sofia a hard time for motorcycling things. I think we were meant to go out on the bikes to go somewhere, but it started to properly rain so we went inside and had lots of coffee, along with a bacon bap for lunch. I can see the merits of bacon baps and coffee now, it's very wrong but feels right. It was a good day so far, nice time was had and he's a cool dude. On our way back, after all the heavy rain the streets were a little slippery for the Speed Triple's now bald sport Pirellis. Pirelli is a brand of tires, Sofia likes them because they're Italian... Stopped by Windsor, the man wasn't home: That afternoon was ended with some wine back home, and then going out along with Carol and Simon and Aubrey to meet up with Nick and Less for dinner in a Chinese place they like to go to. I had a lot of beer that night, a good time was had, I could also get used to be driven to and from restaurants. As always, I was charming and everyone loved me. We got home, and stayed up late chatting on the sofa. The thing these people have with having a group of proper friends who share this one thing in common is pretty nice. We went to bed during a thunder storm on the 17th, I didn't feel like sleeping so ended up trying to take pictures of lighting: Monday and we woke up a little late I think, or woke up early but only got out of the house late, something like that. First order of business was heading over to Triumph West London, Sofia was looking forward to visiting the former Jack Lilley dealership where she bought her previous bikes, including this one. There the Speed Triple would have an oil and filter change, a new chain, and a much needed set of new tires, Michelin this time to me make it more rain and Portugal friendly, still sport tires though as one can only compromise on style so far. I looked around and found a Denali horn on display, just what the the Triumph needed to warn me against being on the wrong side of the road! They were missing matching tires for the front or rear as we hadn't warned them in advance, so the bike was to stay in until the next day, no worries. I had a sit on a few Triumphs: I quite like the Rocket on paper, but it's huge in real life. The Speedmaster felt nice and comfy, it's a classy looking thing too. The Bonneville was something I never even considered owning but does feel like a nice bike. We arranged a test ride on both a T120 Bonnie and a 900 too, Sofia was keep on trying something maybe more nimble than the Speed Triple at very low speeds. I can see how she missed dealing with people in this dealership though, the guys at the Triumph places in Portugal are mostly sexist twats, with a hint or two of incompetence thrown in. She went and talked to the mechanic handling her bike like a long lost friend, and the fact he remembers her is why she missed this place. Off on the Triumphs, the 900 felt like sitting on a toilet after getting off of my tall GS. After a few miles we stopped to change bikes by the riverside: I have to say the T120 is a sweet bike, I didn't ride it on proper roads and at speed but it's got an ultra smooth engine, slick gear change (anything is after a GS), nice and torquey, nice and smooth over bumps, the brakes are pretty shit though. I liked it, felt like one could just through a bag on it and ride to wherever, good bike! I did find the front odd on roundabouts, but with an 18 inch wheel and weird suspension it was bound to. From there, we both got on the GS and went over to visit Brooklands, I was curious to see a life sized banking. Brooklands is mainly run by enthusiasts, they've got volunteers (mainly older dudes) eager to share stuff with you, really nice place. I love me an old Bugatti racer, very few things cooler: Senna's car with Senna's steering wheel might be cooler, though. I have to admit that touching that steering wheel felt special, I did it under supervision and encouraged to do so though, not disrespectfully. You see these cars sitting there all clean and shiny and quiet, and then read what they used to do and it brings you a sense of respect, they're beasts not delicate museum pieces: Like I said: The downpipes, @XTreme: It's hard to imagine the racing that happened here by looking at it. I wonder why they have fences. We did have a look at airplanes, they're not really my thing but everything was done in a very respectful way towards veterans and the war effort. British adventurers at their best, taking this around the world: Brookland is worth a visit, you can easily spend a few hours there, very cool place. Better plan on staying a few hours to make it worth the entry price, too. Next morning we were both on the GS as the Triumph was at the dealership waiting for the missing tire. We went to see MotoLegends, it was an expensive visit as Sofia ended up being encouraged (by me) to replace her helmet with a new one, taking advantage of their fitment thing when they replace inner pads for different thicknesses makes a difference for someone that is between sizes. This is the face of being happy to be in England. A brief visit to a very smart vet who makes dog legs out of digital printing, and we continued on back to collect the Speed Triple, stopping for breakfast at a cool looking pub / restaurant. With the Speed Triple wearing new shoes, we came back home to find Carol starting to prepare a middle eastern feast. The smell of spices and freshly chopped coriander sent me up for a quick shower in a hurry, to come back and open a bottle of red wine, sit back and enjoy the smells of good cooking and the talking to friends. A really great evening was had. On the following morning, we would be riding on.

They paint tanks by hand and have a guy doing the lines on the paintwork by hand. Also there are 100 year old lathes that are still used to make prototypes of some engine parts. The tricky measuring machines were in climate control environment as well as the R&D, locked way to protect secrets. I did find it amusing, but was a cool place to visit anyway. Thanks, for the compliment and the hospitality offer!

You're right, Chatsworth. It's really a pretty area all over that region. Peasants always ruining things!

Morning, and again I wake up well rested from a night spent in a silent home. I love silence during the night. We pack and today there would be no scenic roads, after an emotional goodbye to Barbara, who is a class act and just lovely, we get on a the M6 and go to Hinckley to visit Triumph. It takes maybe 1,5 hours to get there and again I have a chance to see motorways. There is this thing you guys have which is a smart motorway, it puzzles me. I'm from a country where we have dum motorway with a safety area to stop if you break down, it makes no sense to me but then I see some of the sheer volume of cars trundling along and realize it's a real problem and someone must be trying to come up with imaginative solutions for it, I've never seen so many cars all going down the same road as on this day, 3 or 4 lanes all packed with vehicles doing more or less the same speed. You have to respect the way people do that in a very controlled non latin way, with way more respect for other road users that what I have at my home country. We make it to Triumph. We had nothing booked, but Sofia talked to the very friendly girl at the cafe and got us in for one, happy days. You´re not allowed to take pictures inside the factory, I did take one before the guy told us that but I felt guilty about it so won't post it The tour went on for a couple of hours, and was interesting, the enthusiasm the man had for the place was cool to see. During said tour Sofia learned that her bike was built / assembled here and not Thailand, this made her smile from ear to ear but there are no pictures because it was inside the factory. After said tour, we had a pretty crappy sandwich for lunch, and a walk around the small museum they have there. A few very cool bikes, but one particular one really left me star struck. How pretty is this? Me, star struck: I would have preferred if it was uncleaned and still with grass and mud all over it, but it's still pretty cool! From Hinckley we would get on the motorway again and head over to West London near Woking. We would there meet up with Simon and Carol, some more of Sofia's dear friends, and stay with them and they son for another couple of days. I have nothing like this in my Morocco trips, showing up to people's homes and be given a bed is nice. Before leaving, someone had to strike a pose:

So, to prevent it from sliding into a discussion about Brexit, I'll carry on with the report. Woke up after a very nice nights sleep, and I'll tell you something really nice about the UK. The way houses are made, along with the way the towns and neighborhoods are spread about mean that you can really have a nice nights sleep in a very quiet location even if it's very close to a main road. It helps that traffic doesn't move too fast but it really is a contrast to what I am used to. And today I would realize something totally different between the landscape in England and all other places I was on before. Barbara had a thing to do in town and while she was away I took her bike out, her trusty Triumph Street Triple, and got it ready to go. Also gave the bikes a wipe from all the rain, and we were on. Sofia was super enthusiastic about this day, she used to ride around here a lot when she got her previous Speed Triple, we headed to the Cat and Fiddle for a morning tea. First a pose: And then heartbreak. Turns out her much loved pub went bankrupt a few years ago and it's be resurrected as a distillery, they now serve their our Gin and Whiskey, not any kind of tea or coffee. It was a little weird to be told that they don't serve any hot beverages in a pub that's next to a road. The point of it eludes me, but then again it is not a pub anymore. I did have a cold sparkling water, and we were directed to the room where we could sit, told where we could and couldn't go, and asked to log in out license plates before sitting in order to use the parking lot. A little too weird. Sofia was disappointed, but we moved on in high spirits: Then headed to Cromford, and shortly visited what might be the world's first factory and arguably the birthplace of the industrial revolution. An interesting place, a lot of the original place is gone, it was 7 stories tall, and changed the world if not only the region. We had a sandwich, instead of slaving away at a weaver. And on and on, through Bakewell Estate (I think), with a short stop to take a quaint picture And then I followed my nose and navigation through Hope Valley, where I ignored a closed road sign and much to the displeasure of a couple of Range Rover driving people came across a lovely spot, where I proceeded to have a few phone calls with people from Spain and Portugal. Somewhere we had another tea stop, and while chatting this dude that rocked up in a Super Duke came to gently offer his helmet cleaner and cloths. He was a class act and how you only have to gain from treating people well. Sofia was very happy to see some of "her" loved England reaching out to her. My joy, dealing with work, is transparent: and onto Macclesfield with another stop for looking at scenery And from here back to home is how I realized how much different England is to Portugal, Spain, Morocco, Germany, etc, I look at google maps in most of the places I have been to before and can pretty much guess what it is like before arriving, hence picking scenic paths between places. Here, I looked at the map and it all looked like an urban cluster of towns and villages, such a highly populated place would be ugly in Portugal, here you do get the people moving about but it feels like pretty countryside. It surprised me and is one of my favourite things in England. Granted I stayed out of big cities, but still it is something I appreciated. Back home we had a few very high quality cheeses that Barbara had bought for a party a few days later and were not eaten, we got to work and helped her a lot with that. Her hotpot complimented the day perfectly, and I was a happy dude after touring all over with two women following me. I liked this too: The next day we would leave.

Never mind, the next day it was me, Sofia and Barbara and a plethora of men were very friendly. One very nice fellow even showed up and offered his helmet cleaner to share with all of us. He was both a nice man and could also do math

Something is wrong with a male motorcyclist who isn’t nice to a woman motorcyclist travelling. We did have more good than bad, though.

We woke up early and bikes were packed before we sat down for breakfast, looking out of the window to Douglas bay at little past 7, it was a beautiful day. By 8:00 we were on board the ferry and waiting for it to sail off. We weren't returning back to Liverpool but instead going to Heysham this time, out of heysham we would ride through the Yorkshire Dales, have a look around and then get on a motorway to meet up with Barbara, one of Sofia's dearest friends with whom she shares a strong bond. Barbara lives east of Manchester near a small place called Wincham. The boat doing this ferry is vastly superior to the one doing the Liverpool cross, it was originally built to the US military, then sold to the company that does this and converted into a civilian ferry. Inside it's leagues above what the other one and the one from Santander is, everything is nice and well thought off, there's sofas set up like an enormous living room, a really nice way to do a ferry. Sadly I was unaware of this and we sat down in a cafeteria sort of area, only to see the living room like cafe well after it was fully taken in one of my enthusiastic ferry exploration walks. Sofia couldn't care less about nice sofas, two sea sickness pills and there she goes off to dream land, leaving me alone. Sailing away from the Island, on a beautiful sea: Boarding the ferry we got to talking to a couple of dudes riding around the UK only on dirt roads and green lanes, they were two curious people as one is a tree surgeon, we don't have that in Portugals. Trees here are chopped and killed, I would like to know what the majority of people would think about tree surgeon being a carreer. Further on leaving Heysham we ran into them again leaving a gas station: On the previous day's visit to the supermarket we were too enthusiastic and bought too much food, a pair of vacuum sealed smoked salmon filets in some sort of salsa were untouched, so the plan was to buy fresh bread and have that for lunch on the side of the road. I liked that plan, a sandwich by the motorcycle is my favourite kind of lunch. We found a baguette, and I proceeded to find a suitable place for a picnic. Now, picnics areas are something that is severely lacking in the UK compared to Portugal and France. Spain is equally lacking, what is wrong with setting up a few picnic tables and benches all over the place, in nice shady scenic locations? Sofia was not optimistic about finding such a location but I managed to do just that and a more perfect place does not exist in the UK! It's in a small place called Burton-in-Lonsdale. I enjoyed that a lot, and went for a wee sheltered from street passing people by the creek right next to where we were, as I was finishing I felt observed and sure enough there it was, a big furry cow gazing at my privacy. We don't get furry cows in Portugal, it was surprising. I enjoyed riding into the Yorkshire Dales, it's very pretty in a farming sort of way. And it's got grey sheep, I find this amazing that you have sheep that are already grey naturally, makes it easier to make grey sweaters! Hawes is a tourist attraction, Sofia tells me a lot of bikers head there as a destination when riding around this area. We stopped for a warm drink and see what it's all about. It's not a common sight to see foreign plated bikes in the UK now, at least not when we were over. I only really noticed one other foreign bike in the full trip, so what happened in Hawes is something that I as a motorcyclist (or just a citizen of a country) can't understand. I got distracted and either went away taking pictures or stayed behind talking on the phone, but Sofia went ahead to the bikes that were parked amongst a lot of others: As she was putting on her stuff a couple of guys in their 50s were pointing to her, and one came over and pointed at our plates and muttered "polish?", she replied that no, we were in fact from Portugal, and he just grunted away and proceeded to talk to his friend pointing his finger at her before walking off. Now, regardless of whether we would be from Portugal or Poland, or Russia, that not cool. I cannot understand how a motorcyclist doesn't get a smile on his face when he sees a bike that's on a trip far away from home and visiting his country, to me motorcycles are all about going places and the excitement of getting on them and riding off. @Sofiatells me that this area was one of the most important brexit supporters, I still can´t see how one motorcyclist dislikes another that is on a trip. That sort of atitude that we sometimes felt made her really sad as she was so happy to be amongst British people again after so long. Anyway, you shouldn't empower a twat, and allowing one to spoil your mood would be doing just that. We rode off, looking at the bucolic landscape, the term I used at the time was "fucking bucolic", as it really is. With the Yorkshire Dales behind us, we headed south, stopped by a little cute cafe / diner sort of place to have a sip of water and put the navigation to Barbara's place on the phone. From here, somewhere north or Burnley, we were to take a motorway or two and give the rush hour near Manchester a pass. I had heard horror stories about English motorways and congestion, and was quite enthusiastic about looking at that for myself. We were lucky with the traffic, it was sort of heavy at times but the M6 (?) didn't stop on the way we were going. Poor people in cars on the other way weren't so lucky and must have been hours stuck in there. An hour or so of that and we arrived to Barbara's, where we would spend two full days. First day would be off the bikes for the girls to spend time together, mostly visiting people, being shown around places, etc, it is a treat to spend these days off the bike sometimes, more so when the weather isn't really nice. I woke up to rain soaked bikes, so wasn't too sad to be shown around in the car that day We had a nice time looking at quaint English places, going to a proper wine shop, visiting her family, etc. As we were casually driving past Oulton Park we noticed that the place was quite busy so went in to ask, BSB was arriving and setting up, and we were waved in with a smile when Barbara smiled at the man in charge of the gate control. It was cool to have a look around, because racebikes! I cooked dinner that evening, peas in a Portuguese style with chorizo and poached eggs inside. The result was not really to my liking, the chorizo betrayed me as did the salt compared to the one at home. The ladies were very gracious and ate it with a smile. Went to bed late after talking for hours, the next day we would all go and see the Peak District.

We woke up to a rainy forecast. All around the island was supposed to rain heavily but the next day supposed to be sunny again, the forecasts had been very accurate so far, and we did have some stuff to do like laundry and visiting a bank there to check on some stuff. With the bikes safely parked in the hotel's garage, we took a day off from motorcycles and went about out day. Left the clothes to wash and dry by a self service laundromat and went on a little walk for an hour, to see a bit of Douglas. A nice chat with the lady running the laundromat helped pass the time as the drier was running, my expert tshirt folding techniques impressed them greatly and somehow the conversation turned to women's panties in an effort to embarrass me, they did not succeed. Good times! In the afternoon, it rained quite a bit. We had plenty of coffee, went to the port to complain about my stolen leatherman, went to look around the streets and a proper real life supermarket in the UK, riveting stuff. I do enjoy looking at supermarkets and what people in different places buy and consume. Your ready meals blow ours out of the water, but your fruit and vegetable sections leave a lot to be desired. Also, wine and stuff is way too expensive. We bought some white wine from either South Africa or New Zealand and some cheese and bread, and had a picnic in the afternoon. Dinner was going out and going to an Indian place. I wasn't too impressed so didn't take pictures, decision was made to buy some more supermarket stuff and have dinner on the balcony next day. Went to bed happy, the next day would be for riding around the Isle of Man. It's not a big place, the Isle of Man, you can take a leisurely place and enjoy stopping as much as you want, and you'll have time to go wherever you want to go in a day. We were lucky with the weather, it was a beautiful day. First we left Douglas and went to Castletown, briefly stopping there and then to Cregneash to the end of the road. It was a gorgeous destination, the wind was blowing a bit and it was a little cold, but such a pretty morning. I think it was the prettiest place we visited, that edge of the island. I loved it. The grass you have, probably because it's always growing from all the rain and constantly being trimmed by animals, feels like a thick carpet. Grass in other places isn't like this, I love it. I had never seen wild seals before, didn't manage a proper picture of one but was super enthusiastic when Sofia pointed their heads popping out of the water. Seals are very cool! We rode off. There's so much grass for animals to eat here, in Portugal you rarely ever see a cow or a sheep just laying down going about digesting her meals. Back home animals rarely get full enough to do that, I'm told that's why your cows are super friendly and relaxed and why cows in the Alentejo are mean and vicious. Don't go hanging around cows in southern Portugal! Next stop was Peel, which is a lovely small town. What's with the crochet covering of lamp posts and street stuff? I don't have anything against it, but find it curious. Me going to extra lengths to take pictures: As we were getting off the bikes in Peel someone told us about the small motorcycle museum there. This turned into a highlight, not really because of the bikes, it's a tiny tiny museum, but because of the enthusiasm of the people hosting us. If you have the change do make it to the Leece Museum in Peel, most of it is composed by bikes from the collection of a guy called Wobbly Bob. It's great stuff. And a couple specially for the 2 stroke fans here who used to ride them when they were new: Sofia knows of a fish and chips place in Peel which is supposed to be the best there is. Simon, our friend who advised on the welsh roads also stated this, but said shop was closed. We weren't in a rush to eat and honestly I think fish and chips is a little too much fried stuff for a motorcycling lunch. We moved on and by now started riding on the roads that are part of the TT course. Traffic in the IOM is probably like it used to be 20 years ago in the UK, you do have cars but not a massive amount, and the absence of speed limits outside of residential areas is quite fun, it probably also means people behave better where they have to. I am in awe of the fastest guys racing the TT, the road surface there is less than ideal, to put it mildly, perfectly fine for riding around but not at 300kmh. There are almost no speed cameras or cameras of any sort, which were my main shock in the rest of the UK. Speed cameras dominate the roads in most of the UK, but the amount of CCTV cameras for traffic control shocked me even more, you're constantly being watched. They park those silly automated temporary stoplights before and after roadworks and construction sites, more often than not with no work being carried at all, those then cause traffic jams and you're constantly being threatened to being caught on CCTV if you disrespect a sign. That's no way to treat a people, in my opinion. Getting back to the report, we rode from Peel to Ramsay with a brief stop for a little jump over a famous bridge, but said little jump wasn't caught on camera, blame the photographer: There was a little bit of traffic in that village, so we moved on to not bother people. Stopped in Ramsay and I had my favourite UK lunch, a true smoked Isle of Man Kipper's bap. Absolutely loved it. A little walk around the place after a delicious lunch, and we were off to see the mountain course, or the mountain part of the course, not sue how you refer to it. Now, in most of the Island there is some sort of traffic except maybe right after dawn which is when the hardcore guys go for a more spirited ride, we were now at almost 15:00 on a week day so there are cars about and people not doing motorsports, we rode up the hill and Sofia waited a little bit for me to try and find a gap in traffic, and maybe stretch the GSs legs a little. I rode back down, taking a client's call on the way, and as I talked to him I saw cars passing in a pretty constant rhythm. Then there was a short gap in traffic, for a minute or so, then 3 cars all the same time and then no cars for a little. This was my chance, the phone was now off and I went up the hill, there's a tight bend (tight on a race, just a bend if you're riding along the road), exited that in second gear and properly went through second, third, fourth, into fifth and by then it perfectly matched with catching up to the three cars without needing to lift, passing safely while almost on the limiter in fifth, and into sixth for a little while. The bike was feeling quite happy getting past an indicated 220kmh on a long sort of right hand corner but sort of a straight too, and as the next batch of cars showed up in the distance it was now starting to all feel a little bit wavy, my suspension is set to soft and it shows at higher speeds. This is nothing really special but it did feel nice doing it legally and in such a mythical bit of road. I went past Sofia who took a couple of pictures of me at the top slowing down to corners, and that was it. I felt like doing it a few more times but that would have been silly, did continue ahead of Sofia to then stop and catch her go past, which she did in style. Not really giving John McGuiness a run for his money but still fun: The nice view from up there: And @Sofiagoing past: As I took her pictures and walked back to the bike noticed a reminder how how dangerous it can be: Nice place, I wouldn't dare treat it like a racetrack though. A stop shortly after at the famous cafe /pub, for a coffee and to quieten down the adrenalin watching some cars and bikes go past. From there to Douglas is done in the blink of an eye, I would have preferred that mountain section to be 4 or 5 times longer, it really is a cool place to be on a motorcycle, granted that it's more because of the mystique than the road itself, but still exciting. After a shower we took a longish walk on the promenade to make time and then go to the supermarket for dinner supplies. It had been a beautiful day of enjoying motorcycles on a motorcycle kind of place, loved it and the place gets two thumbs up from me. It is also a lot more relaxed than the "mainland" England and Wales that I saw, friendlier people, just a nice quiet vibe to it. Next day, to catch another boat back to England.

I knew you would, there's going to be more

In the morning I borrowed a small bathroom towel to wipe down our wet bikes from the night's thick fog. It looked like the weather was going to be very nice but everything was properly wet, which is quite the contrast with what happens in most of Portugal. I was happy with not having breakfast, and after a talk with the lady running the place we were off. We learned that the price of codfish went up 70% in a week, and how much the price of everything has been going up, but more on the cost of things later on... I did a few wrong lane maneuvers at the beginning of the day, as you do, but quickly found my bearings. The way my brain works is funny, what really was a challenge for the first few days was intersections turning right. I know I am ok on the left lane, I know I am going on the left lane after turning right, but I'm always checking for oncoming traffic from the lane I'm already on and traffic coming from behind me as if all other traffic is still driving right hand drive. It took a while to convince my brain to not expect traffic to come out from the wrong side of the road. We met with Simon at a very hip modern bikers cafe after a little bit of motorways and A roads to go past Bristol and Newport, in Penperlleni almost in Abergavenny. I was shocked to show up at a bikers cafe and be greeted and directed to park by a parking person, guess they get so busy that's needed. A place like that in Portugal would be terribly snobby and hipsters full of themselves, but I found it to be really pleasant and friendly. All sorts of bikes showing up, too, very unlike what we have back home. Below You'll see Simon's 1290 Super Adventure, parked, he's a VERY experienced and competent track rider and I met him while he was semi living in the Nurburgring. A very cool guy and a pleasure to hang out with, now with the KTM he's trying to keep from R1 200mph silliness but might be failing. At 10:30 he learned from Sofia that I had never had a british bacon butty so that was my breakfast. It was a posh one with fancy cereal sprinkled bread, and I really liked it. The portuguese in me felt like a beer would be the appropriate drink to have with a sandwich of that kind, but I had coffee instead. It really is nice, and I also learned that your bacon is not like the bacon you buy in Portugal at all. Yours is a lot drier, saltier and smoky, ours has a lot more fat. Bacon butty virginity dealt with, and it was well past midday when we set off to see Wales, following Simon's recommendation on the road to take right after. We went through Abergavenny, Brecon, Lower Chapel, Garth. The B4519 going up to Garth was one of my favourite bits of road in the UK, for starters less of the fucking hedges that make you feel like riding in a tunnel, but the nice surface, the views, everything was really nice and green, cool stuff! Sofia in the environment she missed the most, the UK's countryside roads with plenty of bikers. You guys mostly nod, we continentals mostly wave. It was sunny and blue and warm, I was starting to think the bad weather is a myth to keep the place to yourselves. Stopped to have a look around and heard automatic gunfire very close by, turns out we were right next to somewhere where army types go to train. You'll notice my bike now carries a bag on top too, because I'm a gentleman I decided to compromise the smoothness of my getting on and off the bike in order to lighten the load on the Speed Triple. A stop in the Upper Chapel view point: @Sofia, fixing dogs over the phone: And another just a couple of miles down the road, I stop a lot but that's what I feel like doing when going past pretty places when it's not likely I'll be back soon. HUGE sheep you guys have! Happy as can be: Nice road: Later on, we stopped at a shop called Llanbadarnfynydd Community Shop for a snack to eat. I didn't try to pronounce the name. Munched on some cold grapes and that was very refreshing, it was heating up. Also got a Welsh Dragon sticker for my bike, I liked the place. We stopped for fuel somewhere around there, Garth I think, and in basically the same place got a perfect example of a lot of our social interactions in the UK this trip, on the fuel station Sofia used to put petrol into the Triumph she was very rudely treated by a 30 year old with a bottox face when trying to buy a bottle of water. Lady pointed her to the water section for big bottles but then said that they only sold 6 packs, and then accused her of ruining the packaging and making the bottles now unsaleable. I walked to the gas station across the street and had a lovely conversation with an older, in her sixties, lady who couldn't be nicer and wanted to know all about the trip we were on. Everywhere we went people in their 20s and 30s were mostly rude and unfriendly, while 50s and over were super nice. We rode North. It would have been nice to do this part of the trip in two days, and we could have because the next day we would be catching the ferry from Liverpool well into the afternoon, but it was a sunny and very warm saturday in Wales, everyone and their dog was out. Every hotel room south of 300€/night was full so we decided to enjoy the roads and make progress. Newtown, Dolgellau (that I learned to pronounce like a Welsh person), past Snowdonia with clear blue skies. I have to say it's a really pretty country, but don't go calling hills mountains, it's not ok. We stopped very few times for pictures though, although Sofia probably has videos which will take some work to edit. Here's a Shell station next to the river in Betws-Y-Coed, or Betsy Coed like you say it. We would have liked to stay around there, but then we checked Sofia's weather app because there was a darkness in the horizon. We were riding next to a rain storm, so had a coffee in the gas station, a look around the town and booked a room in Chester for the night. Sofia had worked close to Chester before so we would enjoy a dinner in the town and a look at a saturday night out in the UK, as you do, I was quite curious. I love Shell stations, there's nothing but a couple in Portugal, they make me feel like I'm away on a trip. There was a couple on a very purple Harley Dyna there, cool bike. From there on, we pressed on to Chester suffering no more than a light drizzle for 15 or 20 minutes on the motorway, or A road, I sometimes can't tell the difference in the UK. I booked the wrong hotel, looked at pictures of one and booked another, realized when I got to the room. It was a sad state of an hotel to be in, and again reminded me of Morocco. It was run down like what happens when something (whatever it is) is built and then left to be used for 30 years with no maintenance or upkeep. It was over priced for what it was and all the staff were 16 year old girls, very nice and friendly but completely untrained or unprepared to deal with the slightest request (like getting asked if the bikes were ok for the night were they were). Spirits were high, I had fumbled the reservation but still managed to park out of the city centre, which was the goal, so we walked down the river pathway on a good 30 or 40 minute walk to build up an apetite. A nice walk after a day on the bike is always welcome and makes dinner taste better. We just had a great motorcycling day, Wales is a pretty place, and I'm sure there's plenty of other roads to get lost and spend a week exploring the place. You'll notice the black bag on top of the GS keeps getting bigger, it's a theme ... We walked into the centre of Chester at 20:15 on a saturday looking for a place to eat, the place was busy with people on nights out and it seemed like most of them was already well past dinner (or tea) and well into the drinking. The vibe was borderline between happy and loud and when it starts to get drunken depressive and sad, but still on the happy side. A walk around Chester at 20:30: I noticed there were very few couples around. Mostly were groups of young women or young men, but no mixed genders except for clearly non binary people. Gay couples of both genders seemed to be more of a thing, but it might have just been me noticing them more. What I did get was a couple of eye contacts from women in a way that would hardly happen in Portugal, not to me or not to most men when clearly in a couple, granted they were a little into the sauce but I did enjoy the experience. It's a lovely looking town, and we walked around. Most restaurants were either too busy or not appealing at all, or WAY expensive. Sofia is a Pizza Express fan, so we went straight in when we ran into one. I got myself a big beer and lovely pizza was had, I was surprised because I was expecting a Pizza Hut sort of thing, and while it's not Napoli it was perfectly fine and a nice meal. I was happy. The cost of stuff in the UK is scary to me, and a real culture shock. 2,40 pounds for a crappy coffee is criminal, as is almost 50 pounds for a meal for two in Pizza Express. When on a trip I notice these things and they sting, but they won't ruin my fun, I do however worry and wonder as to how you can manage. We took our time and enjoyed the meal and the relaxation after a day on the bikes, while outside the window night life was happening. After dinner we had another little walk, this time searching for a quiet table to sit outside and have a drink. It was proven hard to find as everything was too loud and busy, the street vibe was now rapidly turning to the sad oh-why-did-I-drink-so-much-and-am-always-disappointed-when-I-go-out vibe. It was nice to see though. 09:30, took this picture and the lovely girl in the middle of the street wanted to come over and take my phone away, her friend, the sober one, didn't let her, so she proceeded to scream and moan at her friend. The picture doesn't translate the event, I enjoyed it We did find a quiet table in one of the places that sold wine by the glass, and watched people go by. This one dude was drunken out of his mind and kept bumping into other guys on the street to start a fight while at the same time having trouble standing up, he then proceeded to try to seduce a female police officer, then asked the time to a few people, then sat down and went to sleep in a street bench, cool night out. An über was called and we made it home for an early night. At the hotel I realized I had stepped on poo, probably human poo, that concluded the night and my old travel AllStars were no longer able to go into closed luggage It was an interesting night of watching something that is quite foreign to me. I would love to see how a male university student from Portugal gets on when he comes to the UK on an exchange program and sees that nightlife. We had little to do next day except have coffee in the morning, a visit to a local bike dealership, then go past an outlet shop to buy myself a pair of unsoiled sneakers, and make it to Liverpool for an evening ferry crossing to the IOM. Breakfast at the hotel was terrible, I eat a sausage because it's included in the price and I'm Portuguese, and regret it. By now I'm struggling with the lack of fruit or fresh vegetables, never happened before. The bike dealership was closed, Sofia was disapointed because back when they would all be open on sunday mornings. A tasty coffee was found though, and a little bit of time was spent watching Chester come back to life. Rode through the Cheshire Outlet into consumerism hell, managed to buy my replacement shoes exactly the same as the previous ones, we looked at some stuff for Sofia too, had a hipster vegetarian lunch, and rode off to Liverpool. Rode into Liverpool feeling quite happy, and waze took me right through the area by the other side of the river where I think your car is shopped for parts, a few scrap yards, a few upholstery places, pubs with people sitting on the step outside looking properly bored, nice place ... We made it to the ferry entry and parked by a nice building. Looked up the history of it and it's quite cool, too, older than it looks. A very nice man working security for the building's side entrance was friendly enough and left us park by his post, to go have a walk and another coffee to kill the afternoon. After a while we were bored, it looked like it was about to rain so took the bikes to the ferry check in place. Before boarding the ferry, me and Sofia were both patted down like we were entering a high security facility. One of my cases was searched and a leatherman confiscated for having a lockable blade. I was not happy about this, the other bikers there were in disbelief as everyone had a similar thing with them, camper vans had kitchen knives, etc. I, myself, have another blade in the form of a swiss army knife in my pocket that nobody searched for. I complained and asked for a written document, and here is the twat happy to bring it to me: She was not so happy when I made her fill in the date, which took three asks, and her name, which took two more. If you ever go there are are fortunate to meet Mary Malvern tell her to fuck off from my part. The leatherman sent for destruction so I guess someone was in need of a nice present for a husband or whatever that day. We did complain about this to the office of the Steam Packet Company running the ferry, but some stuff you just can't let ruin your day too much. I did not like being the two only foreign vehicles on that ferry and being the ones specifically brough to the side and searched. The plus side is that we did meet three cool people while waiting for the boat, all of them in disbelief at her atitude but the issue was put behind me and we sailed onto the IOM. The crossing was hell, I mistakenly sat near the children play area and kids were shouting in a sugar fueled rage until 23:00. @Sofia had a couple of her sea sickness pills and was in dream land, I sat there and took it, might have PTSD now. Off the ferry well into the night and quickly to our hotel for three nights, just 5 minutes away, happy to find a comfy bed. Two days in the IOM to look forward to.

So, boating day. We woke up early and I was quite pumped about sailing to England, I've never been in a ferry longer than the ones to Morocco. The ferry I take to Morocco takes exactly 1 hour travel time and the largest vehicles it takes are motorhomes, bikes board first and exit very quick because it's a small boat, and honestly both sides of the trip make it a quick efficient event both in Spain and Morocco. I have been dreaming of putting the GS on a container ship and taking that trip to southern America so was quite curious to see how a day on a boat feels, I was also very eager to see what the sea looks like at night. The ride to Santander took a little longer than it could have because we rode out of the mountain area we were in via smaller streets, but Santander is a pretty big city so eventually traffic got annoying and we were quickly on a little bit of motorway to make it to the port. Breakfast was had at a bakery, and I honestly feel like Spaniards overall are useless at it. The bread in most of Spain is poor, the pastry is also not worth writing home about, compared to Portugal and France it feels like they simply can't be bothered, regardless we did buy some bread to take to the boat for lunch and dinner, along with some cheese and sliced ham. We got to the ferry check in and it was starting to get hot by then, we were early and the boat wasn't even in yet so went for a little walk to buy a memory card, Santander center is a pretty nice place, wide modern avenues and a general happy vibe to it, I wouldn't mind spending a night there. We waited and waited under a shaded area, all the vehicles now starting to form a crowd. Out of all the vehicles, I didn't see a single non UK one except our bikes, that felt a little weird as I was expecting at least another few travelers. What also happened was that instead of patiently waiting under the shade a lot of bikers just roasted in the sun and proceeded to strip down most of their clothes, I've seen brits do that in Germany before and find it hilarious. In front of the row, the first ones to arrive, were a couple of Hells Angels guys on Harleys, behind them a few more or less classic motorcycles including a very pretty Ducati, and then us. Everyone looking happy after their stay in Spain. After a tedious wait, there it was: It took forever to unload too, annoyed me that all cars exited before the bikes as that was probably what would happen to us too. I have to say all that operation felt not very organized and a little chaotic, but I guess that's what happens with such a big number of vehicles. We were the first few bikes to board and that made me happy, no confusion for us and we were up in the cabin before most were even aboard. I quickly had a shower and changed to normal jeans and tshirt, and was childishly eager to explore and see us set off. Sofia was, however, a little less enthusiastic about the boat thing and wasn't at all looking forward to her motion sickness, previous trips hadn't been the smoothest, including one when a storm got so nasty that they diverted the boat to France. I assured her it was going to be fine since I had booked nice weather. I went and got a seat at the bar facing the front, happy to be on my first long water cross: Two hours into it, she's having something to eat to push down the sea sickness pills. I was convinced to take one too, just in case. @Sofia's look and mood was akin to a scared puppy. The cabin was tiny but helped the feeling of adventure. We crashed from the sea sickness pills side effects, a nice nap made me eager to get up and go outside for the end of the afternoon and sunset. The sea was indeed perfect for a smooth sailing, and it wasn't even that windy for being offshore. For lunch we had the bread from Santander, it was ok and I was able to push it down with the nice cheese we had, but wasn't keen on having dry bread for dinner too, so we had dinner in boat's restaurant. It wasn't the nicest meal, I did have a nice burrata and roasted vegetable "salad" with was very nice, but everything else was a little "meh". Not worth it of a picture, the sea remained call and I did enjoy having a cold bottle of wine casually sitting around as in a very overcharging shitty cafeteria, making the best of it. By night I had a nice walk to the outside, now a bit chilly out but satisfied my curiosity. At night the sea is ... dark, which is no surprise but I enjoyed how really dark it really is. The kind of dark that feels like you have your eyes shut, I liked it a lot. Really dark: We were making steady smooth progress: The cafe closed early and the pub / bar sort of place was too packed with very loud music and people, too busy, so we had an early night although I did go back outside for another look at the dark sea. I wonder if it looks darker in a less lighted boat more out in the middle of the sea. We both dozed off easily. The night went as well as could be expected, I was left wondering what all the fuss about sea sickness was about, Sofia very happy to have had her best cross ever. Arriving at Plymouth at 09:40 AM. It took forever to get off the boat and even more so to get off the port, after all the cars went out and because we were the first bikes to get into the boat we were also the last ones to get off. I was surprised at how hot it was outside and quickly took my jacket off and tied it to the back of the bike. One full hour after docking: someone is looking at every passport very carefully, which is ok as it's a proper border, but they had all been checked in Spain already and maybe it would be better to have more than two people doing the whole of the work. I had a long while to check out the Harley though, and what looks like a "sporty" Harley in online pictures really is massive and very very long, don't think it's for me. Between all the port stuff, in which nobody checked anything more than giving a quick glance at my passport, it took us the best part of the morning to get out and get rolling. We steadily got on the small road heading north through the Dartmoor, and stopped a little later for something to eat in a shady place by the road. A pasty was consumed, bought from a very nice lady's shop, Sofia was very happy to be well received by such a friendly person. Is it proper nosh? I liked the exuberance of black pepper, as I'm a pepper fan, but don't really understand the concept of potatoes inside dough, it's either meat and potatoes or meat in dough, both are confusing to me. However, it was a first taste of britain. Skies were blue and sunny, the plan was to ride through Dartmoor, through Exmoor, and then go spend the night near one of Sofia's dear friends in Swindon. This plan proved to be too ambitious, the time spent in the ferry killed it, and by the time we made it to the other shore it was clear Sofia wouldn't be meeting up with her friend. He was going on a trip after so we missed him, that caused some anxiety, and that mixed with my distaste for shedules on a motorbike trip did cause some friction between us on that first day. We were also planning on meeting with @boboneleg since we´d pass near Bristol, but time management wasn´t the most efficient on this first day, turns out Bob was away too, so that's not too bad. While we were contemplating what to do, somewhere near or in Simonsbath or Minehead. We did make it to the shore, and went to see the Lighthouse Keeper's Cottage at Foreland Point in Lynton, but fog was quickly setting in and kind of killed the views. It's a nice shore and a pretty area, but we should have given it a pass and be less stressed. On low spirits, we got on with the job of heading to where we were heading, so got on the A39 and went east. Ladies and gentlemen, if you just want to go somewhere don't hop on the A39 close to the end of the afternoon, I am not used to that. It's the worst case of british problem roads I've seen. Speed limits change every mile, you've got camera warning signs every time you blink, constant traffic, it's complete arrassment of surveillance and police patrol, and the pace of traffic is soul crushing. Sofia was getting a little bit of a shock compared to the UK she was used to a few years ago. We wanted to be in Wales the next day, because there was a set date for the Ferry to the Isle of Man, so that meant getting to near Wales that day, and in a way it was good that we got that road and traffic out of our way for next day. While all of that was happening I was dealing with riding for the first time ever on your side of the road, it felt ok and I felt confident on open roads and even on roundabouts since it's all about following the flow of traffic, but intersections were interesting. Here we were, stopped while finding a place to sleep in a pub, somewhere near Woolavington. I found the scene very English, then proceeded to set the navigation to said pub and head off down the road on the wrong side much to the surprise of a gentleman driving a 5 series BMW, I corrected my road position, an apologizing wave was waved and all was ok but Sofia did catch a fright as she was beeping her horn behind me. A decision was made to invest in a proper horn for the Speed Triple too. Overall, it was not the ideal start into our UK part of the trip, there were few tense moments through the day as there sometimes are when people travel together, and I have to confess I am a little too used to being on my own in "adventures", but we parked the bikes behind the pub away from prying eyes, had a nice shower, and proceeded to order wine and food. Showers: what is wrong with you people and your showers? Took me forever to understand showers, it´s like you're dialing the clocks on a time machine just to regulate warmer or colder water. More on that later on It was an overpriced room, but felt cozy and I was in a better mood. We were going to meet up with our friend Simon the next morning and he's always a lot of fun. I was also in a british pub so ordered fish and chips. Food took forever to arrive, 40 minutes into the wait and we were told that the chef was going to take 5 minutes to go outside since she was too hot. No alternative, but it felt a little "Morocco" to me, I smiled at the event and was now having a relaxed glass of shitty wine with my travel companion so all was good. Chunky chips were very different to what you have in Portugal (in a good way), and the fish was not codfish but some other thing. It was OKish, not going back there for the food though. I also don't understand just boiled peas as a side, it's beyond me. The people were very nice and all smiles, though. We slept well, and I was looking forward to getting back on the bike the next day and pointing it to Wales.

Not yet, give them until the weekend I was never out of touch with work, though, usually saved the laptop stuff to the end of the day but was frequently on the phone. I did get a bit fed up with it because you get to this level of anxiety that makes you feel that during the week anyone can throw a crisis on you at any moment and ruin a perfectly enjoyable trip that's meant to be relaxing.

I woke up excited to see what the Picos da Europa are all about, we started with a short ride to San Vicente de la Barquera for breakfast, a nice seaside town. The ride there felt like the Alps. And a little walk around town, it's a lovely place as far as towns go. Temperature started to rise and the little walk soon turned into a chore, we got on the bikes and moved off. Next stop was to be Cangas de Onis, now away from the sea and what may be the main town in the area. We stopped in what felt like a heatwave, my winter jacket would not have been my choice for this. We parked in the shade and went to look around the streets a little, to buy something to eat later on. A custom yellow GS, cool colour, BMW should never be without a yellow GS: Lunch purchased and packed, our next stop was to be a lookout point. There's two of them, I can't bother with looking up names, one is very popular with tourists as was very evident by the stream of cars pouring out from the access road, we took the next one. Our choice, according to Sofia's research was usually empty of tourists but had a couple kms of dirt access road, so we left the Triumph safely parked in town and got on the GS to get up the hill, my expert traveling skills made me choose what looked like a nice looking shortcut and instead of a 2km dirt access road at the end of the tarmac we ended up getting the 14km up the hill on a pretty steep gravel road. Good fun though, and the views were worth it. Back in town to get back with the Triumph, we rode off on a lovely twisty road buried deep in a river canyon, a eventually gave up on finding the ideal picnic location and settled with sitting on a wall in a cool shady area to eat our empanadas. The motorcycling was top notch after that, too, twisty roads and traffic was a non issue except for a stretch of roadworks were we got stuck behind a bus driver that had no business driving mountain roads. Some of the peaks seem to rupture from the earth very dramatically, it's very cool landscape and the roads were a surprise to me, they're very well made and you'll have fun on a slow trail bike as well as on a sports bike. Back home for a shower and a meal after a hot day on the bikes. Turns out the restaurant wasn't closed for their weekly rest but instead just closed for holidays, similar to most other places in the area, so we hoped on the GS and rode over to where we had dinner the previous day, this time enjoying a very nice sunset: Dinner was lovely, we shared a squid entre and then the bbq beef The next day we have a ferry to catch.

We didn't exactly leave at first light, after a lazy breakfast we eventually got the bikes out and made it to Spain after no more than 10 or 20 km. I always get a kick at how the road surface changes immediately when you see a border. We did a detour over a dirt road, what looked like a scenic road in the map turned out to be a few kms of gravel road over a hill, the views were nice and all but not really the stuff to which the Speed Triple and it's fancy Pirellis call home. After a bit we stopped for a taste of the shit Spaniards call coffee, pitiful really, but the rain was holding off and we were headed to proper hills and nice roads, the skies were shy about turning blue, but all was good, we rolled on. A lunch stop while all hints of bad weather vanished and temperatures climbed, and shortly after I'm being led around some lovely mountain roads. Cantabria is known for mountains, higher altitudes and green pastures, cows with plenty to graze on because of a lot of rain. We saw mostly drier rivers and reservoirs in what looks like a worrying lack of water in a high temperature September. Some lovely views and really nice roads, I now understand why this is such a migration area for motorcyclists from Portugal and the UK. Sofia had done her research and took me through the least travelled roads, which included some interesting canyon roads with very little traffic. I could get used to this. That's @Sofia down there in the road: The last hour, as the sun was starting to lower was pretty cool. The roads, the forrest, the colours reminded me of my time in the Nurburgring a while ago, it was a very nice ending to a great day on the bikes. We settled into a small countryside apartment, our base for two nights. Lovely view from the back window: There's a small restaurant the across the street from the place we were sleeping in, but turns out it was closed. We took the chance to have a nice longish walk to the next open place and it did feel nice after a warm afternoon on the bikes. A nice dinner and a (now feeling longer than the first time) walk back through Ucieda. Long day on the bikes, nice long walk, well fed, I slept soundly. The next day we would ride around the area, check a couple of nice looking roads and a few scenic locations, and come back to the same place for the night. Bonus is leaving the luggage behind for the day, although I don't really feel a big difference on the GS with it on.

I had been to the UK twice, once as a 9 year old boy with my parents, and another time for a long weekend to watch the opera in London. I remember very little from the first trip except a few spectacular moments like the assembled dinosaur bones in the museum or my little brother being chased by geese, and the second was limited to the center of London so not really a representation of the UK. I do have a few friends from England, that I met often at the Nurburgring, and also seem to get along fine with this forum. @Sofia has worked and lived in the UK before, and was missing the place a lot, she had made her mind to visit both the land and her friends on the bike since January, but I wasn´t too keen on it. People spoke of very congested roads, very high prices for everything, rain and overall bad weather, etc, all major things I usually dislike in places and make me want to give them a pass on a motorcycle trip. Sofia was very keen on it, though, and I decided to tag along mostly to see how happy she would be there, but not before giving a suggestion: I would want to go to the Isle Of Man. Going to the UK on my bike and not go to the IOM didn't make sense to me, I do love the feeling of motorsport locations when normal life is going on, there's an aura that's left in the roads or tracks, and a melancholy that really suits me. I was to go on this trip with an open mind, decided on enjoying the experience even if I didn't agree with the place, and being guided by someone that really loves it. I wasn't expecting to enjoy it like I did, but it did provide a few culture shocks. Will leave my observations to when they occur in the trip, both good and bad. I have just reviewed my pictures and I have almost 900 of them, a lot of that are motorcycles in museums though, I'll do my best to test Pete's servers but keeping it to a viewable amount ... We were to sent off from different locations and meet half was through the day in the high Douro. That suited me fine, I would leave with nothing but a 15km motorway quick ride and then make my way up the Douro valley, all on lovely twisty and scenic northern portuguese roads, little concern for formalities such as road markings and too many traffic signs ..., and then meet up for a couple of hours more before stopping in a well known previously visited location for the night and dinner. I rode with almost no specific photo stops, by 9:30 was making my first stop for a morning espresso And by 10:45 was stopping to watch the train I had shortly before passed play catch up on the other bank of the Douro river: I usually take a lot longer to get here, taking small detours forgotten roads amongst vineyards, but today was all about efficiency, I kept to the main N108 and then the 222, a lovely way to set off on a trip: Hardly ever stopping, I got to our meeting point a while ahead of schedule. Sofia was leaving Ericeira quite further away, to face a 300km (or more) motorway trip under severe rain, I just sat down outside a local cafe and had a sandwich, did a few work phone calls and settled into my favourite traveling pace, slow and take it as it comes: A while later, and after riding through a monsoon, there she arrived riding what looked like an overloaded Speed Triple: Hardly no pictures were taken that afternoon, we rode two or three hours to our final destination through Tras os Montes, and arrived just in time for a nice shower and a stroll to the restaurant enjoying a lovely September evening on the countryside. The wild berries on the way to dinner were just too tempting... We feasted on coal grilled beef. This restaurant now becoming a little bit of a friendly home away from home after a few rides, I think it would be an ideal stop on the way back home. Well fed, we strolled back to the room and had a lovely silent night. The next day, we'd point the bikes to the Picos da Europa.

Well, if one bike has always had sharp lines since forever a Katana would be it.

I have never tasted RedBull, quite proud of that!

Made it home today. Yesterday we had a lovely evening back in Portugal, and today rode to my parent’s place using mostly small roads. The absence of cameras was a shock, but we got used to it. I hope there were no cameras, too. I will look at making a ride report but I’ve got hundreds of pictures, mostly from bikes in museums, so it may take a while. Good trip, though, and we did end in a high which is always great because it dictates the mood with which you look back on it.

You have the train as an alternative, it’ll last almost the same if you arrive in France and jump straight on the motorway. Sofia went to the dreamland from sleeping pills, and now it’s nice and sunny in Santander while all other vehicles exit the boat while motorcycles wait. We shall sleep in Portugal and have a nice roast for dinner!

It seems to be kind of both ways, proved by watching water in a glass. It’s getting pretty rough now, too. We shall overcome!

She was, but now laying down under the effect of motion sickness pills. It's going to be a choppy ride, just went out and it's blowing a gale, you can sense the boat crashing down every now and again.

Sailing out of Plymouth right now, Sofia’s feelingthe waves and not enjoying it. Not me though, I’m feeling like a well seasoned sea wolf, drinking a pint and watching the rugby.

Top day yesterday, absolutely great museum and amazingly beautiful bit of Dartmoor hills with poneys. Loved it, now in a pub’s tiny room waiting for tomorrow to come and catch a boat to Spain. You have some really beautiful areas in this island but pretty shitty data connection so not able to post photos today.