Last time I talked about our final day in Luxembourg, and the views shared over dinner that we would all surely be tempted to come touring in Europe again.
Now, as is always the way with good holidays, the trip back is the bit that nobody looks forward to. And I for one feel that way about leaving Vianden.
That said, the daily habit of getting ready and throwing a leg over my motorcycle, has somehow become the norm… more than the norm, it feels good to be getting up in the morning and onto a motorcycle. So in some odd way, while I’m still sad to be leaving Vianden, the fact that we were doing so on the bikes made it less of a loss.
Philosophy aside, before we know it, we’re up, bags packed, breakfasted, with oil levels and tyre pressures checked, and bikes loaded, and we’re riding back up the cobblestone hill, past the castle, and away from Vianden.
A handful of the group of left early, but the rest of stick together as make our way along the twisty tree-lined road up to the golden fields of crops, which we sweep along with ease, overtaking a couple of farm vehicles, before heading down the other side of the hill into the twisty roads through the now sunlit forest.
These roads feel almost familiar now, so we ride through the forest as a tight group, enjoying the turns and dappled lighting.
The weather is looking good for us today, perhaps even a little too good…
We’re out of Luxembourg and half-way across Belgium before we encounter any issues, and then the traffic on the motorway starts to build, slowing the flow, until eventually we find ourselves at a standstill, with stationary vehicles stretching out ahead of for as far as we can see..
But we’ve all had a good holiday, so we stick together for a while, creeping along the hot tarmac and hoping we’ll soon get to start moving again.
Adrian, Claire and I have forgotten to switch on our comms again, but we’re spending so long not moving we’ve got more than enough time to just talk as we creep along.
Twenty minutes pass with no change, half an hour, forty minutes, and I notice the temperature of my bikes engine is getting pretty high without the normal flow of air to dissipate the heat.
Adrian and Claire are seeing the same on their bikes, so after another few minutes of crawling along we decide its time to leave the group and start filtering.
I’m on the inside, so its up to me, and when the next gap opens up I inch forward past the other members of the group and then start making my way down the dotted line between the rows of traffic.
None of the other motorists stuck in the jam are having a good trip, but they also don’t begrudge us motorcyclists from making out way through the slow moving cars and trucks, with many of them moving out of the way to create a bigger gap for us to pass.
The traffic jam goes on for miles, and while we’re moving faster than everyone else, we’re still only moving quite slowly, and it takes almost another forty minutes before we get to the front of the jam and can start riding at a normal speed.
The day stays warm and dry, so before we know it the roads through Belgium and France have disappeared behind us, and we’re waving goodbye to the rest of the group as we disembark from the ferry in Dover and head off our separate ways.
But, for Claire, Adrian and me, the journey isn’t quite at an end.
Long before we left Leeds, and knowing that the Ferry from Calais would be dropping us back in Dover far too late for us to ride all the way back to Leeds the same day, we decided to add a bit of detour to our return journey in order to visit a well known motorcycle equipment shop called MotoLegends in Guildford, to the west of London.
The idea was a simple one…
Disembark from the ferry on the Tuesday early evening, ride over to somewhere near the MotoLegends shop and find somewhere to stay overnight, then pop into the shop the following day on the way back to Leeds.
Adrian and Claire had stayed at a place called The Tickled Trout in East Barming, half an hour’s ride from MotoLegends, and an hour or so ride from Dover. They recommended both the accommodation and the food, so we booked a couple of rooms.
The only concern, after our ferry was cancelled on the way out, was that something similar might happen on the way back, resulting in us arriving too late to order a meal.
But the ferry has delivered us to Dover on time, so now we can relax, and just enjoy the ride.
There was a small stretch of motorway that we couldn’t avoid, but aside from that we managed to find a route via the small B roads, cruising along through that golden twilight that lasts for hours in mid summer. A steady fifty miles an hour for the most part, slowing down as we passed through small villages, more often than not with rolling farmland on each side of the road full of crops or tall meadows.
It’s easy to think of the south of England, and the area around London in particular, as just being one large conurbation, but when you get the chance to head away from the towns and built-up areas, the countryside is still there in abundance.
Unfortunately, there was no avoiding towns altogether, and just as we we drawing close to our destination, the last of the rush-hour traffic separated us at a set of lights, with Claire and Adrian getting through, while I remained stuck behind.
But I had my satnav with me, so after getting through the lights I found somewhere to pull in, dug out the address for The Tickled Trout, and was on my way again in no time.
What I didn’t know in that moment, is that Claire and Adrian had also become separated by the traffic, and were both trying to find one another by using the same stop and phone routine that we’d used on the way out to Luxembourg.
As a consequence, I managed to find my way to the pub a whole fifteen minutes before they did, giving me a momentary concern that something more serious might have happened.
But eventually, they rolled into the carpark, and we all checked in.
Needless to say, The Tickled Trout was a great choice. The rooms were spacious, modern and airy with well appointed bathrooms and very comfortable beds.
The bar offered an excellent selection of real-ales, and the kitchen and good selection of tasty, fresh food.
For me though, our long day soon caught up with me, and I’d barely finished my meal before my eyelids started to feel heavy. Closely followed by Adrian and Claire gently packaging me off to my room, so they could finish their beers without me actually falling asleep in front of them.
Day 7
Refreshed and restored by a good night’s sleep and hearty breakfast, we were on the road a little later than we planned, but we arrived a MotoLegends by 10am, and were soon inside enjoying their well known hospitality.
Both Claire and I were wanting to take advantage of their helmet fitting service, but I was also hoping to take a look at some gloves and touring gear, as it had become clear to me on the way over to Luxembourg, that having some clothing that was at least a little bit weather-proof could be the difference between getting soaked to the skin, or just getting damp.
Of course, we ended spending a bit more time there than planned, and I ended up spending a bit more cash than I’d intended, but I rode away not only with a new helmet (while my old helmet was posted back to Leeds for me). But also a new touring jacket and a properly waterproof rain coat to go over it on those extra soggy days.
Then a little before noon, we were back on the bikes for the long slog up the motorways back to Leeds.
The weather had deteriorated while we were in the shop, and we got caught by a few light showers on our way north, though thankfully nothing heavy enough to get us properly wet.
We stopped every couple of hours to take a break, or refuel, but I still found it quite tiring, especially on a bike which doesn’t have much in the way of a windshield or fairings to provide shelter from the elements,
By the time we’d been riding for another four hours, and had reached the M1 north of Birmingham, I’d have been quite happy to stop for the day.
The tiredness was made worse by my new helmet, which while a great fit, didn’t have my comms unit, so I could no longer talk to or hear what Claire and Adrian were saying as we travelled.
To help out, they took up positions in front and behind me, so that they could keep an eye on me, and make sure I didn’t do anything silly.
For me, the next next hour really dragged, but once we reached Sheffield and familiar territory, and with the end of the trip in mind, my energy returned and I began to look forward to the comforts of home.
Perhaps it was the tiredness, or just the product of good holiday, but as we rode back into the outskirts of Leeds I found myself thinking back over the riches that we’d discovered on this trip, the problems encountered and overcome, the warm sunny days and the cooler very wet days, the places, the people, and how it had all been so very different… and better than I’d been expecting.
Stranger still for me, was riding along the all too familiar streets of the city I call home, and feeling like it could easily not be my home, instead just another place that I was visiting on my bike.
I don’t think I can fully explain this sensation, it only lasted for a couple of days, but if I were to speculate, I think spending so much time in the saddle over so many days, had given me a momentary insight into what it must be like to live a more nomadic life. To travel for the sake of travelling.
And that brings me to the end of the trip, my first motorcycle tour and adventure in Luxembourg.
Going forward, I’ll be taking a little bit of break from talking about motorcycles, as I have a few other bits and pieces that I want to write about first, but I am intending to come back to the joys of two-wheeled adventures, including a trip to Valencia in Spain, which I went on with Claire, Adrian and another friend Pip, just a few months after getting back from Luxembourg.
I’ll also be writing up a review of Lea Rieck’s book Got2Go, about her ride around the world, which I’m currently really enjoying.
And finally, I’ll be heading out on my next organised tour with MCI to Mosel in Germany in a months time, again with Claire and Adrian, when I’ll be making a concerted effort to take more photographs.
For now though, thanks for reading along, and if you’ve enjoyed reading this account of my experiences, do please recommend it to someone else.