
Visit the calendar master page for the daily blog entries
![]() |
View Larger Map |
Although I nominally reside in the United Kingdom, I do tend to travel quite a bit and do odd jobs in various countries on the continent. While this is not normally a problem, it has caused me some headaches if I bring my bike to my work location as the U. K. requires that all motorcycles older than 2 years have an annual inspection completed by a certified testing station. Unfortunately, all of those thousands of stations are on the island and not on the mainland, and no other inspection results are valid for the MOT (Ministry of Transport). Thus, for the third year in a row, I've found myself in the unenviable position of having to drive the bike from wherever I am stationed to the island. There are two basic methods of getting across the channel, the first is via one of the numerous ferries and the other is to take a Euro tunnel train ferry through the channel tunnel (also known as the Chunnel). The train is far faster and usually, but as I've found out to my chagrin, not always, less expensive for a motorcycle.
As I was working in Germany (Frankfurt am Main) at the time the last MOT expired and the new examination was due, I had to plan on a trip of about 600Km each way in order to get this formal check completed. The weekend of the 11th through 13th June in 2011 included a public holiday, “Pfingsten” (Pentecost) so I could get the inspection done on a normal working day in the U. K. without losing a work day in Germany. The weather forecast wasn't conducive to a great trip, but not much rain was forecast and I decided that I wasn't going to get a better opportunity and saddled up the bike on Sunday morning and started off on my journey in the morning hours.
I had planned on spending the night in Brügge (or Bruges) in Belgium so I had most of the day for 500Km of driving and decided to take a leisurely and comfortable drive down the Rhine river from Bingen to Koblenz and to hop on the Autobahn from there to my destination. The sun was shining for that first part of the trip and it was pleasurable indeed, but after leaving the Rhine river valley and heading roughly west the conditions deteriorated and the ambient outside temperatures got progressively cooler as I approached Brussels but fortunately no rain actually fell on my route despite heavy cumulus and nimbus clouds spouting up all around me.
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
In Brussels I once again managed to take a wrong a turn and ended up driving through the city proper. This was the 3rd time in a row that I made the same, or a similar mistake, and got an unintentional scenic tour of that pretty city. Once finally finding the correct highway, and actually taking it in the correct direction, the trip became a bit tedious. I was tired, the landscape was flat and devoid of interesting scenery and I just wanted to arrive somewhere. When I arrived at the highway exit for Bruges I realized that there were still 100Km to get to the Euro tunnel station in Calais, France; and if I did it the next morning as I'd originally planned I would have a 700Km day on the return stretch, so I opted to continue on and cross under the channel on Sunday and find a hotel in Dover (the town with the famous white cliffs) in order to balance the ordeal across two days.
While getting to the Euro tunnel terminus was quick, easy and well-posted, getting onto a train was difficult. On the previous voyages I'd reserved a place ahead of time and tried to keep up with the scheduled trains, similar to taking a flight. Both times I'd arrived too early and had to wait a long time in the departure building, and had seen that bikes are collected in groups and don't really need reservations; so this time around I opted to buy my ticket directly at the station instead of having to pay a change fee. This was a big mistake - instead of the usual £20-£30 that I'd heretofore paid, they slammed with a €103 one-way price and the next day I only paid £70 to get back!
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
The line at the ticket booth and the first customs/immigration booth about 100 yards further on was long. I turned off my engine early on and instead of firing it up and driving a car's length every time the line moved ahead I just pushed the bike the 15 feet or so. By the time I reached the French border booth the engine was merely lukewarm and when I made it to the second border checkpoint, this time a British one, the engine block was the same temperature as the ambient air. I didn't have a watch along, but guess that it took way over an hour. I'm not sure why progress was so slow, as both border crossing officials just waved me, and most of the other vehicles, through after ascertaining that we have EU passports.
One of the reasons for the huge crush of cars was that the Le Mans 24 hour race had just finished and people were returning from the event. I've never seen such a great collection of classic and modern sport scars and that includes the Barrett-Jackson classic car auction in Scottsdale, Arizona. There were 3 new Aston Martin Vanquish in the line ahead of me, and some classic Aston Martin and other sports cars in the lanes next to me. The “average” car in the queue was a mere Porsche (well, perhaps not quite that posh, as there were a good number of mere mortals returning from vacation mixed in as well, but I'm sure you get the idea).
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
Once we arrived in the U. K. the weather had gotten worse and it was raining. At first it was just a drizzle but as I approached Dover it was coming down quite heavily and I realized that I wasn't going to get any spectacular shots of the white cliffs of Dover or the castle and it's grounds. I drove around looking for a hotel and found one which advertised £29 rates but once I made it to the front desk I was told that this rate only applied if I reserved 3 weeks in advance and the actual rate was £79. By this time the rain had set in with a vengeance and I'd noted the pub next door to the hotel so I decided to remain there for the night. The next morning I awoke to find that the rain had settled in for a long stay - you could feel that it had the endurance of a marathon runner and wasn't planning on letting up anytime soon. Nevertheless I set off and went to the MOT garage (Dave Hammond Racing) and Dave took pity on me and did my MOT immediately even though I was 3 hours earlier than my allotted time slot. I assume that the rain and fog had stopped his first customer from arriving in time. Needless to say, the inspection itself was short and sweet and within 15 minutes of arriving at the shop I my earplugs in and helmet on and was zipped up against the rain and heading back for the Euro tunnel entrance. The fog had closed in and visibility was about 20-30 meters, so I didn't go any faster than 40MPH on the highway and ended up missing my exit - the next one was many miles down the motorway and the only thing that made me feel a little bit better was that several cars performed the same exit and U-turn that I did.
The return ticket was a bit cheaper but still quite hefty, and the train was almost completely empty apart from quite a few bikers, mostly Dutch, returning home. There were only 4 bikes in my compartment, but one of them had some sort of a motion alarm that would set off his siren every couple of minutes and that was quite irksome despite having the earplugs in.
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
The odometer read 12228 miles when I left and 13089 miles upon my return the next day. 861 miles or 1386 kilometres of travel across 4 countries (Germany, Belgium, France, U. K.) just for a 15 minute inspection of my Street Bob. I really need to figure out a better way of doing this - perhaps I should always get a new bike after 2 years and thus avoid going through MOT in the first place, or I should permanently move back to the U. K. and not leave the country at all. What I won't do is stop having and driving the motorcycle, as that is almost as much fun as sailing and certainly quite a bit faster!
![]() |