Camchain and tensioner seen up close in a cutaway bike engine

Home Travel StoriesSpain And The Faro Rally 2005 - By Ren Withnell

Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 13

I wake around 0800 and smile to myself, this is the last time I’ll wake up in a tent, in a foreign country, in this mad heat and so far from home. I’m excited and glad I’ll be on my way back to the UK this afternoon. I climb out of my sleeping bag and laugh at how much it smells now. I stuff it into its compression bag for the last time. I stagger out the tent into the already rising heat of the day and notice the tent is dripping wet. There is no evidence of rain, this is dew from the cooler nights up here on the coast.

The Scottish crew are milling about and making similar packing noises. The morning is spent packing things. I make a point of watching Bill and Susan pack their tent as it is the same as mine and they always manage to get their tent into its tiny little bag when mine has been rolled loosely and bungeed onto the bike. They carefully remove the inner sheet, remove the poles and spread both the inner and flysheet out on the grass neatly. These are both folded precisely in half then half again, rolled up and firmly shoved into the bag. It all looks so easy.

I remove my poles but leave the inner still attached to the flysheet. I spread out the sheets and fold them sort of in half and sort of in half again, it’s much harder when there is only one of me. I roll these up in insert the poles and pegs. I place the bag under this enormous mound of polyester and start to stuff. I curse, struggle, curse, stuff then curse some more. Slowly, inch-by-inch the zip on the bag is closed whilst I sit and twist and stuff the tent. Finally I let out a yelp of joy as the zip slips closed on the last 3 inches. After 11 nights of camping and 11 mornings of packing and on my last night of camping, the ten is back in its little bag.

We eat breakfast, talk with some of the other bikers on site and load up the bikes. I prepare a plastic back containing the basics I will need on the ferry. I remember the garage decks will be locked whilst at sea, I also remember I will not have a cabin on this trip which is worrying me. Being the resident expert on navigation in the Santander area I lead the Scottish crew down to the ferry terminal about 1200. We arrive and there are already 30 – 40 bikes ahead of us in the queue. The sun is up, I’m wearing full riding gear and I’m beginning to sweat profusely again.

bikers all waiting to catch the big ferry The ferry and bikers waiting to board.

It’s going t be a long wait until we get aboard. Whilst stood there is spot the Hull crew arrive and go over to see how they are. It’s been a hard trip for them too. The Harley has had 3 punctures. Fortunately the owner has some kind of European breakdown cover but it has lead to delays and nightmare trips. The standard Triumph under its enormous load has popped its fork seals and overheated regularly. The customised Triumph has gaffer tape on it to ward off evil mechanical spirits. There have been arguments and short tempers. They are tired of the relentless heat, foreign ways and more than ready to go home.

Talking casually to some of the other bikers the mood is much the same. Everyone is tired and ready for home. I get the feeling those who tell me they have loved every minute and can’t wait till next year are trying to convince themselves. Finally the gates open and we pour onto the ferry. I park the bike, strap it down, get my plastic bag and leave most of my gear, including the helmet, on the bike.

This time I find an exit that has a lift! No more huge trips up long flights of stairs, just a short walk across the deck then up up and away in my beautiful mirrored lift. I find the reclining chairs on the top deck and let out a “humph!”. I have a black fake leather chair in a row of 4 and nowhere to store anything. Nowhere to lock away my kit or valuables, just a seat. It is hot outside as ever and I have my jacket, bike pants and boots on. I am brave and leave as much as I dare on the seat and go out on deck. I make a note to book a cabin both ways on any overnight crossings in the future, whatever the cost.

I walk around on deck for a while, go into the bars, look around the shop and try to kill time. I can’t settle. The ship leaves port at 1600 and I watch as Spain slowly fades into the mist. I think about what I’ve done. I think about how little old me, Ren Withnell, has ridden a 600cc motorcycle from Bolton in England to Faro in Portugal. Ren, the guy with no passport, the guy who thinks Birmingham is a long way away. But it all seems so hollow. I feel as though I have climbed Mount Everest yet I am among 500 other bikers who have all travelled as far. I take some comfort and kudos from the fact I did it alone. So far I have not met anyone else who was not riding in a group or with a partner.

the spanish shoreline fading away as the boat sails Spain fading into the mists.

I can’t settle. The mood on the ship is different. On the outward crossing there was a party atmosphere, now the air is filled with tiredness, frayed tempers and relief. Those I talk to are subdued and talk is of homes and familiar places. The Scottish crew will not feel quite at home for another 2 nights as they are booked into a hotel in the Lake District to break up the 600 mile journey home. I’m still considering another nights camping to break my journey home, but inside I know I want to see the gf and I won’t be able to wait.

The gf. Lord only knows how much I’ve worried over her. The last messages were both positive and negative. Her mother is out of the hospice that means she has improved a little, a great relief. She went to see a Physio earlier in the week who hurt her and she has been suffering with her back more than ever. She still wants me not to worry and to enjoy myself but I cannot switch of my concerns. I feel, more than ever, that I have left her to go and have a great adventure whilst she stands and sits in all kinds of strange ways trying to get some relief. I feel so guilty.

The day wears on with nothing to report. I’m constantly checking my kit on the chair, considering changing into the pants I’ve put into my plastic bag, wondering where I can shower and if anyone will let me stow my kit in their room. I don’t like to ask favours and it would only lead to confusion in the morning when we disembark. The entertainment in the evening is another cheesy “resident” band and another cheesy show from the same magician and his beautiful assistant. The applause is muted tonight.

On my lonely wanderings I spot next to the kids pool a toilet that feature a shower, presumably for those coming out of the pool. But at 1130 there is no-one about so I get my towel and go in there. I shower and wash away the day’s sweat. Only I did not plan for my clothes getting wet. I spend the next hour out on deck trying to dry myself in the cool sea breeze. Needless to say this did not work.

I wander around one last time. There is nothing to do so at 0100 I go to the room full of crappy fake leather chairs to see about sleep. Out of the 20 or so folks in there only 2 are using the chairs. The rest are on the floor between the rows or in the corners, propped up on mounds of sheets from the cupboard in the corner, and snoring loudly. I grab the last remaining sheets, make a pillow and bed and wedge myself into the gap between my chair and those in front. It is not comfy but with earplugs, fatigue and boredom sleep finally arrives.

Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Preparation
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 1
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 2
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 3
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 4
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 5
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 6
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 7 The Portuguese coastline is not quite what Ren was expecting. Then there's the case of the disappearing helmet.
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 8
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 9 Ren has to brave the plastic portaloos of HELL at the Faro Rally. It's also time to leave the noise and chaos and get back on the road Northbound
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 10
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 11 It's another long and hot ride across the Spanish scenery. Still, every sweaty mile is a mile closer to home.
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 12
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 13
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 14
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Aftermath

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