A motorcycle parked in front of a tent on a pleasant green campsite

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

Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 2

I sleep well. The Aldi ground mat, the Vango sleeping bag and the peaceful surroundings allow me to dream. I awake early and soon have everything packed again, save the tent which still refuses to go into its bag. Jelly's van looks asleep so I don't say goodbye to her, maybe I'll catch up with her again one day, who knows.

Back on the motorway in the cool morning air the riding is easy and pleasant. My thoughts now are about the ferry, have I got the tickets, what time should I arrive, will anyone else be there and will I be seasick? I actually arrive in Plymouth before 1000, the ferry terminal is well signposted and easy to get to on a quiet Sunday morning. The ferry sails at 1600 and sure enough I am the first person to arrive. I get a basic feel of the place then head back out of town to a Sainsbury's I'd noticed on the way in. I get a large bacon sandwich that is very nice indeed, and top-up my mobile phone credit. The sun is really starting to get hot as I ride back into town. It's still only 1100 so I stop off at a motorcycle clothing store for some window shopping. There's nothing I need so I rest on the floor outside, looking at the shell of a church sat bang in the middle of a now very busy roundabout. How odd.

The strange church in the middle of the roundabout A strange church, just sat in the middle of a roundabout.

I'm sat on the pavement with my back against a wall between some bikes, and I'm starting to get strange looks off other bikers as they park outside the shop. It must be time to leave. I go back to the ferry terminal and I'm quite relieved to see several cars, and 2 other bikers! I ride into the same queue lane and park behind them. They seem friendly enough so I ask them if they are going to Faro. No, they are going to ride up through Northern Spain then France. I ask where they are from, they are from a city called Manchester, do I know where that is? Er like, yeah? I live there! We chat and find out we are actually from the same town and have some mutual acquaintances. Small world innit?

My trusty NTV all loaded up Fully loaded in the sun, and ready for the big trip.

Whilst we are talking the queues are filling up and the line we are in has only bikes in it, lots of bikes. I'm getting quite excited, like I'm part of a gang on some mad mission to take johnny foreigner by storm with motorbikes. Directly behind me 3 bikes are sporting Scottish flags and stickers and listening in I can barely understand the strong Scottish accent. I'm feeling braver today, I'm feeling like a small part of the gang now, so I strike up a conversation with theses Scottish folks by enquiring if they are going to Faro. Indeed they are. The sun is beating down upon us and most people are stripping off or going in search of water. I feel a twinge of envy as I look into a large motorhome and see it's occupants sat in t-shirts and shorts sipping cool looking drinks from posh glasses.

Bikers, bikes, cars, caravans and camper vans all waiting to board the ferry Loads of bikers all sweaty waiting for the ferry.

I talk for a while with the lads from my town and the folks from Scotland. The terminal opens at 1300 and we start to roll through. I present my ticket and passport to the attractive girl in the booth and she gives me a piece of paper to stick onto my bike. We pass through the check in...into another queue. Again we wait and I'm talking to practically anyone who will listen now. I'm getting more and more excited and yet frustrated with being herded like cattle. Eventually we move off again through a large open building where randomly selected vehicles are stopped from the moving queue. I'm stopped and panic sets in.

I'm not a terrorist, don't like weapons, the last time I had a fight I was seven years old and I'm fearful of authority. I'm probably the most physically harmless person I know, I'm such a wimp I annoy myself. Yet being pulled in for a security check I feel like the most wanted and guilty man in Europe. Oh lordy, will they think my petrol stove is a bomb, is my leatherman tool an offensive weapon, do the kinky pictures the gf gave me before I left make me a porn smuggler? A very polite lady in a fluorescent jacket and some kind of uniform asks me why I'm going to Spain, for a holiday? I reply yes, for 2 weeks. She asks if I have any firearms, bombs or weapons with me. I gulp as much as I can with a dry mouth and reply in the negative. She smiles pleasantly and thanks me most kindly then waves me on. Phew, another close shave with the law.

Again another queue. Again lots of hot sweaty bikers in heavy trousers and boots all sweating. Again more talking. This time 2 blokes, 2 girls and a couple from the Hull area. Like myself they had stopped in Taunton. I admire 1 of the girl's bikes, a modern Triumph with the back end totally removed and dinky clocks mounted on the tank. Of course with only a small seat bolted to the frame, there's nowhere to carry tents and supplies. These were mounted on another standard Triumph belonging to the other girl. Suffice to say the loaded Triumph was barely visible under 2 peoples equipment for 2 weeks on the road. This girl must be both brave and a very very good friend. Did I mention it is very hot?

A queue of bikers and bikes waiting in the second queue for the ferry So close to boarding...in a queue.

Finally the gates open and bikes start to make their way down to the ramp leading us into the bowels of the ferry. Of course more queuing, more hot bikers on hot bikes but eventually I'm herded into a corner of a large blue-floored and brightly lit area. I put the bike onto the side stand and watch to see what everyone else does. They are grabbing pads and ratchet straps from around the deck. The pad is put onto the seat and the strap hooks over cables or straps running along the floor then over the seat. This is tightened over the seat and does quite well in holding the bike stationary. I'd had visions of ropes and complex knots, 2 or 3 straps for each bike. I copy the others until I am myself happy the bike will remain upright, surprisingly easy really.

I take my helmet, jacket and gloves and climb a long staircase. I'm lost. I have no idea at all what to do. Do I find my room, wait in a hallway somewhere until a staff member asks what the problem is or do I find a booking in office somewhere? Being part of a herd can have its advantages, so I follow the herd and do what they do. I ask some big scary looking biker type what should I do. He tells me there is a room number on my ticket, go and find my room. He manages to do this politely but somehow I feel he's thinking "what a pathetic knobhead". After studying my ticket I discover there is indeed a room number, starting with a 5. Being very clever I work out this will be deck 5, Sherlock Holmes has nothing on me. I climb more stairs until I see lots of 5's, then spend another 10 minutes wandering along corridors until I find my room.

The room is small. It contains a bed, small dressing table and a shower unit with toilet and sink. I'm very pleased with it. It is small but has everything I will need for 1 night, except a window. I know from a previous ferry trip I suffer from seasickness and like to be out on deck using the horizon as a stable datum. With no window or other stable reference point I fear sleeping here will be insufferable. I relieve myself of my kit, then use the clean facilities. I return to the bike down so many stairs I'm out of breath, to get some comfy pants and a clean t-shirt.

Back in the room I catch my breath, then decide to use the shower. I remove my jacket and note I'm a bit sweaty. I remove my bike trousers and the smell is overwhelming. It's not like smelly old socks, it's strangely sweet, like fruit but with a hint of socks. Even more frightening is I almost find it quite pleasant, how odd. I remove my leggings that have worked a treat as I have remained comfortable even in the scorching hot queues. I realise I've left the soap and shampoo on the bike, but fortunately Brittany Ferries have provided little bars of soap, I'll have to use these for my hair as well. Whilst in the shower I feel myself move into the wall and feel unstable on my feet for a moment. I figure we must be leaving harbour now. I wash off the sweet smell, my hair then my socks, leggings and t-shirt all in the shower with the soap provided. The shower is most refreshing. The whole bathroom is a unit of plastic so it seems fair to hang my wet clothes on the towel rack and hooks. I dry myself with the crisp clean towels provided and dress into my comfy clothes.

I leave the room and go out on deck, fully expecting to see nothing but ocean with Plymouth disapearing into the distance. I'm rather surprised to find we are still docked! I must have just been having a funny moment of body shock in the shower when I staggered. I wander round the ship. The top 3 floors, 7,8,9, are where the bars, open decks and posh rooms are. Floors 5 and 6 are all rooms save for the information desk, floors 2, 3 and 4 are the garages where the vehicles are kept. Floor 1 remains a mystery, presumably the engine rooms or holds or ballast. I note the time on my phone, it's only 1600. I've queued, boarded and showered in 3 hours, nice one. At the back of the ship I can see still more bikes queuing and boarding. Blimey, this is going to be motorcycle madness!

In the main bar I find the Scottish crew and the Hull crew. I sit with the Hull crew who tell me about their journey down and their rooms. They are already hitting the alcohol along with everyone else. It's only a while later I notice we are moving, the boat seems very stable. I spend the rest of the evening walking round the ship, talking to the Scots and the Hull folks and a few other bikers. The entertainment in the main bar consists of a residential band who are ok, a very cheesy magician with his beautiful assistant, a disco and bloody bingo. I'd estimate a quarter to half of the passengers are bikers nearly all going to Faro. There's a party atmosphere everywhere and everyone is sociably engaged, except for me. Everyone seems to be part of a group, club or gang of friends. I'm travelling alone and I feel quite alone. It's not that anyone is unfriendly, I'm made welcome at several tables, it's just I don't know the score. I don't know who's married to whom, who is the leader and who is the follower, who is easy going and who is easily offended. I'm alone, surrounded by people.

Out on deck I watch the awesome sunset. I note the ferry is moving about, I need to monitor my step but I do not feel seasick. There are bikers and regular holidaymakers sat alongside each other on plastic chairs, the air is pleasantly cool but not cold and the sea is dotted with small white patches where waves tumble over. I make my way to the restaurant to feed. It's a strange combination of self service and people filling your plate. I settle on roast beef with roast potatoes and gravy. It's not cheap, but tasty and simple. In the bar I drink coke and wander around talking to anyone who will listen. I also go back to the bike...but the doors to the garage decks are locked tight! So tonight there will be no toothbrush or hairbrush, and no fresh clothes for the morning.

A glorious sunset over the atlantic ocean taken from the ferry Sunset over the Atlantic Ocean.

I retire to bed around midnight, I've had enough of cheesy disco music and wandering now deserted decks. I'm still fearful I'll feel terribly sick in the room but I find as I lie down I feel fine. The ship judders every minute or so, for about 5 seconds. I try to work out what it might be, it could be the stabilisers moving about, or the engine reaching certain vibration points or bigger waves bashing the hull. My thoughts turn to the enormity of my trip and what I still have to do, then to the gf, back at home lying awake on a pile of cushions. With these kinds of thoughts in my head I drift off to sleep.

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

Reader's Comments

Tony Clark said :-
very informative and interesting
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC

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