I spent about an hour and a half going to hotels that were either shut, didn’t exist (sign on the road not removed) or I couldn’t find it.
Ridiculous. Waisted so much time.
Eventually found Hotel Bagatelle in Pont a Mousson – loved it. Shower and EVERYTHING!
Bad nights kip but hey, you can’t have it all can you?
Continental breakfast in my room in the morning (luxury and beats trill any day) and after the mini bar packet of nuts, it was welcome.
Right – onto Konstanz (Lake Constance) I think.
Got quite a distance today. Bristol to Pont a Mousson – between Nancy and Metz. I would have got further but I ran out of fuel – A-GAIN! I kid you not.
Blasting along to toll roads merrily churning out the km’s. I was shifting a bit but hey I was keeping a close eye on the km’s done. Typically 490 to the tank. Fuel gauge still bust remember?
I think I misjudged how many km’s to the tank when on the toll roads. Got to 350 km’s and came to a stop. Great.
So, grabbed my 2 litre fuel tank strapped still to the back – and poured in the contents. I looked at the km’s per litre fuel consumption. 14 l/km. Looked at the sat nav for the distance to the next fuel station. 29 km’s! Oh no.
I had a little think and decided to go for it but take my time and try and conserve fuel. I trundled along the motorway with my hazzards flashing, doing about 50 mph, letting the cars wizz past me. Every car I saw go past, I’d previously seen as I had obviously blasted past them. Sure, they were probably grinning ear to ear after seeing the cock sure Englishman creeping along flashing like a beacon!
I was counting down the km’s one by one as they passed – thinking “well, thats one less I have to walk” as each one clocked up. I was managing to weedle out 24 km/l by the time the petrol station came into view. What a relief but in my mind was there wasn’t exactly 2l of fuel on the little tank – some had been used to top up a stove.
As I rolled down the hill to the pumps – the bike cut out again! I’m not making this up – honest.
Once fuelled up to the brim and spare tank also, I wheeled the bike over to the parking bays. Fuel pouring out the overflow as it heats up – probably from the engine heat. I said hello to three Maltese guys who had travelled to Failand (near Bristol!) to buy an Isuzu 4×4. They were driving back with it now. Unreal. I said I should have put the bike in the back and caught a lift.
One guy had great pleasure in telling me the 51k mile 4×4 was very clean. He showed me the engine to prove it. I was pretty unphased by the events over the past hour and was able to show a keen, polite interest in his new purchase. Anyway, I bid my farewells and set off again in pursuit of a hotel. No tent this time (just to see how I get on).
On the Eurotunnel (£85 BTW), met this bloke who had his 8 year old (maybe?) little girl on the back. Cute she was. But lovely with it. Full of confidence.
They were off to Czech Republic to see her Grandad. On the bike. Marvellous. At one point her Dad just said “Are you going to say hello to those girls in the car up there?” So off she trotted and just made friends. I watched intently at the interaction going on.
After a few mins they were playing scissor-paper-stones and seemed to have known each other for years.
Nice to see in this turbulent world we currently live in.
Off to the MotoGP in Austria. Will meet up with some great mates, Percy, Alice, Bill, Pat and Carol.
Gonna be a blast across France and Germany to get to Innsbruck. Then meet Alice and Percy for something called the Glassknockers (or something like that) waterfall.
Furthest I’ve travelled to see some glass knockers anyway!
Then onto Graz for the GP weekend.