If you have just read a story about the allroad winter tires, you can handle the winter again. Not because they are available in the sizes of my bike, that's not even an allroad, but the idea gives peace of mind. When you hear that Great Barr Motorcycle Breakers in Birmingham is such a fun motorcycle wreck, you just call two acquaintances who also don't have Heidenau compatible allroads and you just bet on your daily tires and the climate change. And there is a tunnel between France and England, so you have to drive that entire part covered. Before Calais we do a coffee & cholesterol stop to get the hands, knees and feet up to temperature. Electrically heated gloves are good, but they are not magic.
Despite the relatively safe distance to Calais, we check our bags for illegal passengers before driving off. After all, in the immediate vicinity of Calais, African fortune seekers try everything to get to the Promised Land? Apparently they have heard somewhere that when they are in England they get shelter, money and residence permits. FAIL! That only happens in the Netherlands.
We arrive at the tunnel terminal without being jumped or hijacked
It shows again how high the workload is and how little humorous the Northern French can be. On the negotiation attempt whether it is not cheaper to drive behind the train under your own power, those sleepers, we'll get over that, the French conductor or whatever kind of pet man he is completely freaks out. We make soothing sounds. And are allowed on board. A motor is simply put on its jiffy on board the train. Tie down is not necessary. And because a motorcycle has two wheels, the
over journey by train only half of the car fare. After more than half an hour we were on the other side, only just warmed up. Because we only went shopping, we took the motorway and arrived numb at the motor scrap yard.
Which was closed…
Because not only the Greeks have unique opening and closing strategies. A friendly elderly Briton reported that a demolition was open further down the road. His brother's. But that only did in really old motorcycles. “Real British bikes, not that modern stuff”. We didn't find what we were looking for, but the old-fashioned demolition was endearing. It was another very nice weekend in England. Back in Calais we saw that Africa was still waiting for a crossing. We drove home. Through the rain.