Martin on the moto: Home

Rather than hang around in Roscoff all day waiting for the night crossing to Plymouth, I decided to rise early on Monday, pack the wet tent, and was at the ferry-port by 7am where I changed my ticket to get onto the 8.30am ferry. After boarding the Armorique and stuffing down a big breakfast I found my cabin and continued the sleep I'd interrupted earlier. After a shower and a change of clothes there was plenty of time to relax and roam around the ferry which arrived in Plymouth at 1pm.

Down on the car-deck I got chatting to Joe, a 6'9" (!) Anglo/German cyclist who had just finished a similar journey and had almost identical equipment. He's a law professor at the LSE apparently. He was also going back to London so we rode to the station together and bought tickets for the next train. Boarding was a problem, however. 6 other cyclists had reservations and 4 of us hadn't. Although there was space in the van, the guard (or train manager as they now seem to be called) was unhelpful in that British job's-worth way and wouldn't let any of us on. The most vocal of the four of us left behind described him as a c*** and I couldn't disagree!

One hour later the next train had a guard with a relaxed approach, and although there was a similar number of reserved spaces already taken up, it was no problem at all for us to put our bikes in the empty luggage space of the guard van. Joe and I chatted on the way home and may do a ride together at some point. It was good to get home, but now I have to decide what to do next. There are some concerts I'd like to hear in the next couple of days so I won't rush off, but the question is, do I do some more cycling (I enjoyed it and feel really good now, even if it was gruelling at times) or jump on the moto?

Here are a few random photos to conclude.