Well I departed the UK on 14 December 2016 astride my bike sort of as planned (more on this later) and yes it did feel as good as I thought it would.
After a cold but uneventful 500 mile journey I arrived at Folkestone to drive on to the train that would take me out of the UK.
As you can see in the above picture, you just drive up, wait a few minutes and then drive on to the train, and 20 or so minutes later you are in France. Once in France i found my way to my hotel in Calais and settled down for the night. The following day a long, but cold, 500 mile trip through the motorways of central France saw me safely tucked up in a very bohemian hotel in the town of Milau. You can say what you like about the French, you may like them or loath them but undeniably they have their own very definite sense of fashion and style.
I set off from Milau early and again using the motorways I headed for Aix En Provence and then South West along the Mediterranean in the direction of the Spanish border. That afternoon I arrived in the Spanish city of Reus, where I intend to spend the next year or so. Luckily I arrived just ahead of a truly spectacular thunderstorm, the type of which I have only encountered whilst travelling in Europe. Once in my hotel I set off on an exploration of Reus, my leisurely stroll revealed an old city centre that reminded me of Barcelona or Valencia. Lots of narrow cobbled streets stuffed with bars, restaurants, and the type of shops that are now absent from UK cities, those that are staffed by friendly people selling locally produced goods at reasonable prices.
A quick tour of the outer edges of the city centre revealed the same issues that blight most modern cites. Just beyond the boundaries of the tourist friendly old town are areas of deprivation with a mixed population which is peppered here and there with a few unsavoury characters inhabiting the street corners or isolated doorways. However, on a more positive note, these pockets of graffiti decorated concrete edifices produced by years of misguided socialist thinking on housing policies, are somewhat smaller and apparently safer to those I am used to. Nevertheless they are worth avoiding if possible as clearly I seemed to attract more than a few lingering glances.
Four days later I set off to spend Christmas with my good friend who lives in a small town in Galicia. The first part of the 600 mile journey although done in occasional light rain was quite pleasant. As the road climbed Westwards it occasionally dipped down in to wide river valleys. These secluded valleys were occasionally filled with dense fog and so my journey alternated between periods of bright sunshine and stretches of 50 yards of visibility, Eventually after a 20 mile stretch of fog the road climbed sharply out of the fog and in to a bright sunny sparking morning.
As I entered the bright sunshine I wiped the last remnants of the moisture caused by fog from my visor only to see the finger of my glove covered in a strange white substance. As my brain tried to work out what this substance was I suddenly felt a massive drop in temperature and I suddenly realised that it was ice. I decided that I should head for the first services I could find which luckily was only five miles further along the motorway.
God almighty was I cold!
After a serious hot coffee defrost I headed off again, two stops later thankfully the weather had returned to being sunny and warm I had ridden more than 400 miles since my departure earlier that morning. While I was enjoying my cup of coffee I saw a small bird fall from a tree and land on one of the tables that were placed outside the door of the services for the smokers. The bird appeared to be in some difficulty as it fluttered about upside down on the table and I presumed it was a goner. However, much to my surprise it rallied and when I looked more closely at it I saw that it was one of the smallest birds in Europe.
I seized the opportunity to photograph the Goldcrest which I have only rarely seen and which only weighs the same as a 20 pence coin.
I continued my journey happy to have seen such a beautiful and rare bird up close before it flew off back up in to the tree from whence it came. My arrival at my friends home was made 200 miles further on and in late afternoon. Once there I was greeted by a large plate of home made soup stuffed with chorizo sausage and a large pile of freshly baked bread. A long ride on my bike on foreign shores, good food with a good friend, for me life just does not get any better!