The day arrived for our big trip but it was a bit damp from the night before (anyone remember South London's barbie?). On arrival at Hoverspeed yet another damper was put on the day as they wanted £356 for the return trip to Ostend. I duly pointed out that we had done the very same trip five weeks previous for £142. "Different season now, Mate!" was all the response I got. A quick check down the road at the ferries confirmed the hike in price: £300 to France, not even where we wanted to go. Reluctantly paying the price we boarded a half-empty boat and tried very hard to forget getting ripped off. It didn't work.
The journey across Belgium was very wet, arriving in Germany at 7:30 p.m. on a road that went on for miles and miles - completely deserted and no sign of a petrol station.
We finally found a camp site just before darkness and put up our tent, making enquiries as to where the petrol station was. The nearest one was 10 miles in the wrong direction, I found out. This became a detour that was more like 40 miles going round in circles, with Lee's outfit just making it before it ran dry. After getting lost more than a few times, we approached our destination, the village of Reinebach. We followed a sign reading "Triumph" and found ourselves going higher and higher up a steep mountain dirt track at the top of which we found our hosts, the German Triumph Club. It was amazing, you could see for miles, hearing nothing but the birds and crickets who only had a German bierkeller for company. Very useful for us, though how he made a living stuck at the top of a mountain I do not know.
The weekend saw the arrival of all nationalities, all of whom were very friendly. Lee and I were the only ones from England but found that even when we were not around, English was the chosen language. A run was organised for the Saturday to a motorbike museum. This was split into two: a slow and fast pack through hills and countryside. All I can say is that fast meant fast.
All too soon the rally was finished and we were heading home. We decided to camp overnight at the German border before heading back through Belgium. A quick look at the map showed a campsite just beside the "c" of Acchan. That'll do nicely I said! Pulling onto the site some time later I found the office and rang the bell. Going through the rigmarole... guess what? The man wanted paying in Dutch Guilders because somehow we had left Germany and entered Holland.
Well I had German, Belgium and British money but no Guilders. He eventually took German money and pointed us round the corner. After pitching the tent (and having ridden all day we then had to ride back into Germany to get something to eat and drink, which turned out to be about 8 miles away. Great!
Having got wet going to Germany it then turned out we got wet coming back as well, the ride back across Belgium again being rain. I thought July was sunshine; maybe Hoverspeed were right with "Different season, Mate!" - it certainly wasn't the expected one. Twelve hundred miles later we arrived back home very tired, but meeting all the Triumph people from Europe made it worthwhile.