Well, the trip is over. I am sitting in my inside cabin on the Stenna ship that will leave in a couple of hours for Harwich arriving at 6.30 in the morning. I made it. I made it to Slovakia. I did not have a accident. The bike did not break down (or even hint at it). My toothache went away. I was not abducted by Roma or aliens. I didn’t even get seriously wet though the low points were weather induced. Crouching in my little tent in a thunder storm moving all my pathetic belongings into a smaller and smaller space is not much fun, though made a couple of nice videos. My precious down sleeping bag which everyone warns you not to get wet – never got wet. I was afraid of being struck by lightening though under a tree. I now don’t mind riding in the rain.

Yesterday I set out on the twisty route from the campsite near Fulda up through interesting Marburg to Soest where my cousin lives. The ride was the hottest riding I have ever done, beautiful roads but rather too long and tiring. My welcome by Astrid and Ullie could not have been nicer or more genuine. They had even bought me toothbrushes and shaving soap and gave me a lovely apartment – I mean to sleep in for the night – not to keep. In the evening we drove (in a car which seemed so wide) into Soest to have a lovely Chinese ‘all you can eat’ (which everyone seems to be doing) buffet. Ullie pointed out on the way the blocks of flats once lived in by British troops when they had stations in West germany and now, as a result of some clever policy making they are home to hundreds of immigrants. Germany’s newest immigrant group is Russians and we were surrounded in our restaurant by russians speaking german but, Ullie told me, with a harsh accent. They sang ‘Happy birthday’ in English though. That whole area of town seemed peopled on this Friday evening by rather poor looking and predominantly young down at heel people. I was getting the impression that this impressive German medieval town, with its circular arrangement of narrow streets now housed a predominantly displaced population. However on a short walk around the Centre of town, we stumbled on a wine fair in a small park, packed with stalls and people. So this is where the middle aged and middle classes were compressed. This was a completely different set of people. Over some delicious – unusual to my palette – German wine (of which Ullie kindly bought me a bottle to take home) I stared wide eyed at this crowd of animated people, all looking so un-English, somehow with better bone structure, or more imposing, stylish, better dressed unlike the slightly grey feeling that the English have. (I am aware that the fact that you can’t understand what people are saying makes you assume they are saying something interesting – Mike Carter makes this poit in his funny Uneasy Rider. And in the background, up on a small stage, in the evening sunlight, a band performed a passable version of Eric Clapton’s Wonderful tonight.

Today I packed up (so much quicker without a tent to take down) and took my leave. The ride here to Hook of Holland was 208 miles and took about 3 and a half hours. I felt so complacent and totally relaxed with riding. I had made it. In fact I sang Wonderful tonight in the privacy of my helmet for many miles. Waiting for ferries is always a great place to chat idly to people, to a cyclist from Chester on this occasion and then to a tubby couple astride a 1150 BMW GS. They both looked so heavy on this big bike. ( i am sure the suspension doesn’t sink like that when I climb on my bike.) I was impressed at his control. They had just come back from the Dolomites. This meeting has reaffirmed a craving to own a nice large Beemer. Because I didn’t stash some wine and food, I will have to part with some cash in the restaurant here. I have floods of Euro in my wallet because Campsites were so cheap and I paid for petrol by credit card (it will be interesting to see how much that costs). I have clocked up 2350 miles – more than my whole last year’s riding in just two weeks: 4 countries, only two nights in hotels. Not many conversations, some nice meals mainly in Germany, some lovely places too. I’ve done it.

I got going early with a fear of a new thunderstorm which never came. I felt very smug having examined the ‘shorter distance’ route that the Garmin arranged for me on my map and it looked like a nice twisty route free from those boringly efficient motorways. However before 10 minutes of riding I was lost and after surrendering to Emily (the name of the Bitish voice) I found myself on what looked suspiciously like motorways to me. I must have been dehydrated because shortly after one stop for coffee and an almond croissant at a service station where all the white ad red uniformed staff were assembled outside for a photograph I felt woozy enough to stop at a parking platz mit WC and drink huge amounts of water and wash out my sore eye (I blame it on the pillowlessness of this trip). Just when I was getting despondent my route took me onto the lovely twisty, empty recently tarmaced roads that I really enjoy; they weave in and out of pine woods, getting dark and damp and beautifully scented, then out into the sunshine again. I arrived at this final campsite of the trip as I did the last one, with a doubting heart. By today I was feeling that I have had one or two more camping days than I really wanted. I arrived at lunchtime with a queue of others waiting to get on the site. The lady running the place only had a few words of English but she directed me to the space for tents. I followed the route past the huge always white mobile homes and caravans to a cute field right away from everyone else and I set up camp in the shade (its been really hot and humid today) and right next to a gurgling stream. This has been the nicest spot I’ve had so far. I’ve even paid for wireless internet access which i am doublful about ever working. For 3 euro I get ein stunde (one hour to you).

I walked up to the nearby town with the fantasy of purchasing some pork, white wine and cream to cook a last delicious meal in my private little corner (by the way I forgot to say that I have my very own park bench – so the chairlessness problem is solved). I found the town extremely strange with a number of shrines and then shops that sold a range of goods that corresponded to nothing I had ever come across. Of course I was looking for a supermarket but a butcher would have done. The first emporium resembling a supermarket sold crisps, warm wine and beer and the rest was haircare products. I replaced my wire basket and kept looking. The only other place resembling a supermarket had about 20 various items layed out in the space that you might normally expect to see 200. The owner was an unamused man with a moustache and long grey hair using a 1960s vintage cash register. Was this some kind of statement? I’m not sure. Ive bought a red pepper a leek, two beers (cold) and some Kirsh filled chocolate. He gave me a box to carry them back down the road to the site.

I’ve spotted the only other Brit I’ve seen on this trip, sitting reading ‘Mystery man’ with his feet up on a red LDV ex-Parcelforce van just up the field. I plan to accost him with the greeting ‘Where’s my parcels, then?’ Also in my field are a sweet German couple, she seems to have had a stroke and was almost speechless when I first tried to strike up my hopeless German conversation as we waited for the counter to open, and another man from Denmark, casually flaunting a colostomy.

Yesterday brightened up, chiefly as a result of having a heavenly meal of pork in the attached restaurant on a large terrace overlooking the sun setting over the large lake here. Service too was exquisite from and English speaking waitress who gave me an english menus and told me the German for ash tray which I have forgotten now. And today started misty but wit a table mysteriously appearing outside my tent, one of its plastic legs repaired with a wooden spoon taped to it. when i returned from my wash I found an elderly man laying a tablecloth, and when I returned from collecting the crisp bread rolls I had ordered I found a jug of boiled water and a jar of nescafe. I drank some out of politeness before brewing my expresso making (which I later used as a hammer). Sitting in the sun reading then going for a swim in the beautiful lake took until lunchtime but then with very little warning the heavens opened and I crouched in my tent holding the flysheet away from the gradually dampening inside. Water started to ebb along the ground sheet and I made a desperate barricade of my Ortlieb 100% holdall. Lunch consisted of some fruit and much water. It has been too hot and humid to even consider climbing into motorbike clobber to visit the nearby town. I have plotted what looks like a nice wiggly non motorway route up to the next campsite. its about 145 Miles Northwest from here and should take 2 and ¾ hours. The facilities here are beautifully ample and are constantly being cleaned. I’ve had a number of showers today.

A Danish couple recently arrived towing a huge caravan and appearedto squeeze it between two others. Mr Danish handled the uncoupling while Mrs arrived holding a handbag and smoking a cigarette. Incredibly, after moving the care out of the way, he moved the caravan my remote control, including manoevering it into a tight space using a llittle device that my son used to use to race his car around the living room. I was very impressed but find it a little despicable at the same time. It is still so humid here I am wondering if we will have a further storm (there was donner und blitzen) in the night. I have been the only person with a tent everywhere I’ve been – certainly such a small one. It has worked like clockwork though a chair and a kind of pillow will get packed for the next trip. apparently hard-core Touratech sell suitable chairs and this will give me an excuse to buy into this exclusive brand name.

If this site were smaller, with a cooler atmosphere instead of many fat families from Bavaria, with an alternative and not quite yet discovered feel to it, I would definitely return. I am looking forward to getting on the road tomorrow particularly as it looks like a good route. I am wondering how my evening will go with Astrid (I want to call her Astrid Proll after the Bader Meinhof 1970s terrorist) und Ullie on Friday.