7 June 2019

I thank my young host and tell him: “Whatever you aim for make it happen!”  (Last night we had a bit of chat about living your dreams)

I turn left out of the farm gate, I head for the nearest town about 15 km away to get some petrol.  Eight litres should get me across the border into Andorra.  

Fuel cost is always a consideration, primarily if you are used to the low cost of fuel in Australia, which is about 80 euro cent per litre. The price in France is around 1.77 Euro (more than double). In the tiny country of  Andorra, they sell the same stuff for 1.02 Euro, and  that’s $20 saved

Many cars and campervans have big tanks, it is obvious that many travellers take a slight detour through Andorra for a fill of fuel.

 Petrol supply is big business in Andorra as I estimated there are about 10-15 service station per km. In one area I saw 6 in a row on one side of the road and 4 on the other. Everything is sold cheap in this tiny country, and that brings in lots of people. One of the big money spinners is car/truck and motorcycle tyres which are priced about 40% less than elsewhere.

I ride back south through the rugged country with steep cliffs on both sides of the road. Getting close to the border, a sign on the side of the road provides me with a choice of: Through the tunnel or over the mountain pass. Snow is visible in the distance, but I decide to go over the pass as all motorcyclist do. The campervan drivers I am glad to notice, are nowhere to be seen, they all seem to head for the tunnel.

While climber higher, the snow line gets closer and the temperature starts to drop.  After crossing the border, a further choice of a tunnel or an even higher pass. Again I choose the pass and to my surprise find service stations along the mountain road right to the top of the pass. The temperature drops to 6 degrees and my hands go numb, but I love it. The road is in excellent condition, and the only other traffic consists of fellow riders.  Soon I have snow below me but glad to see there is none of it on the road.

At the mountain top, I am met by a strong blast of icy wind, which makes me shiver. A sign points me in the right direction,” Espana” it reads.  Spain, here I come. Via a series of sharp hairpin bends the road slowly the runs down to sea level. Riding through canyons with sheer cliffs on one side and vertical drop-offs on the other head for Barcelona. Every 5 km the temperature rises until it hits 32 degrees 100km before Barcelona.

 I stop at a roadside restaurant to get a coffee and remove my inner jackets and jumpers. On the way out of the place, I notice an older lady struggling to open the doors holding two cups coffee’s in her hands. Of course, being the gentleman that I am, I open the door for her.

"Thank you," she said. “Oh,” I said “English?”, “No, Australian”, she answered while she walks over the her car handing they coffee to another lady. We have a chat. They came from Adelaide; two sisters, one 74 and the other 94!, travelling around Europe in a big Peugeot ATV. The older lady said: “It is in my blood, a kind of bug, I have been travelling all of my life and all over the world. You know you need to live and not exist; Carpe Diem” She said. “Do you know what that means?” “Yes, “I said, “Seize the day”.  That’s what I do., and yes, I know what you are telling me- there is no antidote for travel bugs.

Barcelona is a large city, arriving at peak hour is no fun. 25 km out of the city the first signs appear in the shape of a picture of a ship with the word ferries under it. Half an hour later, I stop in front of the Grimaldi Lines building and collect my ticket to Sardinia. My plan to go back into the city I let go as it is too busy at this time of the day. It is still early.  After parking, I wait in the lounge with a coffee. Soon more motorcyclist arrives, from the number plates I can see where they are from: Finland, Portugal, Germany, Italy and Sweden etc. 

The ferry goes from Barcelona to Sardinia and on to the Italian mainland.

The Sardinia travellers are the last to go on board as they are the first to leave.  After a long wait, I ride onto the ship via two long ramps to deck number 7.  Here many riders just park their bikes on the centre stand and walk off, letting the crew secure the bikes to the deck. I prefer to do it myself, so I can attach the straps and making sure they are not pinching cables or wiring. Also, you should always park using the side stand so you can secure the straps tight by pulling down the suspension.

Interesting to note that while the running cost of a ferry should be about the same the world over, the journey to Sardinia, which takes about 12 hours, cost only 54 Euros which is about 82 AUD. That is for me, the bike and a cabin.

Now try to book Melbourne to Tasmania, which is also a 12 hours journey, and you are looking at several hundred dollars without accommodation. What’s that telling you?