As Simon & Garfunkel sang ...

I am, without question, "Homeward Bound" ... I've booked the Euro Tunnel; that, in its self, as if I needed reminding, is the final acknowledgement that my trip is over. Although as you have probably noticed from the general mood of my blogs and the distance between them recently, that ever since turning around from Romania and the realisation that my quest had quested, a certain amount of wind has been taken from my sails.
This travelling, this exploring, really started to come into it's own once I had passed what we commonly accept as Western World civilisation but it is the 'yet to get there' countries that had the most fascination for me. As someone has already suggested and brilliant with it, that my starting point the next time should not be the UK but somewhere far and then journey back. Like China, South Africa, India or Rio Grande (that's not the one in America but the real one at the southern tip of South America).

So I last left you with my German sausage on Monday night and followed it by spending all of Tuesday basking in the expected, 30 degreeC, cloud free heat, by the lake which enticed me with a couple of cooling dips during the day. The sunbathing was made all the more bearable by Marcus du Sautouy's BBC Radio 4 podcasts of a 'History of Mathematics'; all 10 episodes. I know it may sound bizarre too many but maths really does it for me.
Wednesday morning's internet research had me heading in a south-westerly direction towards Dijon as it seemed a better forecast for the next day or two. It was near 800 kms to Dijon and unlikely that I would get there before nightfall but head in that direction I did. Sun at first all the way to Munchen, where I had a munch, but as I left the big city, I could see the grey horizon did not hold a good message and indeed the clouds split, letting all beneath know of their full contents. I was prepared, so not disheartened, but simply plowed on with my mission of the day to cross the border into France.
It rained all the way. It seemed never ending. How far was France? Then. without warning other than a sign showing French speed limits, I was there and not a moment too soon as I had done over 500 kms at this point and was saddle sore.
Fifty k's later and the 'Le Cheval Blanc' restaurant sign 'avec chambres' had me swerving 'a gauche' to simultaneously satisfy my hunger and tiredness, in that order. Nothing to report other than an extremely good meal and good night's sleep, oh and a peace and quiet, and I mean quiet, not a sound, from these tiny, remote, French villages. Quite harmoniously wonderful.
Having made the decision that I don't want to ride the full 800 plus kilometres to Calais, I book a Premier Classe (French equivalent to Premier Inn), in the vicinity of Reims, about half way. As I leave the room, the very attractive French weather lady, tells me there are storms, sun, rain, fog, hail, drought coming ... drool ... was she talking ... anyway, I set off for what turned out to be a perfect day. Motorcycle, sunny and dry, jeans, mountains, winding roads, charming coffee-shop stops and twice as much time as I need. Yes, that's a perfect day and a sweet finish to the trip. I was in the zone.
I'm back in the hotel now after an evening of contrasts viz staying in the infamous champagne region, a gastronomic centre in its own right, having just finished the 8 Euro All-You-You-Can-Eat buffet at Fujim, the local Chinese restaurant. E voila!

With a slightly sad heart, I head for Calais and the train tomorrow but the journey has been fantastic and provided experiences that I shall hold dear and never forget, but I did first write the word 'epic' but changed it to 'fantastic'. Why? Because, it's not over; when it is, I will know and then it will deserve the word 'epic'.

I will do a summary in the next few days, in the meantime, thank you for following and although it was impossible to mention everything, I hope I shared enough to give you a flavour of my experience because an experience it certainly was.

Life and it's people are beautiful .... Thank you for reading.

The Incomplete Nomad On Two Wheels x

Lake Chiemsee

Lake Chiemsee, that's where I am, about half way between Munich and Salzburg and where I took that last sunset picture. The day started overcast but turn into sunbathing rays by lunchtime and the forecast for tomorrow is excellent.

The minute I entered Germany, it was, as you would expect, pristine. Everything works, the roads are smooth, sign posts galore and clean.
I ride the back-roads which isn't easy here as the country is literally criss-crossed with motorways, it is an incredible infrastructure but it's real Germany I'm after.
Although the butt-end of German humour, Bavaria is very attractive; country roads are scenically delightful and the villages are cleanly manicured with every windowsill and balcony adorned with colour. I slightly find it all a little too precise, a bit Stepford (if you've seen the movie Stepford Wives), somewhat personified by the biker's who mutually frequent the pub I visit opposite the campsite. Squeeky-clean, sparkling motorcycles straddled by riders in blemish-free, wrinkle-free leathers that must have wondered who is this, slashed-jeaned, dirty-jacketed, un-shaven rider on his off-road muddied, sticker-covered, fully laden R1200. Do they ask, no, but I do my usual "guten-tag" as I pass and order my pint. Not that this is a fair experiment, but I have had no confrontations at all, anywhere on my journey, until here; "You can't park there" said one on the first day, not that I was blocking anything and a kid, about 7 or 8 years old, who called me a "dummkopf" because I couldn't speak German. His mother was rather embarrassed but I joked it off. Germans outside Germany are a lot more friendly, I know, I've had the pleasure of meeting them.

I took a stroll around the lake today and came across a vintage car works with quite a few classics including this fully restored, wooden framed, Morris Minor Traveller and they only wanted 12,000 Euros for it. That sounds cheap to me. Maybe it didn't have an engine. Still cheap and bloody tempting. The bike costs more than that! Whatever, she was a beauty and in deep, rich green too.
"SOLD" to the scruffy Brit .... no I didn't.

Oh, managed to convince the jolly camp commandant (should I say that) to let me have electricity in the tent which does look very odd I must say. A large-diameter, electrical cable that disappears into the front flap of the tent, must look like I'm powering a gin distillery or a marijuana plantation; just want power for my laptop and phone, honest.

Anyway, am in said earlier pub and just finished a curry-covered sausage that's longer than your arm and I'm consequently, properly stuffed. Basking in evening sunshine, I think a coffee and sticky are in order ...

ta ta x