Journey through Spain You could tell it was disembarking time on the ferry – the rain was hammering down outside and you could see little more than a thick drizzle grey everywhere. As the motley collection of bikers headed down to deck 2, the perennial fat hard “characters” who were always on the ferry or the chunnel, usually on cruisers, these ones on Goldwings, cited they didn’t need waterproofs ‘cos the Goldwing shielded them from anything, and of course because they were “hard”. They were nice enough lads but any moron could see they would have been soaked within 10 miles. Shame about the weather because the route once out of Bilbao’s environs was really quite stunning, carving its way through rock formations, weaving through tunnels and winding along pristine, albeit wet, blacktop. Only a short
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