Standing in the rain

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So with all the best intentions I started writing this blog about my travels and two weeks later….still only one post!

Well finally here’s the next.

I am sitting here in what is to be my new bedroom for the two and a half months, a let me tell you, its been a bit of an adventure getting here!

Left mums house on Saturday headed down to the good old Brands Hatch for another “exciting” weekend of racing, (at least that’s what Nick –el demi-padre thinks, mum and i? Not so sure!)

After the usual jam on the M25 we finally make the half an hour journey in a great time of….three hours!!! Why is it that people think that if we all keep changing lanes we will get there any faster!? Guys it’s a traffic jam, just because you are moving left and right all the time does not mean you are getting to your destination! And on a Friday evening at 7o’clock what’s the hurry? Are those precious nano-seconds really going to make a difference?! After the usual evening of merry-ment and much enjoyed plate of sausages with fellow racers Lou-lou and Charlotte. Its time to head to bed ready for the day of tinkering and racing.

I wondered if the inevitable hangovers would help Nick and Lou-Lou’s Lap times tomorrow?!

In true British style Sunday brought over the rain, and not just a bit of it. No, we were treated to the full on storm courtesy of the British Weatherman. Needless to say the drivers had a good race and succeeded if not in winning but simply staying on the road and the spectators? Well they managed to get very wet!

So brought the journey to Spain. The long crossing from Portsmouth to Bilbao I can certainly say was not something I looked forward to or enjoy. None the less a great excuse to indulge in reading my book ALL DAY!

The boat arrived in Bilbao at 07:30am local time, after the welcomed wake up call of trumpets coming from the overhead speakers at 6 o’clock the views where beautiful as we pulled into the docks.

When driving on the wrong side of the road (Right side for Europeans) everybody hastens to give you there “good” advice, “Remember in the gutter”, “Be-careful when leaving petrol stations” and so on, all of this is very well but there is nothing quiet sufficient to prepare you for arriving and Bilbao port.

As a child leaving Calais port, France I always remember the helpful signs scattered every 5 feet or so explaining in a multitude of languages to drive on the right, this was followed by a serious of signs and junctions to assist you on your way. Pretty nice of the French I think! But the Spanish aren’t quiet so liberal with there signs, in fact they don’t think it necessary at all. Lucky I had all that advice going round my head.
“follow the car in front”, “it will feel like your in the gutter”, “On the right”, “Look a the bushes on your side of the car”.
They aren’t so good at the nice junctions either, instead placing the motorway straight in front of you allowing you little other choice other than to get on it!

I decided that it would be a good idea to head in to Bilbao, stop have a coffee and perhaps study the map. Well I have no idea where I went, but it seemed to be in circles everywhere but Bilbao, frustrated somewhat by Spains sudden increase in signs, but some what after the event. You find you self driving along and as you pass the junctions the sign appears to helpfully point out that that was indeed the one you were looking for. Insert here all manner of expletives.

Once I had removed myself from the twisted network of strange roads I decided it better to head down to Paula’s house, at least then I’d be headed in the right direction for tomorrows drive to L'Ametlla del Vallès.

I think Tuesday was the first ever day I decided to refrain from arguing with my sat-nav, for some reason name Sarah and succumb to the fact that she probably knows better than I do.

Following Sarah’s instructions, only making her shout those dreading words “ Recalculating” or “At the next available opportunity PLEASE TURN AROUND” once or twice, both Sarah and I amicably made it back to the right road headed south.

Amongst all that advice no one ever tells you that in fact that physical driving on the wrong side of the road was not the hardest part, instead it is going through to toll gates. YOUR ON THE WRONG SIDE TO GET THE TICKET! You must put the hand brake on, take out of gear, (don’t stale) remove seatbelt, undo other window, move over in the car to take the ticket. This process is to be repeated to pay the nice man who looks at you as if you are an alien and this car is in fact a bright shinny spaceship!

My advice to you is to do those process quickly so as not to upset other drivers, you know the ones not driving spaceships.

So once removed from the toll gates I proceeded to tell Sarah we were not going to be doing that again and so we continued along a somewhat smaller road, but at least I got to see a bit more of Spain that way, and I can tell you with some authority that is it a very disheartening feeling getting on to a road and Sarah says in “295 kilometres turn right”.

Needless to say I made it to Paula that day, saved my self a day and the opportunity of trying to find a hotel.

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Photos

France!
Stopping to pick up some passengers!