The whole trip lasted just over a day, including getting my ass to Brussels on the train. Woke up one Thursday morning after just 2-3 hours of sleep, had a coffee and grabbed a taxi to the train station. The train to London took just about 2 hours, then came the tube to Saint Pancras International train station. I had to wait there for another hour and half for the train to Brussels to depart. Finally, around 4 pm west Europe time I got there.
Since the guys from the transport company told me to expect them in Brussels after 8 o'clock, I went towards the city center on foot, taking a picture here and there, trying some local snacks, window shopping. Eventually I stopped at this fancy restaurant to relax a bit and ordered a Stella Artois. Over priced and with a taste of cold piss I quickly make my way towards a public park where I spend over an hour reading. While Brussels seems like a great city, in my short stay on a Thursday afternoon I didn't manage to bump into anything remotely interesting to see with empty pockets. Just your average capital filled with people buzzing like busy bees everywhere.
As night came and still no sign of the guys I jumped into a local run-of-the-mill back-street joint and quickly told myself "Fuck the fancy restaurants!". The place was filled with good music, 2-3 people were actually dancing to the great tunes of the at-the-time great hit from Zaz "Je veux". The place made me feel like home again, being able to smoke in there, and since at some point I told myself that if I have another coffee I'm gonna start running to England and went on towards some local beer, I really enjoyed myself.
Finally after 9 pm the guys arrived with my bike. Pleasantly enough, since I didn't have a GPS or any form of map, they denied my request of help getting out of the city. They said they're going in the opposite direction and cannot spare half an hour helping me on my way. Thus, at midnight I was still back in Brussels after taking quite a few routes out and feeling I'm going the wrong way, with a petrol tank that was quickly running dry and no petrol stations opened.
The weather was somewhat dreadful. Cold, misty, with a touch of rain here and there. Shortly I had to pull over at a petrol station and get dressed with most of the shirts and hoodies, actually managed to tie a sweater around my neck to stop the wind, and got both leather jackets on me. Feeling like yeti, with a full tank, empty bladder and coffee full stomach I went back on the road.
After a few good hours of riding blindly, almost on instinct, if you can call it that way, towards Calais, I finally reached the port just after sun rise.
Luckily the ferry was ready to depart as soon as I got on it, and for the 2-3 hours crossing, I fell asleep like a log in a chair, with my feet on my rucksack. When I woke up, we were in England.
I installed my GPS (which, as you're probably thinking right now "I thought he didn't have a GPS", only has the maps of England) and went on the 3 hours journey (it took me 5) home, on roads somewhat known to me, with a GPS at my side to show me the way, and I was waaay too tired to actually enjoy the rest of the trip anyway. Halfway through I thought I ran out of petrol when, instead of going on reserve I actually turned it off, and the worst were the last 30 miles. On the motorway (fast going right!?) it took me over an hour to do them last 30's. I kept falling asleep at 70mph, so I kept stopping every 10 minutes for a 10 minutes cigarette break.
Finally, after 400 miles of unknown roads, 14 hours on the bike, 2 hours of sleeping in a chair and about 40 pounds worth of petrol I got home safe and sound, ready for a well deserved sleep.
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