Bruges

Much to my relief the bike starts fine and behaves while i fuel it up. It's still sluggish until you crank open the throttle but i'm at least awake now and i can manage it. Finding the autobahn was easy and i'm starting to feel good again, not much longer to go, just holding it all together.

It's Sunday so the roads are quiet, which means i can relax a bit. As soon as i leave Germany i can feel the rods change in Belgium. It's still the same motorway but the condition is worse, worse even than at home, potholes and bits breaking up all over, the worst part though is the lack of road markings particularly near junctions, which is a bit scary. The road got better after a while and i wondered if the bad bit was just an extended rumble strip to remind the Germans they were no longer on an autobahn, but it soon got bad again.

The ring road around Brussels was ok, but two things really pissed me off about Belgian drivers. The first is that they must consider it uncool to indicate since no-one bothers. The second is that the lane discipline is poor, they are quite happy to shave through the lane that i'm in rather than wait the three more seconds until they are past then move in. I'm wishing again that i had my CBF since with that it's fairly easy to kick off someone's wing mirror then disappear, or run the kevlar from my gloves along their paintwork, but realising i'm getting a bit grumpy i stop for food.

I get to Bruges without any further incident around 3.30pm, feeling pretty good now since it's only 10 miles to the ferry. I dump the bike near the hotel i'd liked and went in search of it, since it seems to be behind an industrial estate. I eventually find it on foot, but think it's miles away from the centre of town so i'm not convinced. I'm also not going to just wander in to a hotel anymore and ask for a room since you get stiffed for the rack rate, so i decide to wander back into town and look for an internet place, or a McDonalds with free wifi and keep an eye out for a place to stay nearer the town centre.

I'm not sure if anyone has seen the move "In Bruges" with Colin Farrell in it, but his character has a line it it:

"If i grew up on a farm and was retarded Bruges might impress me, but i didn't so it doesn't".

The locals seem to love this and thrive on the negative publicity as it makes more tourists want to come and see the place. It's another tourist trap similar in a way to Salzburg but again it's very pretty. I was enjoying wandering all over the place, up and down the cobbled streets, but i couldn't find an internet place anywhere. Eventually after a few hours i found a scruffy looking place that had to be a hostel and used the internet there. I realised that spending the £70 or so for a four star hotel miles from anywhere was nuts and i decided to just get a room at a hostel instead. Hostels are usually fairly weird with a strange mix of people, but it's nice to observe sometimes. The hostel that i was using the internet in didn't have single/double rooms so that was out, as i'm not gonna go back to dorms if i can help it, but i find another place that has them so i wander off to locate it.

Being a medieval city lots of the streets in Bruges are fairly small so finding the place was tricky again, but when i got there they did have rooms left, and there was free parking nearby which would save me about £6o all in. I couldn't check in as they needed a passport or other ID and all mine was on the bike, so i wandered back off to get it and move the bike down, which would mean i could repack all my kit, ready for the ferry tomorrow and when i'd checked out, dump it all on the bike and be in the city centre wandering around eating ice cream until i had to go to the ferry check in at 4pm on Monday.

This all felt great and even when it started raining again i didn't care since i'd only have to ride the bike for five minutes, then a short walk and i'd be sorted. Quick shower and change then out for a wander and maybe a beer or two if i could find a pub not filled with smoke. I got back up to the bike and now noticed the lightning and thunder rolling in, but i still wasn't bother and got suited up for the short ride. I got on the bike, press the started and the engine turns over as normal, but won't fire up. I try again and again, noticing the rain is now lashing down, but nothing. In the end i have to unpack the kit i need and trudge back to the hostel arriving about 9pm in my now familiar dragged through a hedge backwards, smelling like a badger state.

At least they have free wifi so i can check my AA European cover, but i have a horrible feeling since i had expected to be through Istanbul by now. It had expired the day before. So i look up recovery services nearby and send an email to the AA to see if they can at least arrange a tow which i'll just pay for. They never responded.

Feeling a bit down again i shower and go for a wander, but no longer feel like beer, and by now my feet are sore from all the walking. The bike boots i've been wandering all over Europe in have been great but it's taking it's toll on my feet. I've got the breakdown numbers written out and i double check when i need to be at the ferry but i try not to think about the bike as i plan things to do the next morning, before i head off. This mostly involves eating more ice cream but i wanted to climb the belfry tower too.

The next day is bright again, but still cold since i'm up early, and i wander all over waiting for the belfry tower to open at 9.30am. Oh, something most of you will probably know but i hadn't realised is that most of the population in Belgium speak Dutch not French, something like 60%. Actually most speak a few languages but i couldn't work out what people were saying to me at first when i went into shops, and then i'd get a funny look when i said thanks or please in French. I couldn't dial in to the accent since they would start in Dutch, i'd say something in French, they would often then switch to German, then we'd end up in English.

The belfry tower is quite a climb but the views are good from the top. Not the easiest place to take photo's from because of the wire mesh (they must have removed this for the film) but nice all the same. With that done and the ice cream scoffed i check out and humph my gear back to the bike.

I'd been thinking about what may be wrong with the bike since it wouldn't start and since it's only 11am and check in is not until 4pm i figure i have some time to fault find and see if i can get it started. It had rained on the run in to Bruges, but the bike hadn't misfired like it did the day before. so i work out the difference must be the speed and amount of traffic on the autobahn in Germany, this was kicking up a lot of spray, which must have been affecting the coil or spark plug, so this is where i'll start. To get to those parts i need to dismount the luggage, then take off the seat and petrol tank.

As i'm starting i notice a couple of drunks sitting in a flower bed watching me, while drinking their cans, just what i need. Fortunately a woman comes flying out of a shop an hunts them and they wander off down the road. If she didn't like that i wonder how she's going to feel about this. I did try starting the bike again first just in case it was damp the night before but nothing.

As i'm working away, at the side of a busy road a woman probably in her 60's stops to ask what is up. Actually i had no idea what she said since it was in Dutch, but it seemed logical that's what she was asking so i reply in English that the bike won't start. She immediately changes gears in her head and tells me in English that there is a garage 50metres around the corner. This is good news but i'd like to know what the problem is first, so i keep working. First thing is to take out the spark plug, but it looks fine, then i start to examine the coil, looks ok, the cap which i didn't like the look of before i left, and i have a spare for but it's fine. I go all over the wiring connections, but it doesn't seem electrical from the battery side since the engine is turning, but it just won't fire.

I go back to the coil side and look again, this time remembering that on a bike the HT lead is not one complete piece. The insulated wire and the cap are separate pieces unlike on a car and when i tug at the wire it comes out. Now that i can see it properly most of the metal inside has been burned away, so i figure that's my problem. Knowing this it's much easier to wander to a garage ad say do you have an HT cable for a bike. When i get to the garage the woman had told me about it's just closed for lunch since it's noon. I keep walking along the road since where there is one garage there is usually more. As i pass a bus stop a young woman starts ranting and raving about something in Dutch (i think), again i can't understand a word she is saying but buses are buses the world over so i say yeah you can never rely on them in English and once again i see the mental change of gears while a language switch is thrown in someone's head. Once she's finished ranting i ask if there is another garage nearby and she says yes, down the street i'm walking, then goes back to complaining about waiting in the heat. Personally i think it's a bit warm for the leather outfit she's wearing, but i do concede she looks good.

I stop at the first garage but it's just a showroom with no parts, but the lady inside tells me about another place nearby, when i'm walking to that i see a petrol station with a garage attached and even better it has a recovery truck, so i wander in, do the do you speak English, No, not very well thing. I've brought the parts though so it's easy for the guy to understand what i need. He doesn't have any bike parts, but he takes an old car HT lead and we bodge it to my coil with black tape. He won't take any money at all and just waves me off.

With all this i wander back to the bike and strip it off again and fit the new/old parts. Then i try to start it up and still nothing. The engine still turns but it just won't fire. I take out the spare coil i have in case that's the problem and the spare cap and fit them, realising that the coil also has a length of HT cable with it. So i've now got almost three complete sets of the same parts, and i even cut down the lead i know is dud to get back to a good contact and try every combination i can think of. Still nothing.

To get at the spare parts i had to take off the side fairing so i've got access to more wiring, but again it all looks ok. I do find the connector from my right hand heated grip has come apart which explains why that wasn't working so i refit that. With the ignition on i take out the only fuse on the bike. This isn't really recommended but you do get to hear the relays go nuts, which can unstick them all at once rather than individually tap them, plus it can reset the cdi unit. By now the battery is getting low so i'm doing shorter starting bursts, but it's still barely turning over.

To take the petrol tank off you have to disconnect the fuel lines, and in doing so you usually spill a little fuel, but i'd noticed that the right hand side line hadn't spilled much, which was odd. The bike leans to it's left when on the side stand, so it's possible the right hand tank could be low, since the tank is like saddlebags. I know there is fuel in the bike since i have a habit of switching the taps on the tank to reserve instead of off when i'm about to disconnect the fuel lines, which means petrol pours out everywhere. This isn't as bad as it sounds since it evaporates quickly and can be quite useful for cleaning your hands. Not recommended for smokers though.

As a last throw of the dice i lean the bike as far over as i can to the right without it falling over as it's possible the fuel pump has failed and the carb feed it trying to draw from the empty right hand side of the tank. With that done i refit the bodged car HT lead, bolt the side panel, seat and petrol tank back on and figure it's time to admit defeat. I've now got about two and a half hours to arrange a tow truck and get the bike hauled to the ferry where i'm going to have to push it on.

With it all back together and despite the almost flat battery i try to start it one last time. It immediately fires into life as if there had never been a problem. I'm stunned and a bit drained again, so i throw all the tolls and bits and pieces into the luggage, not bothering to pack it properly which means i need to wear my small rucksack on my back. I'm not going to switch the ignition off at all, which means i need to take the luggage key from the keyring without disturbing the ignition key, which is tricky but i get it done. Then it's on the bike and off to the ferry terminal. I'd like to say the bike was now running great after all that but it still felt dreadful and i had to wind up the revs anytime i stopped at a light for fear of it stalling. I got to the ferry terminal just before 2pm, two hours before check in and four before departure. I finally felt safe enough now to switch off the engine since i could push it from here.


I left it for a few seconds then tired to start it again. It started normally. I left it for a few minutes and tried again, and again it was fine. I dismounted and wandered off watching the port workings going on then sneaked back up on the bike when i thought it wasn't looking. It started fine. Hungry, tired and drained i rode it back to Bruges to get something to eat, and to buy a nail brush since my hands were now filthy.

To set the scene you need to imagine what the bike now sounds like. Most folk will know what a scooter sounds like when it's being revved hard, so my bike is just like a deeper growl than that normally, with a few barks thrown in. Now imagine the sound of a washing machine at full spin, which is also being tumbled down the street at speed and you're pretty much there. It's this thing i roll back into the centre of the picturesque town where nice local old folk are having a conversation, which immediately has to stop because their teeth are vibrating. I switch the bike off, then sneakily try to catch it unawares by starting it again, and it fires up fine. I then notice all the stares from the group of old folks and apologise and wander off in search of food.

The bike makes it back to the ferry without incident, lasts through the ridiculous queue to check in and the longer wait to board, before making it onto the boat under it's own power. In a nice piece of symmetry i fall asleep that night the same way as on the outward journey, hoping the bike will start so i can get it off the boat.