They think it's all over - it is now!

After 7 months, 25 countries, 38,000km, 3 punctures and a few tumbles, I rolled off the Pride of Dover onto the Dover quayside. The day before, I had met a couple of old friends in Epernay who had driven down from London to escort me safely onto English soil. Pete and Tim have a (completely unfounded) belief that I am a catalyst for accidents, natural disasters and other Acts of God, and thought that since I had made it this far without any major dramas, an upset was probably overdue. Obviously, as a bloke I did a totally inadequate job of explaining to them how touched I was that they took a couple of days off work and came all that way to share the final day of the trip, but it meant a great deal to me. From the very first day of the trip, I had imagined the journey ending with a great reception from my mates somewhere in Europe, although I thought that if I managed to entice anyone outside the M25, I would be lucky. The moment did not disappoint.

Guys, can I just remind you that the Transalp tops out at 75mph...

I set off with a mild hangover on the final day to cover the 200 or so miles from Epernay to Calais. The weather forecast was fairly grim, but fortunately the rain held off in Northern France. Unfortunately, it was blowing a gale, which provided my escorts with plenty of entertainment as I weaved my way down the autoroute (the panniers act like a sail in the wind).

Dumb and dumber...

I had assumed that they wouldn't see many vehicles with Aussie numberplates crossing the Channel, so I was amazed to see that the car in front of me was also from Melbourne - a 1932 Lagonda Rapier driven by a couple of similar vintage from East Brunswick (although they'd shipped it over for a round-Europe tour).

The exact moment of landfall...

Even though I had seemed like I was on my victory lap since I entered Western Europe, it was still a bit surreal riding the last few miles through the City of London, which used to be my old stomping ground on a ZX6 seven years ago. Felt bloody good to be back though!

Back to reality - breakfast with Emma and Joe

After a couple of nights with my brother Joe and his fiancee Emma, I headed up to Churt for the christening of my godson, Oscar. I think I managed to conduct myself appropriately, although I was out of my seat with my hand up pretty fast when the vicar asked who had travelled the furthest to be at the service...

My new godson Oscar, with Malcolm, Alicia and the vicar

After that, all that remained was the final 200 miles up to York to see my parents. And sure enough, the English weather lived up to its reputation. By the time I reached Newport Pagnell on the M1 at 8pm, the rain was so heavy and the spray was so bad that I had to put on the high-vis vest that had not been required on the entire journey thus far...

So did the trip live up to expectations? Of course, it far exceeded them. I had more fun, met more interesting people, and saw more incredible sights than I could ever have imagined. And the Honda Transalp performed absolutely flawlessly - the only maintainence required was routine replacement of tyres, filters, brake pads and chain, in spite of some pretty rough treatment and a few big stacks. It was always up to the job, even though it was up in the snow at 4,800 metres one week and in the sand at 50 degrees the next. It always started first time, even though it didn't get a service for almost 40,000km - hopefully this will still be the case after I've stripped it down and rebuilt it next week...

Would I do another trip like it? Of course - in fact I'd happily do the same trip again. But hopefully the next big ride will be Argentina to Alaska - may be a few years away though...