One last Hoorahh!

There was no need to rush on my last morning. The ferry didn't sail till 12:30 and it was only a 15 minute drive from the hotel to the port. That said, for some reason I started to get nervous as I packed the bike for the last time. Was my watch right? Was the time on the ticket UK time and not Spanish time?

Of course there was nothing to worry myself about and I arrived at the port in plenty of time. There were already 15-20 bikes ahead of me. Lots of gleaming examples of German, American, Italian, British and Japanesse technology glinting in the mid morning sunshine. Their riders were resplendant in their immaculate riding gear. And here was I, the mud monster from Morocco.

My arrival did attract a bit of attention, firstly from a couple of guys ahead of me on Ducatis and later from a guy on the same bike as mine who's wife clearly thought I'd been having too much fun. It was a good ice breaker though and I made a mental note to stop and have a chat with the Ducati riders if I saw them again on the boat.

It's good being a biker on the Pride of Bilbao as they load you first. This means that (other than the foor passengers and mini-cruisers) you're able to get your cabin sorted, have a shower and be in the bar while all the shed pullers and cars slowly load. The down side, of course, is that you're on the boat longer!

With little else to do I sat in the sun at the end of the boat enjoying a couple of Guins whilst reading my book. These seemed to go straight to my head, so after a pannini for lunch and a little look at the whales and dolphins I went back for a snooze and to listen to the last part of the Richard Branson book I had on my iPod.

Later on I grabbed a bit of nosh, read some more and, around 9pm wandered past the 'show' bar. I was beginning to think it'd be an early night when I spotted the Ducati duo at the bar. I wandered over and we got chatting and were soon swapping stories as the drinks went down.

Later we were joined by mini-cruiser who appeared to have been given a pass by the Mrs and was looking like a kid in a sweetie shop. He was a nice enough chap, but he had kinda latched himself on and had spoilt the group dynamic.

The three bikers wandered off to the Casino area where we played a few games of Blackjack. The mini-cruiser's pass clearly did not extend to this area of the ship! However, as we wandered back to the bar for a last drink or two, there he was admiring one of the most hideously dressed women I've ever seen who was on the dance floor. It was hard to know if she was dancing or just staggering about as the boat gently rocked on on the waves.

We got some more drinks but only a short way into them the Ducati boys said they needed a smoke. I'd got a feeling they'd just pulled the rip cord, and so it turned out. Politely chatting with my new friend I finished my drink and headed for my cabin to roll my one-a-day.

By the time I finished my smoke it was gone 3am and the boat was devoid of people save the crew and various cleaning staff. It seemed a good last night of the holiday - one last hoorahh!

I was dreading the headache the next morning, but it turned out OK. Even so I didn't surface till gone midday. The ship wouldn't dock till 5 and there was little to do.

Later in the afternoon I bumped into the Ducati riders and we exchanged emails as the ship slowly slid round the Isle of Wight. They live in south west London so we could meet up some time for a ride.

The ship was a bit late docking due to other traffic, but we were soon on our way. The M27 / A27 was so much busier than many of the european roads and seemed somewhat clostraphobic initially.

Within the hour I was home and starting the unpacking routines, making different piles for the washing machine etc. My bike adventure had come to an end for another year.....