Now for the full update....

I'm home...

Early. I made it to Gibraltar (but the 90 exploded on the way, so she hitched a lift in a Toyota Landcruiser)... (the piston ate itself)

The 90 is in southern spain (i'm hoping to get it to Gibraltar to get a engine in her...)

It was raining the day I left and rained all the way to Portsmouth.

I fell into a cheap hotel in the middle of france on the first real night. I had been on the bike for about 24hrs, and had been up for about 36 hrs. I had wanted to sleep on the ferry, but the waters were too rough to even walk on the boat, let alone kip...

The bike died near the Pyrenees. She was given a lift by my backup mate. There are no Honda C90's in Spain, or in France. None. We tried every single garage on the way. There was an engine. They wanted 1500 euros. We tried to buy a second hand bike. Too expensive, or utter rubbish. We kept pushing on, stopping at every bike shop. Nothing....

I wanted and needed to finish the trip riding, but it just wasn't happening. Every day seemed to be a national holiday, or 'summer hours' or just generally closed...

I got dropped off on the Border with Gibraltar after a day of searching and severe disappointment. Then the RGP (Royal Gibraltar Police) met me at the border and things started to move in the right direction very quickly.

I rode back on a Daelim 125 custom bike that I bought in Gibraltar. It was massively overloaded. Hated mountain roads and bits of her were held together with tape. She (the Daelim) decked out on a roundabout in northern Spain, ripped the footpeg off and smashed my foot into a roundabout. I broke a few foot bones...

I carried on into France and in the middle of France my mobile and charger packed up. My bank card was refused so I couldn't make any calls (they thought it was being cloned in France, tried to call me to confirm this, but couldn't do so because of my mobile being dead).

So I was short of money, had been riding for 14 hours that day with no break or food or water, with a broken foot, having to lean down and change gear with my hand. I had no communications, no way to communicate or call anyone. I was riding a Gibraltar registered 10yr old Korean 125 Custom bike (with an unknown history) that was doing 43mph on 90+mph dual carriageways.

My backup mate (who has volunteered on the penultimate day to come with me) didn't know where I was, couldn't call me and thought I was dead. By sheer luck (and going down every turnoff of the highway) I found him in hotel in a side road. It was 11:30pm and I had been on the road since 09:30am. He told me enough was enough, and I was in real danger of being stranded forever, or being killed (my trip insurance with the RAC only covered the 90) and he called it a day. He put the bike in a van and drove the last bit of France.

I had made it from my hotel on 'the rock' overlooking Africa, to the middle of France. It took me two and a half days. I slept on petrol station forecourts.

He dropped me off on the M25 in England and I rode the last 80 miles home at night.

20 miles from home my zip broke on my leather jacked and it opened up flapping in the night breeze. I couldn't pull over to sort it out. 10 seconds later it rained.

Apart from that it was fairly uneventful...