Strong hand shakes and big man hugs!

Day 11 dawned. The Faythe proprietor had told us he would do our breakfast early, as we were catching the ferry, so we were at the table by 7:15. He had also made some muffins, whilst baking the bread and gave us four for the journey. The bikes were pretty much loaded and ready to go before we sat down to eat, so all that was left was to have a group photo and say goodbye to Grizzly. The proprietor obliged with the photo. There was some vigorous hand shaking going on, followed by some big man hugs and back slapping, as we bade farewell to Grizzly, then we were ready to roll. Grizzly had about a 2 hour ride back to his home in Portlaoise (pronounced Portleash), whilst the rest of us had about 30 minutes to the ferry port at Rosslare.

We fired up and hit the road, as a four at first, before Grizzly peeled off to the right. Traffic was light, it was Sunday morning after all, so we made it to the port at the expected time. On the way, we passed the hotel that I had originally booked us in. It was surrounded by security fencing and that reminded me again how lucky it was that I had been on the website before the tour, else we would have turned up to find that sight and nowhere to stay!

At Rosslare, we checked in at the booths and boarded straight away. There were quite a number of other bikes already loaded. As the crew strapped the bikes down, we made our way up the the lounge area and parked ourselves on the bench seats, with a couple of tables. Within minutes we were leaving, a four hour journey ahead of us. Dudley, was straight into sleep mode, whilst Biggsey and I chatted and visited the shop. I then had a little nap myself, waking as we were making our final approach to Pembroke.

Back in dear old blighty (well Wales!), our first stop was in Carmarthen for fuel. I had originally planned that the 3 of us would skirt the Brecons, until I split from the group, to head South to Pontypridd. Dudley, however, was planning to visit his daughter in Reading, so wanted to get some quick miles under his belt, which meant taking the M4. Biggsey didn't want to be doing the last leg on his own and the M4 suited me as well, so it was agreed we'd take the M4. We (me that is) had already had an issue at another roundabout (can't blame Tomtom) forcing us to u-turn but not long out of Carmarthen my attention wandered and blow me if I hadn't gone wrong again. Dudley was fairly close behind, so followed. Biggsey, a little way back, read the signs and took the correct exit! DOH!

Now Biggsey claims he saw us go wrong but I guess he figured we'd soon catch up again without him having to slow too much. What none of us had bargained for though, was the traffic lights on the roundabout holding Dudley and I up. Now, I'm sure you all remember the mathematics puzzles they set at school, so here's one for you.

If a Triumph motorcycle travelling at 65mph, sets off on a road 2 minutes before the other two, what speed does the dipstick with the Tomtom have to go to catch and overtake the Triumph before it takes the M4?

To help, the distance involved, was 14.9 miles and said dipstick completed the task of overhauling the Triumph with about 60 yards to spare. There's no prize, it's just for fun kids!

As I overtook Biggsey, I pointed to him to head round the roundabout to the services. He peeled off and I carried on around again, pulling over to watch for Dudley approaching. Surprisingly, he wasn't that far behind, the old blighter must've given the Harley some welly once I'd left him behind. As he pulled onto the roundabout, I took the lead again and led him to the services. Phew!

This was our lunch stop and also the parting of the ways. I was only about an hour away from my daughter Jennifer's place in Pontypridd and didn't see much point in hanging around with the other two, especially as it seemed we all planned to travel at different speeds. Me warp, Dudley legal and Biggsey with a man walking in front ;-) Dudley needed to cover the ground fairly quickly, having still about four hours journey to go and Biggsey had said he wasn't going to be hammering it, so it made sense to say farewell at this point.

More vigorous handshaking, hugging and back slapping ensued, then we hit the road, The Reservoir Hogs Tour officially over.

Dudley was first on the motorway but I soon overtook him and in just over an hour I was parking up on my daughter's driveway.