Spanish trip woes

Me and a friend set out on a whistlestop tour of Spain last week; me on my ’04 R6 and my mate on his ’05 Aprilia Tuono. We departed Portsmouth on the Pride of Bilbao, arriving in a rather warmer Bilbao bright and early Friday morning. The plan was to travel straight down to Benidorm, over to Barcelona, back up to San Sebastian, ready for going back to Bilbao for the return ferry trip on Monday lunchtime.

First day went perfectly. We used toll roads (Autopista) for the majority of the journey – not to everyone’s taste but with 500 miles to do in one day, it was the sensible option. The roads were excellent, and not one police car spotted all day!

We got to Benidorm and enjoyed a night out there, reliving a previous holiday experience 10 years before. Still a dump really, but cheap beer. The next day is where the story takes a turn for the worst. Making good progress to Barcelona, probably one more hour of travelling time to go, me following at the time, the Aprilia’s chain dropped on to the floor and bounced to my left at 180mph!

I sat up, and waited for the inevitable slowing of the Aprilia till we came to a stop on the hard shoulder. It wasn’t good; the chain had damaged the engine casing and the hydraulic clutch mechanism, and the engine wouldn’t start. The lack of breakdown cover dawned on my pal, and as we pushed the bikes to a safer position our predicament suddenly became quite serious.

Sitting in the afternoon baking sun, using a roadsign as a moving shade, we had no idea what to do. I called my own breakdown service, who could not and would not help due to the lack of cover for my mate. I pleaded that he was happy to pay for the service, but said no one in the area would be willing to take the bike to Barcelona, where we needed to be. I asked how they would help me if I was in this situation. They assured me they have teams available for clients.

I urge everyone to check exactly what cover they have, and call the insurers if required just to clarify how they would help you. I’m sure that, with or without cover, your trip is all but ruined anyway, and should you break down away from a a major town as we did, will their cover be of any use apart from the obvious money saving.

The situation now critical. My mate still had a number in his seat cubby from our trip last year, when he did take cover out. He called them up, and for a £350 fee they were willing to open a case. Two hours later, and several chase-up calls between English and Spanish offices, we received confirmation that a breakdown service was on its way.

Eventually, four hours after breaking down, a truck arrives, with a Romanian non-English speaking driver, whom, despite Barcelona being mentioned from the start, suggested we would be going just around the corner to some out-of-the-way town. Obviously irate, my mate said ‘no sir, Barcelona was agreed’, or something along those lines. The gent handed my mate his phone, and after a long heated discussion, and agreeing to pay 807 Euros, we were on our way to Barcelona, him in the truck, me on my bike, baking away at 60mph!

At 11.30pm we finally arrived at a hotel, put the bikes in their garage and climbed into bed. The only way to get the bike back to Bilbao, which was now the only agenda for this ruined trip, was to somehow rent a van and drive the thing up there.

We got up early and went to Barcelona airport, where we knew there would be several rental places. Things were looking bleak, and we where told we would get nothing, it being a Sunday during holiday season.. At the final counter we checked, we were offered the last vehicle they had for rent – a Fiat Doble MPV. We looked at it, then at each other, then said ‘the bike IS going in’.

We got back to the hotel armed with Doblo. First attempt, entire back wheel poking out the back of the thing. We stripped the nose cone, tailgate, exhaust, indicators, forced it in at an angle, almost. One rear door closed, the other strapped tight eight inches ajar. This was good enough.

Eight hours later, again, me sweating although managing to get the Doblo to go at a steady 150kph, we arrived at San Sebastian hotel, where we managed to enjoy at least a bit of this nice coastal town. Not for long though. The next day promised to be just as traumatic, as we had to get to Bibao ferryport, rebuild the Aprilia, secure the bikes, then get the Doble back to Bilbao airport, then a taxi back to the port, all in morning traffic!

We were up at 5am, riding as blind as a bat though mountain roads with my damned tinted visor. We got to the port, eventually, at about 7am. We took the bike out of the Doblo, rebuilt it and secured it with mine, and set off for the airport knowing we had to be back at 11.30 for boarding.

It took an hour to get to the airport, we dumped the Doblo (great value for money!), and the taxi dropped us at 9.30am. At last, for the first time in two days, we could relax, knowing we were on our way home. Once the Aprilia was pushed on board and tied up, and my mate explained to the crew member putting the bike into gear was pointless, as there was no chain, we retired to our cabin and got some much needed sleep.

All that remained now was to work out how to get the Aprilia from Portsmouth back to his home in Teeside. Luckily for him, his dad is a great bloke, and had hired a van and drove all the way to Portsmouth to collect his stricken son. All in all, a terrible trip, but still had its good times, especially for me. Some of those mountain roads around San Sebastian were amazing.

Plans are afoot for next year’s trip, although my mate will not be getting on his bike without gold-plated breakdown cover!