We would have made it to Leutesdorf by early evening, only James took a wrong turn about 10 miles from the village, but after an hour or so of driving about being lost, we made it, and sat down to a very welcome meal prepared by Martin. The early start next morning didn't happen 'til just after lunchtime as Rod had noticed the wheel on the Steib had become wobbley - possibly due to those hairpins the day before - so Martin took James and Paul and wheel off to a garage he knew, who packed it with grease and thought it should be O.K. By 4pm we hadn't got very far, and James pulled us all over into a parking place as he was feeling very tired and cold and was losing concentration. Rod's diagnosis? The beginning of hypothermia. Stanley's sidecar wheel was also dangerously under the weather by now. So Rod suggested we all turn back for Leutesdorf, hire a car in the morning, and get to the rally minus the bikes. Paul and I felt quite differently about this - we and our bikes were fine! So we parted at the side of the autobahn, and carried on. 

 It was dark by the time we hit Frankfurt and it's airport - a vast expanse of glass buildings and lights either side of the autobahn. We stopped for fuel and coffee shortly after, both of us feeling fine, awake, and still raring to go despite the freezing fog and falling snow. We passed Wurzberg (where my speedo decided to pack up, after telling me for a short while that I was doing 120 - on a Dnepr combo?!) and at about 10.30 decided to hole up for the night at a motel in Geiselwind, which also rented garages by the night, so the bikes were cosy too. We set of early next morning - our plan to get as far as we could really. After not long on the road, Mr D's charging light came on and stayed on. A 'phone call to my 'technical advice line' (husband David of F2 Motorcycles!) and several checks concluded that it was a failed alternator. The bike would run for a couple of hours on the battery, so we cracked on through the snow for a while until I thought I heard the bike misfiring, which would suggest the volts had dropped too low for the coil to cope. I pulled in under a bridge. Paul, who was following me hadn't heard any misfiring - I think it was just the snow falling harder on my lid that had fooled me - and after a quick fag break we carried on.

We didn't get very far - after about 10 minutes the traffic came to a standstill. We later found out that there had been a massive crash a few miles further on - with 24 fatalities. If the alternator hadn't failed, I wouldn't have thought the bike was misfiring, I wouldn't have stopped under that bridge and it's almost certain we'd have been involved in it - the timing would have been bang on. I'm even more sure now that things happen for a reason, and someone was watching over us. We lost about 2 and a half hours travelling time when the traffic finally cleared and my sidecar lights had decided to pack up somewhere along the way, so riding through the night became a non option. We stopped at a garage somewhere between Nurnberg and Regensberg to eat and change Mr D's battery (yep, I had a spare) and strapped my warning triangle onto the sidecar so it could be seen from behind - as well as visibility being particularly bad in the snow we were beginning to lose the daylight. The battery wouldn't last as long now as I had to use main lights now, and we made it to Bogen, about 50 miles from the rally site, and a little guesthouse owned by a very nice German man who insisted that we put our bikes in his barn for the night. A 'phone call to Rod and James told us they were on their way and would be joining us in a few hours, so as it was only 6.30ish, Paul and I decided to carry out the necessary repairs to my bike, in our floodlit barn. The alternator was swapped for the spare, and the sidecar lights rewired - the speedo was a no go as the worm drive had snapped (no, I hadn't brought a spare!) We also took the opportunity to remove all the road salt that was caked onto our bikes - and hanging like stalegtites from my sidecar frame!

By the time Rod and James arrived it was all sorted, and we all spent a fabulous evening in the guesthouse bar drinking beer. (They turned up in a blue Golf, claiming they'd driven all the way with the windows down, and the heating off so they could feel part of the experience. But we didn't believe them. Not for one tiny minute.) We made it to the rally site at Thurmansbang-solla in the Bavarian Alps by early afternoon next day - after stopping briefly to fix one of Paul's bike's carbs, which had iced up. Winding our way up through the snowy forest, I kept checking my speed as I was concerned for Paul following me on his solo on snow and ice covered roads, but he was fine and we roared past all others we found slipping about on the way, at a steady 30mph. The bikes really came into their own on the snow. So we pitched the tent, made a fire, drank soup and glhuwein and went to sleep. Despite being pitched on a slope (which was unavoidable), the fireworks going off all over the site, and the almost constant sound of two-strokes ring-ding-dinging about the place, it was the best night's sleep I'd had all trip. I chatted to a German fella next day as we were preparing to leave who couldn't believe I didn't have a back up vehicle, and I'd come all the way from England on the bike - because if truth be known, there were an awful lot of bikes that had arrived via trailers towed by cars which had been left in the huge car parking area a couple of miles from the site itself, then taken off and ridden down to the rally. Anyway, he called me crazy. I liked that very much. Paul and I said farewell to Rod and James again, and set off once more through the snow, which hadn't stopped now for 4 days. We made it to our motel in Geiselwind again by about 10pm then onto Leutesdorf for Monday night, and a meal out to celebrate Rod's birthday. The only event on that leg of the trip being a soggy tank bag which was creating a perfect seal over the breather hole in the petrol cap. We just couldn't work out why the bike was doing about 5 miles then quite clearly suffering from fuel starvation - we had the carbs apart half a dozen times, checking for blockages, water, anything. Another quick call to David - "there's not anything blocking the breather hole in the petrol cap is there?" he said. Oh yes. That'll be it then.

With all four of us back together now and bikes reunited - Stanley with a new Steib wheel (the bearing had completely collapsed in the old one, and Rod has kept the bits as a souveneir) - we motored on to Belgium for Tuesday night. Desperate to find a motel, we turned off the motorway into Liege. Bad move. No motels to be found (that liked the look of us or were under £100 a night that is). When we got towards Brussels, the motorway split - and I took the wrong half. Down into Brussels we went, through the underpasses, where our magical mystery tour took us through the middle of the city - which was very pretty by night - until we found the motorway again where there was a motel about 3 miles down the road.

 Next day we arrived at Dunkirque and the same motel as on our way out. The sun came out for the second time on the trip, so we bought picnic stuff, left our waterproofs in the motel and headed for the beach where we spent a leisurely afternoon. Everyone had the 'I don't want this trip to end' blues by the evening, so we went out for a meal to cheer ourselves up - all kitted out in out Elephant Rally T-shirts, fleeces, hats and badges.

 The ferry crossing next day was through a force 8 gale, (those blues had set in again too) then we all went our separate ways back home (remembering to drive on the left again). We knew before we started the trip that it wouldn't be easy, and it wasn't. The riding conditions wear appalling for most of the journey, making it both mentally and physically tiring. And I'm sure we all came close to losing our tempers at times. But we didn't - it was the best teamwork I've ever experienced. And we had some bloody good laughs too. My love and thanks to the finest friends and travelling companions, and special thanks to Paul, and David back home on the end of the 'phone for helping me to get my bike there.