We left the Chateau and were straight onto the wonderful back roads of Brittany in glorious morning sunshine.
As we clocked up trip mile two thousand it seemed a good idea to stop and record the moment with a photograph.

I made a point of sticking to the minor roads, save for a last glorious sprint from Morlaix to Roscoff, where I must admit I really let Harley have her head! The staccato music of her exhaust ripping the Breton air brought a massive smile to my face, but didn’t do much for my tinnitus!

…and then we were on the ferry, watching as it pulled away from the jetty.

We arrived back in Plymouth bang on eight pm last night after a pleasant crossing.

By the time I kicked down Harley’s side stand in my workshop we had covered 2152 miles, or 3463 kilometres, and topped 34 passes including the highest in Europe.

I stood next to her as she cooled down, ticking in the gentle metallic way that air-cooled machines do. I think we both felt very contented with a job well done and could now relax. That’s the thing about motorbikes, you can only really relax once it’s over…

I suppose I’d better give her a wash now!

“Freedom is a dusty road leading to a highway…”

Dookes