औतोबहं

Autobahn - 16/04/08

2nd day of travel so far. German trees flash past on the sunny Autobahn as we speed our way towards Cologne. A promise of a beautiful Cathedral and a chocolate factory await, as does a big sausage feast and the chance for our intrepid band to sound out ourselves over sausage, schnitzel and fresh beer.

Yesterday was intense. Victoria station was cold at 7:40 the London crowds gearing up for a Thursday at work. Spilling out of the mouths of tube stations they were a frantic impersonal reminder of what we were leaving behind – deadlines, pressure, frowns, the crush of bodies, and the sense of grind. Watching them from a corner, tea in hand, or through the windows of our coach, smiles on our unfamiliar faces, we shared the growing sense of glee: we were no longer part of “them.”

Meeting the truck at Dover, along with C, the entirety of our crew and friends and family of others, sealed the deal. Bags were put on board. Hugs were handed out by nearest and dearest. A stunned silence settled as we eased ourselves into our seats. Most were shocked - “Its finally here,” or in my case - “How did I manage to bring everything?” A short ferry ride (and a last pie for good luck) in glorious sunshine felt special: we smiled, shared thoughts and feelings, as the white cliffs receeded into the clear blue behind our boat.

France came and went – sleep took over where adrenaline left off (most of us hadn't slept for excitement.) My eyes opened in Belgium, (woken by my liver probably) as we had stopped for a booze haul. Wine, beer and vodka in tow we arrived at our first stop – a Belgian campsite neatly manicured hedges, pretty daisies, and warm showers.

It must be quite something to take 20 people overland on a truck to Australia. It must take extreme patience to train them up to be efficient cogs in the traveling machine. Our guides showed no signs of strain however as we (C and I) messed around with our tent, (which needed a subtle use of a hacksaw to fix,) but in around 30 minutes were were set: tents up; food cooking; chairs out; beers chilling. Our first night was upon us, and it was going to be eventful.

I awoke after 2 hours of sleep with the knowledge that something was wrong. My shoulders felt like ice, my feet were numb, and the red wine has left a bad taste in my mouth. It was way below freezing and it felt like slow hypothermia in that tent. Like an idiot I was totally underprepared. Frost has encased the entire tent. My sleeping bag liner, bought for extra warmth, was in my rucksack on the coach. The thermals i had had done their best to fend off the cold, but had failed. Quick, what could I do?

Socks. Tshirt over and around the feet. Thermal trousers over boxers. Thermal shirt. Hoodie (hood up.) Fleece. Sleeping bag. I must have looked like some strange cocooned, shivering slug. These quick solutions led to a fitful, if welcome, sleep with disturbing dreams about money and murder.

By 5 the birds had woken me, so I cradled my frozen body across the frosted grass to the heated toilets with a book. (Pure bliss is a warmed ass in Belgium.) After rubbing my apendages over the radiator for around 30 minutes in glee I realised that being found would cause me untold embarassment for me, and shock for the surpriser, as they met a black-clad hooded figure rubbing himself on a pipe at 5:30 in a Belgian toilet. Not really how I envisoned giving a good first impression to my truck mates. I retired to the kitchen area with a book and eagerly awaited the first cup of tea .

We have arrived in Cologne where we will camp by the river. Tonight I will be prepared for the cold.