The End -Australia To England - Broken BMW GSA Attempts The Nurburgring

Hello there. If you're new here, I decided to ride my motorbike around the planet, starting in Sydney. I left on my birthday and skidaddled all the way across the country until I got to Perth, where I chucked my bike in a box and threw it to Cape Town, where I got stuck in a port for three weeks. After that, I made my way to Botswana, befriended an Italian, as well as some elephants, on my way through lion-infested lands, on my way towards the Zambia border. Once here, I avoided political nightmares at borders by going to the north border and entering Tanzania this way. After several questionable news reports and illegally riding my bike as high up Mount Kilimanjaro as I thought was possible, I made my way to Kenya, where my bike was promptly held to ransom by some really crap shipping company my trip had to end. Or did it? Thanks to my marvellous YouTube community, I made a video complaining and my trip was able to continue, thanks to the internet. No thanks to this crap shipping company. Anyway, nine whole months later, my trip continued from Dubai, only this time I was in a rush. Because that aforementioned really crap shipping company, they messed up their end of the bargain, which meant that my carnet wouldn't have expired if I'd stayed any longer than I did. After making my way to the Saudi Arabia border, flying by Bahrain to bump into a jeff, having my drone snatched at the border because apparently it's illegal to have one in Saudi, and then entering Kuwait to stay with my marvellous friends, I eventually landed in Iraq, where I encountered the ice cream bros before heading towards Turkey. And in the last episode, I entered my first European country of this trip. Before riding my bike through several kilometres of underground abandoned military base, I present to you the last episode in this little series, where I finally make it to England. Or do I? Yes. Wow, I'm in a car, not a bike. Isn't that amazing? Anyway, the last video actually got some views, which is different for my channel. And this is because Itchy Boots made a post about me, isn't that wonderful? So welcome Itchy Booters, and Noraly. So what does this tell you? Even the biggest channels have their guilty pleasures. This is the last episode, let's go. And as if by magic, tent. It looks all nice from here, but it's gonna get more gloomy as we go in. Look at all that. There's a meme I could use here. Ali, it's gonna rain. Yes, it is. This is the alternate ending. It didn't rain, it was a marvellous day, and a joyous evening was had by all. Me. Luckily, you didn't see the other ending. Anyway, today's plan is to get as close to Germany as I can. I'll probably end up going through Slovenia, and then entering Austria. And then who knows if I'll make it all the way through Austria today, because I think I have to go over the mountains. So whether I camp at the bottom of the mountains, and then go over the mountains the next day, just to sort of make sure I'm not camping on top of a snowy mountain at night. Yeah, so Nürburgring is the next major landmark that I'm going to stop at. Let's see if I can get out of here easily. Yes, we're finally underway on this episode, about bloody time. And I'm going to take this opportunity to apologise to Slovenia. Now even though it's the neighbouring country of Croatia, and there's no real way into Austria without passing through Slovenia. Unfortunately, I was leaving Slovenia before I'd even got over the fact that I'd entered Slovenia. It's quite a small country, in case you hadn't guessed. Anyway, apologies Slovenia, here's some stuff to try and make you look cool. Truly an amazing country, and you should definitely visit. Anyway, here's the only footage of Slovenia that I got. That's the Slovenia-Croatia border. There's nobody there, you can just drive straight through. My border anxiety is gradually dissipating, because I hated it. All through Africa, all through the Middle East, every border you know is going to be an absolute pain. But you know, the further towards Central and Western Europe you get, everything is just so relaxed and covered under the sort of Schengen agreement they've got going on there. So yeah, what a nice day, what a nice border. But don't worry, karma got justice for Slovenia, and it began to absolutely piss it down with rain, and I got soaked, just in time to reach the snow around the Austria border. So there we go, Austria. Now this border actually contained humans, but it took about 25 seconds to get through. Take note, Zambia. Now about that snow that I talked about earlier. Austria is one of those weird places. As you just saw, pretty sunny, nice riding, and then you climb up the mountains. Somehow you end up in a ski resort, with snow. Even though it's the end of season, there's still people riding along next to you on skis. And after all that, 20 minutes later, you're down the other side of the mountain, and it's sunny again. Anyway, scenic montage time, because I haven't had one yet in this episode. And this is where I'm finding out how good it is to have a heated grip. That's right, one heated grip, because the other one doesn't work. Some of these towns are just weird. The only way to describe them. You got guys like that, he looks exactly like the divorced dad's guy. Now I'm gonna get so much money, I don't need a job. Why? Because I can manifest. Now that the borders have stopped being a thing, it doesn't really become a big event to make it to a different country. So what I'll say, is I'm in Germany now. What a gloriously aesthetic viewing angle. But I'm here, and tomorrow I'm gonna be on the Nürburgring, because I kind of have to rush there. Because it's shitty weather right now, and it's gonna be shitty weather two days from now. So the only time I'm gonna be able to do it, is tomorrow. So tomorrow will be an early morning. I've got to go about four and a half hours to get to the Nürburgring, and then check into the hotel, and then go racing. On the most suitable race bike you've ever seen. Hey MAD guy, up here, up here. Yes, it's still me. You found me again. Now allow me to add some context for the reasons why I'm going to the Nürburgring, on a very inappropriate bike. I've been to the Nürburgring before, on a sports bike, which would be much more for going there. And this is when we were poverty stricken apprentices. We didn't pay for hotels, oh no. We slept in tents, in petrol station forecourts, and gathered our resources to get a single person room, between three of us. But my tyres never touched Nürburgring tarmac. And this is because Mercedes had booked the track out for that particular day. Did we check before we left? No. Because who does that? And this entire time, I have had a completely legitimate hatred for Mercedes-Benz. So **** you Mercedes-Benz, for ruining my trip many, many years ago. Let's see what the Nürburgring has in store. I found myself somewhat disappointed with myself during this lap of the Nürburgring. If I was doing this in 2012, I would not have cared about anything. No one was getting past me. But all I'm thinking in my mind is, half my engine oil is leaking out. If I crash, I fail. The recovery costs. And all these old man things that younger people don't bother with. Plus it gives me an excuse to justify why I'm being overtaken all the time. I don't think I'm going to be keeping up with those guys somehow. Top speed's like 160. Leaking half my engine oil all over my back tyre. But who cares? 15 years in the making. Getting in front of like 30 people. At least I'm faster than someone. Now although the flap on the collar of my jacket did its best to hide my shame, this is the worst moment of my Nürburgring lap. I got easily passed by a Volkswagen Polo. And it was probably the one litre, not even the 1.3. ------- hell. Can't believe that. We were so unbelievably disappointed when we couldn't ride this 15 years ago. ------- fantastic. Yes it was. And on a side note, it was nice to finally get some closure of the Nürburgring. And let's be honest, it's not every day you see a 250kg bike with a tent strapped to the back of it going on a racetrack. Or a toll road. So brace yourselves kids. For one of the only legitimate Nürburgring stickers you're ever going to see in New South Wales. Because you see them all the time on little Volkswagen Golfs. Or Polos for that matter. Not that I'm bitter or anything. I'm in France. That means it's time to fix things. Not ideal. I'm beginning to realise this oil leak here is getting pretty bad. But there's not much I can do about it. I'm probably losing a few hundred mils per tank of fuel I reckon. But I'm not even going to bother trying to fix it. Just going to stock up on some dead dinosaurs. And then just hope that I can put the oil in as fast as it's coming out. Because I'm like what, 700km from the end? I just can't be bothered fixing stuff to be honest. And because of the rules of the world, I'm going to live to regret what I just said. This is all I have to say about France. If you like toll roads, go to France. This is France. I don't like you France. You're nothing but toll roads. And they're not even cheap tolls either. Check this out. How much are you going to steal from me? $4.50. It's like $9 or something. You bastards. You little cheese and perfume loving bastards. At this point, I've definitely had enough of toll roads. So I escaped them to go and find a campsite. Didn't know where one was. So I just found one. That's the most slippery little muddy track I've ever seen in my life. However, stalls. I think this is a suitably hidden spot. Hell yeah. Now the challenge of the day is remembering how I even got into this place. Because it's like a maze of about 20 different directions. The second challenge is not stalling. And the third challenge is not breaking my bike by dropping it because it's so bloody slippery. There you go. There's some old tracks. So I've obviously slithered through here. I also feel like a bit of a spy because I'm just off the corner of some farmer's field. There's no road there or anything, but yes. Well, sadly, I think this signifies one of the last days of the trip because tomorrow at about 3pm, I'm going to be getting on that ferry that takes me to England. And to be honest, I'm not excited to go there. I just want to carry on riding my bike around the world like a selfish, obnoxious idiot. But realistically, that can't happen because life goes on and people need to do things to make a living. But anyway, tomorrow I'll visit the Normandy Landings thing because that interests me quite a bit. And then I'll be on the ferry and then there'll be some England shenanigans and that'll be it. However, you know what this calls for. Another excessively over the top roadside sandwich. And what would France be without a baguette? Pre-cut as well. What is this magic? Bit of mystery cucumber stuff. This is going to go everywhere. Yep, already has. Now I have ominous white stains in my groin. Oh my god, just get on the bread. I wish they'd invent something to hold food while you prepare things on it. Right, so I'm calling this sandwich Laziness L'Especial because it sounds French and it's the product of laziness because I literally couldn't be bothered to get up off my arse and get a knife to open things properly and cut cheese so it's torn off with my hands but it's going to be delicious so shut up. I was right. And that's the road. Fantastic. Anyway, to Normandy Beach. ****, I'm just pulling over because I've had one of those horrible panic moments where you know you've left something behind and this time it's my entire backpack that has all my documents, my passport, everything. You lucky, lucky boy. I hung it there last night. Oh my god. Okay, panic over. Onwards. Anyway, that should be my last fill up for the entire trip really. It's a bit of a weird feeling knowing that you've got all this distance and that tank of fuel is going to take you the rest of the way. So I'm like 200 kilometers away from Normandy Beach right now and then after that I've got to get my ferry from Kane, K-N, wherever the hell that place is and then yeah then I'll be in Portsmouth. Now I find historic military stuff quite interesting. So what would appeal to me more than the Normandy Beach landings? And guess what? I found it quite interesting. I was however extremely annoyed because I lined up this shot and did that thing where you press record and it stops recording instead of starting recording. So right now I'm basically stood exactly where that guy was in World War II taking that photo of that guy, of those guys walking up the hill. I'll do an overlay of that. This is where my poor planning kind of took over again. I made the stupid mistake of booking the ferry for a specific time on a specific day and I could have spent hours here but unfortunately I was limited by having to get to the ferry port in time to leave. I wasn't particularly happy about this because this is quite an interesting place. Now the ferry is something that really surprised me. The amount of really well-traveled decent people I met who were coming there on their bikes was absolutely excellent and over the six hours that it took to get from A to B everyone I met was bloody fantastic. It was almost a shame to leave because you know what England's like. Guess what nobody? I'm in England again and I'm still trying to figure out if it feels good to be back. And this is going to be a weird experience after so long riding on the wrong side of the road I'm gonna have to get used to riding on the right side of the road again. Oh this is gonna be weird We're in miles an hour now. What's 50? 50 is like 90 isn't it? Who knows. Anyway to a hotel and sort out all my horrors tomorrow. 60 is 100 and then tomorrow is the last day of this trip. What the ****? I'm at two minds really. I really don't want this trip to end. I've had the best bloody time of my life but there will be others so I'm not too fussed. So here's a topic of interest that might interest some people who are actually planning on traveling to the UK. And this involves insurance. It's one of those things that you can't ride without and I have spent the last two days trying to figure it out to find someone who's going to insure me for the two weeks that I'm going to be here. And it turns out that when you arrive with a foreign vehicle nobody has a bloody clue. I've called everyone from like the insurance bureau to about 20 different companies and none of them know what the hell's going on. So this means that the police would also not know what the hell's going on because they rely on information from the insurers. And everything I can find online says that basically you need to have proof of an insurance policy in your home country that will cover me. So basically I've got a rego paper. I know it doesn't cover me but thanks to the joys of plausible deniability it does now because nobody can prove otherwise. Thanks England for being clueless. Also my hotel room has a glory hole. So it's at this point I realise exactly how close I am to finishing this trip. And it's hard not to think about everything that's happened along the way. And that includes things like waking up on the day and realising this is when the trip begins. To gradually realising how far in fact you are away from home while you take a piss off the Nullarbor. Arriving in Perth and realising the things that you need to get you through the rest of the trip. Realising stuff in other countries isn't the same as your own country. And meeting some amazing people along the way who you would never otherwise have come in contact with. And no one else you meet will ever understand. Before getting your bike kidnapped by an absolute dogshit shipping company. And it's things like seeing how cultures change. And this can be as fast as in a day when you're crossing three different countries. Before finally reaching the final destination country. But as with everything I do there is a twist. And you will find out what that twist is very soon. So last stretch of the trip. Southampton to Plymouth. And if you don't see any more footage like this it means that I didn't get pulled over in fine for no insurance. So let's hope that didn't happen. So anyway it's about three and a half hours away from where I am now. It's just going to be all highways to be honest. There's nothing particularly interesting about it. So remember this bit of road from a certain video. And here it is. Now I wonder who that hooligan was. Now my original ending for this trip was going to be Captain Jaspers on the Barbican in Plymouth. Not because it's good. It's actually a bit of a shithole. But mostly because I find it a little bit sentimental. Some might say this is an anti-climax. But it's my travel video so get over it. All I will say is try your best to envisage the feeling of this moment right here. Because there's no way I'm good enough video editing to portray that properly. Anyway about that plot twist I told you about earlier. Plot twist indeed. The truth is you haven't seen anyone yet have you? Why would I drive to a country all by myself and not even bother meeting up with anyone there? Well the truth is when I was in Cairn. Still can't pronounce it. I completely fucked up. Because I had not intended to tell my mother that I was coming. And then I accidentally messaged her. And usually she's one of these people that will leave you on the two ticks for days. But no not this time. This time was blue ticks immediately. So I had to come up with an absolute bullshit story to explain why I was saying that I was about to get on a ferry. So at this point in time I'm in Tasmania. Let's see how that pans out. So this is the part of the exercise where there are no second chances. I get one shot at this. And one shot only. I haven't been back to England for 10 years now. And my mum doesn't know that I'm coming. So let's see what she's doing. How can I do this? I've got to find a way to put this in my helmet. Oh you know pretty average. Hello? Can you hear me? Oh I've had the most... Oh that's good. Yeah I've had like the most nightmare weekend. Like uh I guess the um the hands-free thing might... You can't? How about now? I'll try and move into a better spot. Okay. But yeah I told you I was in Tasmania right? Yeah. Yeah quiet for a good reason. And there's a chance that my car is just completely dead. So I had this thing. Well it's very wet and muddy and boggy and stuff. And it was very deceptively muddy and boggy. And yeah things didn't go too well. Burned basically. Yeah so it pretty much went up to the um what do you call it? The the windows. Yeah it was like it was literally like driving into the sea. Because you basically caused me to have to replace a clutch didn't you? So don't go giving me that nonsense. Yeah I know it was just horrendous. But it's fine. You know maybe the other car will be finished by the time that one's thawed out. But yeah. So what are you doing anyway? Oh your engine's just trashed. Huh? What do you mean I'm bubbling? Oh okay. Really? Huh? Motorbike. Really? Well tell them to bugger off because you're talking to your child. Is it you? Yes it is. It looks like one. Yeah have a look. Like boxers? Like your bike? Well maybe it is. How emotional. Anyway with that out of the way what do you do? Well you drive some tractors around. You feed llamas. You spend a bit of time hanging out with your mates who you haven't seen for over a decade. Ride incredibly fast through tiny little windy country lanes. Do some more stuff with tractors. Chase your mum around with a tractor. Burn things. And sheep. And then you have to ask yourself how the bloody hell am I getting home? Now what's supposed to happen is your fuel lines go from the tank on either side connect to here at this fuel tap.