The journey from hell

I signed off last time saying we were taking the overnight ferry from Barcelona to Genova that evening, a forty five minute drive up the coast to the port. We were due to check in at 9 o’clock but as the English guy on site suggested it might be busy we decided to set off at around 7.30 to give us plenty of time. It’s a good job we did.

We had gone less than a mile before we encountered our first ‘incident’. The road was blocked by cars in both directions and we realised there’d been an accident as there was a motorcyclist in the ditch on our left, who was being attended to by a number of other motorists. It had clearly just happened as one was obviously phoning for an ambulance but the concerned citizens had inadvertently created a road block as well. We were adding to the congestion with the caravan so after a couple of minutes managed to steer a way past the abandoned cars and clear the area. We’ve only been at this site a week, but that’s the second accident we’ve encountered involving a motorcyclist. More often than not they don’t follow the rules of the road, so are accidents waiting to happen but it’s still not nice to see the result at first hand.

A mile up the road we got onto the motorway, which, whilst busier than usual wasn’t too bad. There are few wagons on the road at weekends, and that helps limit the congestion.

About 10 minutes later the traffic ahead suddenly started to brake sharply, and we encountered our second accident of the evening. Once more it had just occurred, with three cars involved, two ‘parked’ against the barrier and one skewed across the hard shoulder. Passengers were out, and there was lots of hand wringing and concerned activity. There was also a large brick in the middle of the road which may have been the cause of the pileup. We saw an elderly lady collapse as we drove past, feeling useless, but there was nothing we could have done to help. Once more we had to navigate our way past the incident and get on our way. Imagine if we’d been 10 minutes later, or worse still in the UK, as we’d never had made the ferry.

Giving thanks for our good fortune we pressed on. The SatNav (aka Satan) was programmed to take us straight to the ferry port, but for some reason felt that the best way to achieve this was to take us, with a caravan in tow, right through the centre of Barcelona!

You remember the Placa Espanya where the motor show’s taking place? Yes you’ve guessed it, that’s where we were. It’s a huge roundabout with about 8 exits – think of the Arc de Triomphe roundabout on the Champs d’Elysee in Paris and you’ll get the general idea. By this time I have to admit I was getting a bit blasé – narrow lanes, bus lanes, taxis and motor bikes swapping lanes, it all became a bit of a blur. However, eventually we got to the roundabout for the port, but there was no sign to direct us to where the passenger ferries sailed from, just various signs for Terminals. The instructions we’d got from GNV Ferries hadn’t been specific about where they were either, so I pulled off into the first exit, and partly blocked the road while Karol shot into the terminal building to get some advice.

After 5 minutes she was back – there was a huge queue, but a chap saw she was looking lost, and offered help. He was English and almost certainly not an official, but said that we’d come off at an exit too far, and simply had to go around the roundabout once more, and take the earlier exit. By now I’d got behind a couple of wagons who were entering the terminal, so after a five minute wait we managed to get back onto the roundabout. Sure enough, we spied a signs saying ferry port, and followed it, only to be once more faced with a choice of three roads, none of which had a sign for GNV. However, there was a sign which mentioned Genova, so I followed that.

Big mistake! By the time we realised, it was too late, and we were on an underpass taking us back into the City. Arghhhhhh! I quickly switched Satan back on, and she (notice Satan is a woman) directed us, via more traffic lights, busy junctions, and general city centre congestion, back to the roundabout.

Third time lucky?

I once more took the exit suggested by our English Samaritan but this time stayed away from anything mentioning Genova, and followed my nose under a bridge saying Barcelona Port. After a while it was looking more and more like this was the route to the cargo area of the port, but I pressed on having seen a sign for a roundabout at the end. At least I could turn around! Then I saw it – small sign in the centre of the road indicating the offices of GNV on the left! I pulled in, but there was then no sign of what to do next, so I once again put on the four warners and Karol shot into the terminal building to get instructions. She came back 5 minutes later, needing the passports, and the car registration document, and returned to the terminal armed with both. She was then back a couple of minutes later. Apparently we had to get our ticket stamped by an official at the terminal entrance – but where was he? We found him at the end of a road which simply had a sign saying 10 ton weight limit. He stamped the document, and vaguely waved me on.

I moved off, but once more, no instructions as to where to go next, so I stopped. He then followed me, and exasperatedly gesticulated that I should move forwards towards a group of guys standing about doing nothing. I obliged, and eventually one of them kicked a few cones aside, and indicated for me to pull in behind a couple of motorhomes. He then kicked the cones back into place. In the meantime Karol had got our tickets and came to find me. We’d made it! Both our stress levels were by this time sky high, and Karol was physically shaking she was so stressed. Fortunately after that everything went according to plan, if a little later than advertised, but that gave me time to retrieve a bottle of wine from the caravan as we both felt in need of a drink after that journey! And we have to do it all again next week! Pass me the bottle love…….