Three and a half hours for 98 kilometers

Day 5: First things first: We are in Spain! I have the feeling that the French farmers tried everything to prevent this. All connections to Narbonne's arterial roads were blocked. There was a gendarmerie patrol car on every corner. We fought our way kilometer by kilometer closer to the Spanish border on the smallest of side roads. We had to struggle up steep serpentines for the last few meters, but then we made it. It took us almost three and a half hours to cover the 98 kilometers.

It didn't take long before we were already on the AP7, which we didn't have to leave until we got to Peniscola, our destination for today. That was completely to my liking. I joined the nearest truck queue, switched on the cruise control and took a long sip of coffee from the thermos mug and a large piece of marble cake. I had just made myself comfortable when a powerful gust of crosswind almost sent us onto the hard shoulder. What was that? The answer came promptly: a 40-ton truck rushed past us. I looked at my speedometer: I was doing almost 100! The speed limit for a truck over 7.5 tonnes on Spanish motorways is 90 km/h. I saw the truck getting smaller quickly. I decided to take a closer look at the guy who came from Poland. I accelerated. But no matter how fast I drove, I couldn't catch him. Hard to believe. This was undoubtedly a jack of all trades on a devil's machine.

For the next 100 kilometers, anger, disbelief and recognition fought for the upper hand in my emotional world. The yellow light on my fuel gauge pulled me out of my thoughts. The nearest gas pumps weren't far. While I refueled, Icke went for a walk with Emmi and Pipo. I had just finished when a man I didn't know but was very friendly came up to me. He saw my Angermünde license plate and wanted to ask me if I knew a Michael Meier from Sternfelde. Sternfelde is a small town near Angermünde, but Michael Meier? I don't know, I said and we said goodbye. I told Icke about it and she started thinking. A good friend of hers' last name was Meier and she lived in Sternfelde, but she didn't know what her husband's name was. A few WhatsApp messages later it was clear: Icke's friend's husband was called Michael, and when he heard about my encounter, he was very happy. It was actually a good work colleague of his. What a coincidence!

Shortly after 4 p.m. we finally moved into our parking space in Peniscola. Spain. Done. After almost 2500 kilometers and 35 hours on the road. Tomorrow it's only 103 kilometers to Sagunto, where we know a wonderful campsite from our last stay in Spain where we want to relax for a few days. For Icke, the process of regaining strength started with dinner today. With fresh mussels, sardines and patata bravas, fried potato pieces, and a cool glass of beer, all the effort was quickly forgotten.