However, we had more immediate concerns as the Transalps have a pretty limited fuel range with the full loads (only about 120 miles) and I had got lazy on the French auto routes where there was fuel very 40km. We were following the A roads up to 1250m for the Mont Blanc tunnel with the fuel gauge going crazy as we were on vapour only, but I took comfort from the Garmin which said we had fuel just on the other side of the tunnel. The tunnel itself started with a blast of warm air that was so humid it immediately steamed up my visor and wing mirrors.

With my rose tinted glasses on I thought we might go through the tunnel into warmer air but we were not so lucky. I still haven’t worked out where that hot humid air could have come from as when we exited the tunnel, we were greeted by six foot snow drifts either side of the road and black ice across the entrance to the petrol station. Despite the snow all around us, the roads were completely clear and we made good progress out of the Alps into Italy, only to be met by an almost impenetrable wall of freezing fog. We actually found ourselves colder once we were away from the mountains and snow we were in them.

We slogged on through it and hit the outskirts of Genoa about 2.30pm, following the signs for the ferry port. Genoa ferry port. Now there is a navigation challenge. For anyone who has driven to Dover or Portsmouth ferry port with their lovely clear neon signs and helpful staff telling you clearly where to go to find your ferry, think of the complete opposite. A total spaghetti junction of roads with few clear signs, an Italian customs officer trying to explain in exasperated French where to go and security guys who just shrug their shoulders when you asked for the Tunis ferry. It’s all part of the great adventure travelling tapestry and as I told myself, this was the easy bit.

The Red Sea ferry and north African border crossings would be far more challenging – no trepidation on my part at all then! It would seem that the local customs and police also assume everyone knows how the system works – only a helpful German helped us to understand that there was a police stamp required on our paperwork before we would be allowed to board the boat. The ferry itself was no different. All the announcements were in Arabic and French (Tunisia’s primary and secondary languages) but no English. Only Rached (our new Tunisian best friend) explained that there would be a small pile of paperwork to be filled out and stamped in the ferry.

I got our first taste of what was to come from border guards as the Tunisian customs official looked at the Transalp V5s, which had the Keeper detailed as Honda Motor Europe, then at my passport, back and forth, back and forth. ‘Why different. Why different?’ the golden letter from Honda was duly produced explaining that the bikes were on loan and we were safely certified and stamped ready for disembarking on Tuesday. ‘Rached’? Who the hell is ‘Rached’. Our new best Tunisian friend is who. He came over and chatted to us whilst we were waiting at the port and we met again on board over some grub.

An hour later and we had been invited to stay with his family in southern Tunisia and for us to follow him all the way down there. It almost sounded too good to be true and when he asked if could buy a bed in one our cabins it suddenly seemed like it was! To my eternal shame, my gut reaction was to distrust his motives. And yet, he was friendly and very helpful with other people on the ferry and staying with his family tomorrow evening will add a whole new aspect to the challenge.