Category: Trips, travel and days out

Looking back it seemed like a marvellous idea and just the thing to escape the winter blues. Ted Magnum and I had noticed a camping expedition just before Christmas. It was set to be a smallish jaunt for a few days to sunny Yorkshire and a chance to check out my new camping equipment sometime in mid February. Having been ill since July much of the stuff I had purchased had not had the chance to be tested or used in anger and neither the bike nor I had had a decent run out since then.

As the time for departure drew nearer it seemed ominous that Ted should fracture his ribs and cry off like the big girls blouse he has become and my rear brake pads desperately required replacement. The weather had also taken a turn for the worse with predictions of heavy snow. As I had cried off a few run outs in the past few months I felt I would be letting the side down if I did not partake in this one. After all if I could not manage a run out in this country with people I knew, what chance would I have on my own in strange lands. The die was cast and I packed up and set off in clear sunshine under cloudless skies along the M62 arriving in Cropton, North Yorkshire some 4 hours later. Within couple of hours my tent was up and the hordes started to arrive. I say hordes there were about 20 of us but still, a good turnout considering the bitter cold conditions.

Old acquaintances were renewed and I was glad to see a good few friendly faces from previous meet ups. My equipment should have been checked and tested before I left but as I said I had no time to set any of it up. Thanks to Hondas decision to do away with normal petrol taps and fit vacuum pumps into their petrol tanks I was not able to draw any fuel to my new petrol stove. A short length of pipe would have enabled me to siphon some off but it did not occur to me to bring any. As a result I had no cooking facilities. It did not occur to me either that I should have taken some candles to keep warm and take the chill off the tent. My theory that two, one season sleeping bags doubled up with silk liners would make a three season sleeping bag was also completely wrong. As the first night drew in I shivered in my tent as the mercury fell to minus 7 with my teeth chattering so hard I could not sleep. I finally surfaced at around 6am in the hope of seeing someone else awake that I could cadge a cup of tea off.

As it turned out no one else woke or surfaced until around 7-30 am and by that time I was seriously concerned that rigor mortis would set in never mind hyperthermia. I was the coldest I can ever remember. Mercifully Sleepdog appeared and seeing my plight offered me a cuppa before we went off for breakfast. We had been told by the guy organising the run out that our engines would have to be running by 10am for a spot of green laning and then a trip to Whitby for fish and chips before heading back to camp. And so with bellies full and suitably refreshed a dozen bikes set off playing follow the leader. Now my idea of green laning is a nice bit of tarmac preferably with white lines in the middle and some street lights for when it gets dark with some nice bits of greenery on either side of said tarmac. Some live stock in the fields and a few swallows flying idly by and some sunshine in the sky would be ideal but it seems this lot had other ideas about what green laning means.

In this case it meant going along muddy paths that I would not send a pack mule along and the paths were full of mud, huge puddles and some snow, lots of snow. Somehow I managed to get to the end of the path in one piece with no damage to myself or the bike. Feeling quite pleased with myself we stopped at a village green and I had a fag and contemplated the run out to Whitby. My feeling of self satisfaction and general smugness disappeared shortly after we set off again and turned onto a path that sported a large notice with the legend “UNSUITABLE FOR MOTOR VEHICLES”. If this lump of V twin 650 Honda was not a motor vehicle then I have no idea what is. My heart sank but nothing could have prepared me for the terror that was to come. The path led up the side of a mountain that Sherpa Tensing and Sir Edmund Hillary would no doubt have used to practice the assault on Everest. This was not green laning; this was snowboarding and skiing territory.

The snow was deep and I fell off a dozen or so times, once quite badly with my leg trapped under the damn bike. My hand was badly hurt and it swelled up so much I could not use my left hand. This made clutch control a tad awkward. In the end I simply could not go on and feeling like one of the Hobbits as Gandalf led them over the mountains I cracked. My confidence had gone completely and I would gladly have tipped my bike off the ledge and left it there and called in mountain rescue to come and get me off this damn mountain. Only two things could have made me continue, a line of coke to give me some much needed confidence or some Prozac to make me care less. As it was it was Sleepdog who came to the rescue on the confidence front and Obi One Kenobi (the guy who had organised the run out) insisted I ride his much lighter bike and he ride mine.

The difference in machines was amazing, it went where I pointed it to and I did not have to have my feet off the ground so much that it made my hips and legs hurt. As it was the scars on my stomach were aching from the exertion of picking the bike up again and again and yet again many times over. Within a few hundred yards I decided I wanted to swap bikes and keep my new steed. All went well until we started the descent. One by one all of the bikes stopped and as I caught up with the front runners I understood why. In front of us was a steep incline covered in sheet ice that made riding down the side all but impossible except for the very foolhardy or insane. Ten machines were manhandled down the incline until we got to the bottom and back onto the black stuff. I was so happy to be back on tarmac I got down on my knees and kissed the road. It taken us almost five hours to travel 2.5 miles from the sign that said “UNSUITABLE FOR MOTOR VEHICLES” and back onto tarmac. To be fair it was mainly my fault as I was the slowest rider and fell off more times than anyone else. Strangely enough I only saw one other person fall off and that was just the once. I imagined that I was the most unpopular guy in the group although no one said a word.

We arrived back at camp after reaching Whitby and refuelling on fish and chips. By the evening I was in such a bad way I could only limp along and my hand was now turning varying shades of blue. There was only one thing to do and that was to relent. I had given up alcohol for lent but this was akin to 41 days and nights in the wilderness and I got the calling. Several pints of Becks later and I no longer cared about my aching bones and another night under canvass seemed a wonderful idea. I spent a good few hours in the company of Sleepdog and crusty under their basha bathing in the warmth of a charcoal burner. Crusty related the funniest story I have ever heard about pickled eggs but I will not repeat it in print. I thought I was going to cough up a lung I was laughing so hard and the mental images will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Sadly and all too quickly morning arrived and it was time to pack up and go home and then the snow started. It appeared everyone else was heading either north or south but I was the only one going west across the Pennines. I decided to stay another night but this time in the comfort of a bed and breakfast. I made this decision on the grounds that I was not fit enough to brave being stranded if any of the roads west were closed and by the amount of snow falling this was a distinct possibility.

It had been a fantastic weekend, satisfying, terrifying, exhilarating and illuminating and that was just in one afternoon. The people were fantastic and yes I would do it again but not right now! To all those who I had promised to keep records of cost and expenditure so they could decide if they could afford to do what I do here is a rough break down.

3 tanks of fuel, 45 quid (but loads left in my tank)
food and entertainment 80 quid (would have been a lot less if my stove had of been working)
1 nights B+B 45 quid
camping fees nil.

 

And so to cheer myself up during the long cold winter months I splashed out on my credit card and bought a raft of goodies. I now have too much gear but I am in the enviable position of deciding what not to take instead of saying I wish I could afford that. Not to crow but just to re-iterate I have managed to collect in a period of just 18 months what some people take a lifetime to acquire. It helped that as I owned much of the stuff many years before; I had a damn good idea of what I wanted this time around. There have been many mistakes along the way and some items have just not been fit for purpose but as I did not know anyone with the same equipment and few shops sold the items I was looking for before I purchased then the internet was the only way to go. The biggest mistake was the satnav. Yes the infernal navigation aid that did not aid at all and seemed hell bent on getting me lost. Sue me Garmin I will happily see you in court!

So I took the plunge and have invested in a new one. Another Garmin but this time all singing all dancing and with expansion slots to take extra maps and information. It is also wide screen and should not present such a problem as trying to view it with my glasses on as the old satnav did. It has all the maps I should ever need including city navigators of all the major towns in Europe. It can also take phone calls and play MP3’s. So to make the most of this piece of electronic gadgetry and to realise its full potential I purchased some other goodies to go with it.

Now perhaps I am naive or I do not understand the instructions but I cannot get the Scala teamset to work as I thought it would. Again as I do not know anyone who has one of these and there do not appear to be any shops locally who sell this item I purchased off the net falling for the blurb that accompanied the product. The idea was to have a head set that would enable me and Bean Counter to communicate with each other instead of us both digging each other in the ribs to attract each other’s attention. Reading the blurb then if I have go this right, both of us should be able to listen to separate things for example she should be able to listen to the MP3 player I bought to accompany her headset. I should be able to listen to the MP3’s stored on the satnav while looking at the map and when we speak to each other both sets of MP3’s should be cancelled out until we stop speaking when they would come on again.

I do not know if the equipment is broke or it was never intended to do this. For now BC and me can speak to each other and not listen to music or we can listen to music to brighten up the boring motorways and not speak to each other. Both include tapping various buttons on the headset which I am not too happy about doing while riding the bike. Of course when I am on my own and have no pillion to communicate with then this will not be a problem. However for now it seems that yet again I have bought something that will not do the job for which I believed it would.

I also failed to realise that the headsets need charging from the mains and cannot be charged from the power supply on the bike. If I am camping then I will have no power to recharge the batteries and the headset will only last for seven hours before it needs more electricity. It will not be an entire waste but 600 quid for all the bits is a lot of money. Maybe I should have just bought the satnav as that does seem to work and a ride out camping in Yorkshire in just two weeks will either confirm that I was justified in spending so much on a single piece of equipment or whether I have been ripped off again. Bark Busters and crash bar panniers are now the only two items missing from my comprehensive list.

 

After 18 months and what to me has been a small fortune my kit list is almost complete. The purchase of a lightweight poncho for off the bike travels and a new tarp to give my tent added protection or just as a covered area to park up my bike are the latest additions. The poncho came from Nomad travel and is very light and was not astronomical in price. The tarp was supplied by DD hammocks and again it is large light and waterproof to HH3000. This piece of kit was on sale and came in at around 26 pounds.

There are now only three items left on the list. I may not need them but I will feel happier for having them. The first is a set of bark busters. The hand guards on Rhonda are made of plastic and not very substantial. They keep the wind off my hands but in a fall they will offer little or no protection, I hope the bark busters will address this problem.

The second item is one I will have to make up myself and consists of some pannier racks to be mounted on my crash bars. Currently all the weight of my gear is at the back of the bike and it is a struggle to keep the front wheel down when moving off from a standing start. The racks which will hold my tools and cooking gear will help to redistribute the load more evenly.

The last item is the one that has caused me most anguish. It is a replacement for my untrustworthy sat nav. I have mentioned this one piece of equipment more than any other and it has to be replaced. Maps are all well and good but unless they have a big X on them saying you are here then a satnav is essential, especially on foreign soil where most signs will not be in English. The satnav is probably one of the most expensive items I will have to purchase. Motorcycle satnavs need to be shockproof and waterproof because they are open to the elements. Consequently they are three times more costly than the equivalent car equipment.

There is the possibility of a way around this, Givi and Xtreme Wearther (their spelling not mine) both make a waterproof sat nav bag in which you place a cheap car GPS. I hope to be purchasing one of these babies sometime in the New Year and dispensing with my old Garmin for good!

 

Sunday 28^th June found me and Bean Counter setting off from Edinburgh where we stayed at my brothers for the weekend. I was going to ride to Callander near Stirling and ride along the Dukes pass, the A821. This stretch of road was featured sometime ago in a programme presented by Richard Wilson of One foot in the grave fame. Prior to this programme I had never heard of the Dukes Pass or the Trossachs which is spectacular part of Scotland. It is described as 12 miles of A road with 120 bends, dips and hills in it and particularly challenging requiring concentration. As soon as I saw the programme I knew I had to do this ride some time and as I was already in Scotland this seemed like a good day to go for it.

Sadly the mist along the M8 and M9 from Edinburgh to Kilmahog was already leading me to have doubts about the wisdom of this venture. I had planned for it to be a bright sunny day with barely a cloud in the sky. As it was I could hardly see in front of me although this was down to mist condensing upon my visor and was soon wiped away. It took just over an hour and a half to reach our designated starting point and before long we were on the trail haring around bends (responsibly of course we would never break speed or safety limits!) I am incapable of describing how beautiful the place really is despite the fact that visibility was very low and at one point a loch disappeared before my eyes as the mist rolled down from the mountains.

As fantastic as the pass is there was one really special gem that I did not know about and that is the trail around the Achray forest. At the entrance to the trail is a sign announcing £2 per car but it said nothing about motorbikes and there was no one to take any money off us and I did not see anywhere to leave any money so we rode straight through the gates. It is approximately 7 miles maybe more of rough road alongside three lochs.  The road is unsurfaced and although not off road as in green laning it is a challenge on a motorbike and I saw more than 1 four wheel drive vehicle struggle with the mud and gravel tracks. The scenery is simply stunning and I will go back there hopefully on a sunny day.

There was the possibility due to the inclement weather that we would not make it home that night but we decided to give it a go anyway. At around 5pm we set the untrusting satnav up to take us home to Hiredew because I could see no signs to anywhere that I recognised and so it was that it took us into the heart of Glasgow and on to the M8. It was plain sailing from there although the satnav threw a wobbly and decided it did not know where it was and lost all of my recent finds and routes. I have ranted about this Garmin in the past but I will do so again. It is SHITE do NOT BUY ONE OF THESE!! As a by the by 3 people have all taken a look at it and all said “well mine does not do that” but each recognises that is it the single most useless piece of crap they have ever seen. By comparison a Stylophone was a marvellous piece of electronic engineering. Why do I still use it you ask? I can’t afford an upgrade!

At Gretna Green it started to rain and we pulled over for an hour until the worst of it had passed but by this time it was almost dark. After a few petrol stops and rest breaks we finally landed home at 2-30 am. I had completed 356 miles since we set off from Edinburgh and this was the most I have ever completed with a pillion. It was the furthest BC had ever gone on a bike period. It was hardly a trip around the Andes or Patagonia and seasoned riders will laugh at the distances involved but I was exhausted by the time we arrived home. My legs, hips and shoulders all ached. I guess old age really is settling in. Was it worth it? You bet and I will do it again.

 

And so from the wilderness of rough camping to the delights of running water, toilets and organisation, yes I took Bean Counter camping once more but this time to an organised rally in Ripley Derbyshire. On the Thursday morning our magnificent trio of Ted Magnum, BC and yours truly headed off to Lumb Farm in Ripley for the annual Horizons Unlimited meeting or the HUBB as it is known. It has been running for nine years although this was the first time I had attended. Arriving at noon with no hold ups or mishaps apart from the odd bout of cramp we made good time in a little less than two hours. We would have been considerably quicker but Rhonda was heavily laden and stability was somewhat lacking on bends and tight corners.

After arriving BC and me went into a highly organised drill of me setting the tent up and she got the camp fire on the go and made tea. Running water was readily available and the toilets were so near the tent that BC remarked they were practically en suite! With camp set up it was off to the shops for the all important provisions consisting of a couple of cases of beer, a few bottles of red wine and a bottle of Jim Beam. The organisation at these HUBB meetings is incredible and a vast array of speakers on various subjects from packing light to going half a million kilometres around the world on the same bike had been arranged over 3 days and evenings in 3 separate halls within the grounds of Lumb Farm.  A huge bonfire of Tedstock proportions was on the go from before we arrived to when we left 4 days later.

There were road kill cookery demonstrations and squirrels, rabbit and pheasant were peeled and cooked before our very eyes in a most entertaining manner by an incredibly knowledgeable man and I can say that all the animals were dead before he skinned them. Amongst some of the delights were cooked crayfish and trout and these can all be caught in local waters and cooked easily. This guy knew his stuff and presented us with wild garlic and herbs that can be found in the wild in the UK. The talks and presentations were hard to get to, let me explain. With over 500 people all walking around and talking to each other you soon forgot what time it was and I missed most of them because I was busy talking to people about my bike or their bike or what gear we had or used and the time just flew by.

I did manage to attend 3 of the events though.  The first was about packing light and the speaker was an extremist down to cutting his tooth brush handle in half and then drilling holes in what was left of the rest to make it lighter. He was an advocate of no tent and no cooker. Sleep in the open and eat cold food. Definitely not my idea of touring but it was entertaining nevertheless. The second one I managed to attend was by Ted Simon who toured the world over four years nonstop and then did it again when he was 70. It was a fascinating talk from the man who has done more to inspire people to travel around the world by motorcycle than anyone else and he was the inspiration behind Ewan McGregor and Charlie Bormans tours. The next one I managed to catch was held by Austin Vince of Enduro Mondo and Terra Circa fame. This was the funniest lecture I have ever attended and no comment or description from me could ever do it justice except to say that even if you hated motorcycles you would have enjoyed his lecture and slide show. He tore into BMW owners and touratwat with a humour that was appreciated by even the intended victims.

There were many sights that will stay with me and I only took photos of the ones that I felt were exceptional. One of those being a Vincent parked next to my tent. I have not seen one of those on the road for over 40 years. The only ones I have seen were in a museum. Sadly of all my mates the only one who I felt would really appreciate this sight would be Billy Whizz who passed away a few years ago and for an hour or so I became very sentimental thinking about my oldest friend and wishing he could have been there but it was never meant to be. The meeting taught me a lot and I spoke to people who been around the world on numerous occasions. I consider it a feat Just to do it once but some people had done this many times and some people who had done were intending to do it again. I also learnt that of all the equipment I have bought much of it is of no use for motorcycling. My tent is far heavy and bulky and so are my sleeping mats and sleeping bags. I had of course bought what I could afford as I attempted to catch up with people who had gathered their equipment over the course of many years and made mistakes along the way. It is probably a good job my own trip has been postponed for another 18 months. It will take me that long to collect all the correct equipment.

All too quickly Sunday morning arrived and the realisation that the party was over hit us all. TM had been ill for a few days and so he packed up and set off home early. BC and me made the decision to pack at a more leisurely pace and leave a few hours later. TM was already home by the time we left. Again regular readers will know of my inane lack of direction and to no one’s amazement we got lost on the way back home. The mileage there was 104 but we managed to take 150 to come home. I started worrying when I saw signposts for Sheffield and we drifted all along the dales and peaks. The satnav absolutely refused to let me set a course that would take us onto the M56 and then the M53. It continually tried to take us via Manchester and the M6 to the M62 and through Liverpool. Once again it was only BC who managed to stop me throwing this absolute piece of junk into a canal that we were passing. At the risk of being sued by Garmin I can state the Quest is the single most useless piece of shit it has been my displeasure to purchase and operate. If they want to sue me then let them. I would welcome the sight of a judge trying to make this piss poor excuse for a navigational aid work at all.

 

I went rough camping this weekend gone. The arrangements had been made some months ago via Ted Magnum and a bunch of other likeminded people and so me and Bean Counter saddled up and rode out alongside TM to a beauty spot in the Yorkshire Dales. The meet up had been arranged for the Saturday morning however the three of us decided to go on the Friday night and get another night in. We were met at the arranged spot by a fellow biker called Steve who informed us that a large horse fair was taking place in a town nearby and as a consequence a very large contingency of “Gypos” and “Pikeys” had arrived and that crime had gone up by 35% and everything that was not nailed down or could not be thrown into the back of a transit van was fair game. Steve took us to the safety of a camp site only a few miles away where we could be safe from our travelling brethren and our possessions would remain with us. As we arrived I looked at the sprawling site and followed TM up a grassy hill and stopped to ponder where we would set up. When TM took off to turn around and go back down I attempted to follow but my back wheel just ground a trench in the earth. Mounds of shit and earth flew from my back wheel as the bike sank lower and lower and almost up the back axle until finally two fellow campers came along to push me out of the rut. TM jumped on my bike and rode it downhill for me.

With the tents set up the four of us wandered to the local hostelry and sampled some of their finest ales. (Don’t ever drink the perry, it is truly disgusting) With our thirsts duly quenched we wandered back to the site and our tents and out came the disposable barbies, the steaks and the almost obligatory bottle of Jack Daniels. Steve produced a bottle of wine and a glass from his panniers along with a jar of olives and some feta cheese, for camping it was incredibly civilised. That is until Charlie appeared. Charlie is a local “character” and he turned up clutching a half drunk bottle of scotch. To be fair he offered everyone around our camp fire a swig from his bottle and then proceeded to collapse into TM’s bike.  An attempt was made to pick him up but he just staggered some more and so Steve stayed with him until he heard snoring.

Charlie had disappeared by the time we all woke up and we went for a breakfast at the site headquarters. A truly awesome meal with as much tea as you could drink for only four quid. We then rode out to Hawes along some truly twisting and turning roads high over a large hill, Small Mountain, and met up with some of the other adventure riders. We decided that we would go to the rough camp site. After the usual episode of me getting lost and finally arriving just before a search party was sent to look for me and BC we arrived and set up camp again. Most of the riders elected to go a ride out to the Tunhill pub; this is highest pub in the UK and I would loved to have gone but the truth is I could not keep up with the other riders who were mainly riding solo while I had a pillion. They are vastly more experienced than me and I was already feeling like Captain Slow AKA James May because of my cautious but steady riding style and I would either have held everyone up or got lost. Instead we went for provisions and chilled with our feet in the stream and a cold bottle of Merry Down cider.

As evening approached more and more riders arrived until there were 23 tents on the field and again the barbies came out. The thing is that in the Dales radio reception is not very good due to the mountains and TM who had brought his radio could only receive Classical FM. As the strains of Sibelius and Taichosky floated across the camp site I figured this was one of the most surreal settings I had ever been in. It was also one of the most beautiful. As most meals were finished it was onto the camp fire. Some wood had been brought to the site but with a few beers and manly egos ready to make fire the search was on for some real wood. Several hunting parties formed and set off. I along with two young blades found a fallen 30 foot tree (see photos for proof). Unfortunately it was on the other side of a stream and up a steep embankment. When you are full of Jack Daniels and strong cider nothing is impossible and so it proved as the three of us struggled to get the tree from one side of an embankment across a stream and up the other side and then carry it 150 yards along a road to the camp. When we arrived there were cheers and some embarrassment from other who had only managed to find six to ten foot logs. The problem now was to chop it up and axes, machetes, saws and other implements of destruction, enough to storm the Bastille, appeared and competitions took part to see who could chop/saw the fastest using whatever they had to hand. Before long we had a blazing fire that would have done Nero proud. I was truly in my element.

Conversation soon turned to all things about bikes. Orlins or Bings?  Bridgestone’s or Metzelers?  Raising kits or lowering kits? BC nodded sagely and kept her counsel as biking and travelling advice was showered on her by the 27 blokes there. There were two other women as well but it was mainly a blokey thing but I could see that BC fitted right in there and she went to bed to mull over the myriad of advice she had been proffered. Sunday morning and after a slow start to the day that included a wash in the stream and breakfast with gallons of tea I had the urge to never go back home, to just jump on the bike and head off somewhere, anywhere but home. It had been one of the best weekends of my life. I can only assume BC must have thought so too as she was completely silent for most of the weekend. I reckon this was in awe of the event and she was just lost for words. The people I met were fantastic and incredibly friendly and helpful. I hope it is not too long before I meet up with most of them again. As usual I promised the costing’s. We spent two nights away the cost of camping was eight pounds for the one night at Dent. We spent around 60 pounds on food and entertainment I used two tanks of fuel covering 239 miles at 26 pounds. Total cost for 2 people 94 pounds and a bargain at that for the fun we had. The next meet is about three weeks away but it will be organised with toilets and washrooms and facilities that mean you do not have to hide behind walls in fear of a rambler or fell walker chancing upon you in the middle of ablutions. I am sure BC will appreciate this.

 

We loaded up, packed and headed off into the Sunset. Destination? Devon to stay in a yurt. Some months ago, well before Xmas, November 2008, Bean Counter read an article in a newspaper about a farm that had yurts on it. They were letting them out and I contacted them to make a booking. Partly because I wanted to take a close look at them and see if it was possible to live in one and partly because I wanted a holiday. The journey was 270 miles and BC had never ridden that far before and I had never ridden that far with a pillion and a bike that was loaded up to the gunnels.

The journey to Devon was atrocious. Constant heavy showers and gusts of wind up to 50 MPH. At some stages I felt as though we were going to be blown across all three lanes of the motorway. The showers meant we were constantly stopping at service stations to put on waterproofs and then stopping again to take them off when the sun came out before we become “Boil in a bag items”. To say my nerves were a little bit frayed is an understatement. The last big task of the day was to find the farm we were staying at. Devon is not the most sign posted place in the world and the only sign to the farm is halfway down a track off a B road. The track itself was very slippery due to all the rain and there was a ridge in the middle of it, it is also a fairly steep slope. The choice was, ride in the tyre ruts for about 500 yards and pray I did not slide into the undergrowth or ride on top of the ridge and hope the gravel did not give way underneath me. I elected to ride in the ruts. I almost filled my trousers a couple of times before we landed at the farm and level concrete.

We finally arrived 9 hours after setting off, cold tired and thoroughly exhausted but the welcome of the Sheaves family was amazing and pretty soon we had a log fire roaring and our wet clothes were toasting nicely. The yurt was fantastic and had a large double bed in it, a sofa, some chests to put things in and a bookcase with books and games in along with cast iron log fire. The size was about 18 feet across and the crown was clear which meant you could see the stars when you were in bed. The kitchen consisted of a wooden shelter with a camping gas fire with 2 rings and a toaster, plenty of cups crockery and cooking utensils and the most important thing, a kettle! The toilet was a well thought out composting toilet and the shower block although across the field was excellent. There was also a washing machine and a fridge in the shower block.

We did not get up to much the first night apart from drink tea and dry out. The second day was a day of discovery and we went into the nearest town to pick a few things up calling in at Otter St Mary and Honiton along the way.  The plan was to go to the Eden project on the third day but the dark clouds looked ominous and I did not fancy doing another 200 miles in rain so we went to Exmouth and Sidmouth to look at the beaches and have sandwiches and ice cream. Sidmouth is a really nice Regent town and I could have spent more than a day there. It was so peaceful sitting on the promenade and the ice cream there is excellent.

On the fourth day we said we would go to the Eden Project regardless of the weather as we did not know when we would be so far south again. And so it was that with a clear sky we set off. The Eden project is quite nice but the biomes seem far more impressive from the outside. I guess as the project is only seven years old the exhibits will become far more spectacular as time goes on. I also reckon that certain times of the year are better to go and see the exhibits than others. There is some amazing stuff in the visitor centre and I would recommend that if you get the opportunity you should go and see the place at some time or other. The project is very close to the coastal town of St Austell and we decided that when we left we would find a chip shop and have fish and chips by the beach. This was a big mistake as St Austell does not have a beach or a port or a harbour or if they do they have hidden it really well. After riding around for 30 minutes we gave up on trying to find the mythical beach. We finally found a chip shop some miles away and the cod I was served up, admittedly a large portion was the size of a basking shark. Honestly I have never seen such a big piece of fish with batter on it in my life. I struggled to finish it!

Now as anyone who knows me will tell you, my sense of direction is so bad it is legendary. I knew that if we did not arrive back at the farm before the sun went down we would never find it. This meant being back by 10pm. It was 7-30 before we left the chip shop and after 8 before we got under way again and coupled with a slight mishap on the M5 which meant I had to double back after missing my turn off junction and it was after 10pm when we finally came off the motorway into a myriad of unmarked and signpost less B roads. All of them looked the same. Tall hedges and tarmac without a single distinguishing feature between them. My satnav threw a wobbly and attempted on several occasions to take me down roads that did not exist. We attempted to find a taxi rank in order that we could ask the taxi to drive slowly to the farm and we could follow him. There were no taxi ranks! We tried to find a police station, there were no police stations. We tried to find a bed and breakfast place but there were none. It is about the most remote place I have ever been to in my life. At midnight and 60 miles and 2 hours since we left the motorway and with little fuel in the tank (most petrol stations there close at 7pm) we rode into the car park of the Bowd Inn.

I decided there and then I was not going to ride a single mile further. BC and me slept on a bench in the car park until 4-30 am when it was light enough to see roughly where we were going. We rode to Otter St Mary were we managed to find the only sign that pointed to the West Hills district we so badly wanted to get to. We arrived back at the yurt at 5-am, lit a fire and went to bed. We had to be out of the yurt by 10am and we had not packed so I rang Roger Moor, with instructions to ring me at 8am to get me out of bed. With only 2 hours sleep and almost as damp as when we arrived we headed out to the M5 and our way back home. After over 100 miles we pulled into a motorway service station and I noticed a Premier Inn sign and as I could not continue much further safely we booked a room for the night. After a good night’s sleep (I slept for 14 hours) I began to see the funny side of things. The previous night had me cursing and swearing never to leave the safety of the Higherdew ever again, never to go anywhere that was not sign posted and to throw my satnav into a ditch in another fit of “technic cleansing”, see the entry for July 2008.

The holiday was a fantastic experience, the yurt farm was amazing and the people who run it are brilliant. The details for anyone wanting to go are http://www.luxurydevonyurts.co.uk/  When you get there ask to see Maisie, one of the cutest little black lambs it has ever been my pleasure to meet and hopefully she will not have ended up on a plate with mint sauce. Important to note if you are going on a road bike, the track to the farm will rip off any belly pens you have and road tyres will not hack the mud on the track. Roger Moor who had looked after my cat Genghis while I was away came across and we shared a bottle of jack Daniels with hilarious consequences, see photos.

I also mentioned last year that if I ever went anywhere I would log the costs. The accommodation in the yurt was £240 for 4 nights; the stay in the premier inn was £65 with 2 large breakfasts. I covered over 950 miles with 8 fill ups at an average of 13 pounds a fill. Some places the petrol was expensive and others not so but the average was £13 and the total bill was around £104 and I spent around £200 on food and entertainment. I think this was excellent value for a lifetime of memories oh and yes you could live in one of those yurts, even in the UK with some modifications.

 

Its that time of the year when the MOT is due. I am fairly certain that with the amount of goodies and new parts Rhonda will fly through the examination. A new battery was purchased just a couple of days ago from the local chariot repair shop. What should have been a fairly simple job was not. I rang Ram Riotts to ask if they had a battery for my model of bike and they said yes. I went down and picked it up and brought the said battery home. I must admit I did have my reservations when I saw the size of the box but I felt certain the qualified mechanics and salesmen at the shop knew what they were talking about. How wrong can you be? The battery was far too big and would not physically fit into the battery bay on the bike. I returned with both the new for comparison and the old battery and although it was replaced they refused to take the old battery away. I decided there and then I would not use that shop any longer.

I then started thinking about waterproof clothing. The jacket I have has a waterproof membrane inside the coat. All well and good you would think but it means that the exterior of the jacket will be completely sodden before the membrane stops the water from getting to me. Plus the amount of time it will take to dry out a heavy jacket will be be completely useless for a camping expedition or any touring. Now you would think that any waterproof clothing would be high visibility and brightly coloured to say the least or so I thought. A trawl through internet returned only dark clothing in black or dark blue. You would think in a time of low visibility ie bad weather at the time you would need to be most visible that protective clothing would be at their most vivid and eye catching colours but apparently not. Peter Storm and Regatta offer weather proof clothes but again all dark, it makes you wonder about hikers and fell walkers wondering about in mist. Surely I cant be the only person to think about this can I?

A sheep skin arrived and BC has been sewing straps onto it to make it fit the seat. It does feel comfortable and I am looking forward to taking the bike out for a long trip to test out the padding abilities of the new seat cover. God alone knows how long that will take to dry out if it rains heavily. Then again I could plastic bin bags over it. How slippy that would be is any ones guess. Roll on the camping season!

 

A set of tank panniers arrived the other day. Well not exactly, they are gas mask bags. SR10’s to be exact but they fit over the tank like a dream and should be capable of distributing the weight of my luggage more evenly. I have now spent as much as I am going to on the machine and the equipment that will accompany me to any part of the globe I should desire to travel to. With this in mind me and BC decided to head off to the Lake District. There were two reasons for wanting to go there. Firstly the scenery and the roads and secondly the fact there is a Rohan outlet there. I wanted to check out some of the ultra lightweight clothing they stock and decide if it really was worth spending so much on travel clothes.

BC has never travelled so far on a motorbike before and It is a long time since I have travelled that distance on such a heavy bike two up. I decided it would be a good test for the pair of us before we set off to Devon in a few weeks. BC loaded up the satnav, (I have long since give up trying to make head or tail of the infernal thing), and we set off. Halfway down the M6 we stopped for a quick cuppa and a rest break and after resuming we arrived in Ambleside some 2 hours later. The petrol consumption seems to have vastly improved since the service. After a quick look in the Rohan store we set off to find some of the roads that make this part of the world so scenic.

We managed to find the Kirkstone Pass and rode up and over it stopping at Patterdale for another rest stop. The pass is an amazing road only marred by suicidal sheep, manic goats and jaywalking ramblers. I almost filled my trousers on more than one occasion. On another, the satnav directed me down a very steep unfinished road into a farmyard. Turning around and trying to get back onto the main road saw the bike sliding backwards as I tried to hold the machine on a 3 in 1 incline to safely rejoin the main road. As the bike started to topple sideways I managed to find the strength to hold it upright and popped it into first gear and revved like a boy racer in attempt to get the tyres to grip the surface. BC later told me the only thing that stopped her from screaming was the fact she did not want to panic me any more than I already was!

I tried to find two other roads but the satnav refused to accept the fact that they existed when I knew they did. BC stopped me from throwing the satnav into a lake and we headed home. At this point one thing was becoming painfully obvious. The seat is crap. There are two ridges that run down the sides of the seat and they cut off the circulation to my legs. A new seat is financially out of the question and although a sheepskin will cure this problem it is only a short term cure as any rain will leave me sitting in a sodden mess and probably not of my making.

We are going back to the lakes in a few weeks on a camping expedition and I hope to be able to purchase a sheepskin as short term fix to the problem. I hope to be able to find the Hardknot pass and Wrystone pass providing I am not stopped by suicidal sheep and thrombosis.

 

Rhonda is almost complete. I took her along to Ted Magnums place at the weekend just gone where she received a full service and all of the accessories that I have accumulated over the last 6 months were bolted in place. Considering that I purchased Rhonda for a specific job, I have discovered that any maintenance on her will not be a roadside job. Thoughts of taking tools with me to complete any task out on the highway have almost evaporated when I discovered that it took 2 hours for the pair of us to take the tank off the bike. Sadly this was necessary because the air filter is housed under the tank and the fairings are clipped into the tank.

Taking the endless chain off involved the use of a grinding wheel to remove the chain plates. Changing the oil required most of the guards and plastic bash plates to be removed in order to gain access to the drain plug and oil filter. It was no easier to drain the forks and replace the oil in them, the oil was changed to a heavier grade than the factory fitted stuff. I get the feeling that half of the fairing will have to be removed just to change a light bulb when it eventually does go on me.

A repair was made to the speedometer drive and I gather this is a regular bone of contention amongst Transalp owners. Taking the degenerated bits of nylon sprocket from the speedometer drive housing was a real pain. What should have been a simple job took another couple of hours.

I am pleased to report that the Scotoiler went on with a minimum of fuss even without instructions and the satnav was a doddle to fit and hard wire. What has not been added yet are the tool tubes. I have simply run out of room on the bike to bolt them onto anything. This may be an omen as I hope I never have to do anything to it.  All in all Ted and myself spent two days pimping and servicing the bike.

Apart from the previously mentioned tool tubes, there is only 1 item left to attach to the bike before I can say it is fully and comprehensively pimped and that is the cigarette lighter socket that is on order as I write. Needless to say many people have chortled when I mention this item. As most people in the biking fraternity will realise this is not for lighting cigars as I scream down the motorway at 70 mph. It is to charge portable electrical items such as a phone or laptop.

I hope I have not bought the wrong bike but it appears to me that anything that is important lies behind a myriad of parts such as frame work and fairings that have to be removed to access them. By contrast anything on Ted’s Africa Twin seems to be in the most accessible of places and his bike by comparison is a joy to work on. As the clocks are nearer to changing and the weather warms up I can gladly say the Bitch is fully pimped.