Sunday 8th April started off chilly and cloudy but the air in Keighley was full of expectation as the golden shadows flitted into town they arrived from all directions to gather outside Appleyards Goldwing centre. I smiled and nodded greetings towards unfamiliar folk and embraced old friends, Barry signalled to mount up by stubbing out his cigarette, I switched on the GPS for the first time and listened in wonderment as “sexy voice” told me where I should go, Skipton bypass was where we cleared out the cobwebs, we picked up some more Wings at a hotel before all 11 solo’s and 1 Scottish tank headed off to hunt for wide open spaces in North Yorkshire.

The Scottish tank was a 1500cc breadvan, now an EML Trike and manned by Steve and Jane who had once again entered England illegally for the weekend. Barry and Tina sped off followed by Julie and myself, RAF Nigel followed in his “coppers” jacket, followed by Stretch and Skelator the scourges of the 07 European tour, Roland and Mary followed, Mary forever on the lookout for wild life to the left and right and above, Dennis and Lorraine (with 2r’s) followed on their 1800 fresh out of the bag only days ago, then came Steve and his lovely lady on the Grey from Bradford, following them came a solid blue 1800, but they were freezing up and had to turn for home only miles into the adventure, better luck on the next raid guys! Bringing up the back door was Chris and Eve, they had done this job before so our behinds were in ultra safe hands

We settled into a good rhythm but heavy traffic and an abundance of photogenic policemen practising the growing art of “fleecing” forced our pace down, we were infiltrated here and there by “plastic pocket rockets” they passed through us like a dose of salts, all very exhilarating stuff I have to admit. The cold was as unexpected as it was unwelcome, I had summer gloves and summer jacket and was feeling it a bit, Im a grass roots biker though (couldn’t afford proper gear way back then) so gritted my teeth and waited for the sun, which was due at any minute! We soon hit our first waypoint so purred “Sexy voice” into my ears, Barry pulled over at Settle viaduct for a quick tea stop, “sexy voice” urged me on but I turned her off, “Im in charge honey” I mused. We stood about like penguins grinned at each other, Roland pulled out an old camera “from bloody 1940!” I cracked, he grinned bollox, wound it up and took some shots, he claimed it had a film in it from “yonks ago” we laughed and turned to admire the windswept landscape and the ever-so-long railway viaduct it really is beautiful, how can one prefer laying on a bare featureless hot beach in Majorca for Gods Sake?! Barry suggested we sweep into HAWES at our own pace, we wouldn’t get lost as its only one road, besides, I had sexy voice purring “Straight on 5 miles” into my headset. we climbed onboard and followed the tarmac, we upped the pace to grin level factor 1, the road seemed to narrow and grow bumpier, RAF Nigel was on my tail with his “slow down I’m a copper” jacket just for a second it worried me, but then I saw his grin, Barry was in an uncustomary position behind Nigel, not a race by any means just bloody keep up you buggers! a classic case of A.L (automotive laxative) The road had interesting bumps and dips, at one point Julie bounced up and nearly sat on my shoulders, the next second we crested a rise and became airborne for a second or two, oh my what fun we were having!

Hawes soon came upon us with another tea stop and a breather, some of us took a little walk along the quaint high street and miraid of “plastic pocket rockets” with bandy legged folk adorned in multi coloured cow hide. It was still cold so I bought a new neck warmer and felt tons better, more tea was drunk countered by toilet stops, after all, like the advert says the balance of nature has to be restored. We did some good bike public relations and moved a bike or two to allow a local to get her car out from her house and onto the road. I said “I bet you get fed up with this dont you missus”?  She replied “yes it fekkin ticks one off at times” Ooer missus steady on I thought, I guess its the downside of living in a beautiful place. Ian (Fatha) and Margaret (M) arrived as planned from Cumbria region but minus the region, what happened guys??  He was on the beautifully painted 1800 with the Lord of The Rings advert and M on her girle Yam 750cc, a most beautiful ageless bike sadly not in production anymore, it so happens I had both 535 and 750 when I lived in London and loved them both, they are excellent que killers!

Soon it was time to move off again, “Sexy voice” prompted me forward, Barry led us out towards more open roads onto the next leg upto Tan Hill, the highest boozer in England, it seems the council in an effort to save money cover local goat tracks with a bit of tarmac and declare them to be B roads, well, they dont fool me I know what they really are! Along one road we came across a mini Stelvio with two hillside switchbacks that were so out of character for the days ride that some of us gave away 20 points and had to dab the old feet! Everybody gets the mickey taken when riding skills are momentarily forgotten, this is just reverse psychology it happens coz we are all relieved to have come through safely….its a man thing really, right girls? We climbed higher as the old currant bun finally shone through, the wind was still there and pushed and pulled at us, thankfully I had my helmet on or my hair would have been a right old mess! Up and up we climbed the greeni brown creased land criss crossed by miles of dry stone walling, this must really puzzle the visiting yankee tourists!

Tan Hill hove into view as we came into land at the dusty car park, we all piled in to an already full public bar, [SinglePic not found]Barry sought attention (like he does) and proceeded to chuck mayhem at the bar staff “Right then, we’d like 56 cups of tea, 2 coffees, another tea, 2 more coffees, 5 more teas…erm no milk for Tina please thank you, and Dave wants 2 chip  butties, I thank you once again!” We went and sat in the barn with the 3 baby lambs, we have been here before when it was quieter, the chickens have the run of the place, its very animal orientated, the landlady I think is from a care free age and oozes “laidbackness”! One chap asked for a cup of tea to be told to come behind the bar and wash a cup and pour it himself, how cool is that?! We ambled outside to take in the sun, blue sky, wispy clouds and a healthy breeze we viewed the excellent sight. Across miles of moorland we could see the busy A65 away in the far distance, evident by countless tiny white boxes traversing left and right. This a place I will come back to I’m sure, its got everything a busy person needs to break from the shackles of everyday drudgery, well, at least for a day! All too soon it was time to throw the legs over and proceed along the wriggly tarmac, “Fatha” was performing his Mother Hen impression with “M”, he must have been getting bog eyed what with one eye in front and one eye behind minding out for his dear “M”, its another “man thing” unfortunately, I used to do the same for one of my previous wives so I know how “Fatha” was feeling, “M” will get good my friend, you will eventually feel comfortable, as I do with my Julie now, trouble is I’m just waiting for her to steal the front spot on the Wing any time now, I fear only the threat of divorce would move her!

Onward then, down the winding road towards Leyburn, we were all enjoying the day especially as it had warmed up, the speed varied to keep folk interested and alive as did the working tractors and bloody incompetent useless cretinous Sunday drivers (I don’t own a car licence, does it show?) Jane, driving the Scottish tank must have had more than her fair share of close calls with imbisillic volvo drivers with overwarm tweed trews and more money than sense who knew not the width of their vehicles. Phew Jane youre some woman! “All Creatures Great and Small” countryside came into view, with beautiful houses and amazing views that everyone wished was theirs. Layburn lay in front of us, it was packed full of tin boxes, race bikes, children and ice cream vans, we landed en masse onto a corner and instantly raised the tone of the place, youths stared at us, old crincklies stared with disapproval as we took up “their”precious pavement space and kids touched when they shouldn’t but were good at it because nobody noticed this time. The Scottish tank parted here for their long run back to mother country, we said “ta ta for noo then! and wished then “Bon voyage see yoo, kiss kiss” Of we went then, on towards Kettlewell down some really spiffing roads, well they would have been if it was not for dolts trundling along in their bloody tin cans packed full of 2.5 kids crooning “are we there yet?” The group got split for a few miles, Barry had pulled over with the first group and shouts “Tea and Cream in Kettlewell!” as we came by just above stalling speed! “Just a mile or so to go” purred sexy voice, suddenly “Fatha” turned into a private garden after mistaking the sign “PRIVATE” for “TEA STOP” its an easy mistake to make for a Cumbrian eh Boyo! The old dear of the house looked on mortified as 3 uge monstrous 1800’s did a “Uey” on her patio, sexy voice purred in my ears “Off track honey, recalibrating” the look on the old dears face was priceless she either thought her time was up as the Vikings have landed or her luck was in the boys were back in town! I could see a sheepish “fuck-of-I-know-I-bolloxed-up” look on “Fatha’s” face as derision and catcalls flooded his way! Im grinning now at the thought of it Fatha! bless you! So ANOTHER hundred yards further to the real teastop, tea and cream was scoffed by all, the lady of the house dealt with us wonderfully, not the usual cockups with tea, coffee and “I didn’t order that Barry” As we relaxed a story started to come out about Dennis and a belly pan but Lorraine (2r’s) checked herself and changed the subject to sommat about “dirty clouds up there” which indeed there was, with that we dressed a bit more tightly and zoomed off over the bridge towards Skipton, RAF Nigel had his bottom lip catching on the tarmac as he realised the chocolate shop in Skipton shuts at 4, its now 4.30, tee he he! Next time Nigel eh? Pretty soon “Fatha “and “M” peeled of to head back to Cumbria, “Sithi Fatha !” we shouted across and waved to “M” somewhere behind us. We headed towards Keigthley onto the Skipton bypass, Dennis and Lorraine (2r’s) cut up our inside and waved “We’ll sithi then cockers” in Barnsly-ish then shot off ahead of Barry and me….Mmm, race then is it?  ahead a wide duel carriageway empty of tin boxes, OK then your on! we chased them at XXX mph (clue there somewhere guys) its turns out Dennis is an ex Hayabusa man, but hes not ridden with the “Thursday Foo Fighters” Barry and I cranked over and piled on the coals, our mounts surged forward passing grin factor 1-2-3 More! more! more! the cc’s demanded from down there between my little legs. A youth on a “plastic pocket rocket” clung to my tail as RAF NIgel and Steve and lover on the Grey took up the chase just behind, we lost then as we entered Keighley, they turned off for home one to Bradford and t’other to t’other side of Keighley, leaving Barry, Dennis and us to enjoy one last tea stop at Barry house AKA the Clubhouse, staffed by the lovely tea lady Clare, who insists I try on her new pink dress. Another drink and a giggle at the last few naughty miles nearly brought out the bellypan story, but Lorraine (2′rs) stopped again! Time for home came all too quickly.  We left Barry and Tina to cruise off into the sunset towards our respective homes as the sun dipped lower, leaving a lovely greeni/brown look to the waking countryside. Yes folks summer is on its way!

Dave Sharp