Today was going to be the day of days for Mark Lovell and Chrissy Hayman. It was going to be the final chapter of their fairy tale which started when they were ten year old kids, but was then cut short when Chrissy and her parents emigrated to Australia. Their young love was put on the back burner for….oh so many years as their lives at the top and bottom of planet Earth contunued. Mark was so unhappy as he attempted to impregnate half of Blackburn’s female population! As for Chrissy, well she raised a great family to a shyster of a man down under poor lass. As the internet came into our lives Chrissy found him as her curiosity about Mark’s life grew stronger and stronger and so their love moved from the back burner to the melting pot and began to simmer and bubble. Chrissy invented Air Miles as she racked up billions jetting to and from Australia. She was thinking ahead and was saving the air miles to pay for a wedding that was destined to be at the end of their rainbow!
Chrissy, Mark and their newly acquired Honda Goldwing 1800 “Purple Pussy” jumped headlong into the frying pan on full unadulterated full burner sizzling, spitting and touching everyone that came into contact with them from the folk in GWOCGB but especially those pioneering free spirited folk from the APPY WANDERERS on that European tour of 2008. In that first year if they weren’t on the “Purple Pussy” they were on each other. They had embarked on the ride of their lives!So today they took their lives to the next level and got married, everyone piled into the Registry Office in Blackburn, and I do mean piled! The room was packed with guests, the doors to the foyer had to be “spragged” open as the rest of the horde filled the foyer, the place was fit to burst! The little bespectacled man stuttered and stammered to begin with. He jokingly explained that he was from “Lancashieere” and that we “Yorkshieere” folk might not understand him! He was shaking so much I had to switch the camera to sport mode! Do you recall that when the bit comes when they ask if anyone knows any reason why they should NOT get married you sometimes get the urge to say something witty? Well today everyone gave a small cough and titter, which of course translated into a cacophony of coughing shuffling and giggling! “Tony the Pie” questioned the validity of Chrissy’s documents! As I said earlier she is originally from these parts but still has that nasal twang of an ozzie “Sheila” Slowly though she is losing it, now I’m not sure which is the worst, an ozz twang or a flat rolling Blackburrrrn accent? 
The ceremony was over before long and the camera’s began to wink and flash, the family inner circle formed at the front and posed for the official photos, everyone was smiling, Mark and Chrissy were grinning like a couple of Cheshieere cats! Mum shed a few tears of happiness for her son. Dad looked chuffed and dead proud. Those of us who knew the couples story or part of it were smeared in a warm glow. Unfortunately we were on the Saturday afternoon conveyor and the next party gathered outside we were gently ushered along, out of the side door to the outside foyer; the fresh air wafted onto our faces as we emerged from the building. Camera’s flashed again, confetti whizzed horizontally across Mr an Mrs Lovell as the wind whipped through. The wind was a fair trade off for the rainy squalls which we had at dawn so nobody really minded. With photos done and the street peppered with confetti it was time to move again, the horde made their way back to the hotel whilst the happy couple brides-maids, Mum, Dad, best-man etc etc took a detour to the Lovell Mansion. Dad Harry had converted a couple of farm workers dwellings into a beautiful family home and dates back to the 1800’s the cobbles and outbuilding to the front belie the green picture of tranquillity to the rear..Ignore the two howling Alsatian dogs and the converted chicken run to the side! The lawns and gardens proved to be a great back drop for the photos.The afternoon reception began with Harry standing and saying a few words, looking to his right I saw Geoff screwing up page one two and three of his carefully written speech as dad sliced through the early years! I have to say old Geoff did a great job as best-man and the remains of his speech went down well, you could see the friendship between him and Mark runs quite deep, in fact it ran to the very bottom of their pint glasses! Mark then got up to say a few words but nobody was aware due to his dwarfish stature. Some eagle eyed guest from the back spotted him and shouted “Stand up Mark!” With that the little runt jumped up and stood on his chair for all to see and he chatted away about how much he loved his wife..”Yes mate so do we”..The men mused!I was keeping an eye on the weather and suggested to Mark that we do the “Purple Pussy” photographs whilst the weather (and Mark) was dry.
A spot was picked earlier and a path for the bike was sussed out, a fab group of shots were had under the trees with Chrissy on the front and Mark firmly in the rear. Once again confetti whipped across their faces and pelted the poor bloody Frisian cows in the next field, sorry guys!A full team photo was set up with Honda Goldwing Trikes, 1500 bread vans and 1800 thoroughbreds taking pride of place at the front. The wind was really blowy and made for some interesting shots, everyone was coaxed out of the hall even that extremely “mardy-arsed” Brummie git, thanks for making the effort finally but please don’t come again! 
I saw Mark had left his keys in his bike and the lovely Chrissy was still on the back, I seized my chance and hopped on to eventually start the bike (Thanks Geoff) I took Chrissy for a ride round the car park. Mark took some nice shots as I rode away, a Pentax camera in exchange for your wife was a fair trade don’t you think Mark? I resisted the urge to ride off into the wide blue yonder with Chrissy!The afternoon reception came to an end as the room was made ready for an evening of frolics and festivities, some of the older guests went to bed to change their clothes and have a nap to re charge batteries, others sat in the bar in groups and caught up with each other. The Lovell family and friends have a lot to take in and chat about. The Wanderers family have a lot to chat about too especially the forthcoming European tour in a couple of weeks.At 08.00 hrs some guests sat around the TV to see Manchester United take on Barcelona in the European Cup final, they lost 3-1 for the record. The main hall filled as they eventually joined us and their mood soon lightened the music kicked in and the vibes tempted feet to tap and heads to nod. Leggy Sharon was first up in a lovely long green summer dress others soon followed her onto the dance floor. Men folk had returned from foraging the local supermarket with favourite tipples for the ladies in an effort to combat the high bar prices. The dancing was in full flow now; everyone threw themselves into long forgotten moves, creating some new ones on the way! Everyone had so much fun and pretended to be young again! Mark and Chrissy cut the cake and fooled around a little with the knife, I remember Julie stroking my throat with the knife back on our wedding day too. Why do you girls do that? Midnight came and went as Marks lad Steve and the other regular movers and shakers of the night scene cranked it up a gear and showed off their stuff. Mark and Geoff with upturned collars provided some entertainment as they loped around the floor to tracks from “GREASE” The night drew to a close around 02.00hrs. 
Helium balloons were set free into the night sky by Julie Tina and Barry as Geoff and me consumed some of the gas and had a giggle as it turned our voices high.We passed Tom and Michelle at the pool table, Tom was well “sozzled” by now and kept asking the bar staff to make the table square instead of oblong as it was. I’m not sure what the poor girls thought of him! Perhaps it was the shock of Man U crashing out of the cup final hours earlier?Breakfast was at 8 and we all looked a little worse for wear as we filed in especially W.O.T who had consumed far too much and was last seen dragging Barry upstairs. But all agreed we’d had a great time. Some more than others as Geoff strutted his stuff in the corridor in the nude except his pointy shoes, Christine was half dragged upstairs by Julie and in our bedroom she let me undo her watchstrap bracelet etc and started on her dress she and Julie just stood giggling, Chrissy was breathless with laughter as Mark covered his bits with a hanky. Now you are all asking yourselves if I’m making this bit up aren’t you? After saying long goodbyes to everyone we hit the road mid morning filled with coffee, breakfast and free of the demon drink. I drove the car letting Julie rest her feet on the dash. Hell that was a brilliant weekend! TILLATERONTHEN
The Wanderers Scribe
Archive for May, 2011
Mark an Chrissy’s wedding
May
31
The Captain Cook rideout.
May
18
Ok so the sarnies and flask are both in the side pannier the newly repaired Garmin Zumo is fixed firmly in place. Can I just say that if your Garmin breaks down and is out of warranty, it’s a set charge to repair, whatever the problem and is returned very quickly, I got mine back in under 6 days. It cost me just over £130.00. Ouch! I now have a nearly new unit with a new 12 month warranty.
Julie locks the house and POOKA hops off for the day on all three legs bless! We hop onboard Mistress Mable and hop of for the day too! It’s not a bad start here in South Yorkshire at 0800 hrs, the sun is playing “Peekaboo” with the white clouds and the wind is thrashing across us as we hit the M18 motorway heading north to the M62.The A1 link from the M62 at Ferrybridge curves high and swings right to curve around the massive power station, it’s a beautiful curve and we can’t help but make a mockery of the 50 mph sign, Mistress Mable gulps in gob-full’s of air between copious swigs of firewater, the fuel needle moving down a fraction each ten miles we chew up. The A1 is at its best on these early mornings, it’s really worth the effort of getting up and away early, not a five truck convoy or a wobbling lane hogging motor home in sight…wonderful!
Within the hour we are zooming past the Ripon exit, the sun was now swamped by grey swathes of dirty streaks, I looked left towards the west and saw more of it heading our way, hmmm not looking promising I thought, it was getting bloody colder now as well as we rode deeper into the depression, at least the road works and the bleeding bollards have gone! We drifted off the A1 onto the slip road and slowed towards Thirsk centre.
The Troll chats with Filey David at THIRSK
was wondering how many might turn up today because it was a busy weekend for real bikers, there was bike racing at Croft just to the north of Northampton, and the second day of the BMF down in Peterborough was getting underway. Barry was there working and hopefully having a positive day financially.
Personally I think the BMF weekend is pretty droll and expensive for what it is these days, how many years has Moped Mayhem been going on and how many times do you want to see old speedway bikes “put put fart” around the track for instance? However it’s pretty good for replenishing bike kit and you can pick up a bargain or two. So I suppose I might still go if I need new kit. ”it’s not the money”!
Looking up from the square I decided today’s weather was going to be against us, Paul the weather man was on the nail today So all said and done we might have maybe six or seven bikes turn up.Thirsk was buzzing even at 0915 hrs with lots of bikes, like I said, Croft was going to be a big pull for bikers today. We pulled up on the cobbles as the drizzle put in an appearance.
Julie and I were hungry so we went into a nearby café and ordered breakfast.Mick and Evelyn pulled into the square just minutes after and came to join us. Presently the “Bridge Troll” and Heather appeared with a couple more, Mick and I started counting, trying to identify folk from our table in the Café, Dean and his wife from Nottingham arrived with Tony Hudson, then four more arrived, then another, then two more! On it went until we had sixteen Honda Goldwings in various sizes, a couple of 1500 bread vans came with Adrianne and grinning C.C. Mick stood out in his Day-Glo yellow jacket and fulsome grin, he came on the greeni blue 1500 “Christine is still in piggin bed” he grinned back to the asked question. Deryck and Jan on the deep blue 1800 came too, Deryck was fiddling around with a CB adaption in the boot. The white 1800 brought Cath and Mark, they had just come back from holidays in warmer climes and she was…well if she had balls they would have frozen off apparently! I think Mark was the same but he’s from Castleford and the lads from “Cas” don’t get cold OK? Todays trikes had gathered in a huddle with Cheryl, Telford, Alan and Chris on the “Pudsey Trike”. New trikers Mark and Ginga from Havercroft came to see what it was all about and got some group riding practice in before the tour in June, their 1500 trike was a kind of pearl white and a body shape with a difference. Mark had a surprise up his sleeve or up his trousers to be more accurate, but more on that later! Geoff and Christine arrived from the other pick up point in Skipton and brought the remainder of todays APPY WANDERERS. Tom and Michelle on the lovely “Ace of Spades” black 1800 came out to play today. Tom is a right character and extremely passionate about scooters and the life style it brings, so he dips in and out of scooters and gold wing events when it suits. Isn’t it great to have the freedom of choice eh? Michelle spends most of her free days driving the logistic vehicle (an old van loaded with beer, tents and more beer) for Tom and the rest of the scooter boys.
10.45 arrives and it’s high time we hit the road for todays APPY WANDERERS RIDEOUT called “The Captain Cook Run”, basically we were going to ride along the places where the great man made his progress in his younger life. We were using a new team today all bright and up for it with our orange Day-Glo’s! We are not a B.R track repair gang, neither are we your friendly dustbin men! We are your APPY WANDERERS marshals for the day. I opted not to start with a team pep talk this morning as Barry usually does, everyone has been with us before on lots of occasions whilst the new blood had been reassured and advised what to do and besides it was getting late in the morning and I was getting conscious of that. The trikes pulled out after Derek and Heather onto the road.
Heading through the “Dingley Dell” bit towards OSMOTHERLY
Derek was going to lead the group today and was happy to have no fuss made. Geoff and Christine would place themselves in the middle of the group which has in the past been the best place for CB communication and because Geoff is able to adjust his set more easily because of its different location on his bike, also he is the most experienced with CB’s, he’s played with them all his life, it’s how he and Christine got together Aaahh! She heard him and fell in love, then she saw him and it was too late tee hee! However, seeing Christine today in her sexy black boots I can understand old Geoff signing up for a life with her… also their middle of the pack position is ideal if assistance is required from either lead man or back door boy (me) in this role I would be sweeping up and looking after the back of the group, persuading intruders from entering our group and passing up information, to the lead man.
Leg stretch in the drizzle at SWAINBY
I stopped on the road with Dean to let the group out and encouraged the cars to wait a moment. Sixteen bikes left the square and headed out toward the left hook on the mini roundabout that would take us toward Sutton Bank, the drizzle and low cloud came with us too unfortunately! Sutton Bank used to be regarded as a bit of a nightmare some years ago, but it’s nothing for the more powerful modern vehicles of today…unless you have some arse in a landi doing 20 mph just in front of you like we had. Derek shouted out the news as we dropped into line astern and when prompted gave each other a bigger gap to negotiate the first tight climbing turn to the left.
The views to the left as one begins the climb are vast normally but not today as we hugged the underside of the grey stuff, the visibility was about 2000 yards or so, not much when the views are 20 miles or so normally!
A turn along the tops took us across the flat fields on the tiny tarmac road to Osmotherly nine and a half miles away. This section of the North Yorkshire Moors National Park was more “Dingly Delli” with lots of trees shrubs and dark damp tree covered swillies as the road twisted, rose and dropped. The open moor bit was away to our right and not for us this morning. The roads are small not well travelled and have the obligatory pile of loose gravel down the centre. It’s ideal APPY WANDERERS country as far as me and Barry are concerned! I’m not sure If I favour the gravel or the lawn that runs down many of similar Irish lanes we rode down on tour a couple of years ago to be honest. But with skill, patience, an open mind and careful riding this route is more than worth it and you get to see things from roads that you wouldn’t normally dream of riding on! The swillies, cuts and dykes you see and pass through are the very fabric of our great and ancient land. Are you aware we are actually following in the tracks of the great ice glaciers from the Ice Age that sculptured and shaped Mother Earth? Try not to think “Oh that was a bit slippy and dangerous” Yes it’s true wet metal cattle grids and rubber tyres don’t go very well so use some caution, go slower over them and go straight, simples innit! It’s not only the sights and feelings you experience but also the smells, for example the faint oily smell given off by the bright beautiful yellow rape crop, the sweet smells of wet cut grass as it wafts through helmets for a moment as we pass the odd crop of cottages and the odd old dropped down farm dwelling, and of course the sweet pong of cow kack. It’s bloody priceless, that’s what it is!
For you guys without CB’s I can tell you that Derek was excellent in calling out the hazards, the occasional vehicle behaved and paused to let us by, one even reversed back a while, a wave of thanks, a thumbs up and a smile is always given from me as last man through.
Osmotherly came and went quietly, typical of a wet and cold Sunday morning I guess. It is a really pretty place and worth a glance, the village of Swainby a few miles further on was our P stop and leg stretch today though and yes the piggin drizzle and grey stuff was still with us!Fifteen minutes later we saddled up again and joined the fast A road that ran down quickly towards Stokesley and Middlesbrough, but once again we hooked away, this time to our right and headed to the village of Great Ayton, the boyhood stomping ground of James Cook…and another bloke that I’ve promised not to talk about.
Derek AKA The Bridge Troll
In the late 1700’s Mr Cook senior like folk today moved, to follow the work, from nearby Marton where James Cook was actually born. As a youngster though he and his eight brothers and sisters lived and ere schooled in Great Ayton. The school is still here and is now the library I believe. Young James didn’t take to farm life though and ended up working for a friend of his fathers, in Staithes on the coast near Saltburn eventually ending up at Whitby, it was there as a young man he tried life at sea working on boats that journeyed to the Baltic for example and loved it, James In fact joined the Royal Navy he loved the sea life that much. He excelled to become one of our most famous explorers, and notched up some famous discoveries. he became a brilliant navigator and cartographer (map maker) his maps of Newfoundland Australia, New Zealand and the Hawaiian Islands were so accurate they were used for many years after. Unfortunately his life was cut short. He was murdered along with four Royal Marines whilst trying to negotiate with an Hawaiian tribe in 1779, he was 51 years old.
More drizzle in Great Ayton
We pulled over in front of the white fronted “Friends School” at the village green. Julies Mum was stood there waving at Derek and beckoning him to her…oh yeah Derek, did I mention Julies mum and Dad lived here in Great Ayton and might be around to meet us? I don’t know what he thought about this mad woman grinning and waving at him excitedly to be honest…but I can imagine!We had a longer break here and sheltered under the couple of huge oaks, the in-laws Peter and Marie moved amongst everyone after giving me and Julie a warm hug saying hello and chatting.
Julie with Marie and Peter her mum and Dad
I overheard Big Derek as he was leaning over Marie saying …….”yes and I’m going to kill that man if he keeps lying like that” “Oh my..” said Marie looking up at The Troll “ and how can you tell he’s lying”? “ Because he’s breathing that’s why!” Now Marie was a school teacher all her life so folk like Derek are no problem whatsoever and was used to her little boys telling such fibs. I crossed my fingers and prayed Marie wouldn’t engage Derek any further coz she is a master at taking your conversation off on another tangent without you realizing it! She would have tied poor Derek in knots and reduced him to a naughty little boy!
Michelle at the Capt Cook statue
All in all it was a nice forty five minutes lunch break. Peter agreed that it wasn’t a good idea to call in for tea at their house after all, even their downstairs and upstairs toilets couldn’t have coped and they don’t own thirty cups even their cul-de-sac is far too small for sixteen huge motorbikes and trikes!
Cath looks nice and warm but isnt. Mark says nowt!
In spite of the drizzle everyone was in good spirits, Cath was still cold (should have gone to Skeggi for your hols instead of Trinibago lass) Michelle was cold too hands like ice and sported a cold Mona Lisa grin! I dragged her off regardless for a photo with the boyhood statue of James Cook.
OK we are moving in 5 minutes I shouted pointing at my watch (why do people DO that??) Deane and Tony whip out the cloths and start to wipe screens, I make do with wiping seats and waiting for everyone to zip up and get on board. Again I pull out onto the road, halting to let everyone get out and asking the cars to wait a moment. Peter and Marie wave at everyone as we exited the green, Julie shouted and waved goodbye, God only knows what they thought of the APPY WANDERERS and The Troll in particular!
Peter used to be a biker in his younger days and Marie used to ride pillion until they had a nasty accident.
We passed by the most famous local natural feature known now as “Roseberry Topping” which is one of only a handful of known pagan names in England. “Roseberry” came from Old Norse Óðins bjarg (“Odin’s rock or crag”), after the Norse god Odin The name changed successively to Othensberg, Ohenseberg, Ounsberry and Ouesberry before finally settling on Roseberry. “Topping” is a corruption of toppen, an Old Norse word for a hill. Its summit has a distinctive half-cone shape with a jagged cliff which has led to many comparisons with the much higher Matterhorn in Switzerland It forms a symbolic image of the area and featured as the logo for the now defunct Cleveland County. New girl “Ginga” Tucker.
Roseberry Topping was traditionally thought to be the highest hill on the North York Moors however, the nearby Urra Moor is higher, at 1,490 feet (450 m). Just along the ridge too on Easby Moor but obscured today in the drizzle stands the Captain Cook Monument
Did you know that in 1933 workmen took down Captain Cooks house brick by brick and numbered them before shipping the whole lot of to Melbourne in Australia where it stands rebuilt to this day, it cost Australia £800…..but is not Captain Cooks house after all! Records show it was built years after a young James Cook left home. The nearest they can get is it was built by his father on land that was gifted to him in return for his 19 yrs in service. James Cook actually lived in a nearby cottage, or to be more accurate his wife did. Rather like the story about London Bridge and the Americans don’t you think?
OK back to the riding, Derek hauls ass down the A171, pulling yet another hook this time to the left and motors on towards ruddy Redcar, luckily we miss it and turn east on the secretive little A174, turning off now into Saltburn-by-the-sea.
The squiggly road down to the sea at Satlburn.
Now this is a little gem of a place but today we skirt the backside of it and spiral down to the sea’s edge to wiggle along the way through Brotton and Skelton, we hook left again near Loftus and scrape up a tiny lane to head towards Skinningrove on the most glorious road of the day, the drop down towards the mine gave us a most breathtaking view along the coast all the way to Whitby. Once again tiny unexplored strips of tarmac reveal the most splendid of views not to be forgotten. Staithes, Port Mulgrove and Runswick Bay are notched off. Nick has fond memories of these parts, so has our Geoff but asked me not to say anything so I won’t. OK mate? Sandsend is the last picture postcard village before Whitby and reminds me of the Devon coastline as the road hugged the coastline, dropping down to the edge of the beach, twisting inland to follow the quiet river estuary before crossing the tiny stone bridge, sturdy cottages ran along the cliff edge, we passed holiday makers as they and the day trippers stood and starred at the passing circus, excited kids squealed and waved at us, C.C made full use of his daft farm noise klaxon “thingi” again, the kids laughed even more, even some adults broke out into laughter, I was just glad he wasn’t in front of me this time!
Whitby from the Whalebones car park
We passed the golf course and hove to onto Whitby seafront and slowed as we approached the Whalebones car park. Parking is always a bit of a slow job, folk are so full of concentration trying to park in regimental fashion and forget about me out there stuck on the road holding up the traffic! That’s why I’m sometimes seen to be jumping the queue to squeeze past you guys and seemingly dumping Mistress Mable anywhere I can, it’s not because I’m impatient honest!
The drizzle and the covering grey clag had gone now, in fact it had gone as soon as we left Great Ayton. We were now bathed in sunshine and a stiff but pleasantly warm wind swished over us from the sea. How different to the weather a few miles make!
Getting sorted out at the Whalebones
Two pocket rockets arrived and parked next to me. I asked about their day, they said it had bucketed down with heavy rain from Hartlepool to here. So it seems we had escaped the worst of it, they unzipped their leathers, and let the warm winds dry them out.
We allow ANYBODY into our group, even xdressers!
Meanwhile Mr Tucker also unzipped to show the womanly side to him, he was sporting sexy black tights. OH my god I remember back in the 1970’s wearing them when I was a “yoof” and making long bike rides down to North Devon on my black Honda Goldwing 1000cc K2. I remember how awkward things became in the toilets, how the clothes have changed. Now then here is the question, does Mark know this and does it make him gay like Geoff? Or is it just because he is new to our world and has been taking advice from some old bikers on how to keep warm? I half expected Mark to pull newspapers from under his jumper, do you remember doing that lads? We must have been bloody bonkers! Oh well it got the girls going for a bit, and they got the cameras out quicker than you could say John Bobbit!
Does nowt..Has nowt..Wants nowt
Tom and his black Ace of Spades
Tony chats with a proper little old man!
Did anyone else find it a bit odd how at this point the Salvation Band appeared thumping out the death march as they gathered under the whalebones and proceeded to read out some revelations or summat, minutes later they about turned and death marched back the way they came. Can someone tell me what that was all about then? Perhaps there have been a lightning bolt to blast Mr naked bollox Tucker to kingdom Come as he cavorted on the lawn.
An hour was spent here and a brisk walk down to the fish and chip shop was in order, everyone went off and did their own thing. Fish and chips seem to taste a whole lot different at the sea side don’t you agree? Chris took some photographs of hungry gulls stood about waiting for scraps, the sea was in too and bashing the walls with its white sea horses.
I kept my eye on the time and made my way back up the hill to arrange the days team photo, as it was the Captain Cook rideout I thought we would have the shot in front of the statue of Captain Cook. I called everyone forward, even getting a couple of bikes to the left and right and took a few shots, the sun was in the wrong place but I was sure I could magic a good print back home on the PC programme. A kind tourist offered to take a shot with me included, unfortunately he made a mess of it and I had to disregard it.
David and Barbara of Filey had joined us today for the first time, they were getting some practice in prior to the 2011 European Tour, it has been very good and productive for them today they had both really enjoyed themselves and couldn’t believe how friendly we were. David picked up
A choppy Whitby harbour
some handy tips from us and had a chat with Derek about some handling issues and so now he hasn’t got them anymore! I think they are now better armed and more confidant. They said their goodbyes and departed to their home in nearby Filey an hour away down the coast road.
We gathered ourselves to leave the scene when Mistress Garmin began to throw a wobbly for a couple of folk and we stuttered a little whilst she did her own thing, I came up from the back and took the lead slowly to allow Derek and others to rejoin when they could find a place to reverse their direction. I called out the few turns to the garage and went slow enough for the spread out group to see us and catch up.
Here is a perfect example of what I mean when I say to people Garmin is very good but you have to use HER and not let her use YOU, she is there as an aid and is not the be all and end all in spite of what she says, hence to me she is Mistress Garmin and wears black sexy boots! I pull over at the regular “topping up” garage on the Whitby bypass, I stood at the roundabout so folk can spot me and make ready to pull into the garage.We filled up, regrouped and pulled away as one again. The APPY WANDERERS were on the move again!
At the next roundabout we hooked left onto the fast A169 that runs to Pickering, it takes in the governments “Golf balls” listening station, those have actually gone now but what’s left is still run by the RAF. They probably have better smaller devices now and are probably still listening out for troubleThis is the part of the North York Moors that most folk recognise, they don’t know the half of it do they guys? The wind over here was really angry and battered anybody it could find, from left to right it came in a constant invisible sheet, any residue of damp crotch was now firmly blow dried! It’s not only old blokes that get it but us young bikers get it too! The Hole of Horcum is a magnificent looking piece of land to our right, unfortunately we all have the bit between our teeth and the harmony of fast riding as a group is kicking in, and we are all doing it perfect, as we always do at the half point of every rideout. This is just the ticket after a morning of slow careful riding through the enchanting “Dingly Dell” part of The North Yorkshire Moors. (Wow this sounds sooo good I want to go out and ride it again now!)
The roundabout at Pickering is soon reached and we hook right now onto the fast A170 towards Helmsley, it’s a regular run for the Sunday riders and often cruised by the police in unmarked cars, but hey we are on Goldwings and are incapable of eye catching manoeuvres arn’t we?
Derek picks up the pace a bit as the road widens and flattens out, the corners are long and open with excellent visability.Suddenly a tone of voice I haven’t heard since the Bulgarian trip when Barry encountered the first of the unbelievable bomb holes and other such man traps, “ OH Bastar….! GGRAVEL!!…fuc…gravel..jeez….Erm look out for gravel everyone!” Derek shouts. I have to hand it to the man he composed himself quite quickly and had me smiling hugely as we came back down to earth! Oh well it was fun while it lasted and at least we had a good gallop across the moors.
About ten miles short of Helmsley we turned off the new gravel onto another gem of a sliver of tarmac I found last week, at least Derek was sounding a bit more like himself again. We poodled down the twisties passing Nunnington Hall before joining a bit bigger bit of tarmac called the B1257. Hoveringham was next on the list is another great looking place and worthy of a leg stretch at sometime, in fact they all are around here. The Howardian Hills are ripe for exploring and have so many little gems to find and they are only about ten miles north of York.
We passed the ruins in Sherriff Hutton, its church…”CASTLE” corrects Julie from the back. Nick shouts “Heard that Julie thank you” I was sure I’d said castle. Barry has his left and rights and I have my castles and churches it seems! There are more humans knocking now as we near York. We paused for a last leg stretch and begin to lose Wanderers as we pass close to their habitat, it was 18.00 hrs and had been a good long day so far.
Deryck and Jan said goodbye here and took their bent bike home to just around the corner, he thought his bike was six inch longer than it was, anyway after his encounter with the high curb in Whitby it is now the correct length! The Pudsey Trike also left us zooming of towards Leeds. Mick had parted company at Pickering to check over his newly acquired caravan but would rejoin us at the end at Squires.
On again we went on the last leg of the rideout now. We rode through the army town of Strensall, where heroe’s are made. You could see the wire compounds and the green lorries parked in long lines, a few soldiers were here and there going about their business.
The ring road wasn’t too busy at this time and we joined the A64 past the awful bottleneck where the dual carriageway drops down to a single. A quick zip along here and we turn off towards Selby on the A19, “right turn coming up” says Derek and we traverse the flat lands south of York, going through Naburn first then Cawood and Biggin. It was dry inland now and the winds had blown themselves out.
In the early evenings often the day is much calmer as though resting after a hard days’ work. Well that’s how it appears to me. Do you recall when we return from a Dales rideout and head toward Skipton the fading light along the long swift A65 The day seems always to calmer and settled in the evenings.
The road toward Sherburn-in-Elmet allowed us to pick up the pace again for one last time before slowing right down to lurch over the huge speed bumps, we cleared them OK except for Telford who clouted them heartedly with their trike, I can just imagine Cheryl clouting him at the same time shouting “OI bitch be careful with my half of the trike”!! Telford mate this can only mean you were going too fast and you can’t use the excuse that Cheryl is a bit on the heavy side!
SQUIRES Tea Bar.
We last twelve bikes finally arrived at damp Squires our final destination of the day losing four on the way from Whitby. Hold on here comes Mick, make that thirteen bikes. Not many bikers were here at this time of the evening, pasties and coffee were scoffed and the p*ss taking began as we chatted about the day. Our new tall blonde bombshell “Ginga” exchanged telephone numbers with Nick of all people in front of everyone and got plenty of stick for it, In spite of her explanation we think our assumptions are much tastier. I quickly got my name on the list for a Tuesday afternoon appointment! There ended the Captain Cook Rideout, it was about 8 hrs long and nearly 160 miles in total. I thought it went really well Geoff and Derek and the girls did a great job, I’m sorry we never got the biscuits Chris, I was looking forward to a nibble with you…Oh, did I just say that?? Mistress Garmin tried to “have us over” on the odd occasion but she couldn’t foil today’s three orange men.
Tillateronthen
THE SCRIBE.
PS
I would like to thank Heather and Christine my camera bitches for the extra photos, a great effort considering the drizzle and poor visability. Well done girls…..Come see me later x
Mark an Chrissy’s wedding
May 31
The Captain Cook rideout.
May 18
Ok so the sarnies and flask are both in the side pannier the newly repaired Garmin Zumo is fixed firmly in place. Can I just say that if your Garmin breaks down and is out of warranty, it’s a set charge to repair, whatever the problem and is returned very quickly, I got mine back in under 6 days. It cost me just over £130.00. Ouch! I now have a nearly new unit with a new 12 month warranty.
Julie locks the house and POOKA hops off for the day on all three legs bless! We hop onboard Mistress Mable and hop of for the day too! It’s not a bad start here in South Yorkshire at 0800 hrs, the sun is playing “Peekaboo” with the white clouds and the wind is thrashing across us as we hit the M18 motorway heading north to the M62.The A1 link from the M62 at Ferrybridge curves high and swings right to curve around the massive power station, it’s a beautiful curve and we can’t help but make a mockery of the 50 mph sign, Mistress Mable gulps in gob-full’s of air between copious swigs of firewater, the fuel needle moving down a fraction each ten miles we chew up. The A1 is at its best on these early mornings, it’s really worth the effort of getting up and away early, not a five truck convoy or a wobbling lane hogging motor home in sight…wonderful!
Within the hour we are zooming past the Ripon exit, the sun was now swamped by grey swathes of dirty streaks, I looked left towards the west and saw more of it heading our way, hmmm not looking promising I thought, it was getting bloody colder now as well as we rode deeper into the depression, at least the road works and the bleeding bollards have gone! We drifted off the A1 onto the slip road and slowed towards Thirsk centre.
The Troll chats with Filey David at THIRSK
was wondering how many might turn up today because it was a busy weekend for real bikers, there was bike racing at Croft just to the north of Northampton, and the second day of the BMF down in Peterborough was getting underway. Barry was there working and hopefully having a positive day financially.
Personally I think the BMF weekend is pretty droll and expensive for what it is these days, how many years has Moped Mayhem been going on and how many times do you want to see old speedway bikes “put put fart” around the track for instance? However it’s pretty good for replenishing bike kit and you can pick up a bargain or two. So I suppose I might still go if I need new kit. ”it’s not the money”!
Looking up from the square I decided today’s weather was going to be against us, Paul the weather man was on the nail today So all said and done we might have maybe six or seven bikes turn up.Thirsk was buzzing even at 0915 hrs with lots of bikes, like I said, Croft was going to be a big pull for bikers today. We pulled up on the cobbles as the drizzle put in an appearance.
Julie and I were hungry so we went into a nearby café and ordered breakfast.Mick and Evelyn pulled into the square just minutes after and came to join us. Presently the “Bridge Troll” and Heather appeared with a couple more, Mick and I started counting, trying to identify folk from our table in the Café, Dean and his wife from Nottingham arrived with Tony Hudson, then four more arrived, then another, then two more! On it went until we had sixteen Honda Goldwings in various sizes, a couple of 1500 bread vans came with Adrianne and grinning C.C. Mick stood out in his Day-Glo yellow jacket and fulsome grin, he came on the greeni blue 1500 “Christine is still in piggin bed” he grinned back to the asked question. Deryck and Jan on the deep blue 1800 came too, Deryck was fiddling around with a CB adaption in the boot. The white 1800 brought Cath and Mark, they had just come back from holidays in warmer climes and she was…well if she had balls they would have frozen off apparently! I think Mark was the same but he’s from Castleford and the lads from “Cas” don’t get cold OK? Todays trikes had gathered in a huddle with Cheryl, Telford, Alan and Chris on the “Pudsey Trike”. New trikers Mark and Ginga from Havercroft came to see what it was all about and got some group riding practice in before the tour in June, their 1500 trike was a kind of pearl white and a body shape with a difference. Mark had a surprise up his sleeve or up his trousers to be more accurate, but more on that later! Geoff and Christine arrived from the other pick up point in Skipton and brought the remainder of todays APPY WANDERERS. Tom and Michelle on the lovely “Ace of Spades” black 1800 came out to play today. Tom is a right character and extremely passionate about scooters and the life style it brings, so he dips in and out of scooters and gold wing events when it suits. Isn’t it great to have the freedom of choice eh? Michelle spends most of her free days driving the logistic vehicle (an old van loaded with beer, tents and more beer) for Tom and the rest of the scooter boys.
10.45 arrives and it’s high time we hit the road for todays APPY WANDERERS RIDEOUT called “The Captain Cook Run”, basically we were going to ride along the places where the great man made his progress in his younger life. We were using a new team today all bright and up for it with our orange Day-Glo’s! We are not a B.R track repair gang, neither are we your friendly dustbin men! We are your APPY WANDERERS marshals for the day. I opted not to start with a team pep talk this morning as Barry usually does, everyone has been with us before on lots of occasions whilst the new blood had been reassured and advised what to do and besides it was getting late in the morning and I was getting conscious of that. The trikes pulled out after Derek and Heather onto the road.
Heading through the “Dingley Dell” bit towards OSMOTHERLY
Derek was going to lead the group today and was happy to have no fuss made. Geoff and Christine would place themselves in the middle of the group which has in the past been the best place for CB communication and because Geoff is able to adjust his set more easily because of its different location on his bike, also he is the most experienced with CB’s, he’s played with them all his life, it’s how he and Christine got together Aaahh! She heard him and fell in love, then she saw him and it was too late tee hee! However, seeing Christine today in her sexy black boots I can understand old Geoff signing up for a life with her… also their middle of the pack position is ideal if assistance is required from either lead man or back door boy (me) in this role I would be sweeping up and looking after the back of the group, persuading intruders from entering our group and passing up information, to the lead man.
Leg stretch in the drizzle at SWAINBY
I stopped on the road with Dean to let the group out and encouraged the cars to wait a moment. Sixteen bikes left the square and headed out toward the left hook on the mini roundabout that would take us toward Sutton Bank, the drizzle and low cloud came with us too unfortunately! Sutton Bank used to be regarded as a bit of a nightmare some years ago, but it’s nothing for the more powerful modern vehicles of today…unless you have some arse in a landi doing 20 mph just in front of you like we had. Derek shouted out the news as we dropped into line astern and when prompted gave each other a bigger gap to negotiate the first tight climbing turn to the left.
The views to the left as one begins the climb are vast normally but not today as we hugged the underside of the grey stuff, the visibility was about 2000 yards or so, not much when the views are 20 miles or so normally!
A turn along the tops took us across the flat fields on the tiny tarmac road to Osmotherly nine and a half miles away. This section of the North Yorkshire Moors National Park was more “Dingly Delli” with lots of trees shrubs and dark damp tree covered swillies as the road twisted, rose and dropped. The open moor bit was away to our right and not for us this morning. The roads are small not well travelled and have the obligatory pile of loose gravel down the centre. It’s ideal APPY WANDERERS country as far as me and Barry are concerned! I’m not sure If I favour the gravel or the lawn that runs down many of similar Irish lanes we rode down on tour a couple of years ago to be honest. But with skill, patience, an open mind and careful riding this route is more than worth it and you get to see things from roads that you wouldn’t normally dream of riding on! The swillies, cuts and dykes you see and pass through are the very fabric of our great and ancient land. Are you aware we are actually following in the tracks of the great ice glaciers from the Ice Age that sculptured and shaped Mother Earth? Try not to think “Oh that was a bit slippy and dangerous” Yes it’s true wet metal cattle grids and rubber tyres don’t go very well so use some caution, go slower over them and go straight, simples innit! It’s not only the sights and feelings you experience but also the smells, for example the faint oily smell given off by the bright beautiful yellow rape crop, the sweet smells of wet cut grass as it wafts through helmets for a moment as we pass the odd crop of cottages and the odd old dropped down farm dwelling, and of course the sweet pong of cow kack. It’s bloody priceless, that’s what it is!
For you guys without CB’s I can tell you that Derek was excellent in calling out the hazards, the occasional vehicle behaved and paused to let us by, one even reversed back a while, a wave of thanks, a thumbs up and a smile is always given from me as last man through.
Osmotherly came and went quietly, typical of a wet and cold Sunday morning I guess. It is a really pretty place and worth a glance, the village of Swainby a few miles further on was our P stop and leg stretch today though and yes the piggin drizzle and grey stuff was still with us!Fifteen minutes later we saddled up again and joined the fast A road that ran down quickly towards Stokesley and Middlesbrough, but once again we hooked away, this time to our right and headed to the village of Great Ayton, the boyhood stomping ground of James Cook…and another bloke that I’ve promised not to talk about.
Derek AKA The Bridge Troll
In the late 1700’s Mr Cook senior like folk today moved, to follow the work, from nearby Marton where James Cook was actually born. As a youngster though he and his eight brothers and sisters lived and ere schooled in Great Ayton. The school is still here and is now the library I believe. Young James didn’t take to farm life though and ended up working for a friend of his fathers, in Staithes on the coast near Saltburn eventually ending up at Whitby, it was there as a young man he tried life at sea working on boats that journeyed to the Baltic for example and loved it, James In fact joined the Royal Navy he loved the sea life that much. He excelled to become one of our most famous explorers, and notched up some famous discoveries. he became a brilliant navigator and cartographer (map maker) his maps of Newfoundland Australia, New Zealand and the Hawaiian Islands were so accurate they were used for many years after. Unfortunately his life was cut short. He was murdered along with four Royal Marines whilst trying to negotiate with an Hawaiian tribe in 1779, he was 51 years old.
More drizzle in Great Ayton
We pulled over in front of the white fronted “Friends School” at the village green. Julies Mum was stood there waving at Derek and beckoning him to her…oh yeah Derek, did I mention Julies mum and Dad lived here in Great Ayton and might be around to meet us? I don’t know what he thought about this mad woman grinning and waving at him excitedly to be honest…but I can imagine!We had a longer break here and sheltered under the couple of huge oaks, the in-laws Peter and Marie moved amongst everyone after giving me and Julie a warm hug saying hello and chatting.
Julie with Marie and Peter her mum and Dad
I overheard Big Derek as he was leaning over Marie saying …….”yes and I’m going to kill that man if he keeps lying like that” “Oh my..” said Marie looking up at The Troll “ and how can you tell he’s lying”? “ Because he’s breathing that’s why!” Now Marie was a school teacher all her life so folk like Derek are no problem whatsoever and was used to her little boys telling such fibs. I crossed my fingers and prayed Marie wouldn’t engage Derek any further coz she is a master at taking your conversation off on another tangent without you realizing it! She would have tied poor Derek in knots and reduced him to a naughty little boy!
Michelle at the Capt Cook statue
All in all it was a nice forty five minutes lunch break. Peter agreed that it wasn’t a good idea to call in for tea at their house after all, even their downstairs and upstairs toilets couldn’t have coped and they don’t own thirty cups even their cul-de-sac is far too small for sixteen huge motorbikes and trikes!
Cath looks nice and warm but isnt. Mark says nowt!
In spite of the drizzle everyone was in good spirits, Cath was still cold (should have gone to Skeggi for your hols instead of Trinibago lass) Michelle was cold too hands like ice and sported a cold Mona Lisa grin! I dragged her off regardless for a photo with the boyhood statue of James Cook.
OK we are moving in 5 minutes I shouted pointing at my watch (why do people DO that??) Deane and Tony whip out the cloths and start to wipe screens, I make do with wiping seats and waiting for everyone to zip up and get on board. Again I pull out onto the road, halting to let everyone get out and asking the cars to wait a moment. Peter and Marie wave at everyone as we exited the green, Julie shouted and waved goodbye, God only knows what they thought of the APPY WANDERERS and The Troll in particular!
Peter used to be a biker in his younger days and Marie used to ride pillion until they had a nasty accident.
We passed by the most famous local natural feature known now as “Roseberry Topping” which is one of only a handful of known pagan names in England. “Roseberry” came from Old Norse Óðins bjarg (“Odin’s rock or crag”), after the Norse god Odin The name changed successively to Othensberg, Ohenseberg, Ounsberry and Ouesberry before finally settling on Roseberry. “Topping” is a corruption of toppen, an Old Norse word for a hill. Its summit has a distinctive half-cone shape with a jagged cliff which has led to many comparisons with the much higher Matterhorn in Switzerland It forms a symbolic image of the area and featured as the logo for the now defunct Cleveland County. New girl “Ginga” Tucker.
Roseberry Topping was traditionally thought to be the highest hill on the North York Moors however, the nearby Urra Moor is higher, at 1,490 feet (450 m). Just along the ridge too on Easby Moor but obscured today in the drizzle stands the Captain Cook Monument
Did you know that in 1933 workmen took down Captain Cooks house brick by brick and numbered them before shipping the whole lot of to Melbourne in Australia where it stands rebuilt to this day, it cost Australia £800…..but is not Captain Cooks house after all! Records show it was built years after a young James Cook left home. The nearest they can get is it was built by his father on land that was gifted to him in return for his 19 yrs in service. James Cook actually lived in a nearby cottage, or to be more accurate his wife did. Rather like the story about London Bridge and the Americans don’t you think?
OK back to the riding, Derek hauls ass down the A171, pulling yet another hook this time to the left and motors on towards ruddy Redcar, luckily we miss it and turn east on the secretive little A174, turning off now into Saltburn-by-the-sea.
The squiggly road down to the sea at Satlburn.
Now this is a little gem of a place but today we skirt the backside of it and spiral down to the sea’s edge to wiggle along the way through Brotton and Skelton, we hook left again near Loftus and scrape up a tiny lane to head towards Skinningrove on the most glorious road of the day, the drop down towards the mine gave us a most breathtaking view along the coast all the way to Whitby. Once again tiny unexplored strips of tarmac reveal the most splendid of views not to be forgotten. Staithes, Port Mulgrove and Runswick Bay are notched off. Nick has fond memories of these parts, so has our Geoff but asked me not to say anything so I won’t. OK mate? Sandsend is the last picture postcard village before Whitby and reminds me of the Devon coastline as the road hugged the coastline, dropping down to the edge of the beach, twisting inland to follow the quiet river estuary before crossing the tiny stone bridge, sturdy cottages ran along the cliff edge, we passed holiday makers as they and the day trippers stood and starred at the passing circus, excited kids squealed and waved at us, C.C made full use of his daft farm noise klaxon “thingi” again, the kids laughed even more, even some adults broke out into laughter, I was just glad he wasn’t in front of me this time!
Whitby from the Whalebones car park
We passed the golf course and hove to onto Whitby seafront and slowed as we approached the Whalebones car park. Parking is always a bit of a slow job, folk are so full of concentration trying to park in regimental fashion and forget about me out there stuck on the road holding up the traffic! That’s why I’m sometimes seen to be jumping the queue to squeeze past you guys and seemingly dumping Mistress Mable anywhere I can, it’s not because I’m impatient honest!
The drizzle and the covering grey clag had gone now, in fact it had gone as soon as we left Great Ayton. We were now bathed in sunshine and a stiff but pleasantly warm wind swished over us from the sea. How different to the weather a few miles make!
Getting sorted out at the Whalebones
Two pocket rockets arrived and parked next to me. I asked about their day, they said it had bucketed down with heavy rain from Hartlepool to here. So it seems we had escaped the worst of it, they unzipped their leathers, and let the warm winds dry them out.
We allow ANYBODY into our group, even xdressers!
Meanwhile Mr Tucker also unzipped to show the womanly side to him, he was sporting sexy black tights. OH my god I remember back in the 1970’s wearing them when I was a “yoof” and making long bike rides down to North Devon on my black Honda Goldwing 1000cc K2. I remember how awkward things became in the toilets, how the clothes have changed. Now then here is the question, does Mark know this and does it make him gay like Geoff? Or is it just because he is new to our world and has been taking advice from some old bikers on how to keep warm? I half expected Mark to pull newspapers from under his jumper, do you remember doing that lads? We must have been bloody bonkers! Oh well it got the girls going for a bit, and they got the cameras out quicker than you could say John Bobbit!
Does nowt..Has nowt..Wants nowt
Tom and his black Ace of Spades
Tony chats with a proper little old man!
Did anyone else find it a bit odd how at this point the Salvation Band appeared thumping out the death march as they gathered under the whalebones and proceeded to read out some revelations or summat, minutes later they about turned and death marched back the way they came. Can someone tell me what that was all about then? Perhaps there have been a lightning bolt to blast Mr naked bollox Tucker to kingdom Come as he cavorted on the lawn.
An hour was spent here and a brisk walk down to the fish and chip shop was in order, everyone went off and did their own thing. Fish and chips seem to taste a whole lot different at the sea side don’t you agree? Chris took some photographs of hungry gulls stood about waiting for scraps, the sea was in too and bashing the walls with its white sea horses.
I kept my eye on the time and made my way back up the hill to arrange the days team photo, as it was the Captain Cook rideout I thought we would have the shot in front of the statue of Captain Cook. I called everyone forward, even getting a couple of bikes to the left and right and took a few shots, the sun was in the wrong place but I was sure I could magic a good print back home on the PC programme. A kind tourist offered to take a shot with me included, unfortunately he made a mess of it and I had to disregard it.
David and Barbara of Filey had joined us today for the first time, they were getting some practice in prior to the 2011 European Tour, it has been very good and productive for them today they had both really enjoyed themselves and couldn’t believe how friendly we were. David picked up
A choppy Whitby harbour
some handy tips from us and had a chat with Derek about some handling issues and so now he hasn’t got them anymore! I think they are now better armed and more confidant. They said their goodbyes and departed to their home in nearby Filey an hour away down the coast road.
We gathered ourselves to leave the scene when Mistress Garmin began to throw a wobbly for a couple of folk and we stuttered a little whilst she did her own thing, I came up from the back and took the lead slowly to allow Derek and others to rejoin when they could find a place to reverse their direction. I called out the few turns to the garage and went slow enough for the spread out group to see us and catch up.
Here is a perfect example of what I mean when I say to people Garmin is very good but you have to use HER and not let her use YOU, she is there as an aid and is not the be all and end all in spite of what she says, hence to me she is Mistress Garmin and wears black sexy boots! I pull over at the regular “topping up” garage on the Whitby bypass, I stood at the roundabout so folk can spot me and make ready to pull into the garage.We filled up, regrouped and pulled away as one again. The APPY WANDERERS were on the move again!
At the next roundabout we hooked left onto the fast A169 that runs to Pickering, it takes in the governments “Golf balls” listening station, those have actually gone now but what’s left is still run by the RAF. They probably have better smaller devices now and are probably still listening out for troubleThis is the part of the North York Moors that most folk recognise, they don’t know the half of it do they guys? The wind over here was really angry and battered anybody it could find, from left to right it came in a constant invisible sheet, any residue of damp crotch was now firmly blow dried! It’s not only old blokes that get it but us young bikers get it too! The Hole of Horcum is a magnificent looking piece of land to our right, unfortunately we all have the bit between our teeth and the harmony of fast riding as a group is kicking in, and we are all doing it perfect, as we always do at the half point of every rideout. This is just the ticket after a morning of slow careful riding through the enchanting “Dingly Dell” part of The North Yorkshire Moors. (Wow this sounds sooo good I want to go out and ride it again now!)
The roundabout at Pickering is soon reached and we hook right now onto the fast A170 towards Helmsley, it’s a regular run for the Sunday riders and often cruised by the police in unmarked cars, but hey we are on Goldwings and are incapable of eye catching manoeuvres arn’t we?
Derek picks up the pace a bit as the road widens and flattens out, the corners are long and open with excellent visability.Suddenly a tone of voice I haven’t heard since the Bulgarian trip when Barry encountered the first of the unbelievable bomb holes and other such man traps, “ OH Bastar….! GGRAVEL!!…fuc…gravel..jeez….Erm look out for gravel everyone!” Derek shouts. I have to hand it to the man he composed himself quite quickly and had me smiling hugely as we came back down to earth! Oh well it was fun while it lasted and at least we had a good gallop across the moors.
About ten miles short of Helmsley we turned off the new gravel onto another gem of a sliver of tarmac I found last week, at least Derek was sounding a bit more like himself again. We poodled down the twisties passing Nunnington Hall before joining a bit bigger bit of tarmac called the B1257. Hoveringham was next on the list is another great looking place and worthy of a leg stretch at sometime, in fact they all are around here. The Howardian Hills are ripe for exploring and have so many little gems to find and they are only about ten miles north of York.
We passed the ruins in Sherriff Hutton, its church…”CASTLE” corrects Julie from the back. Nick shouts “Heard that Julie thank you” I was sure I’d said castle. Barry has his left and rights and I have my castles and churches it seems! There are more humans knocking now as we near York. We paused for a last leg stretch and begin to lose Wanderers as we pass close to their habitat, it was 18.00 hrs and had been a good long day so far.
Deryck and Jan said goodbye here and took their bent bike home to just around the corner, he thought his bike was six inch longer than it was, anyway after his encounter with the high curb in Whitby it is now the correct length! The Pudsey Trike also left us zooming of towards Leeds. Mick had parted company at Pickering to check over his newly acquired caravan but would rejoin us at the end at Squires.
On again we went on the last leg of the rideout now. We rode through the army town of Strensall, where heroe’s are made. You could see the wire compounds and the green lorries parked in long lines, a few soldiers were here and there going about their business.
The ring road wasn’t too busy at this time and we joined the A64 past the awful bottleneck where the dual carriageway drops down to a single. A quick zip along here and we turn off towards Selby on the A19, “right turn coming up” says Derek and we traverse the flat lands south of York, going through Naburn first then Cawood and Biggin. It was dry inland now and the winds had blown themselves out.
In the early evenings often the day is much calmer as though resting after a hard days’ work. Well that’s how it appears to me. Do you recall when we return from a Dales rideout and head toward Skipton the fading light along the long swift A65 The day seems always to calmer and settled in the evenings.
The road toward Sherburn-in-Elmet allowed us to pick up the pace again for one last time before slowing right down to lurch over the huge speed bumps, we cleared them OK except for Telford who clouted them heartedly with their trike, I can just imagine Cheryl clouting him at the same time shouting “OI bitch be careful with my half of the trike”!! Telford mate this can only mean you were going too fast and you can’t use the excuse that Cheryl is a bit on the heavy side!
SQUIRES Tea Bar.
We last twelve bikes finally arrived at damp Squires our final destination of the day losing four on the way from Whitby. Hold on here comes Mick, make that thirteen bikes. Not many bikers were here at this time of the evening, pasties and coffee were scoffed and the p*ss taking began as we chatted about the day. Our new tall blonde bombshell “Ginga” exchanged telephone numbers with Nick of all people in front of everyone and got plenty of stick for it, In spite of her explanation we think our assumptions are much tastier. I quickly got my name on the list for a Tuesday afternoon appointment! There ended the Captain Cook Rideout, it was about 8 hrs long and nearly 160 miles in total. I thought it went really well Geoff and Derek and the girls did a great job, I’m sorry we never got the biscuits Chris, I was looking forward to a nibble with you…Oh, did I just say that?? Mistress Garmin tried to “have us over” on the odd occasion but she couldn’t foil today’s three orange men.
Tillateronthen
THE SCRIBE.
PS
I would like to thank Heather and Christine my camera bitches for the extra photos, a great effort considering the drizzle and poor visability. Well done girls…..Come see me later x
