It was a pleasant run up the A1 on this Sunday morning and the clear view to the west was vast thanks to the slow climb skywards towards the town of Wetherby. On the hour we took the turn towards Ripon and the meeting point for today’s rideout.
We passed by the market square to fill with petrol, hopefully everyone else will have remembered to do the same thing. Mark and Lyn pulled up beside us on their white 1800, they had had an exciting morning already and had gone the wrong way down a one way road in their search for petrol. These guys from Castleford need to get out and about more! Together we made our way back into the square and met up with a large gathering of Honda Goldwing’s, the time was 0945 hrs it was warm with white clouds and a large grey smudge passed close by to remind us of what English weather could be like in August!
Wanderers were coming in now thick and fast as 1000 hrs approached. Paul McCann came over from Lytham St Annes for his first day with us, Stephen Walker had ridden from Sherburn near Malton. The other first timers were Graham and Dot from Barnsley. All the way from Dumfries came Steve and Jane on their red 1800 trike, actually they had stayed overnight near Ripon. Margaret and Ian arrived from the far North too, namely Carlisle on their “Lord of the Rings” 1800, these two think nothing of the miles and are part of the original line up. Mark and Jeanette had followed not far behind us from the Wakefield area on their 1500 Panther trike. Just in front of us came Dereyk and Jan from York on their deep blue 1800, he now sat under the monument chatting to Heather and Derek, his wife Jan along with Chrissy, Tina and Evelyn wandered off in search of the toilets. A colourful 1800 called “Purple Pussy” sat in contrast next to the grey 1800 “Pudsey Trike” of Alan and Christine, this was quite a nifty mover in the solid hands of “The Undertaker”
We gathered everyone for a quick brief as to the day’s event and served as a reminder to everyone how to conduct themselves on the Queen’s Highway as a group, most had been out as Appy Wanderers for several years but a reminder is always a good thing, to remind folk to full up with petrol before the start of every rideout for example….eh Mark!
So at just after 1000 hrs on a bright Sunday morning we said goodbye to the growing bunch of spectators and the local road sweeper who broke out into song… “Keep your motor running” he started..OK time we got a bloody shift on! A total of 14 Wings left the square, in particular we were twenty six people on eleven solo’s and three trikes. The banter started as soon as second gear was engaged, I was at the back doing my usual job of running the back door and acting as eyes for Barry who was up at the front taking the reins.
“Turning left” Barry said as we turned onto the A6108 at the Royal clock tower, the lights stayed on green as we all got round, “All through, all together Barry no problems” I answered a minute later. North Stainley and Tanfield saw us pass through for the umpteenth time, this road is usually our gateway to the Yorkshire Dales. Julie and I hadn’t been far on the bike in July because I was sat here in front of the PC stitching (up) together the write-up for the 2011 Tour. So we were feeling very happy to be out again in The Dales. The slaver on the CB was witty this morning our Barry was getting some respite as other proved fair game for ridicule! We were all listening for lefts instead of rights and rights instead of lefts from Barry but today he was spot on unfortunately!
We breezed through the small town of Masham passing Theakston Brewery, today we stayed on the main road up to Leyburn passing Jervaulx Abbey. The Abbey was one of the great Cistercian abbeys of Yorkshire England, founded in 1156. Initially a Savigniac foundation, hence the french sounding name! The abbey was later taken over by the Cistercian order and responsibility for it was taken by Byland Abbey. Originally founded in 1145 at Fors in Wensleydale It was moved ten years later to a site a few miles away on the banks of the River Ure It was dissolved in 1537, and its last abbot Adam Sedbar was hanged for his part in the Pilgrimage of Grace. The ruins of the abbey are open to the public and are privately owned. The monks here at some point were quite successful at horse breeding. The area around here still is a base for horse breeders especially of the race horse variety and you can still see them being exercised.
From Leyburn we ran on familiar tarmac to the cross roads then over onto the old tank road, to the left and right on this road you can see the army ranges, visible are rifle butts and targets. Today was Sunday I know, but the red flags were out indicating live firing in progress, of to the left I saw men firing rifles down the range. These were probably local or regimental gun clubs and the army probably rents out the ranges at the weekends.
The wind was with us again here as it nearly always is, as we ride on another mile or so to the low summit the wind fairly whips up the side of us, it’s not the best of roads and is quite narrow, fortunately not many come this way in cars. Of to the left the weather looked a little angry with cloud and drizzle that reached down and covered distant hill tops, we were riding in a similar direction and would end up on top of the world at Tan Hill so could expect a good beating from the distant wind and rain!
The road dipped off the sky line and into the dips and cracks as we followed the rivers course giving us a break from the wind, we twisted and dipped taking in the beauty of the Heather as it purpled its way to maturity, a couple of sheep here and there stood at the road side having lunch and debated whether to play chicken or not with us, many a Wingers hands hovered over the brake and clutch levers! We had a good few miles of this before arriving at Reeth, Barry pulled off at the village green, we stuffed bikes into the long line of cobbled parking, two here four there, I went to the end and parked with the white 1800 belonging to Mark and Cath…erm I mean Lyn sorry! Snap boxes were broken open and flasks of hot water poured into coffee, soup and tea mixes. This is a much easier tea break for both Wanderers and café owners! More and more of us are turning to this idea.
The grey stuff is now a good deal closer and wet gear is thought about for the first time today, It’s something of an admission to the fact that the day has turned to crap to don the wet gear so we generally leave it to the last possible moment! Meanwhile folks attention is drawn to the little fair on the green and someone spots a kiddies roundabout with a little yellow double decker bus named Barry’s Tours and cameras are drawn, Barry is led to a photo opportunity, the thing was so small he couldn’t get inside, we saw a couple of race bikes on the other side so instead me and Barry sat on them for the cameras the result was a photo finish!
OK tomfoolery done with it was time to pack lunch away and ready ourselves to move further on to Tan Hill. Everyone slowly negotiated the cobbles, backing up to turn and form up at the far end, it was a slow few minutes which saw everyone manage the difficult paddle around with no drama’s. We crossed the road onto the very minor white road and carried on skywards to our next stop at Tan Hill.
It was getting colder now as we rode higher and higher, passing few houses and the CB public house, the old mine had gone a long time ago and was the reason why the pub at Tan Hill came into being in the first place, it’s now popular with adventurous types and the slightly off the wall creed, it was used many years ago in the Everest double glazing adverts and is advertised as the highest pub in England, today it was for sure the windiest! We gathered under the pub sign by an old mine car with an 1800 on one side and an 1500 trike at the other side, everybody closed in and smiled for the team shot before getting blown away, if you walked around the building and looked north, on a clear day you could see just detect movement on the distant A66, today was not so clear with drizzle here and there. People went inside for some respite against the cold wind whilst other sat around outside.
Mark and I stood taking bikes and trikes whilst watching  the Cleggi’s follow a mother duck and its chicks in a nearby stream. Poor old Lyn she looked in need of a cuddle coz she looked so darned cold and kept puffing her cheeks and pouting and no sign of her huge smile at the moment! I think we spent just a quick thirty minutes here before starting the bikes and moving off down the valley towards West Stonesdale.
It was very bleak here in the Yorkshire Dales National Park especially as the damn grey stuff sat just yards above our heads and the mizzle coated us with a very fine layer of wetness. The moment we rode down the valley in the green fold we felt warmer as the wind missed us completely. The occasional solitary old brick buildings and crazy stone wall was the only thing to look at as we dropped down further. Our obscure and nameless white road joined the yellow B6270 as we headed toward Angram and Thwaite.
We turned right on the crazy uphill cambered junction that sat astride the brow of the hill onto yet another obscure white road. This road ran alongside a deep wide chasm the far wall was purple grey in colour, slate looks like this when wet, the only thing that stood between us and the chasm was a wire safety barrier just one foot high, it was ideal in preventing Mr Rabbit from running off the road but fuck all use to motorbikes cars or anything else that man cares to bring up to The Buttertubs. The Cretin who decided this barrier was sufficient was for sure having a giraffe! The odd thing is that the more one looked at the flimsy barrier the closer it drew one in. So a wrench of the eyeballs to look instead at the bike in front was a definite mind over matter battle.
The village of Hardraw was our next port of call and was just a few miles along this nameless road. One of our number pushed on ahead to find suitable parking for everyone, just in case it was busy, we had no worry however as there was plenty of room. I was directed to a spot apposite the pub and was about to park up but a biker was in my way trying to park as was oblivious to my presence, unperturbed I quickly shot over the bridge to turn around, I then become perturbed! A pack of fenced farm dogs began to give me tons of verbal, a cold shiver went down my spine as memories of Bulgarian village attack dogs came flooding. fuck you lot I thought, I got back on and rode back over the bridge to peoples puzzlement and parked back up the road and then walked back as one of the parked cars drove off and left a nice big parking space!
Hardraw Force was a waterfall of interest here and the entry to it was through the local pub and cost a few pennies to proceed, one walked perhaps a hundred yards or so along the edge of the fast flowing river to the head and the waterfall, one could walk right behind it on the rock path and get soaked to the skin for your troubles. But is an experience both Julie and I went through earlier in the year so we didn’t bother today, instead we sat outside drinking coffee and chatted with others. Mark was riding high and was in the chair relating funny stories that had the girls in stitches. Thankfully for the pub patrons we elected to gather outside otherwise we would have no doubt shattered their tranquil ambience inside, they sat in layers of walking attire drinking their half pints of grog, some ate their pub lunch with obedient dog by their feet, some sat with Sunday paper, the pub was old dusty and very set in its ways and appeared dark and somewhat dank, the nearest jukebox was probably at least ten miles away!
Before long we were climbing aboard once more and making ready to move off. Today was a rideout full of stops because Barry was nursing a shoulder injury which had been very debilitating for him and caused great pain over the latter part of summer. Indeed it was much less than the customary 200+ miles in distance. At the same time everyone had a good laugh and were enjoying each other’s company. I trotted up the road to take some shots of the group leaving town before mounting up to chase after the family, I had the route on the SatNav so didn’t have any fear of loosing my way, before long I saw the tail lights of “The Lord of the Rings” 1800 ahead of me and called “Eyeball Eyeball” on the CB. This odd shout is CB parlance for “I see you” and so let’s Barry know I have them in sight and would rejoin today’s Wanderers presently.
Hey the grey stuff has gone after just barely an hour! We would be bathed in sunshine presently and the warmth was to return and would stay for the rest of the day.
Barry was sufficiently better and took us a slightly longer ride now back the way we came before turning parallel to the Hawes road, we were heading towards Askrigg, Newbiggin and finally Aysgarth, today though we would ride through Aysgath without stopping. Heading south onto the B6160 to ride down to Buckdon and follow the River Wharfdale as it gently winds its way down the valley, though it takes on a different character in winter becoming a mad raging torrent that threatens to sweep away the very house sized boulders we are glancing at today. Today this road has more traffic than usual and we get stuck behind a convoy of Harley tractors, these things always seem to go just above drop dead speed don’t they? We are heading for the popular Kettlewell.
In the 13th century a market was established in Kettlewell, which became a thriving community. Textiles and in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, lead mining revitalised the village and Kettlewell’s appearance today derives much from its past 200 years. The remains of the smelting-mill, used from 1700 to 1880, can be seen near the meeting of the rivers Cam and Dowber Becks half a mile above the village. In August Kettlewell hosts an annual scarecrow festival where a variety of scarecrows, dressed up as different characters are placed around the village. I don’t know why they celebrate this but they do and it draws in the tourists and so generates money for the village so it’s a good thing. Kettlewell was also the village used in the making of “The Calender Girls” a couple of years ago?
Today was the day they were doing the scarecrow thing and made the place positively buzz with activity. Barry shouted on CB that perhaps we should use “Fatha’s” personal car park! Just as we drew level “Fathas” arm shot out to remind me of it, he was smirking in the mirror, he didn’t have CB but guessed we would be taking the pi** out of his mistake as lead man that day when he was leading a group of us down this very road, he was looking for a nearby car park and spotted the entrance he slowed to indicate then turned left followed by half a dozen bikes. Unfortunately “Fatha” mistook an old ladies bungalow with a larger than normal forecourt the car park for! The poor old lady came from her back garden to the front to see what the noise was and stood rooted to the spot with trowel in one hand and jaw in other! Wingers had turned round and were heading back out as I entered, puzzlement turned to embarrassment I slowed to carefully ride by the poor wide eyed old lady and tried to smile I said “Oh hello, what a nice garden you have here…bye bye” and left laughing my head off at “Fatha’s” clanger. You just had to have been there! So every time we pass this spot we both look and laugh!
Barry led the Wanderers to the correct car park opposite the café, everyone squeezed into a coach spot and happily switched off. Some of us wandered around the village some plonked themselves on low stone walls and took in the views, the rest of us sat outside the café and scoffed a cream scone with jam. I just had a black coffee today with my chicken and rice meal which is not me but I am on a health month and have shed over a stone so far so wasn’t going to spoil my progress. It was nice just to relax for a while and just sit and watch people pass by.
With the bill paid it was time to move on again and we headed out over the river and in the direction of Kilnsey. Long before then though we turned right onto yet another little white road and went in the direction of Arncliffe. It’s quite a narrow and bumpy road, cars pulled over and let us through first, I imagine we looked quite the wild bunch! It was bumpy because of the tree roots that ran just under the tarmac leaving snake like ridges across us like railway sleepers, more than one passenger bounced out of the seat as Barry shouted a warning about them, no doubt Tina had just been airborne and had batted Barry for it!
Malham Tarn was off to our left and I felt compelled to stop again, the light and cloud made such a nice shot, I got the camera out and captured a great image, although we had been on these roads many times the views are as different as the weather. I had to put my foot down to catch up with everyone as we passed through Malham and the Sunday walkers. We carried on to Airton before pulling over on a long straight piece of road to say goodbye to Steve and Jane, they would turn north here and take the M6 back to Scotland, several others went their separate ways here too. Depleted by several bikes we rode to Gargrave then made our way into Skipton for supper.
The Appy Wanderers regular haunt here was the “chippie” we piled in and bought our supper, they breathed a sigh of relief as we took ourselves round to the seating area by the canal and ate them under the statue dedicated to the famous English cricketer, Mr Freddie Trueman. It was here that I witnessed the finest blonde moment of the year when Mark asked Jeanette to put “Fatha’s” phone number in their mobile phone, she turned to Mark and said “OK I’ve put Fatha’s name in the phone, you will find it under I… for Ian!
I thought it was as funny as the incident earlier in day one from “Der Furher” himself when he called out on the CB that a Ford estate was coming down the narrow road but we shouldn’t worry because he had made him pull over. (Captain Fantastic to our rescue once again) One by one we cruised by the Ford VW! One by one wingers opened fire on “Der Furher” with suitable below the belt digs at Barry’s woeful car recognition skills. In fact some smart ass posted a car badge of both Ford and VW on “Facebook” that evening asking if anyone could tell the difference!
After a good giggle at each other, something the Appy Wanderers are good at and do throughout the day with no offence given and none taken, we made ready to move for the last time today, bidding each other farewell until the next time we all split up to go our separate ways, I led Mark and Jeanette through Keighley to the other side taking the road to Denholme, Queensbury, Hipperholme and onto the M62. The road was shut after Denholme so we had to drop down into Halifax and pick up the M62 from there. Less than an hour later we were waving to them as they took their turn off heading home to Havercroft near Wakefield. This left Julie and I to carry on to the M18 and finally our exit at junction 6, fifteen minutes later we pulled in at Walnut Cottage as the last of the light faded and turned the engine off. The day had been great again and though we did a lot less miles than usual it was a brilliant day out with the gang.
Untilateronthen
The Wanderers Scribe

It was a good ride down from Yorkshire to Maidstone we managed to dodge around the rain showers all the way down the M1 onto the M25, riding right round to the 3 o’clock position before catching sight of it, minutes later we were on it. The Queen Elizabeth II Bridge, 150,000 cars a day cross it as part of the London M25 orbital road, it arched high over the River Thames though here it was more like a mini sea it was so wide, the bridge span is just short of 500 yards. The real sea is only a couple of miles away to my left so here we should call the river an estuary. To my right in the far distance I could see Canary Warf and the faint grey blocks that was the city of London. The bridge is commonly called the Dartford bridge and is free for bikers thanks to a large bike demo by the local M.A.G who showed the authorities the error of their ways when the bridge first opened. A thousand or more bikers turned up on Monday morning dressed for winter kit with a fiver in a wallet buried deep in their clothing, the ensuing hold up made the authorities rethink their pricing policy!
We turned off after a couple of miles onto the M20. I took the lead today Barry was at the back for a change, also with us was Tom and Michelle from Keighley on their black 1800. Newcomers Mark and Jeanette joined us half way down at a tea stop on the A1 on their 1500 Panther trike, It was this little group that head directly into the thunderstorm just 5 miles from our hotel! I’d decided to wear my waterproofs all the way down “just in case” I’m so bloody glad I did because in no time Barry had wet bollix and Tina had a dripping tush!! Tom and Michelle were just as soaked as were the “newbies”! I couldn’t help chuckling to myself as Julie and I sat in relative dryness. I commented on this to the others…it didn’t go down well with the “wet-ones”which just made me chuckle even more! We pulled into the hotel moments later, everyone had to change their trousers socks and knickers shirt tie and wooly tank tops except me so I was first into the bar! We saw that some Wanderers were here already.
Russ and Elaine ogled us from their bedroom window, Elaine has been slimming for a while which produced some spectacular results, keep your eyes on us blokes Russ, she looks even more beautiful now mate! Quickly they joined us on the veranda of the pub, we watched other old Appy Wanderers arrive over the next few hours. It was a good feeling seeing the old gits as well as the new people.
Julie and I had been here recently on tour with the Royal British Legion Riders Branch. The Premier Inn was one of four in Maidstone and had an excellent pub/resteraunt built onto the side, this is why I suggested we stopped here for our overnighter. The “chunnel” was only 45 minutes away down the motorway.
The evening meal was as good as the last time and the place equally as busy, the night passed quickly, folk caught with each other and the new guys were made very welcome, before long 23.30 hrs beckoned us to our beds, an early start awaited us in the morning. We were up in good time unfortunately the chef wasn’t as eager as us to get going. The number of folk staying here had grown and as the tour hadn’t started yet so Barry and I hadn’t started to keep an eye on things yet and so consequently only a couple got breakfast before we had to move off. The “chunnel” waits for man nor beast. A swift blast down the M20 saw us arrive at the terminal with 15 minutes to spare. “Jeez here we go already” I thought to myself as old David buggered about switching lanes, this being his first visit to the terminal. I pulled abreast of the impatient Range Rover and waved him back with a smile to let David and Barbara get orientated.
A grand total of 13 Honda Goldwing trikes and motorbikes rode into the gaping hole in the side of the last carriage at the end of the train, once aboard we had to slowly ride the length of the train to the other end and park as though we were parking on an uneven roadside, with front wheel into the curb and lock into first gear as requested by the train staff. There is a pavement for people to stand or sit the length of the train on either side with the vehicle track/road down the middle from one end to other, the journey takes only 30 minutes or so. That’s enough time to say hello properly and brief people again on what lays ahead for the day. At Calais we left the train then the terminal and rode south east after a bit of a glitch as the sat-nav on Barry’s bike took a minute to get her bearings before he pointing the convoy in the right direction. Oh my god we are doing a “Zeebrugge” I thought as we took a slip road to a roundabout, going all the way round and back up again.

Barry led the way with the trikes behind him followed by the lonely 1500 of Janet and Brian then the faster longer legged 1800s of the rest of the group then me sweeping up at the back in my usual place on these trips as “Back Door Man”.
We took the motorway south passing Boulogne, Abberville and Dieppe, it became a main road as we had to take in the outskirts of Rouen before rejoining the E402 just the other side of the city, we touched the edge of Normandy pushing past Lisieux. Before they built this motorway the best way to and from the channel posts was to angle through Normandy via Chatres..Dreux..Eveux and Lisieux on the back roads and were by far the prettiest, shortest and safest route. The M-ways going North/South (I’ll call them Auto-routes now) all take in the French capitol, you explorers out there will have ridden on the x-rated Paris ring road just the once and will agree with me when I say it’s a right bastard and to be avoided be at all costs!
Alencon and Le Mans came and went as the sign for Tours came up and we left the auto-route for the last time today. Barry slowed down to a trickle as we entered the busy city in the Saturday late afternoon traffic, going slow also to let sat nav do her bit and take us straight to the hotel. Barry and I are fairly used to the sat nav capabilities and know that going slowly through a town or city is the best way forward as she struggles terribly with French place names and streets, I’m passing information from the back to Barry up ahead about the traffic lights, whose stopped and whose moving, some of the group have CB’s too and are listening intently as we take this turn and the next. We pull up outside the hotel in no time and the ladies climb off to book in, meanwhile we men get instructions on where the car park is and drive round the back and down underground to the hotel car park, which seems to be directly underneath the hotel.
The first day went well really. We were on French and not German auto-routes so the learning curve wasn’t so harsh today I’m happy to say. The first day is always the hardest to do though on this tour we had just three or four new couples, the rest had been on tour with us at one time or another before but still needed to brush up on European auto route skills. All in all an enjoyable day hacking down through northern France, we were now just north of the Loire Valley and it was good to chuck the bike keys on the bed in the corner of the room. Have a shower and head out into town. Today we had done approx 360 miles. Well done to all of us!
The old“Splinter Group” are now so old they have become “The Flat-liners” I stood outside the hotel waiting for Barry and the others as the saga six mooched off in search of the old part of Tours and a quiet dinner. Jane darling, your not old but a slip of a girl it’s just that your just married to old Steve! All the rest of us on the other hand didn’t wander that far after seeing the glowing lights of “Le Hippo” We felt this was the place to eat. We were ushered upstairs into the glass roofed attic out of the way, it was nice and airy and so our excited English chatter wouldn’t disturb the rest of the house!
The was France so I was expecting the food to be top notch, which it was, the lager came in jugs and went straight into English bellies, oh my god that tasted sooo nice! It was here that Mark and I found out we both frequented the same pubs in Wakefied back in the 1970’s describing and reminiscing old haunts. A few weeks after the tour on a visit to Mark and Jeanette’s home she showed me a photo of Mark with long hair, I looked and though hmmm he does look familiar, then Mark said he worked in a paint and wallpaper shop and the manager was gay. A door in my distant past was flung open at this statement. I had worked there just two or three days but left because the manager was a poof and I didn’t feel comfy in his presence! How spooky was that? I know it’s a small world and we keep telling ourselves that but it’s still a smack in the face with a wet fish when something like this happens.The poofter has since died as has the cleaning lady.
The following morning we encountered our first continental breakfast, bread of all shapes and sizes, jams meats and cheese to go with it and strong French coffee, tea is pretty much an afterthought here in France as boxes of flowery tea bags stayed mainly full. The bikes were waking up down in the car park as the men went and said hello and cleaned windscreens. Overnight bags were packed back into the bikes. Barry and Tina left first, it was a steep curve up out of the hole. Ride to the outside of the curve then gun it was the way to do it. Unsure riders sweated a bit already at this move, it was an unusual piece of road I admit it’s just that some are more confidant that others. Julie manned the electric barrier until we all left, I would always be the last man out wherever we were, this was my usual job on tours and Sunday ride outs back home too
We formed up outside, a quick last minute check on everyone, then Fatha decides he wants to have a little walk and say hello to folk. He did this more than once on tour and was always encouraged to get back on his bloody bike! Off we go then, Barry had the Garmin on and took us slowly out of town towards the open spaces. We rode a south east direction through the region of Vienne towards the auto route less than an hour away, we saw the “real” France now as we rode along the E62 passing through several sleepy villages.I know it was Sunday morning but every time I ride through French villages they always appear “sleepy” whatever time of whatever day! Outside one such hamlet we fuelled up at the local supermarche and the ladies visited the one ladies loo so a stop of thirty minute or more was forced by the bladder.
We head for Limoges and the E9 auto route south passing Brive and the haunted town of Rocamadour.
Lots of dark deeds happened here during WWII and the civilians suffered violently at the hands of the Germans with many being murdered. The place purposely reflects this as a reminder of war.
The weather yesterday was very cloudy and not too warm however today it improved greatly, the clouds had all but gone and the temperature was as warm as Steve and Jane’s back brake, back in Tours earlier that morning they had gone several miles with the handbrake on and smoked the bikes behind causing some consternation, the airwaves bubbled with “Smoke! I can smell bloody smoke! summats on fire!” I went through the group on the open road and checked each one out, as Steve grabbed their hand brake putting it in the off position, Aha that’s the problem! They had gone about two miles with the hand brake on, looking down Steve saw no flames and Jane thought the trike felt fine so elected to bang on, everyone was awake now as we turned onto the auto route.
It was another long day with close to 380 miles to do, a day we call a transit day. We had to juggle the positions around with the trikes as large gaps were appearing, large enough for trucks to slip into and generally bugger things up for us. Basically we ride staggered with the two second gap, Its everyone’s responsibility to keep up and try not to let a large gap form, if a car, van, truck gets between, then the gap will increase hugely as the vehicle sits happily behind slow traffic. You become unsighted and the next junction we turn off at or garage we pull in at you will miss and will pull the rest of the group with you. “Fucked” is a word that springs to mind! If everyone had CB and listened it would not be such a problem but they don’t, they don’t come cheap and so it can problematic. In the first few days some folk are concerned and reluctant at going over 75/80mph when playing catch up because someone has done what I’ve just said, folk where having to go really REALY fast for half a mile or more to back with the group. Folk are given the opportunity to travel down on their own or in groups they have maps hotel ref numbers etc and are adults. Travelling in a group can be lots of fun but you can’t dawdle and you must keep together and in sight. This happens at the beginning of EVERY tour it’s just a learning curve for a day or so. We try to explain these things at the pre tour meeting but don’t ram it down throats with do’s and don’ts for fear of putting people off and being draconian. The first day of continental riding on auto routes is always enough to get people in the right frame of mind.
Further south we rode with stops every ninety minutes-ish for petrol, pee and tea. Mantauban was the next provincial city we passed before hitting the ring road of Toulouse, being Sunday it was quite a peaceful days driving, the land had turned quite brown now as the temperature rose to the late twenty five degree mark.
We had seen many of Mother Nature’s aviators namely the Buzzard, they lounge about on fence posts and other roadside furniture like bored teenagers but unlike bored teenagers they had a purpose, and that was to clear up the roads of squashed rabbits and such like. If you see one quickly enough ahead on a post you can see they have wonderful markings, a huge yellow ripping beak and hands like shovels..erm I mean feet! They have deep set dark eyes that see better than a ships radar. The Kite is here in large numbers too, and easy to spot in the air due to their sharper outline and deep tail fork, the Buzzard in contrast is more solid looking and quite dishevelled in the air with splayed feathers like long fingers, a few time I have seen them hover, they angle themselves in the wind just enough to keep airborne and flap their wide wings slowly whilst widening their tail using it to catch the uplift.
Carcassonne is the next large city we pass, I shout Barry and Tina ahead to keep an eye out for the wonderful castle that would come into view on our left soon. Meanwhile I was looking to our right at the far off mountains of Andorra, about 30 miles away, Julie waved at a waving motorist as he peeled off in that direction, he had Andorran number plates.
This was the region of Aude and is dotted with interesting places and holds stories of bygone races. The Moors mainly as they crept up through Spain from North Africa. Following them came religious European types, a particular group called Cathars became a thorn in the established Christian races of mainstream France. They were not mainstream Christian but a different sect with different elements of Christianity incorporated. Hence this region is known now as Pays Cathare. The term Pays Cathare, is French and means “Cathar Country” it’s used to highlight the Cathar heritage and history of the region where Catharism was traditionally strongest. This area is centred around the fortresses such as Montségur and Carcassonne. These areas have ancient ruins from the wars between the various Christina sects and came from as far away as the lands now known as Germany. Why does everyone cry out there is only one god and want to kill anyone who says different? It strikes me that they are similar to some silly motorbike club I know! Sounds also a bit like Rome from back then and Iraq recently, also like the “Mad as Hatters” Moslem extremists that are allowed to run around breeding discontent and murder. The many ruins are still visible today. We would visit some of them on our “Castles rideout” later in the week. The last Cathars by the way were persecuted and killed off in the Crusades of the late 12 century.
Anyway I digress! The famed Carcassonne castle loomed into view to our left. Not everyone had CB so Barry’s pointing to the left hollering “Carcassonne castle to the left everybody!” was lost in the warm wind. I had been down here with Julie a couple of years ago and knew we were nearly at our journeys end for the day, the sea was in sight now and we had reached the south coast of France it was warm just like the brochure said! The auto route dropped us off on the outskirts of the old town, it being Sunday made finding the hotel here in Narbonne easy. Cruising down to sat nav speed let Mistress Garmin lead Barry and the rest of us right to the doorstep. The huge old wooden garage doors were opened and we rode inside. We filled one garage and part of the second. It was perfect! The day manager was a biker too, his dusty old Japanese 650 sat in the near corner. He was happy to have us “own” the garage for the week.
Our room was small with a great view of a brick wall just ten metres away and there was nowhere to put our kit so it stayed in the bags on the floor, there was a dresser and a TV, shower room and “le crapper” It was clean but basic. We didn’t really mind, it was just a bedroom after all, the bikes were all indoors which for this week was the most important thing I think. We swarmed in and out of other Wanderers rooms and saw raised toilets, balconies, some looking over the traffic lights, Lynne even saw Michelle in the shower as she dashed in looking at their room and without realising Michelle was in there drew back the curtain to shrieks and giggles!! Look out folks the Appy Wanderers were in town! Mark and Jeanette pointed across the huge crossroads and said “Pub” Aha..my kind of word! In a shot we followed them, Tom and Michelle were hot on our heels. It had been a long hot day with another 360 miles notched up, time to celebrate, everyone had made it without a hint of drama and we were to be congratulated.
We piled into the small bar eager for drinks, the young girl was a bit in awe as we pointed at the two lager pumps, I pointed at the solitary dusty pint glass, we eventually took it in turns to use it, the rest of us made do with the half pint things, we used the plastic table that was under the red yellow and green neon of the traffic light, this would be cool when it gets dark! I was pestered by the only drunken Algerian trampess in Narbonne and she understood what Feck off meant! It sounds unkind I know but she only wanted to indulge me in conversation in the hopes that I might buy her a drink and give her money but I was in no mood the bar girl managed to get shut of her bless! Mick and Ann soon joined us pulling another table under the traffic light. Sandra and David came along with Barry Tina and some of the others, they didn’t stay, instead they pushed on into the old part in search of something to eat, we on the other hand had the bit between our teeth and were celebrating and keeping the lass busy re-filling the little glasses and the one pint glass. Cheers m’dears!
We said Monday would be a day off the bike, we had done rather a lot of miles in two days and had a way to go yet so I for one didn’t want to turn it into “La Moto Enduro” and wanted to try and get the balance right. My pal Martin owns a biker hotel just up the road in the village of Coursan, he is originally from Oxford he is ex RAF and a solid biker and seasoned traveller, spending years in the U.S as a self employed real life cowboy, he got married whilst there and now has a son who is currently serving in the US Marines out in that troublesome desert, you can gather from this that our Martin is a really interesting and friendly guy. Julie and I now see him as a friend, having robbed his fridge of beer on several visits. We really wanted to visit him during the tour, it would have been extremely rude not to! So on the Monday we took Barry, Tom and the girls with us. Meanwhile the rest of The Appy Wanderers spent the day wandering around Narbonne at leasure.
Martin was on the pavement as we pulled up tooting and shouting greetings and the beer was right where I said! I pulled some out and passed them around, one small can each. Id threatened on Facebook to empty his fridge since last year! This is his B+B website in case your interested http://www.st-georges-fr.com/ He has a great place with room in the garage for about eight wings, please have a look it might well be of interest to you! It was really nice to see him again since last years holiday in September. I introduced him to everyone and visa versa. An Englishman was here too messing with his bike, Barry helped in fix whatever it was that he was fixing, I wasn’t interested to be honest I was here to see my old mate Martin. I wanted to show Barry around with a view to maybe using the place for some future biking holiday but he was more interested in the bike outside! We stayed an hour or so before saying goodbye for now and carried onto the beach another few miles on.
Barry had smelt the mountains and got all excited and wanted to go right now! But this was a rest day for me at least and I had to remind him! There was all week and I had planned a route or two in that direction, we would be going into “Montagne Noir” tommorow (The Black Mountains) So I went to the beach followed by two other wings though one seemed a bit reluctant! The afternoon by the beach was nice as we explored Narbonne plage. Barry and I rolled up our trousers and took a dip in the Med, then congratulated each other on a job well done so far. It was a nice feeling. Tina came into the sea for a photo, ah this was the life. Barry settled and agreed this was a good afternoon after all. I knew it would and took them back to Narbonne through the hilly dunes along great little back roads. The road from Narbonne to Coursan is on the old Roman road from Italy to Espania in fact part of the original road is on show in Narbonne, how cool it was to actually stand on it again that evening as we explored the square in search of good food.
Tuesday morning at breakfast we began to get to grips with the hotel coffee machine, it gurgled, spluttered, bleeped and winked its blue light. If it doesn’t work straight away keep prodding the bloody button we thought. It’s impatient I know but I think it’s a human thing if it doesn’t do as its told straight away then beat it to death. The machine had a link to the receptionist I’m sure because after a couple of prods one of the staff came out to tell the perpetrator off! “ Zut Allors, vouz presse ze button only wance” they insisted, I copped for a “telling off” on the first morning.
So after a hearty breakfast of bread jam, cheese and coffee we sorted ourselves out in the garage and decided to leave individually to the garage a mile up the road due to the fact that the 7 roads of the roundabout with multi traffic lights just five yards away was actually like joining Death Race 2000! It’s here that we also got to grips with card only payment for fuel, this is still an alien thing for most English. My local supermarket now has this facility at their garage but not many use it so I get filled up quickly every time.
Barry has my route in his sat nav and we head North through Montagne Noir towards the world famous Millau Bridge, it was a two hundred mile rideout, I have ridden the mountains before with Julie before and know what the group have in store for them and know exactly what their reactions are going to be, especially my mountain road mad mate Barry.
Everyone was struck at the beauty of these clean and new roads into the hills, Barry was loud and happy on the CB! People were enjoying the first rideout very much, Telford began to explore the road at speed, the corners were so open and wide, his body suggested he was getting “into the zone” and was leaning into the corner’s he’s driving a trike so this was funny to see. We powered on and eased off constantly taking the views and enjoying the roads in turn.
We are heading towards St Affrique about a hundred miles away through lots of “sleepy” villages sitting between dozens of green clad hills, we rise high to look back at the sea in the distance, it’s a hot day again and Appys jackets are removed and locked away in the top boxes, it’s a great ride and folk are riding these roads for the first time, they are privileged bikers and will no doubt recount their feeling when they get home and chat to fellow bikers on many a weekend to follow. We stopped at St Pons for half an hour break to buy bottles of water.
Setting off again in good time we soon had the bridge in site, the cloud came as we crested the hills and jackets were pulled out for a while. The bridge was visible from miles away. It didn’t hit home how big it was until we dropped into the valley and crossed beneath it, the main supports seemed to go on for miles into the sky to the auto route way above us. Personally I have never seen anything so vast and I felt like a gnat! Deryck had told me months ago of a café with a panoramic view that a friend had told him about and sounded ideal, I “Googled” it and found it it quickly, it was still there and looked OK so I put it into the route.
Just after the bridge Barry started to look for the right turn in question. It was a bit “Stelvio ish” in that it was a zig zag up the hill side but the surface was not in great condition, we carried on slowly and made cautious progress. On one of the switchbacks Russ and Elaine had got it a bit wrong and crashed. From the back I saw their wing roll back down the hill backwards after messing up a corner Their bike shunted hard into the barrier bounced forward and flopped to one side, several bikes had stopped on the uneven road, Wanderers were round them in a flash and were helping the two of them and getting the bike up. I couldn’t help so I passed them to make my way to the top and pass on what had happened to the rest at the top. A trike went back down to bring Elaine up and with some help the bike came up too. The bike didn’t look to badly damaged save for the usual scratch marks on one pannier the crash bars had scuff marks but had done their job, Russ was a bit bruised as was Elaine and were both a bit shook up, it was a cuddle time and with plenty of hugs for Elaine and words of support for Russ and a gentle pat on the back. After all that trouble the bloody café was shut and looked like it had been all summer, would you believe it! Nobody could have known this but it was still a bummer, we stood and looked at the great view of the bridge in its entirety, getting some Belgian bikers to take the group photograph, we had to turn round and go back down the twisting road, Russ and Elaine took it easy with me fifty metres in front ansFatha and M in support just behind them, the rest of the group waited at the bottom, when we were one again we set off and looked for the Macdonald’s in Millau village. On retrospect the accident was rider error on an extreme road, and the fact that the café was closed was nobody’s fault.
The staff at the Macdonald’s probably wish they were shut too as twenty six bikers wanted feeding altogether, Lynn played crafty and ran up the hill to get their meals first, but they had to sit about for ages until we at the back got our food and took the rest earned. Feeding us in such places always causes a bit of a panic to the staff, but really we are only like a coach party…a very much younger coach party!
We began to move out eventually and Mark had trouble starting the trike but luckily we were on a hill so a quick old fashion jump start sorted it out. It was really hot now as the mid afternoon sun cooked the land and we were in a wind-less valley! We fuelled up in the town ready to make our ride south to Narbonne on the famous bridge, half rode out of the garage to wait just up the road when Mark stalled the trike again only this time it was as flat as a pancake. My CB began to play up too and it was getting hotter by the minute! Tom and I tried to push the trike but it still wouldn’t start and we didn’t have a slope of any kind at hand. After some more determination and a litre or two of sweat we got the bike breathing again! By now some were really getting hot and bothered and tempers frayed a little, well it’s to be expected we are only humans after all!
A difficult ride and hot ride followed as we rode through the congested town centre, we made our way to the bridge slip road high above us. I was at the back as usual urging folk to act a bit more like bikers and wiggle their way through the traffic instead of just sitting in line with the cars, I was very happy to start climbing up and out of the town, clear of traffic, pedestrians, traffic lights and bloody pet dogs! Wearing silly bike kit and helmets instead of speedo’s and sunglasses wasn’t helping one little bit either!
I forget how much the bridge toll was but it was lovely to be on it and so high in the cooler air AND moving at a faster pace. An eagle was spotted by several Wanderers and photographed by a couple of the lucky ones. We were on a fantastic bit of auto-route that ran steadily down and through the mountains, I’d pulled out and began going past the guys informing Barry that his “back door man” was about to pass him and go for a five minute blast, “See you 10 miles or so down the road byeeee” It is one of those moments you know will become a good memory, Fatha and M had pulled free with me and we chased each other for a while. The E-11 twisted and turned in and out of the brown jagged mountains, we had come up this way last year so this box was ticked as done in less than 12 months! A French biker latched onto us as we lost altitude at speed Fatha and I switched once or twice before slowing down to a crawl to wait for the group to catch up, the French guy was waving and grinning like crazy as he passed us, he had probably never before chased but lost two Honda Goldwing 1800cc motorbikes far ahead of him! Barry and the group where back again in no time and normality returned. Miles down the road a glitch was had as Barry and most of the group peeled off the auto-route and head North towards Montpellier instead of staying on the E-11. I said “See you guys lateronthen at the hotel”
I rode with two bikes behind me in the correct direction towards Narbonne. We came off the auto-route to ride along the old road down the coast, we pulled over at Coursan to our old supermarche for fuel and drinks, the six of us sat on the wall drinking a while before mounting up to ride the short few miles into town and the hotel. Not fifteen minutes later the rest of the gang turned up. We had done about 200 miles today though some did an extra 40 miles or so! They hadn’t gone the wrong way we are on holiday so they just went a different way instead! Folk washed and changed and went in search of a good meal in the centre, small groups formed, it would have really impractical to all go to the same place every time.
Wednesday was a day in Carcassonne just forty miles away, the city has a huge reconstructed castle wall around the top with period houses all inside. Some went there on the bikes whilst the older “Flat-liners” elected to go on the train.
It’s said that the Romans first built fortifications on the hill top around 100 B.C At some point when the Visigoths arrived and the importance of the city as it overlooked old French Spanish borders grew and grew. Much later in 1659 a treaty was signed and the border region became French and so the border itself moved back beyond the hills making Carcassonne less important as a thriving border post.
The fortified city itself consists essentially of a concentric design with two outer walls with towers and barbicans to prevent attack by siege engines. The castle itself possesses its own drawbridge and ditch leading to a central keep. The walls consist of towers built over quite a long period. One section is Roman and is different from the medieval walls with the tell-tale red brick layers and the shallow pitch terracotta tile roofs. One of these towers housed the Catholic Inquisition in the 13th Century and is still known as “The Inquisition Tower”. Today there is a museum “Musée de la Torture”, which shows some of the original torture equipment employed by the Catholic Church was struck off the roster of official fortifications under Napoleon and the Restoration, and the fortified cité of Carcassonne fell into such disrepair that the French government decided that it should be demolished. It was completley restored in after many years of hard work in 1853, its this structure that we saw today. It’s well worth a day to visit and wonder around its tiny tourist filled streets, this was our second visit and we still found bits that we missed the first time around.
We agreed to meet in the car park about four and went into the mountains again on rather an unplanned rideout, it’s just so inviting it has to be done as often as you can. Mazamet was the place we headed towards on some devine roads and with some help from some truckers we road in ecstasy! A Spanish trucker in particular was very helpful and stopped us when it wasn’t safe then indicated when it was safer to pass him, Gracias Senior!! A view point was found and we gathered on the wall overlooking Mazamet for a group shot as the Spaniard roared by hand firmly on his truck horn blasting and waving, we replied in kind. That few miles had been really good, the green trees and jagged boulders and rock formations were split in two by the smooth grey tarmac, Telford had the bit between his teeth again and he was hunched over and leaning again! I shouted “Spacings Telford” on the CB and he came back to reality and backed off from the slower grey trike of Mick and Anne. It was late afternoon and hot again, we would need drinks again soon so I suggested that Barry head for St Pons along an A road that cut up the valley floor in between the green wooded hills. There are plenty of villages around her but I found before that many didn’t have any shops, garages etc, so St Pons was picked because it was larger and would have the things we needed.
We turned south to Narbonne from here climbing up the valley and over the tops, the view from left to right and all the way down the coast was vast, a drifting Buzzard or two showed to be the only sign of life. Once again we coasted into Narbonne finding our hotel with ease, a couple of the girls opened the old wooden doors and we rode inside, it was a late return so a very quick change and out we went again to the square and a table here and there was found. The nights were all very enjoyable the food was great as far as I was concerned; The girls experimented with the various sweets, usually taking the soft option of ice cream! One night the waiter gave Julie a sweet with Vodka in it, she joked with the waiter about the remaining bottle of Vodka, he gave it to Julie to take home! I gave it to Barry not being a vodka lover unlike wife Tina.
Breakfast was a bit louder this morning as the riding tales were recounted to the Wanderers who had gone into Carcassonne by train. The receptionist looked on as people got to grips with the gurgling coffee machine, nobody dared to bang the bugger now!
Today we would ride in a different direction, I called it “The Castles Run” Everyone made their way into the huge garage next door after breakfast and got their bikes ready. Mick had a bungy cord holding his rear break in a fixed position in an effort to make it work to his liking, it wasn’t a problem to him it was more like a niggle, Mark had put his trike on charge at night determine not to have a flat battery like the other day, he was nearly positive now that he had left his lights on but putting the charger on was not a bad thing I suppose and a good remainder that he doesn’t do it again! The girls loaded the top boxes with things needed for the day, a cardi…just in case a few bottles of water an apple a few sweets and camera, suntan oil factor 50 and some Kleenex, one by one folk rode out into the morning sun and went up the road to the self service garage half a mile away, waiting at the hotel was not a good idea as it was on the corner and French wrecks zipped round like nobody’s business!
We were force fed the continental way of serving petrol yourself after inserting a credit card and following the prompts. These things have been around for years in France but are still quite new back home, after helping each other for the first time we had all soon got the hang of it, hey we were turning into seasoned explorers already!
A short hop up the main road to Lezignan-Corbiers then we turned left onto the dreamy yellow roads that meant good views and little traffic, when using the excellent Michelin maps if you used the minor roads (narrow yellow routes) you were in for great day and would see the real country rather than sticking to major (red routes) or auto routes (thick red and yellow routes) We went like this for an hour or so before pulling over at Lagrasse for a drink break and a little wanderaround on foot. We turned south now and rode our first pass of the day “Col de Villerouge” not huge at all but nice and twisty as it climbed high over the ridge line and back down the other side, the sun was not as hot today which I was thankful for, we were only about an hour from the border with Spain. This was the region of Aude and the land of the Cathars
The term Pays Cathare, French meaning “Cathar Country” is used to highlight the Cathar heritage and history of the region where Catharism was traditionally strongest. This area is centred around fortresses such as Montségur and Carcassonne also the French département of the Aude uses the title Pays Cathare in tourist brochures. These areas have ruins from the wars against the Cathars which are still visible today. We would throughout the day see a lot of ruins from those days.
We were now riding towards Mouthoumet before spending a little time at one such castle ruin, it was just past the village of Auriac, we parked where we could on the summit road and had a little wander, some actually climbed the ruins and took photographs of the plains below and behind us, it’s always fascinating to look back at where you have just come don’t you think?
Down the hillside we rode on a very narrow gravillion filled road. Le gravillions, poxy paint bashing stone chippings..bastard shingles..call them what you want but they put the grimace on the face of the most seasoned biker. In France it seems they don’t use much tar to make the damn stuff stick, they leave it to the following vehicles to tamper down the new surface, now and again we hit newly laid gravillions and had to take it really slow, the underside of the bikes were getting stone blasted and billions more spun round the inside of mud guards making the most fearful racket. I’ll never moan at my local council ever again!
Everyone physically relaxed when these areas were passed. We came across a strange sight ahead of us, they looked like the modern day Mary and Joseph complete with donkey, the woman even had a bairn wrapped in a cloth and was knotted around her shoulders, by the time I passed from the back the woman had had enough of being photographed and was shouting and waving me on, her man leading the donkey caught my eye and threw his eyes skyward, I nodded at him and throttled away.
A mile or so ahead we came across a fantastic sight that was the Gorges de Galamus, a long gorge with the road chiseled out of one side of the rock, it was all very grey and narrow, so narrow in fact that a “hoolie” of a gale was rushing through it.A viewing spot was at the end and we all pulled over to gaze back up the way, “Wow” was shouted several times, especially when one saw the little house right down there. We could see a cross on the roof and a little CCTV monitor! Deryck was gazing up one rock face to watch some climbers messing about with ropes on the sheer rock face. It’s something he used to do in bygone days so probably knew exactly what they were doing. I thought they were just plain bonkers.
Time to go Barry said and off we went down the hillside into the flat sandy coloured open spaces below. We stopped at the next village about thirty minutes away called St-Paul. As usual 24 mature English (and two Scottish) bikers overwhelmed the sleepy café and parked the bikes anywhere and everywhere, the one or two locals who were sat here drank up and made themselves scarce, the two lads tried their best and eventually got us all sorted, another young lad was dispatched to get more bread because they had run out! I chilled out and watched the Wanderers gel together over jam cheese and coffee, I remember being so excited on my first Wanderers tour it made me smile, seeing Mr Jones AKA “Fatha” swap Cumbrian insults with new friends. Lynne took over her table and force fed old John some coffee, Brian did as he was told around Janet who always had a quiet air of authority about her broken only by a squeeze and cuddle. My god what a family I have! Just then Tina aimed then squeezed a huge dollop of tomato sauce, missing Barry’s plate it splodged onto the table for me and Barry to dip our chips in she sat down giggling. By now folk had eaten and were paying up, l took my place in line with Tina to pay our due’s The bikes woke again and with whirring and purring they negotiated the uneven tarmac and stones to turn around and head out of the village going south even more. We collected ourselves just down the road and looked for the village of Maury and our furthest village south today, it was here that we turned towards the rising road away to the left. We had to find our little back road behind the village negotiating some really narrow fiat sized streets the kerb and house steps passed just really close to our feet, a little girl skipped across my path waving and shouting as we went by, her yellow pullover had a big hole in the elbow.
The twisting road ran up the Grau de Maury, I asked Barry to let me go up first and find somewhere suitable to photograph everyone coming up, I remembered from last time the backdrop looking over to Spain, it was fantastic. Today thought the cooler air meant a thin covering of cloud and a poorer view than I was expecting. I took the photos everyone waved as they went by but today the back drop was a disappointment, I remembered how lovely it looked the last time I was here.
At the top sat Chat de Queribus a mystical looking single structure with a view to die for…no doubt many did! We negotiated the shingly zig zag track up to it and took photos. A couple of bikes stayed at the bottom of the shingly spattered road opting for a quiet break on flat ground instead. We soon joined them and carried on our 180 mile round trip, another four castles were spotted in the next few miles, Aguilan being the largest. More villages came and went without a murmur, I had stopped being puzzled wandering where the people where, It was familiar sight in both France and Spain.
Another gorge came next, the road began to drop below the rocks when we were joined by a group of BMW’s trailie types I think they were Belgians. They sat happily on our tails for ages, the leader began to push through, it didn’t last though as their road weet different to us, a fleeting glance and wave was exchanged. This was another pass, this time called Col d’ Extreme, it really wasn’t though, not when you have done the likes of the Stelvio, I’m not bragging it’s just true. Lots of passes or Cols to give them their correct name over here are in fact roads chiselled deep into the rock side to follow the river that has over millions of years warn the softer rock away, so yes it is a pass in the true sense but not a high Alpine one that Barry and I love so much.
Through another village we collected a rasping 125 with two youngsters clung to it, the passenger was looking at us as Pierre Le Elbow on the front wrung the life out of the bike in an effort to stay in the group, blue smoke blew out of the short stubby exhaust, they turned off and watched us glide by never to be seen again.
We saw the blue signs for the auto-route north soon and knew Narbonne wasn’t far away, we joined a red road for the final ten miles the auto-route E-15 looked busy, this carried traffic south into Spain towards Barcelona. It lay first to our left then right as the road switched a couple of times. We had entered town from this road before and knew exactly where the hotel was now and so arrived pretty much as a group, no mean feat in town traffic. The usual wash and quick change before meeting people at the bar outside, only this time we used an Irish bar devouring nuts and drinks for an hour before hunting down a decent dinner table in the square for the evening. Chalk up a good day with a tidy 180 miles in the bag.
Today is Friday and a short ride to the beach at Narbonne-Plage was in store for everyone mainly because tomorrow was a long transit day to our second hotel 200+ miles away in Lourdes awaited us on Saturday.
I took the lead today and head out towards Coursan, the sun had returned as was slowly heating up everything and everyone, it would reach the high twenties before long! Barry took the back door for a change today, this was a novelty for both of us and not something we usually do. The road to the beach from Coursan is beautiful I’d shown Barry and Tom on Monday and now wanted to show everyone else. We cruised by Martin’s place honking and hollering as we went by caught Martins attention and he popped his head over the fence, He was mouthing something like..“Keep going please for Gods sake the fridge is empty!”
Coursan is a small village that sits on the remains of the old Roman road from Italy to Spain, its importance as a major truck artery still seems to be evident today, the roadside buildings have the characteristic coating of road dust and most of the wooden window shutter stay shut. There is a new motorway now, I mean auto-route! The is the E-15/80 which should take the bulk of the traffic, but it still seems heavy today and the houses are still encrusted in the dry brown stuff.
It’s a scenic ride to the beach I was saying over the CB when I spotted the bloody bastard Gravillions sign in front of us. Oh no, not here not today I groaned. I had to slow down as we trundled through the damn chippings, it made a fearful racket as they bounced up and into the fairing and bounced around front and rear mudguards. Lynne and John became concerned at the racket so much so that they asked me to pull over, finding a place for us all down this country road was easier said than done but we did eventually. They were right to be concerned at the noise, what was probably stone chipping caught in the brakes or something turned into something more. Barry escorted them back to the hotel ten miles away and began to find help with some phone contacts because the problem was a wheel bearing that had chosen this day to fail!
The rest of us continued to Narbonne Plage for the day, it made sense, there was no point in all returning, knowing Lynne and John they would have wanted nothing else. Unfortunately something like this happened a couple of years ago and they insisted the group carried on regardless. So Narbonne Plage it was with a customary shrug of the shoulders from me, I was “fekked of” with what had happened but these things happen and could happen to any of us at any stage of the tour, this is why we all have individual recovery insurance, I personally agree with John and Lynne’s philosophy. The day at the beach was a welcome break to riding.
I was attacked by a dog, or would have been if the lady hadn’t kept a hold of the bastard thing! I was just strolling by on my way to “Le bog” and the damn thing went into one! Jesus Christ I jumped a mile, I never even saw it! You can’t blame the swishing tails on the bike this time, no it deffo is me they want! From bloody Bulgaria to the Yorkshire Dales and now in the South of France they all hated me and wanted a part of me. They must have heard on the “dog grapevine” how I used to deliver meat as a butcher boy on my push-bike on Saturdays as a teenager and that my old dad got me some steel toe capped pit boots to kick the little bastards as I ventured on my delivery rounds especially down the old pit villages where the Jack Russell dominated. It’s funny how the tables are turned these days.
Telford began to flex his authority as he was asked to don an orange jacket on account that my CB was playing up somewhat and it was down to him halfway down the group to let Barry know what we were doing. Mick was having some trouble with his brakes over these past few days when Telford wondered up to the trike and mentioned his concern this as he depressed the rear foot lever of the trike. Mick and myself began to chuckle at Telford and our shoulders heaved together, finally Mick interrupted, “You idiot that’s not my trike, mine is over THERE!” It has to said Telford looked a right English plonker in those rubber 10 to 2 sandels with black ankle sock pulled up so high they reached his knees and shorts so low that only about one inch of white shin was showing a blue Sam Kydd hat and dark glasses, the huge man bag draped around his body finished him off, He looked so much like one of those 1970’s “Mr Gumby” characters from Monty Python, he made me laugh.
By the early afternoon folk had gathered back at the bikes and I led the way back inland to Narbonne, we went through some really scenic coastline and managed to pass by the resurfacing work on a converging road to meet the original road just metres from the newly laid tar less chippings, I really hate the Gravillions!
That night we heard the bad news about the purple trike and John and Lynne’s bad luck streak struck again. They would have to make their way to a garage in another town and wait a few days for the new part to arrive then for it to be fitted, it wasn’t a happy moment but there was nothing that could be done, they should be able to join us in a few days hopefully when it was fixed. Everyone made their way into town for dinner in their respective groups for the last time here in Narbonne. An early start lay in store for us on the morrow.
Bills were paid the previous night so it was just a matter of consuming bread jam cheese and coffee, saying thank you to the hotel staff, Wanderers went off on singles to the petrol station up the road, saying goodbye to Lynne and John, I didn’t want to linger around for long it was not a nice thing to say goodbye in such circumstances.
We had two routes planed for the transit day, to the next hotel at Lourdes, a wet run (Auto-route) and a dry run (side roads) we had looked at the weather and opted for the dry route. Russ, Elaine, David and Barbara opted for the auto-route and peeled off on the outskirts of Narbonne west onto the E-80. They would probably land first. It was about two hundred miles and would take us about six hours on the scenic route.
We rode towards Limoux for an hour or more in fine weather then up into the wooded hills and hit rain! Our speed dropped right off as we rode into the clouds, a brief stop at the village for coffee and patissiere brightened the mood somewhat, though it was becoming a “wet ride through gritted teeth marathon” rather than a comfy ride through nice countryside. We droned on towards Mirepoix the rain still persisted as did the fog like conditions as low cloud hit us as well some folk even complained of having cold fingers! A quick discussion and a recalculation was done, OK we would head towards the low ground out of the murk and rain. The town of Pamiers became our new destination.
Sometimes life is as basic as a choice of two and sometimes the roll of the dice is wrong! Today we would have been better taking the auto route with Russ and David along the low plains in the dry, but hey, that as they say is the roll of the dice and nobody is to blame! We looked for a fuel stop and ended up somewhere we didn’t want to really be and that was up a hill on a small tractor track seemingly on the road to nowhere! We realised this road was undesirable for Honda Gold Wings. Sat Nav was trying perhaps to take us the shortest route up this steep piddling broken track that just got extremely narrow! We decided to turn around at a farm, no mean feat in the wet damp conditions. Not many Wingers practice doing this back home, to turn around on a narrow pitted road on a hill side but hey this is the adventure part of our tours! People helped and supported bikes in turning around we all managed to shuffle round and got back down the hillside. I had a chat with the old curious farmer who poked his head out from the farmhouse. I got enough information from him in animated form and lots of pointing as to which direction we had to go to get petrol. Within a few minutes heading north it picked up the garage old Pierre the farmer mentioned, it was the same garage but this time it took us up the auto route, if we had searched for it before we left the auto route earlier we would had found it 15miles ahead of us….another roll of the dice I guess.
To be fair though It did looked like the next junction on the auto-route would be out of reach for the 1500’s amongst us, hence Barry and I agreed to leave it at this point to look for a garage in the next village or two before unfortunately heading into “Them Thar Hills” The next junction was in reach after all and so minutes later we piled into MacDonald’s after fuelling up and devoured dinner. It’s surprising how much better folk feel after a warm meal and in minutes everybody felt good to carry on.
We cleared the poor conditions after riding through a couple of villages and dried out quickly as we sped westward following the route of Russ and David towards Lourdes, on the auto route the weather was a lot warmer dryer and sunnier the blue sky returned as did the feel good factor. We stopped again for a break and shed wet weather kit. Lourdes wasn’t far away now, dampened spirits rose to the normal level, the Wanderers smiled again.
The junction for Lourdes came quickly and the first garage was our first port of call now. We waited for “Fatha” as the lady in the little hut ran out of till roll! His dour looks and comments probably rattled her somewhat. It had been a long day today and full of moments to remember, but not at the moment as we rolled into town and searched out the hotel, we went slow to allow Sat nav to direct us, I called out the halts and traffic lights, we were gelling well now though and nipped through lights and round standing traffic to keep together, allowing Barry to concentrate on following directions to the hotel.
We crossed the bridge over the river to reach our destination right in front of us. It was quite a large hotel with seven floors. The girls got us booked in, the hotel manager was on the ball and was there to greet us and direct us to the garage for the bikes. It was a capacious lock up, less than a hundred yards away and more than big enough for all our bikes, perfect! The view from the bedroom balcony was really nice too, the wide river ran gently through the town coming down from the high Pyrenees in the distance over to the right. Today was about 200 miles of wet and sunny weather. In little groups people head into the town to find dinner, several of us called at the bar next door for a few swift drinks, this process we followed every night here in Lourdes some wingers joined us on some nights whilst others did not and opted for dinner and a glass of wine such was the diversity of the group.
Today was Sunday and a visit to the a mountain railway was planned, we downed the morning breakfast of jam coffee bread and cheese before walking over the bridge to the garage. We formed up outside, yesterdays ride here was long forgotten. Barry sorted and I sorted ourselves out at the front and rear, Fatha strolled up and down the group chatting to anyone and everyone, “OI get on your bike Fatha!” People joined in the chorus. It was getting a regular stroll for him and became an amusing delay to the ride outs. We rode along part of the auto route before turning off and began climbing up high, the sun was back with us it was turning into another spanking day, the ride began to take on an Austrian “feel” the clear blue sky topped off the mountains to our left and right, it wasn’t quite as high or as rugged but one or two certainly had snow on the tops. After the village of Aucun we saw a local biking club on the move, mainly mature guys in spandex with one fat bloke with the biggest builders bum on show! Oh dear that must have spoilt the dream for the girls! Aucun village was left behind along with the bike crew, the road turned and climbed making its way up along the ridges taking us up higher we crested this wonderful ridge at 1475 metres at Col de Soulor.The car park was nice and empty for us and we piled in to park up wherever we liked, it was only about ten thirty so not many vehicles were up in the mountains, it was Sunday the roads would get busier later no doubt.
Months ago in the planning stage Barry and I had planned a short rideout to the train then have most of the day on top of the mountain range on a mini train, a chillaxing day out doing something really different. We had to book a particular time to take the cable cars up to the train which was also booked due to the size of the group, we had only two slots to choose from because the round trip on the train is a couple of hours long. We thought a quick ride would see us there in plenty of time.
Meanwhile back on the Col we took in the most breathtaking views, some of us had done this quite a few times but enjoyed it just as much as the new guys only the new guys were stunned into silence for a while. There was some kind of avian concern here too with statues and posters about the eagles, standing about waiting for a stroke stood several ponies and horses, I don’t know what the hell they were doing up here or who they belonged to but we spotted them throughout the day perhaps these guys were the Pyrenees version of our Dartmoor Ponies? After a good look at the first of today’s mountains we moved on. Everybody should go up the mountains of mainland Europe on a motorbike at least once before departing Mother Earth, it’s so good for the soul and puts our little lives into prospective.
Small grey stone chippings in England are laid over worn out road surfaces and are stuck in place by a carpet of tarmac substance, there is often a channel of loose stuff down the middle and a bit more down the edges right? Well over here when they repair the roads they just seem to lay the shingles without any sticky compound and leave it to the vehicles to press them down and the heat of the day to make them stick. I suppose it’s not a huge problem until you come across it on a motorbike then your slipping and sliding and staring at the road, picking your way through the heavy patches that always seem to be on the line you want to take. Now and then it’s poured into a pothole but you can’t really tell and if you are on any kind of lean the front just slews to the side as if riding on sand. It’s a test of nerves believe me, especially on mountain roads! So far it’s only France where I have come across this. Time was now conspiring against us as we slowed.
We saw triangle warning signs for ATTENTION Sur la GRAVILLIONS! “OH shit not up here too” I said. We had the stuff on the straight and level back in Narbonne and that was bad enough. Even with the sunshine, clear blue sky and fantastic scenery it wasn’t a pleasant ride for the next ten miles or so. I was at the back with two wings that were going quite slow and with good reason, Russ and Elaine had fallen off a few days earlier and were still feeling the physical effects and their confidence wasn’t 100% which in the circumstances was understandable. David and Barbara as the oldest couple were struggling a slightly. David had already decided to trike his wing before the tour because it was too big for him. They never fell off but gave me a scare once or twice. We made slow progress to catch up the main group who were going slow when the gravillions appeared in large numbers! Barry had to pull over to let us catch up. The time taken so far now became a concern
A few miles further on Barry stopped again at a village, he was troubled and thought we would miss our time slot for the train and chair lift ride. The gravillions and twitchy riders kept our speed really low this morning.
It wasn’t going to plan and Barry got a bit out of sorts, he went on ahead alone to see if he could get our time slot altered, I said it wasn’t the end of the world if we missed it, the road conditions don’t allow for us to make time up, best to forget it and just enjoy the day everyone was happy to be out and about. But no, it was the devil that got the better of Barry again and he rode off to the chair lift office, I felt this was pointless. “Fatha” took over the vacant lead position and promptly led us up a cul-de-sac on a hillside! We were obliged to perform a mass U turn on difficult ground! I got off to assist David and Barbara as he struggled and got his turn all wrong nearly riding into the bloody storm drain, I was holding him level as he tottered round urging him to use more power and accelerate away from the drain, which he did and wrenched my arm as I was still struggling to stop him toppling over. Nobody saw this, even David and Barbara were oblivious to my yelping! The funny this is he knew hills were going to be a problem months ago as he struggled on a cobbled short cut to Barry’s house for the pre tour briefing. Again I was there to rescue him and rode the bike up the cobbles, my first time on a bike on this road too.
“Fatha” got his bearing with Mistress Garmin and we sorted ourselves out back in the village setting off again this time in the right direction. We joined a major road now going south into Spain. We had left the cursed “gravillions” way back there now and biking speeds returned to normal. We came across a dam with cat paws in red climbing from bottom to top. Julie and I had seen this before but had approached it from PAU instead a couple of years ago on our own Pyrenees holiday. We twisted and climbed up and to the right of the dam wall, the road stretched out again and we were off again gaining speed oh yes I remember it now! At the other end of the dam we came to a large dusty car park area were Barry was waiting. Indeed we had missed our spot on the cable car and train. Nobody really cared, after a short break taking photos and just looking at what we would do, we decided to continue riding on this road into the mountains I knew it was a fantastic road with fantastic views and we could go to the border for a tea stop. Stephen and Jane had been this way on their trike too and agreed with us that it was worth going up the road.
With that sorted we got ready to move and bugger the train ride we had missed it but we didn’t really care we were going on our own pleasure ride under our own steam! The D934 began to climb as it pointed to the border ten miles away. People were encouraged to go on their own up to the border and enjoy it for themselves, some would race up others would poodle, the choice was theirs. I hung back with Barry and “Fatha” I said I would go up ahead and find a good corner to photograph them on their blast up the hill. It’s a bit difficult on “twisties” to park up somewhere flat and keep safe from the traffic. That said I managed it and was getting set up when a white van turned onto the grass in front on the corner then a car then followed it. It was too late to move elsewhere Barry and “Fatha” were making haste towards me and I did the best I could in the circumstance, Barry saw me and leaned a bit further gunning the engine, I got a couple of good shots but the van spoilt the image I was after.Never mind mate by the time we get to retirement age I’m sure I will have got the perfect shot on another mountain!
We got back on and sped after them twisting up around the spiralling tarmac as it made its way up the summit. We came across buildings and people, up ahead we saw glinting in the car park and people milling around the “Tat” shops. On the left I saw all the Wanderers had parked up together uniform like, whilst I as usual parked elsewhere in the car park. This spotwas known as the Pic du Midi d’Ossau and beautiful it was too. The shape of some of the tops looked like dried chocolate cake mix with a sprinkling of Thyme, some had a dusting of sugar near the tops.It certainly was not as high and rugged in these parts, granted there was spodges of snow on the very tops but you could see the vegetation spread nearly to the tops. It’s still fantastic and humbling all the same. We ambled the short walk to the border and had lunch out in the sunshine.
Deryck meanwhile took a ride on the back of Barry, he thought he’s lost part of his sat nav or camera I can’t remember which. Barry took him on a fats blast back down the mountain to the dam car park and back….where he found the missing bit……stuck in his clothing!
At our table as we ate lunch “Fatha” and I had the pleasure of a yapping dog in the back of the nearby pick-up truck, the little man was barking for no good reason I think he just liked to hear his own voice! After lunch, photographs and the purchasing of trinkets we made our way back down the way we came and would meet up at the dusty car park by the dam. Again I went ahead to try and set up a good spot to photograph everyone coming back down, I have to keep lookingbehind to see what the back drop was like before eventually choosing and finding somewhere to park up the wing that’s out of the way of the traffic. Julie counted everyone back, I deleted most except a couple of decent photographs That done we had a few minutes peace then mounted up and rolled slowly down the hill after the group.
A couple of bikes had pulled over and were staring across the valley maybe 150 metres away, as we came closer we saw vultures circling high up then loose altitude fast extending their legs and opening as much wing as possible to slow for a vertical landing, impressive indeed! We stopped to watch this spectacle vulture after vulture appeared from nowhere to spiral quickly down and land near the other up ahead. In all the years of spotting eagles, vultures and the like on our mountain rides we have never seen what we were seeing now. I rolled forward to catch up with the three or four bikes they were off and photographing the vultures on the ground.
We joined them and saw twenty of more vultures they had just about devoured a dead sheep.More were still spiralling down from high above, a couple were sat still less than a hundred metres away behind a few low boulders and were peering over the top at the feasting birds another rambler In a bright yellow shirt was moving closer to them and they began hopping away in that ungainly way they do when on the ground. Have you guys ever seen that animated football match that had those two vultures carrying the stretcher in “Bedknobs and Broomsticks”? Well they were just like that. Tom said the whole sheep was bouncing as dozens of them ripped into it quickly consuming it. I guess nobody feeds these guys and they eat when they can. It would be a bad thing to crash and lay still for too long on this road!
The vultures hopped and skipped away as the yellow man tried to get closer and closer, the sheep looked more like a bloody rug now so we saddled up and rode the last few miles down to the dam and met up with the others, Russ and David had decided to go the more direct way back to the hotel the rest of us voted to carry on back the way we came in-spite of the ten miles of gravillions that lay before us. Though it’s awful to ride on its good practice and will make everyone that bit better a rider.The ride was much easier coming back, at least that’s what I thought!
Dave and Sandra slipped about a bit on the loose shale saying it felt like being on a bloody jet ski, He turned into “Fishman” for the remainder of the holiday. To be precise he became one of THE enemy fishmen from “Stingray” complete with the “wobblewobble” voice, many of us old farts remembered this and spoke like this to him, to the bemusement of locals!
Telford had got the bit between his teeth again and hugged over the bars making his trike go! He was really enjoying it in spite of the gravillions I couldn’t understand his style of parking though, the front wheel of the trike always seemed to find some grass to languish on, hence Telford became “The Lawnmower Man” We were getting quick off the mark when had a senior moment and were getting quite wicked towards each other! Even Mark made the headlines as he overtook a car and hit the coming bend a bit hard and managed to get the trike up on two wheels, much the consternation of Jeanette gripping the rear seat limpet like! I’m sure we all did the same or similar when first learning how to ride two or three wheels. Safe to say he got chastised and wouldn’t do that again so soon!
We pulled over for the last tea stop of the rideout at Col d’Aubisque, once again the car park had horses roaming around some with foals, I watched one such foal nibbling the rear spoiler of a flashy car. I looked on open mouthed, the sound alone was making me wince. Julie commented that’s what they do all the time they are just exploring it with their teeth and lips, all I can say is I’m glad it’s not my bloody car and went and stood near the bike.
It was late afternoon now as we poured from the car park leaving the horses to their nibbles, it was still bright and sunny with not a cloud in the sky, what a great day it had been in spite of the glitch earlier in the day. We rode back down the mountains to rejoin the auto-route for the short run back into Lourdes. We tucked the bikes away in the lock up and walked back over the river to the hotel the guys who left earlier to come back the quick route were up there on the balcony and toasting our return. A drink will go down nicely I thought as we tramped back to the hotel in our bike kit, the bar at the side of the hotel would see us there in an hour or so. We had all enjoyed the days rideout very much today.
So to the bar and some drinks with whoever was there, usually Tom and Michelle would be the first there followed by myself and Julie close behind came Mark and Jeanette, we got on really well and repeated this jolly event on most nights, practically the whole group came for a pint one night and we took over the outside area for an hour or so, the staff were more than happy to accommodate, on other nights it was just a few of us several times we were joined early doors by the likes of Barry and Tina Mark and Ann before they took themselves into town for a meal, we on the other hand laid down our hats in this bar and were quite happy to use the excellent menu in the eatery part on several nights just downstairs, we did make our way into town to explore the other eating houses but preferred to go later than most of the group, going into the bar for a couple of hours most evenings was not everybody’s cup of tea, we revellers had gelled way back in Narbonne on chairs surrounding that bloody neon traffic light and had continued until the end of the holiday!
Monday was going to be a rest day. I wanted the day to have a look around the town of Lourdes. Others wanted to go out on the bikes again so Barry took a group off into the mountains, another small group went their own way for the day with Steve and Jane, I think. These guys had been down here before so knew a few places to have a look at. I remember talking with Barry ages ago as to why we like doing APPY WANDERERS tours and it is to show folk what it’s like on the continent and to encourage them to ride their bikes and go explore. This was now happening often I’m glad to say. We joined the group as they sorted themselves out with maps, sat nav’, gloves, bottled water and other pararafinalia for the days ride out. Barry was soon ready and waited for everyone to climb aboard and wave to him that they were ready, they all did so after a few minutes and slowly pulled away, the Appy Wanderers music train was on its way for another day in the mountains only this time without me and Julie. After they had left we returned to the hotel and collected our bits for our ramble around this famous town.
Lourdes had the obvious man made attraction or should I say “myth” perhaps? Following the reports in 1853 that Our Lady of Lourdes had appeared to Bernadette Soubirous on a total of eighteen occasions, Lourdes had developed into a major place of Roman Catholic pilgrimage and of alleged miraculous healings. The 150th Jubilee of the first apparition took place on 11 February 2008 with an outdoor mass attended by approximately 45,000 pilgrims. Today Lourdes has a population of around 15,000 but is able to take in some 5,000,000 pilgrims and tourists every season. With about 270 hotels, Lourdes has the second greatest number of hotels per square kilometre in France after Paris.
There are so many shop selling tons of paraphernalia relating to “Our Lady” I’m not sure if I should refer to them as souvenir shops it was quite serious, the atmosphere wasn’t the same as a seaside or touristy place it was a lot quieter. We walked around quite gobsmacked at the spectacle I’m a bit of a cynic I know but I was amazed at the wall to wall shops all selling the same stuff and all full of grown adults buying. I don’t intend to insult the Roman Catholic faith but as an outsider it really did look like “tat” Almost every shop had small empty plastic bottles of various sizes, some even had 2.5 litre containers more used to holding cleaning fluids, these were for collecting holy water and taking back home. One glaring contradiction was a shop selling all the above yet had a counter selling Tazer guns flick knives and mace!
I guess it’s all down to belief and I just don’t have it, in fact my belief went out of the window when sat in R.I class as a twelve year old to be told by Ms Schoefield my fanatical R.I teacher about some bloke being turned into a pillar of salt, and the feeding of the five thousand, with some fish and a bit of bread. I just couldn’t get my young head around it and when I asked I got a bloody chalk filled board rubber across the back of my head for my ignorance. If that was religion you can fucking shove it I thought. Forty years on and I’m still of the same mind!
We soon wandered down to the centre of the attraction we only went into the grounds to take a closer look at the Basilica and take some photo’s because it was an awesome looking building. Yearly from March to October this Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes is a place of mass pilgrimage from Europe and other parts of the world. I saw one cross with the words LEEDS written on it.Today there seemed to a lot of folk from Spain here. It’s written that an estimated 200 million people have visited the shrine since 1860. At the time of the apparitions the grotto was on common land which was used by the villagers variously for pasturing animals, collecting firewood and as a garbage dump, it possessed a reputation for being an unpleasant place, it’s amazing what a bit of spin can do isn’t it?
We got there as dozens and dozens of wheel chair bound folk were moving to the shrine nurses and young helpers were pushing them, these poor souls looked in quite an awful state with more than just a twisted ankle or a bad back. Following them dozens of bath chair type wheel chairs with the small wheel at the front with a steering bar on it, the occupant lain prone inside, bags and drips where visible, some looked to be at the end of their days. Again nurses and young helpers pushed and pulled them, these people looked even worse than the first bunch. Perhaps they were all going to be blessed? I didn’t know nor did I want to impose and ask one where they were going but I could understand now how such folk wanted to believe. Words like despair and hope came to mind for these helpless chair bound people I have to admit that even though I didn’t believe, it was a bit of a moving moment. We spent about an hour around here looking and watching, at the grotto huge lines of people fell in line to walk past the spot where the apparition showed itself and touch the wall, the wall was quite black with grease from so many hands I watched one old lady rub a handkerchief along the wall before swiftly secreting it in plastic bag it then into her handbag, many guides stood around controlling the area, if anyone actually stood at the wall they were quickly ushered along. People bought candles they ranged in size from little ordinary household one’s to huge three foot monsters they handed them to these guides who placed them in special little booths and lit them. I thought the small ones might burn out by the end of the day but not the huge ones so what happened to them overnight I wonder? A couple of us where commenting about this when one of the guides looked at us and motioned that we should “Shush” Hmmmm, very suspicious indeed and so I drew my own conclusion of what was going off here. That night at the bar we talked about it with other Wanderers back from their day out. But to be honest I still don’t get the religious thing and after seeing it with my own eyes I decided it was all a sham and thought honest folk where being exploited.
After breakfast the next day I stood outside with Barry and looked up at the slight drizzle and cloud, unfortunately in Lourdes you can’t see the sky very far because of the surrounding mountains, we pondered a little and thought it would get better as we rode out of the valley, well we would find out and got ready for the days ride. The best rideout of the tour was in store for me today and I didn’t know it! We had looked at the route earlier and decided to change it due the heavy presence of Le Gravillions around these parts especially on those spanking little twisting mountain roads that Barry and I love so much, sadly though some nerves and riding ability was being stretched a bit much to be considered comfortable. We were on holiday after all and not participating in the 2011 version of Death Race 2000! I told myself there will always be another summer and smiled. Bossost and the exquisite squiggly mountain road would have to wait until next time as will the mountain top train ride.
We left Lourdes at around ten in the morning and rode a different way after filling up with fuel at the self service station by the supermarche, we were all pretty expert with this method now and sailed through with no fumbling or fretting. We took a pretty road east through the lowland country side and ran parallel to the Pyrenees. The weather picked up considerably as we cleared the valley, today I took Jeanette on the back for her first ride on a 1800 whilst Julie took a ride on the Panther 1500 trike with Mark. Ahead suddenly we saw cloud, dark grey ones that had water in them, I looked intently as Barry shouted up about the stuff perhaps I had spoken too soon! We were about fifteen minutes away from it and closing, an odd thing happened next and the sun burst out bathing us in warm air, the haze was now on our right and we missed it completely! Back home in England the opposite would have happened for sure! In a car it just wouldn’t have had the same impact. A comment heard years ago came to mind again. “Driving in a car in beautiful scenery is like watching a movie but riding on a bike is like being IN a movie”
We now turned south into the mountains heading up a main trunk road up the Vallee Daure A supermarche at the village of Arreau showed itself to us almost bang on request! It was a parody to that old Monty Python sketch about the bicycle repair man (John Cleese) who just happens to be there every time when Micheal Pailen had a puncture as he rode around the countryside. It was a sleepy shop until the Appy Wanderers poured in and bought food and drink for the mountain top picnic, with after thought somebody should have bought a fekkin cattle prod, more about that later! The toilet was well visited, some lingered at the cold shelf to sneak a bit of cool breeze, its true I saw them loitering with jackets open.
We rode back down the road and turned left onto D918 a yellow road on the map with green borders denotes scenic routes and the fact that it looked like a sidewinder snake meant it was a mountain road, the most perfect combination as far as I was concerned, I just hoped the accursed Gravillions hadn’t reached these parts.I shot off in front of everyone to find a good photo position, glancing behind on the bends to see the view required for my photograph. I stopped a few times but wasn’t quite satisfied of the view or the parking of the bike. I persevered because it would have been a crime not to try and get some brilliant shots of Wingers in such beautiful surroundings. Eventually I found a spot that looked great and was safe enough to park, I lodged myself in some rocks just after the corner and waited for the stars to arrive meanwhile Julie sat further along and took in the air.
All too soon the peace was fractured by the smooth distinct loud whirr of the first of the Wanderers, it’s not the meatiest bike sound but the comfort pleases me more these days. I clicked away as they blew past me, everyone smiled and waved. Julie counted them by and we mounted up again to catch up it was a good twenty minute climb up the green trees, the road found its way round some hills and assaulted others head on with a series if zigs and zags, not severe by any means to people who had ridden the Alps which most here had done, the road surface stayed old warm and sticky smooth.
Lynne and John meanwhile were still on the south coast waiting for their trike to be repaired. The wheel bearing was still waiting to be replaced, in fact they were going to have both rear wheels done it made sense after all. Janet kept in touch with Lynne and passed on their progress, they felt sure they would be ready to join us at the overnighter on our return up through France to the “Chunnel” They had hired a car and where making the best of things down there on the south coast.
We were soon at the top and pulled onto the shale car park, we looked back down the way we had come. It was a great panoramic view to behold, green topped hills in the near and middle distance far off one could see higher lumps, the colours had gone a softer purple haze they were so far away but you could just see snow caps here and there. The road we had come up could be seen twisting down and round the mountains. In fact this was part of the Tour de France route and due to start in just a couple of weeks, I do hope they have better luck with the bleeding gravillions that we did, I imagined the horrific rash they would incur when they fell off. There would be more skin on the road than a dead cat for gawds sake! For you Tour de France followers this was the Col d Aspin. The pass has been part of the Tour de France 66 times and is 1489 metres in height.
The girls pulled picnics out of top boxes and side panniers and groups of us sat on the grass and began to chill and munch, oh what a great spot for a picnic, Then came Daisy “La Femme Fatelle” Of all the cows in the world…all 1.3 billion of them we had to meet Daisy!
At the other side of the road stood and sat herd of cows all basking in shyte and sunshine, except for Daisy that is, we had plonked ourselves down on her patch of grass without realising it, naturally she ambled over for a bite with us and waved her sharp horns happily as she got closer, people got up and moved further up the hill out of her way some sat and thought they could “Shoo” her away but Daisy wasn’t having any of it she was hungry and came right up to people. The adverts portray doe eyed cows with the most perfect eye makeup as gentle soft things but forget to impress they weigh and average of 1200lb, whereas an average man weighs a mere 180 lbs. So you’d get out of the way right? It’s not rocket science is it
With this firmly blotted from “Fatha” he tried to stand his ground between Daisy and his wife and picnic. He tried to push her away but without a cattle prod or a twelve bore shotgun quite frankly he stood no fekkin chance in hell as Daisy gave him a hefty nudge leaving him with a wicked bruise on his belly from one or her horns. It was Barry’s turn now, He decided to grab Daisy by the horns and wrestle with her! God only knows what was going through both their heads as Daisy made short work treating Barry like some annoying shit-fly flicking away his hands with a swish of her head, thankfully she didn’t stick him with her horns. Tell me again mate what size are then nice shoes of yours? Finally everyone gave Daisy a wide berth until she realised our food wasn’t exactly what she had in mind and turned to wander off back towards the others. It wasn’t a funny moment to be honest and could have seen somebody injured. There were some clenched sphincters’ I can tell you! Speaking of which, did you know that the sum total of the world cattle population is responsible for 18% of planet Earths greenhouse gases and in fifty years at the rate of expansion it’s going to double?
We had the rest of our lunch in peace and took photographs before collecting ourselves and our rubbish back onto the bikes for the next leg of the ride. We decided to ride down as single bikes to the bottom the solo ride was spectacular, a few played with each other passing and re-passing each other. I pulled away quickly to find a spot and take photos again, I stopped by a post with sign stating what the road was, it was significant as part of the Tour de France. I thought I got some good shots, again we were last to meet up with everyone at the bottom. Wow! That was a good blast and judging by their faces The Wanderers had enjoyed the exciting blast down the mountains too.
I waved and called to Barry indicating we set off again, we would now be going up again so agreed to make our way up to the next stop at the village of La Mongie. We were getting higher than before now as the Pic du Midi de Bigorre showed itself high to our right, this was a mountain of 2782 metres. It really was a day of going up and down with spectacular views at the end of each summit climb. I stood on the village plinth and took more photos of Wings arriving to park up in the square behind me and with the usual beaming smiles got off and stood around looking up at the mountains. Some of us had a browse in the shops until someone shouted that the bikes were sinking into the tarmac! Some of our side stands were sinking into sort tarmac, it wasn’t that hot to make us wary of the soft tarmac, maybe it was substandard stuff? Luckily someone noticed the sinking side stands and averted a small catastrophe…..Thank you Brian and Janet!
We had another summit to ride up and so I set off to look for another great backdrop and ready myself to photograph the group as they came up. Julie and I soon got settled, she was sat watching a helicopter ferry equipment from the summit top to about half a mile away down the valley, it looked like pieces of pylon.Meanwhile I was in a ditch lying flat out pointing the camera down the valley hoping to get some worms’ eye shots as The Wanderers cruised by just five minutes later. Following on we rejoinedthe group at the very top of our last summit of the day. This was the The Col du Tourmalet and is one of the most famous climbs on the Tour de France. It has been included more than any other pass, starting in 1910 when the Pyrenees were introduced. The first rider over was Octave Lapize who went on to claim the yellow jersey in Paris. Since 1947 the Tour has crossed this summit 47 times. Since 1980 it has been ranked as exceptional. At the col is a memorial to Jacques Goddet director of the Tour de France from 1936 to 1987, and a large silver statue of Octave Lapize gasping for air as he struggles to make the climb. I saw a group of breathless but very happy Japanese bikers gather under the statue with their lightweight bikes and take snapshots of each other. Bloody long way up on a pushbike I thought to myself.The view ahead was fantastic we could see the road slowly twist its way down the mountainside like a single grey thread, one could see it all the way down to the tea hut on the valley floor and our next stop, this break was just for photographs and a “look-see” A warm breeze swept up over the ridge and white winged finches played on the wing as they darted between folk grabbing tit bits. One by one we set of down, gently tipping the bikes into the first decent, this time Julie and I took a gentle stroll down and took in the whole scene, part way down I saw Tom and Michelle had stopped and were capturing scenes with their video camera. I turned off the engine and free wheeled the quarter of a mile to them on a corner, rolling slowly past them shouting “Brum brum!” I hope that scene comes out Tom. The café at the bottom was quiet until we arrived the waitress became busy as folk ordered tea and snacks, I sat a way down the road taking it all in quietly and went to look at a rebuilt stone farm dwelling, between the building you could catch glimpses back up the valley, what a great place to live!It was late afternoon and soon time to push on back to Lourdes now, we rode off down the valley. We rejoined the short D821 auto-route back to Lourdes, the garage and our hotel and the inevitable bar on the corner! What a brilliant day’s riding it had been, and then it started to drizzle slightly but we got back before we got wet. The bar was next again for an hour or two later in the evening as we had dinner in town thunder and lightning was getting closer and after a short walk we hurried back to our bar as the first rain drops fell. Gods symphony arrived to the first deep drum roll and loud crash bangs! The lightshow light up the town and whip cracked around us with piercing notes, we got settled into chairs to watch the show, an exciting end to an exciting day….My round is it? It was now Thursday and the drizzle was still here, the cloud was low and heavy, Barry and I studied the grey sky and decided to call it a rest day. I don’t mind being caught in rain on a ride-out but I didn’t relish setting off in rain for a ride-out and didn’t think anyone else would either so a rest day in Lourdes it was.
After breakfast we drifted off into town some of us took the road train trip around town, how crap that was! It showed us where the bloody car parks where and not much else, still it passed half an hour. We explored the Basillica and this time we went inside. Once again I was amazed at the amount of people who had so much faith in it all. The church was a fantastic building just to look at as are most churches and in spite seeming a soulless heathen I quite enjoy looking round them. We of course looked in at and the magic fountain and stood bemused by the constant stream of people wanting just to be there and touch that very spot.
We made our way up to the castle and had a nosey inside, Julie and I tried to visit previously but the arse on the door waved me away briskly saying “Closed closed go away now” Today we got the timing right and had a interesting couple of hours, it seems most of The Wanderers had the same idea and we saw nearly everybody during the afternoon visit!
Besieged in 778 by Charlemagne it became the residence of the Counts of Bigorre in the 11th and 12th centuries. In the 13th century, it passed into the possession of the Counts of Champagne part of the kingdom of Navarre before coming under the crown of France under Philippe le Bel It was ceded to the English by the Treaty of Brétigny in 1360, before returning to France at the start of the 15th century after two sieges. In the 17th century, the castle became a royal prison and a state prison ( I can’t get away from work can I?) After the French Revolution continuing in this role until the start of the 20th century when it became the Pyrenean Museum which it remains. It is the largest museum of popular arts and traditions in the Pyrenees. We settled into a different eating house for the evening before drifting back to the hotel and our bar hoping that Friday might be a bit dryer.
A new day dawned and the piggin drizzle and low cloud was still with us, Barry went off to find some information after talking to Steve and Jane who mentioned some underground caves nearby that were worth a visit. A coach was due to go if enough folk would book, enter The Appy Wanderers and the trip was on! We might be on a bleeding bus (Where is my schnapps Barry?) but at least we were still going out and about exploring.
It was a short ride into the countryside to the cave or to give its correct name Grottes de Betharram. It was discovered about 1810, strangely it was first explored by English people living in the nearby city of Pau, eventually it was opened up, made safer and was open to the general public in 1903. It’s the biggest deepest cave complex I have ever been into, we walked down deeper and down further, the stalactites and stalagmites’ have formed over millions of years and are huge in size, some have dripped into odd shapes and are lit for all to admire, in fact they are forming even now, the drip drip dripping of the seeping water is never ending, the caves were very deep and long. It was a long visit with plenty to goggle at, I had spent over ten years underground as a coal miner but had never seen anything like this and was suitably impressed, I think everyone was and of the day was success in spite of the damned weather!
We had our special Appy Wanderers prize giving dinner to look forward to tonight and a special rendition of the tour log so far…it would be the special unadulterated version and no the one you reading right now! Dinner was organised by Barry at our hotel.
After the cave tour Barry and Tina had gone out to buy special gifts for the winners of category. I had also been shopping and had a surprise for Barry. It was all meant to be a bit of fun and to give everyone a laugh at the end of a good holiday. So we all gathered for dinner in the dining hall, just a small group from Spain sat eating in the other hall so we could be as loud as we normally are! We sat together for the first and only time of the tour. I stood and took photos as Barry rattled of his speech about the tour and how it had gone.I agreed wholeheartedly with what he said about the tour but would like to add that it was a great deal of hard work too hence my need for days off the bike and days away from folk! Thinking back now it was a great adventure and not just a holiday in the sun. I think this every time but always a week or two after the event. Then another piece of paper appeared and the awards were launched! I’m not going into it in detail because it will ruin it for you future Wanderers who go on tour, let’s just say there was much laughing, jeering and cheering as the rise was taken in typical fashion, we all knew each other fairly well and it was taken in good spirits. Dave Roberts aka “Fishman” take another bow my man you were nearly as entertaining as Telford on his lawnmower on the roads!
Saturday morning was going to be busy for everyone as we were moving out and heading back up country on our first leg homeward bound. In fact most of us were ferrying bags from the hotel to the bikes that late afternoon before the dinner pre-empting the frantic rush in the morning and most everyone paid their bills on the Friday evening too, making the morning as simplistic and smooth as possible.
Breakfast was the usual coffee, bread jam, meats etc. Its funny what you can soon get used to. The weather had come clean and the sun was out which meant the flippin drizzle and damp clouds was gone, we waived Lourdes goodbye then hit a roundabout to come back into town and exit on the correct road, we waved goodbye again then pointed ourselves towards Pau and the main road north towards Bordeaux.
Julie and I came this way two years ago and travelled on a minor road along miles and miles of forest I remembered that it seemed to go on forever, this was the region of Landes with Bordeaux at the top of it and Biarritz at its southern tip. A dotted line showed a new motorway under construction, the Garmin started to play up and insisted we did a U turn constantly for the next few minutes. Barry was having the same trouble up at the front, we had a chat on the CB and eventually decided that we must have ridden onto the new northbound motorway, every now and again I saw the old road going parallel convinced we were heading in the correct direction for Bordeaux we turned off the Garmin’s until we got a bit closer. The new road was so new that there wasn’t any stones or gravel, bits of rubber on the fresh paint on the tarmac, no residue at all from the traffic speaking of which, hardly a car was spotted for the whole run up to Bordeaux. We pulled over at a service station to top up our tanks, everything looked brand spanking new so new in fact that they hadn’t put signs up to direct traffic back onto the auto route, we had a little ride around until something made sense. Dave commented that if we carried on like this he would have to fuel up again, I began laughing and thought “You shouldn’t have said that right now mate” Barry’s short Saxon reply was, well it was expected as he and Tina struggled to find our way out of this tarmac and bollard maze. I have to admit I was laughing at Dave’s silence and could imagine his shock at being told what to do, I’m giggling now as I type this. I know my mate quite well and just KNEW what he was going to say in reply, that’s what made it all the more hilarious at the time!

The Garmin readjusted itself as we rejoined the auto-route and pressed on towards the busy bustling city of Bordeaux. We soon joined the ring road and had to follow it halfway around the city to rejoin the northern auto route. It was really busy with trucks in particular we tried to keep in the centre lane, the heat from the trucks blasted us as we negotiated our way forward, some vehicles passed through us as they switched lanes, we had ridden as a group for two weeks now and were used to each other and of riding in a group so the run around Bordeaux went without any problems, emerging onto the E606 was a relief all the same, the traffic eased considerably as did a few bums.
I thought the hard part was over now and it was a case of riding with the flow towards Angouleme, the road switched from auto route to main road a few times but we hardly noticed any difference, Poitiers was the next waypoint, the auto route switched to main road as we rode through the industrial edge of the city, we soon saw the centre over to our left but were too busy with a dozen or more roundabouts to take a long look, the traffic was behaving and we were doing just fine we sometimes got split at the lights and so a quick shout up to Barry had him slow the lead bikes enough for us to catch up before the second set of lights could drive a wedge between us and cause problems, we got it just right and made it through as one group even when a little car tried to mate with me! She waved sorry as she got back into her lane.
I knew some didn’t have CB’s so couldn’t hear tips and prompts from either Barry or myself. I didn’t want them going off on a different road due to gaps. I know everyone had maps and the location of the hotel but I was eager nobody went astray all the same. Sometime I had to sound my horn to get people’s attention and for them to to see me indicating right. But mostly Id kept vehicles away from our rear. I started this two weeks ago when a Discovery tried to cut in front of David and Barbara as they slowly weaved their way round the terminal at Folkestone, I pulled up at the side of the car and motioned with a smile that he should refrain.
Meanwhile up at the front Barry and Tina had their hands full finding their way forward spotting signs whilst listening to the Garmin and trying to make sure the lead trikes kept in touch behind. He often offered words of encouragement to keep together
The auto route morphed, growing from the main road as we cleared Poitiers and up the speed went as we pushed on to our hotel in the next city, today we had ridden about 350 miles to our hotel in Tours again. Several more fuel and tea stops were made, it wasn’t a race but we intended getting there before six, we were on the world’s finest touring machine so it would be easy peasy lemon sqeezy!
Meanwhile word had got to us that Lynne and John where actually in Tours now and awaiting our arrival, they would get the code and open the barrier for the underground car park.
It was sometime after four in the afternoon when we landed at the barrier behind the Tour’s hotel, sure enough the two strays were there and had the barrier raised, we all swooped down the hole like giant bats returning from a food raid. The hotel wasn’t manned up when we poured out of the lift from downstairs, she came rushing from other duties and booked us all in, they agreed to open up the breakfast bar early for us in the morning, a dash to the chunnel was not something advisable so time was built into the last leg and we needed to eat earlier than the hotel served breakfast, they agreed to facilitate us and word was passed to the Wanderers as they flitted around the foyer later waiting for each other before strolling out for dinner.
I teamed up with Tom, Mark and the girls for another evening of fun. We made our way into the old part of town stopping off at the first watering hole for a drink. We joined other Wanderers all ready there for a drink or two before strolling off in search of good food. I fancied a place on the outside layout with the live group in the square, they sounded good and so sat down to listen, we got a menu and drinks then ordered food, today we took the plunge and ordered horse meat. Horses not only look good but tasted wonderful! It was a really nice last night in France, later we spotted another large group of Wanderers enjoying themselves in the square but in the opposite corner. We made our way back not too late or too full. Another early start was on the cards in the morning and missing our allocated train back to England was not going to happen!
The breakfast bar was buzzing at seven as coffee tea bread meats and jam were purloined we all sat around eating and chatting. it was a busy hour as folk ate purposely, some were down at the bikes early packing away the last shoe and wash bag. Barry and Tina were up quite early and were now outside at the form up point. I made sure everyone was present and made sure nobody had any problems, as the last bike left I had a quick walk around to make sure nobody had left anything on the floor, satisfied I rode out of the garage and joined the end of the group by the road side. Barry was talking to the triker people as I joined for a quick chat, as I walked down the group a blue Gold Wing slowly toppled over!
Within a blink of an eye several of us rushed to Jan as she lay on the pavement, Deryck was quick onto his feet and his bike was righted with no damage, we lifted Jan up and dusted her down, It’s a bit of a face looser when one drops a bike like this and for no apparent reason, no fuss was made we just made sure both were ok and looked over the bike quickly. Honda Goldwings are heavy lumbering beasts to paddle round at 0 mph, these minor “fall offs” happen infrequently, transferring the whole of the bikes weight from the side stand to ones own feet is something we do every time we get on the bike, and if the camber is not level, or there is some stones underfoot or one gets distracted or the passenger shuffles about at the wrong moment then the whole lot goes over I’m afraid!
So with the blue bike sorted we set off out of Tours on an early Saturday morning. Tours and the hotel was a good choice and I was glad we stopped here for the halfway hotel in both directions. We rode through the city traffic lights no problem. At this time of the morning there weren’t many cars or buses to look out for either
It was still early as we followed Barry down the spiral ramp onto the E502 settling for a good ride on an empty road, It was a lovely sunny morning too. The fields were turning golden as the summer sun did its work on the crops to our left and right, there still wasn’t much traffic yet so cruising along at 140…please take note J.B I’m talking about kilometres and not mph before reporting me like you tried last time just stick to bullying and lying your good at that.
Julie called out when a huge bird came into view sat on one of the many road side posts, mostly these were brown speckled chaps with hooked beak, feet encased in shiny yellows boots and keen dark eyes, they are beautiful looking creatures that deserve to be called something a bit grander than a Buzzard! The thermals were not sufficient yet and they just sat there saving their energy and waited for something to be killed on the tarmac on their behalf.
This went on for a while until we rode into the northern region of Normandy, the landscape changed to hills, trees and hedges and a good deal more human habitat, we rode past the famous old town of Alencon and the ancient city of Rouen, the cathedral is well worth a visit here and you can park up right next to it if I remembered correctly, today though we followed “toute directions” round the edge of the city to rejoin the auto route again, this time on the E 402,we got through Rouen quite easy with no drama, now we headed for Abberville, Boulogne and finally Calais. We had made good time and had a long stop for lunch, we had made so much time that we thought about having a break on the nearby Normandy coast, Barry and I both believed in “Sods Law” so we decided against it.
Riding across a new white bridge that curved and climbed across to the hill top across the valley, at the top if you looked to the left you could spot the coast. Then it hit us. Bloody fog, where the hell had this come from? Somebody shouted up “Have we arrived in Lancashire already?” We were in some thick stuff and slowed down to about 40 mph then 20mph everyone locked onto the tail lights of the bike in front. We had plenty of time and this time the roll of the dice was good! The fog cleared then returned several times before the Garmin told us the turn off was just a few miles away, thankfully the fog cleared finally and the signs for the tunnel terminal began to appear. This was on the southern side of Calais so no town to negotiate and we would arrive in such time that we got an earlier train
We filed into a couple of rows to punch in our ticket details, punch being the operative word, the screens were so worn out that several Wingers had to really bang the screens. We passed through more check points and customs showing passports and smiles.In another line a dozen Harley riders from the Medway Chapter chugged by, they said they had been touring to Brugge for a week. Brugge was just 75 miles from the tunnel and they all lived in the Folkestone area so probably hadn’t done more that a 150 miles from home to Brugge. They asked where we had been and replied “South of France and the Pyrenees for two weeks” knowing how little distance they had covered I couldn’t resist adding “Only about 3000 miles.”
We were directed onto the empty train through the last carriage where a twenty foot section of the side door had rolled up into the roof, we rode on and slowly rode the entire length to park up with front wheel nudged into the walkway, on the side stand and left in gear. No straps are needed, it really is that smooth. we took photos and said goodbye to some who were going in a different direction Mick and Anne Brade for example where were to peel off left heading to Hampshire. Barry and Tina had elected to make the last leg to Keighley when the train docked, it was only 280 miles and late Saturday afternoon, they would probably be home well midnight. I on the other hand elected to stay over at the same hotel in Maidstone that we had used on the way down. We got there in about thirty minutes to find that Russ and Elaine and booked tables for the evening meal bless! These two along with Mark and Jeanette got through customs a bit quicker than the rest of us and took an earlier train. As we sat in the bar an hour later we saw a fair few others had the same idea and one by one pulled into the car park, Aha it wasn’t going to be a quiet evening after all. C’mon you “Flat-liners”!
To be fair we didn’t go mad with the drinks because we still had the last leg to do in the morning, it still didn’t stop us enjoying ourselves though. Breakfast was had by everyone unlike two weeks earlier! It was nice to have a greasy heart attack breakfast after two weeks of coffee, bread, cheese meats and jams! Mark and Tom planned to come up from their digs in Folkestone shortly after breakfast for the run up home. We were just loading up the bike when they arrived.
We said our goodbyes to this year’s Appy Wanderers tour members, some we would see again in a few weeks, the rest we will see later in the year probably. It was a hot sunny morning as Tom, Mark and I pointed our bikes onto the M20 and head towards London, it was Sunday morning the roads would be empty, at least they were until we came to the toll booths at the Dartford Tunnel, the lines of traffic went on for miles, we sat for a while and watched the temperature gauge slowly creep up. Mark on the trike suggested Tom and I wiggle on through the traffic, hopefully we would meet up once clear of the M25. There had been a bad accident near the booths and several seemed to be closed, I saw a yellow jacket on the far right stood at a booth and made my way to him. Tom stuck to me and followed. The man shouted something about being in the wrong lane, I played dumb and kept saying sorry but I didn’t know (which of course I new full well) He shook his head and stuck his key in the barrier box which lifted and we both passed through shouting our thanks. Tom said somebody else on a bike tried to follow but the yellow jacket wouldn’t let them, what a bloody arse! We rode around the empty M25 on to the M11, we rode up to the first service station for fuel and drinks, I wondered how Mark and Jeanette were doing when they arrived! I don’t think they were more than 15 minutes behind us. With full tanks and cool drinks inside us we set off again. Up the M11 we rode and joined the A1, we were getting on for mid morning now and the traffic was beginning to grow in number. About two hrs later we neared the junction for the A614 Bawtry Road we slowed to let them pass and waved goodbye. Mark was heading a bit further on towards Wakefield whilst Tom and Michelle had a bit further onto the M62 before getting home to Keighley.
We pulled into our drive the lawn was overgrown, the jungle was taking over! A bonfire of junk mail and bills cluttered the foyer and the cat wanted feeding! I switched the engine off saying that’s that then it’s over.
The 2011 tour was hard work in places and I was fairly worn out as I always am after our tours. It was a great adventure exploring new places and for Julie and I we in particular enjoyed visiting our pal Martin and his beer fridge in Coursan. Barry and I had put in a vast amount of time, eaten a lot of bacon and consumed a lot of Tina’s biscuits. I have spent so much time at the clubhouse I’m thinking about having my name added to the house deeds! All the weeks of planning had been successful the roads great, the scenery fantastic, all the visits worked well except for the saga of the gravillions and the few days of rain. It’s simply a roll of the dice.

Tillateronthen
The Wanderers Scribe.
P.S
I’d like to thank The French Tourist Board (underground cave shots) and several of the Wanderers for letting me reproduce some of their images for the write up.

I was looking at the weather carefully and saw incoming heavy showers in the map on the TV. I was taken back to last year when we all got caught in the mother of all flash floods at Conningsby? I have never taken refuge from the wet stuff before in the UK though a couple of years ago whilst holidaying on Grand Cayman I got caught under something similar and watched a water spout form  just a hundred metres off the beach as I laid there experiencing the sudden deluge and tried to cover my rapidly diluting Campari, much to the amusement of the locals!
Jeanette and Mark came along from Wakefield and together we rode down the A614 to Bawtry, Lynne and John with the purple 1800 trike stood with Mark and Kath Clegg and their white 1800, now Cath was wearing a shirt that said “Lyn” and told me that was her real name, I was a bit disappointed coz Lyn looks like a Cath, but hey Lyn it is then Cath OK? By 10.15 hrs it was evident that we four bikes were the APPY WANDERERS for the day, I got a phone call from “Fatha” as he was passing up the motorway in his truck and only about 20 miles away, he wished us well for the day and cursed his bastard bosses for making him work! I had a chat with Barry the night before, he told me he couldn’t make it as an old shoulder injury had struck again a few days ago and made riding the bike impossible, maybe “Snowflake” will turn into a three wheeled “Snowball”? I know he’s getting older but the trike cometh more rapidly than is wanted. I also got a text from another old un, this time it was Geoff of the orange thing, he too was blighted with work commitments but sent his best wishes for the day. I would miss the usual dozen or so bikes and would have to make do with four of us. It was more than L+L rideout early this year when nobody turned up, how embarrassing for old George  the group leader with no group to lead. Huge dollops of egg on the faces of the “furhers” at L+L who moaned like f**ck that we mentioned it! At least there wouldn’t be pandemonium at the garages today with our small group.
So I led the group out of twee little Bawtry, turned left at the lights and flew down the road to Gainsborough which lay twenty minutes away, this road is a regular run for the Sunday jet jockies on their race bikes and so it wasn’t long before cameras were erected up and down this stretch by the cash strapped councils hoping to rob the ordinary folk of their purse, if they paid for some policemen to police perhaps they would serve society better by catching drunk/dangerous/drug addled drivers as well? Sorry I’m off again grrrrrr!
The sun was out in full force and clouds dotted the sky, some of us had full bike kit on but had all the vents open in an attempt to keep cool and comfortable whilst some of us had APPY’s jackets on and zipped down to try and do the same, we rose up Gringley-on-the-hill and saw Lincolnshire and South Yorkshire spread out below us. Several power stations followed the River Trent, the last one was just a hazy outline it was so far away. The land around here is pretty flat so there are not many hills to ride up, I hope everyone saw the splendid views too, it only lasted five minutes because we nose dived on the duel carriageway heading for Gainsborough and the river and being mindful of the cash collecting cameras.
We passed through the edge of town and began to rise again up towards Hemswell, famous for a spanking Sunday market and a former RAF bomber airfield from the 1940’s, to the right about ten miles away lay RAF Scampton a current airfield and home now to our excellent Red Arrows, during the war Lancaster bombers took off from here on their famous raid over Germany, yes folk here lived the famous “Dambusters” of 617 sqn. After the war the airfield grew, the runway got longer, if you look on the map and trace the A15 it runs as straight as a die but as it approaches Lincoln there is a squiggle, it had been altered to go around the end of the base!
Meanwhile we had gone straight on at the roundabout on the A631 and cruised on towards Market-Rasen a fork in the road took us along the edge of fields at right angles. it must have been a feudal thing or summat, perhaps a belligerent farmer who refused the grey suits permission to push the road through his field? Quite a lot of the little minor roads around these parts do this, it’s really odd and has caught many a motorist and biker out, I have personally seen the residue of vehicles and the tell tale skid marks pointing to the new hole in the hedge! Market Rasen is a small drive through town with its share of traffic and pedestrian lights, today was market day and the “Carrot Crunchers and Pointyheads” were out in force as they scoured the stalls for “stuff”. Some turned to look as we paused at the lights and looked back at them, hiding behind bandanna’s and shades.
A famous tea bar lay ahead at Willingham Woods, it’s a great spot for a cuppa and a five minute leg stretch and lays just half a mile along from the famous race course. About a dozen cars were here on this quiet Tuesday, unlike Sundays when it is bloody heaving! We unzipped and tore at the Velcro, this kit is OK whilst on the move but crap In hot weather when one is stood still, we grabbed a picnic table and drank tea, chinwagged and generally caught up with each other. Old John took the rise out of Mongo and the idea of healthy eating, looking at the scrawny old git I felt he had a bit of a point. Mark (Clegg) told us about the days when he was a fat bastard….I didn’t know he wasn’t anymore!!!! Mark (Tucker) also recounted a similar tale, John told us of his diet to beating fat bastardness “It’s called plastering Mark” he said! I too had piled on the beef but am now doing something about it and in nearly two weeks I am 9 lb lighter. So here was I with a bag full of bacon sarni’s! Barry gave me a pack of bacon, I was to make bacon sarni’s for everyone who was coming on todays rideout and did enough for twelve bikes. I feel compelled to report to you that the “scrawny old git” took the whole bag back to Sheffield and devoured the lot…Oh you glutinous piggy! He will have to plaster the Berlin Wall (if he can find it) to burn off those calories now.
The ribbing carried on as we dressed again and got ready to roll, “Cleggy” tried to climb into his glove compartment and set up his I-Pod, I waited and waited..waited some more then got hot! I rolled forward as Mark finally found his favourite Nolan’s track!
We pulled out onto the main road heading towards Louth, but before then we turn south onto a little beauty of a B road with high hedges and a dusty channel down the centre of the road, I rode down the middle of the road to let me see around the corners that bit further, I had to brake when mother pheasant run across my front followed by about four little ones (I think she was looking for Barry), the last one threw itself flapping into the undergrowth, a funny sight and unlike Barry I didn’t kill the poor bugger! Even Julie was chuckling behind me, we both love our wildlife and would have been very sad if we’d hit them.
After about twelve miles we entered another small town, this was Horncastle and was quite busy this dinnertime, folk were out enjoying the sunshine, a couple of little girls with their mothers sported colourful flowery dresses and skipped along the pavement they turned and pointed as we passed, mum was busy on her phone.
I left the main road again to take in another yellow side road, we passed by some of Englands oldest villages to the near left and right as we wiggled down the quiet lanes, Minningsby is mentioned in the Doomsday Book of 1086 as is Wilksby whose name is derived from Swedish origin therefore of distant Viking heritage. Don’t you just love these “Olde Worlde” villages? We rode past the rear of a beautiful private park with the oldest trees and super smooth grass, here and there stood large groups of Fallow Deer, they didn’t wave they just stood and watched, did you know they were introduced by the Normans? There are tens of thousands here In the UK.
Todays ride so far had covered nearly sixty miles in some of the finest Lincolnshire countryside, the pace was leisurely, the bikes too were quite warm, the forty to sixty mph pace forced enough air through the heavily faired Wings. In hot weather the fairings are crap for letting the engines keep cool and trundling in heavy traffic is not something I’d recommend, a while ago when riding through the German Ruhr region I was in the red for long periods and felt lucky to get through to the free flowing traffic once clear of Dortmund, I didn’t realise how much of a bottleneck it is and won’t use that road again if at all possible!
We met the main road again at Ravesby and saw the signs for the Lincolnshire Aviation Heritage Museum and the home of “Just Jane” It was just after midday now and was easily in the high twenty’s, I don’t think we were wishing we were in the costa today! We just had another three or four miles to go and then we could shut down and strip off again.
The girl on the counter took one look at my shirt saying “Ah yes, Mr Sharp from APPY WANDERERS its £5 per couple for your group”. Thanks to Mr Panton for the kind reduction from £7 to £5! It’s quite a tranquil place to visit, there is piped music from the 1940’s wafting over the airfield and its features. “Just Jane” was the main star of the museum, today she was resting in the hanger out of the hot sun. She comes out and has taxi runs up and down the runway several times a week, but not today.
On a previous visit we saw her out on the pan running up her four Merlin engines from idle to full steam ahead, they were roaring loudly, the four propeller blades spinning so fast they were just a blur, blue smoke wafts out from the exhaust stubbs the whole aircraft shuddered and vibrated coming to life and flexing herself ready for her weekly jog around the airfield, the noise and smell is quite extraordinary! We were stood quite close, in fact I remember the wing tips over our heads as she slowly wheeled around making her way to the old runway!
She sat quietly in the hanger today all black and shiny with capacious bomb bay doors open, a thin no entry cable prompted folk not to get too close but even from here one could stand and stare up into the Perspex nose and gaze into the bomb bay that ran the whole length. She could carry 14,000lb of bombs compared to the American equivalent the Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress which could only carry 4,800lb! To be fair though the B-17 was originally designed to attack enemy warships in the Pacific.
All around the edge of the hanger stood vehicles, artefacts, photographs weapons and a couple of bombs! Mark leaned against a “Bouncing bomb” as he read about it. Two of the girls today had been in the Girls Venture Core and so were perhaps more informed than the usual visitor. I stood listening as Lynn quoted to Mark the four basic elements of flying, Julie was engrossed in some of the photographs down the other end, Jeanette was looking at old parachutes and Lyn was recounting her days at RAF Bollingbroke. John had spotted something to climb into and explore, before long we were taking turns at climbing into the cockpit of a Canberra jet bomber from the late 1960’s. It’s so bloody awkward! One had to climb up into it though a small hatch then struggle up into the cockpit seat. Cleggy commented “All these bloody buttons…everywhere you look there’s bloody buttons and dials” Cup of tea time came so we went to the old NAFFI for tea..well some did, I am on a healthy eating plan for a week or two with Julie to kick start the weight loss. So whilst they tucked into carrot cake and bacon sarni’s we were crunching on brown rice and chicken with a touch of low fat salad cream. Now chicken is chicken no matter what one does with it and its fine, however brown rice is something else! It’s not soft fluffy and textured…its quite hard and tasteless and looks old and second hand! To be frank It’s like eating fekkin shingle. Lyn Clegg was grinning from ear to ear like she does and taking great glee at my struggle, naturally the others joined in the unjust attack on my struggle! However I would like to say after a week I have lost about 10lb and will soon have the svelte shape of a polecat so bollix to you lot!
We had another hour looking around the exhibits. The wind sock pole had a neat 20mm hole through it, the story is that it was damaged by an attacking German night fighter! I followed Julie up into the control tower which was laid out with radios, maps, tables and was complete with dummies in uniform posing as radio operators etc. I wonder what Julie made of the 1940’s uniforms compared to hers in the 1970’s?  Julie informed me that the hairy type battle dress was still the uniform when she was in and the trousers had the nickname of ‘hairy mary’s’. Can you pick Julie out in the photo below I wonder? It made me itch just looking at them, we strolled around the repair hanger and restoration project sheds and the escape museum, dotted all around in small gardens are young shrubs and trees with dedications to airmen no longer with us, like I say it can be quite a peaceful place, the piped 1940’s music quite befitting.
It was 15.30 hrs and time to ride, we had three hours to explore and now wanted to get on our bikes again. Whilst John and Lynn got dressed and velcroed up I watched Cleggy seemingly climb back inside the glove compartment of the white 1800 to bugger about with his I-pod,  Mongo and Jeanette had their music sorted and were sat there bobbing their heads, I looked back to see the “flat-liners” finally get on the purple trike and give me the nod to go.
We rode back the same way to Horncastle waving at the staring deer in the lush grounds now on our right. At Horncastle a couple of scruffy oiks hogged an old folks seat on the grass verge at the traffic lights, I could hear them but chose to ignore them. The old fat git sat slumped seemingly drunk, the skinny dude tottered over to Mark and Jeanette sat behind me on the trike. “Turn GREEN you bloody thing before Mongo gets upset”! Hooray green it was and we pulled away, I looked in the mirror at the skinny dude who was gawping at us but at least he was still on his feet, I thought I saw Mongo smile and shake his head. I’m glad he didn’t choose to try and engage me in conversation, I really can’t be arsed with drop outs under the influence of either drink or drugs especially when it’s my day off from the zoo. We rode along the A158 a while behind half a dozen vehicles led by a common green tractor, we were in no hurry and sat and enjoyed the views at an unusual 40 MPH! Market Rasen was passed again as was Middle and West Rasen, I bet the postie’s round is murder round here!
We were now on the A631 and increased speed after negotiating “the road around the field” again, taking the corners at 50 mph was quite pleasant and easy practice, both trikes and solo’s kept together well all day with no large gaps appearing that often suggests that someone was struggling. John and Lynn rode the back door today and kept me informed about lights and the one or two junctions, all in all a very easy day’s ride. We pulled over at a garage on the roundabout at Spital-in-the-Street, for petrol water and a quick toilet inspection. Tina wasn’t with us today so Cleggy dashed in for a look on her behalf….he says it was alright. It was hot I was sweating and the bloody corn flies crawled all over my face making me itch, the ripening fields must have been full of the bastards!  OK everybody ready I called as some crawled across my teeth yuck spit spit!
It was a down hill ride from the ridgeline to Gainsborough and empty of traffic, I opened up the throttle and blew the black enamelled insurgents from my teeth, nose and ears then stopped at the next lights outside the town, this time I slammed my visor down! We passed around the town and joined another group behind another tractor, blue this time but just as ponderous. We passed the blue tractor on the stretch of dual carriageway and rode on at a quicker pace racing down Gringley Hill before pulling over near Harwell.
We said our goodbyes as the rideout came to an end here and not in busy Bawtry. John and Lynn took the country roads back to Sheffield, The Cleggies went for the A1 in the direction of Castleford, followed by Mark and Jeanette who made for Havercroft near Wakefield. Julie and I rode up the straight and empty A614 until Hatfield Woodhouse than wiggled down the back road to Walnut Cottage to the horses and Pooka, if she had a fourth leg I’m sure on it would have been a watch and she would have been tapping the bugger shouting “TEA-TIME!”

TILATERONTHEN
                The SCRIBE

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

It was after 08.20 hrs on MOTHERS DAY and it was time to go! We opened the throttle as we ran onto the Skipton by-pass down the Aire Valley at high speed, damp air was forced into the air vents and radiator of both Mistress Mable and Snowflake as we bounded along, stretching C.C’s and filling lungs with morning air, even if it felt damp, another difficult day to judge with tons of low bilious light and dark clouds, I felt certain it was going to rain around here, just as the weatherman promised last night. Slow we went now as we turned off the by-pass and travelled up into Skipton centre, rounding the last bend we saw a glut of shiny Honda Goldwings sitting under the statue. I think we both smiled at the high number of wingers waiting for the start of a good day.

Nigel and Denise from Halifax, Derek and Heather of Guiseley with 1800’s were the first I clapped eyes on and recognised, Mick and Evelyn from Leeds stood with Wakefield’s Tony “the pie” Hudson. Before greeting everyone I put a borrowed book back in the top box of Derycks blue 1800. Cheers mate! Through the bundled up people I saw the hugely grinning Lyn of Castleford, hubbi Mark was just behind. With them was their pal Colin from Doncaster.  Bill and Lorraine from Durham had come today too having stayed overnight at York with Deryck with a Y. “Spanners” and his gay..I mean great pal Alan Mason arrived and declared themselves to have done with the Blue Oyster Club crowd. Welcome back darlings!

The Pudsey Trike purred up slowly with Alan and Missus. Alan is an undertaker (yes he has one of THOSE faces too) But don’t let that lull you into thinking he is a slow coach..except perhaps between Monday to Friday and he is ALWAYS driving around at 1 mph with his other gang in big black cars so on our ride-outs he lets go of his frustration’s and makes the grey trike go like “Billy Fuck”.Wouldn’t it be funny if Alan got his days the wrong way around? To see a black Hearse tear arsing to the Crem and seeing poor old Grandfather Jones in the coffin rolling about in the back, spewing forth flowers and wreaths on every corner! That would be such an unbelievable sight! Mr Plod would eventually stop him with a stinger or three and put his size 10 in it by sarcastically (they all do) asking Alan “…And which fire are you going to then sir?”” Alan would point his thumb to the coffin saying “HIS you pillock” Now that would make the Evening News!

Cheryl and Telford of the bright yellow over “trews” were here again on their 1800 trike to carry on their learning curve and would be keeping with the Pudsey Trike, pushing their trike and themselves to even higher levels of competency.

With pleasantries, hello’s and welcomes done with it was time to mount up and move out, everyone moved carefully from Skipton’s cobbles and onto the tarmac slowly to roll left at the roundabout and away they all went or so I thought…A Gold 1500 Wing sat there on its own with flashing council light. “Barry” I shouted on the CB “Gordon is still here! I’ll wait for him and catch you up” I waited and waited, but still he didn’t show. Well I can’t wait forever I said to myself after all it’s not a school outing!  He knows we are going to Devils Bridge and will be there for 20 minutes to pick up the second group. He will turn up…or not!  So with that I chased after the family.

We made good time travelling nicely along the A65 from Skipton to Kirkby Lonsdale and the bikers meeting place at Devils Bridge to meet the second group. The clouds seemingly hung lower and lower and appeared to be resting on the shoulders of the nearby hills. The drizzle was with us now, I wasn’t bothered we had our wet gear stowed in the back, the temperature was not too low and the day was young.Parking up at Devils Bridge was easy because it was quite empty, don’t you just love Sunday riders? There are some who always call Honda Goldwing riders for being only out in sunshine, yet here we were, a bunch of old gits riding glossy expensive armchairs in the wet dirty cold! APPY WANDERERS do it in the wet…well Yah Boo to you soft pocket rocket riding winkers!

It was here that we met the final group that would make up today’s APPY WANDERERS. We met with Ian and M Jones and their friends George and Millie who rode down from Cumbria. Phil and Pam Bowker came on the “Bowker Beast” with Ruby the little black spaniel dog, she had her little hut nailed to the back of their black 1800 trike and was extremely keen to say hello to anyone who showed interest…a bit like me really! A character with an old 1500 trike and sidecar joined us here too, we spotted him a few miles back, they had stopped to pull on their waterproofs, this was Mr Stephen Fenton and son Dan I took great pleasure in following from the back, just four bikes away as young Dan leaned to the left and right on every corner, they kept the pace up really well, the 1800 just behind dare not let a large gap form in front of him, I grinned all the way to Cumbria!

The showers came again as we set of up the squiggly A683, all the way up to Firbank we went before joining the M6 to go the rest of the way to Penrith. The showers cleared, the grey stuff lost interest in us to be replaced by windy wispy white clouds under a pale sky.

At the A66 just before Penrith we turned off and headed toward Keswick, all was going splendid even when the last six bikes got sliced from the group by an approaching police car from the rear with flashing lights but no siren, a rather odd thing I thought, I pushed through from the back trying to usher the guys to one side to help, but without his siren the guys must have wondered what the hell I was trying to do! I tried to keep the lead group in site telling Barry the score on the CB and hopefully hanging back enough to let the last group see and catch up. This worked a treat and once clear of Keswick we were as one again. Derek and Heather were doing a splendid job as the middle link for Barry and I. I could spot him frequently due to their orange bibs. This is one of several reasons why only Marshalls wear ORANGE dayglo bibs on our ride-outs. When you are there on the day its so obvious, right guys?

We were soon on the B5289 twisting and turning rising and falling on the narrow belt of tarmac, stone walls and overhanging tree branches were covered in green moss as time stood still, just the odd rambler or three passed through…..and eighteen Honda Goldwings! Derwent Water passed by on our right then we were climbing up. Here is some information of the pass and the mine.

The Honister Pass, also known as Honister Hause, is a mountain pass, It is on the B5289 linking Seatoller in the valley of Borrowdale to Gatesgarth at the southern end of Buttermere. The pass reaches an altitude of 1,167 feet (356 m), making it one of the highest in the region, and also one of the steepest, with gradients of up to 1-in-4 (25%).The Honister Pass is one of three passes that link the tourist area around Keswick including Derwent Water and Borrowdale, with the valley of the River Cocker including the lakes of Buttermere, Crummock Water and Loweswater. From north to south these passes are the Whinlatter Pass the Newlands Pass and the Honister Pass.
In 1870 very substantial underground workings existed under Honister Crag with lesser workings on the opposite side of the valley at Yew Crags. There were also smaller-scale underground workings on Dubbs Moor, together with a small opencast quarry — opencast quarrying had been carried on at Honister since the late 17th century. Slate from the Honister workings was at one time dragged on sleds down steep paths that traversed the cliffs to the top of Honister Pass (The Hause), but packhorse teams had been used to remove finished product from the opencasts for a great many years prior to 1830. In 1879 new owners installed self-acting inclines to serve both the Honister and Yew Crags mines; these were remarkable and costly feats of engineering but they enabled far more efficient production. The incline serving the Dubbs Quarry was cleverly designed to lift product up the side of the valley from the quarry, and then lower it down the other valley side to The Hause. The company leased and operated other quarries in Borrowdale.  In the mid-1920s, brilliantly engineered aerial ropeways served the Honister and Yew Crags Mines, though the external Yew Crags incline continued to be used until the late 1960s. Connection to the Hause/slate works from both incline and short aerial ropeway was by petrol-driven loco on a railway bridging the Seatoller-Buttermere road. This bridge was removed for scrap in the early 1970s.By 1891 production had reached 3,000 tons a year and more than 100 men were employed. Dubbs mine was ‘smaller metal’ (metal being the terminology for slate), in that smaller pieces of slate (thus smaller slates) were obtainable due to geological changes; this did give rise to some instability. Dubbs Quarry ceased production around 1932, largely due to the difficulties and slowness of transporting finished product. In 1997 the mine was reopened by Mark Weir who developed the quarries into a thriving tourist attraction, and at the same time producing small quantities of roofing slate. Mark was sadly killed in a helicopter crash at the mine on the evening of 8th March 2011.

We had lunch here and saw the first sunshine of the day, though clouds hung around by the dozen and threatened us with showers. “Spanners” began messing with the lights on his 1500 again, they first began playing up at Devils Bridge, he looked intent on fixing the problem now, his gay…I mean great mate Alan looked on in admiration as Spanners bent over to see what he was doing.

It was time to go but we had lost the W.O.T, where the hell was she, come to that where was Julie, she had vanished too! I went in search and found them in the “Tat Shop” buying some tat. “Wait a minute” was all I could get out of the pair of them, so I left them to it, eventually they returned and donned their lids and we got sorted to move on down the valley.

The exit is not the best of exits so some care would be needed so I pulled out and stopped on the road ready to ask the traffic to wait a minute until all the bikes had tottered off the bike unfriendly vehicle park, bumping down onto the tarmac on the brow of the summit before sharply tipping left and down the valley, Julie encouraged everyone one forward as it was safe and thanked the waiting mini coach driver for his patience.The next few minutes were spent craning necks left and right at the high crags and to appreciate this little part of Great Britain, the little road flowed like a stream down the lumps and bumps and round clusters of house sized boulders. At the bottom of the valley and just around the last bend we saw Buttermere. I paused for a minute to capture the atmosphere on camera, to see the light paint lighter shades of grey and green on the velvet like landscape just had to be captured! Between myself and Julie we managed this today, sometimes great shots are missed when on the bike as steep sharp stone walls and Sunday drivers take up all my attention!  Then of course the next ten minutes are spent catching up with the guys. Julie had air between herself and the seat once or twice over the next ten minutes as we bounced along at an exciting pace and she took several “great” photographs of nothing but the sky!

The valley soon flattened out as we moved north west  towards  Cockermouth. The next couple of villages were a peculiar lot. Practically every house sat along the roadside as if just made up of “The High Street” all had coloured walls, with wide cream edges atop the door and window frames. Some sported soft pastel shades some had garish colour schemes, a really deep blue and of course that bloody awful pink one. It reminded me of the houses in Ireland, though they seemed more in keeping with the area somehow. I have passed by here three times in the last two years, both during the week and at the weekend and never have I seen more than three or four folk in either of these odd villages. These were the villages of Rowrah and Frizington and Cleator if I recall. They were odd so very odd.Now we were on the roundabout at Egremont and going south on the A595 and passing the brightly coloured head gear of the FLORENCE MINE on the left through the trees.

The Sellarfield Nuclear facility dominated the skyline towards the coast near the town of Seascale. I gave a moments thought to the poor souls in Japan and thought for a moment…”nothing like that could happen here…could it?” We cut back inland to skirt around Muncaster Castle.

Derek began to get excitable now because we were near to the bridge that gave birth to a nickname of his…”Derek the Bridge Troll”.  During the Help 4 Heroes job in 2010 we had to put somebody substantial at a small bridge with traffic lights at both ends, the visibility poor as the bridge was smothered by shrubs and trees so not easy to control, hence we needed someone with the ability to project ones will on others….Enter Big Derek! He and Heather began to chatter on the CB as we closed in, other marshalls of that day remembered that mad busy day.

Remember it well because we are NOT doing that job again, however honourable the cause..and they all are..because APPY WANDERERS do not do charity jobs we are a motorcycle riding group, and that day was a one off!

Near Bootle we stopped for another tea stop with tea and cakes, it’s a quant clean little concern and run very well by a group of old ladies and schoolgirls, we do the done thing and stay outside, it wasn’t really cold and we were able to be free with our colourful chit chat! The old girl came out and took our orders with a smile quickly and efficiently. I for one am more than happy to return here. On a cloudless day unlike today the views are vast and soothing.

A farmer drove up and released a mother and two daughters into the field to join the rest of the flock, they were so small, in fact Ruby the dwarf dog of the “Bowker Beast” was much bigger than the two little sheepies, one black and one white! It was time for us to move again, the cheap and cheerful loose chippings and shale that made up the car park made for another careful exit, only this time the exit views were long and clear and we got out as one with no fuss, the approaching car slowed and beckoned us out. “Thank you” I mouthed and Julie waved too.

We turned inland again up the long hill and twisted down the edge of the wood and shrub dotted land at the bottom, and there  lay the infamous bridge, its local name is Duddon Bridge but to us it will always be known as “The Troll’s Bridge” Oh how happy to be home were our two Guiseley lovers Derek and Heather. “Though shalt not pass” takes on a different picture these days to many of the Wanderers!

On we went enjoying the clouded countryside, cloudy it may be but raining it certainly wasn’t. We turned onto the wiggle A592 and ran down the edge of Windermere, we travelled the last five miles or so under the green barked tree cover, a coach struggled to get out of the way of a couple of Sunday drivers, we waited patiently for them to sort themselves out and gazed through the trees at Windermere and the beautiful properties dotted here and there along the shoreline. Barry led us to a coach car park where the attendant let us park in a coach spot in the corner for our short stay here.

Ruby scrambled out of the “Bowker Beast” and stretched her four little legs, the rest of us stretched our two legs and the Mothers Day Rideout to the Lakes was declared over.

Ian and George said their thanks and goodbyes until the next time, they turned off with the girls towards Carlisle and home. Deryck had a long ride back to York so left also, he was to do over three hundred miles today, whilst Jan had a cooing day with the grandkids, well done that man!We went for ice cream and a short walk, others gathered round and chomped on supplies from their top boxes.

Today had been a great day and now we had to make our way home to the likes of Bradford, Keighley, Halifax, York and Doncaster to name just a few. A group of us headed toward Skipton. As we turned off the M6 to head back towards Kirkby Lonsdale yet more Wanderers left the group homeward bound we were loosing folk all evening as they peeled off to their respective beds.

It was a nice blast for the last group along the familiar A65 we got held up here and there as lazy traffic crawled home as though on their last legs! We zipped past them when safe to do so and probably woke the buggers up I’d wager!

The evening was quite warm and the sun gave justice to the view across Keighley Moor to our right and Rombalds Moor high to our left, we had said goodbye to the last of today’s APPY WANDERERS at Skipton minutes earlier and had skipped through the Vietnam bends on the A629, Barry, me and Nigel rode quite fast along it, we may well even have reminded folk of those spaceships on the road in that old Speilberg movie film “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” We said goodbye to both Barry,Tina and the Corby’s at Keighley and we climbed away over the tops through Cullingworth to miss out Keighley centre, a few minutes later a UFO came up behind us, it was the Corby’s! They had come through the town after all.

We rode together a few more miles before they turned towards Halifax. Julie and I rode on through Queensbury, Stone Chair, before dropping down to the M62. Picking up the pace we rode the motorways to Doncaster and arrived home in Hatfield at about 2030 hrs. Today was a long but enjoyable twelve hrs on the road covering about 270 miles in great company along some of the finest English landscapes.

We complain about the many days of rain I know but to be honest it’s the rains that give us such lovely countryside isn’t it?It had been an easy eventless day for me at the back except when the police car cut the last half dozen of us up entering Keswick when I had to try and elasticise myself between the last man of the main group and the first man of the last six, if you know what I mean! All in all it had been a really nice day.
Tilateronthen

THE WANDERERS SCRIBE

P.S Thanks to Heather and Tina for extra photographs from the front and middle of the rideout today x

Picture the scene folks…..Its 0700 hrs on a quiet Keighley hillside, Barry and I stood on the clubhouse veranda hand in hand…..No I’m just kidding guys honest…we looked intently far across the mist laden valley trying to assess Mother Nature’s intentions for the day. It felt quite mild in the air a mixture of light and grey tops hung over some darker wispy smudges that smeared across over the hills, though the far off Ingleton top had a brighter look to it. “I think it’s going to brighten up later mate” says Barry. I frowned and shrugged replying “ It’s fekkin fleeces then mate” There endeth today’s weather report!

Snowflake and Mistress Mable sat side by side throbbing gently warming up, Barry and I were warming too and getting excited about the run today as Tina and Julie finally slipped behind us onto their seats. Snicking into first we rolled away from the kerb and down the hill, (Barry) “Testing testing 1-2-3-4”…(Dave)” 5-6-7-8, yeah, CB sounds loud and clear ” We rode the short distance to the shop and the meeting point for the day’s run. We turned the corner and there they all waited.

We cruised slowly through the thirty three parked bikes to a spot at the head. Wow THIRTY THREE!! That means there was over sixty people here today.Familiar faces waved and threw friendly insults at me, (why do we men do that then girls)? Geoff Smith and Derek Thornton greeted us and looked up for the challenge, both had agreed to help us this year and today was going to be our first rideout as a team. I bet it would be astounding to tot up the total miles we have done on bikes collectively!

I  greeted all the men and kissed all the ladies, I remember a while ago at a Yorkshire “Meet and Greet” my wife turned up in the afternoon and was welcomed by NOBODY even though she parked up in front of the event organisers, I’m sure many have similar stories?  It’s important to make everybody feel welcome especially on their first time don’t you agree guys? People looked really happy and were up for today, the guys happy to be out on the bikes and girls looked forward to the visit to GRANADA STUDIOS especially.

Peter Armitage was amongst us today on a rented 1800 and key to today’s event. Peter is a biker and an engineer…in his own words he says that he also does a bit of acting. Peter is a down to earth bloke and full of funny stories from his years on planet Earth, we have spent a few occasions supping ale and musing over worldly stuff and swapping stories! Peter plays Bill Webster in Coronation Street. It is through him that today’s unique experience was possible. Granada Studios does not let the general public in any longer so today was a special occasion,  also we would make a large donation to The Help for Heroes charity, something close to Peter and more than a few Wanderers. Peter looks a bit of a “rough arsed old Greebo” in his seasoned leathers, no poncy gortex bike kit for our Peter! He fitted amongst us very well.

A good rideout dictates a few ground rules to complement the rules of the road. we had talked it over the previous evening about what we might expect. Then crapped ourselves at the prospect!! (kidding kidding)  Barry gathered everyone for the “team talk” of do’s and don’ts for today, speaking especially about closing up close at traffic lights and junctions with solos in pairs at such locations. We would see a few in Manchester city centre! We used our trusted trike formula, that is.. All the trikes and the sidecar outfit would form up behind Barry and the solos would offset in pairs behind, so then the solos dare not lag and create gaps for fear being accused of not being able to keep up with the trikes! Geoff and Big D would be around the middle working as the situations developed. Me? Well I’m at the back with Julie giving Barry a constant picture as to what’s happening, on more than one occasion folk thought I was talking to myself, especially the good folk of Manchester as they stood and gawped from the pavement. “Why is he shouting at me that he’s stood at the lights with six bikes…and who the F*** is Derek?

Ok it was time to go, everyone was buzzing with excitement, Peter paddles his way to the front  just behind Barry, some Appy Wanderers have taken to calling this “The naughty spot” I can’t think why!  Barry nods to me, I pull out and pause in the road the oncoming cars stopped, I mouthed “thank you” to the lead driver as over 30 bikes spilled out of the side road and zoom off west towards Haworth. Julie waved them on urgently then waves a big thank you to the patient Sunday morning traffic.

Folk often ask me and Barry why we do the Appy Wanderers thing, well firstly we are both in love with motorbikes! then of course there is the feelings of excitement, anticipation, the thrill of the spectacle, the occasion and the old feeling in the belly of the “Collywobbles” the sheer presence that a large group of beautifully turned out motorbikes has on all around and in spite of our differences we all become one of the same for the day and the satisfaction at the end of the day of knowing we had organised something well, and of course we are promoting motorbikes in a positive light. THIS is why we do it!

Our first film location we come upon is from THE RAILWAY CHILDREN, Barry tries to point out some features and houses on the opposite hill side. Unfortunately Mother Nature stuck her oar in and covered us in that shitty “mizzley” damp stuff that you can’t actually see or feel but wets you all the same and all we can pick out are vague square grey shapes. I wonder if maybe we are getting in the Manchester weather mode? Barry went a bit quiet,…”ah Bliss”….said the Mashalls!  Barry had flipped a switch by mistake but was soon back with us loud and proud…”bugger said the Marshalls! Our Barry’s is getting on so its to be expected, wait while he tries his left and rights!

This is a nice road all the same, it’s the A6033 and goes through wonderful sounding place names like Flappit Spring, Oxenhope and Pecket Well, riding high over damp Wadsworth Moor, this is all Bronte country, how the hell Heathcliffe ever found Cathy on the moors in this muck is nothing short of a miracle! Down we descended into Todmorden town winding slowly through, people stood and starred, children waved as the rolling jukeboxes passed by, finally some bloke at the back on a silver bike with an orange vest on who kept shouting to himself “Yeah, all together at the back no problems Derek” The APPY WANDERERS rolling jukebox just keeps on rolling. Can you imagine this lot at night it would be like Close Encounters of The Third Kind…on speed!  We rode through Littleborough town before riding close by Hollingworth Lake.

The car park was fairly empty so was one problem less for Barry and Geoff as we swooped in and parked. The drizzle was still with us as we visited the ablutions, the sound of ripping Velcro echoed out of the loos for the next fifteen minutes! The café and the water side and over the road did some brisk business, tea coffee and hot snacks were sampled, Hazel offered me some chocolate from her cake tin, thank you mum! The few visitors were treated to a free bike show and showed curious interest taking photographs with their mobile phones. Others asked what was going on and who we were. Thirty minutes later we moved off, once again I asked the traffic to wait a moment as Barry and Peter followed by thirty other motorbikes rode carefully up and out of the car park.

We thought it would be a good idea to adjust our marshalling as Manchester came closer, this is called thinking on the hoof! We adjusted slightly Barry would still lead with Geoff as his back man, D would now become my lead for when we got split with the plethora of traffic lights that one finds in cities. But first we had a bit of motorway work to do.

The drizzle splurged down as we hit the M62 and cranked up the speed, filtering into the traffic and heavy spray, we had just a few miles to do then we would be turning off again, my group of back markers were going a tad slow, we were spread out a long distance and I was losing radio contact so passed and urged the guys on a bit quicker, soon I was at the slip road and slowed to let the Hull contingent see our mass of tail lights, they joined us safely and we were all as one again and ready to hit Manchester.

We rode through Prestwich, an area our politicians would probably describe as “a colourful thread of our modern society” I can see a little more from the back compared to you guys in the pack, we were riding through a poor grey district of “Run-down-villa” not a white face in sight, the roadside was dotted with stalls selling drab looking clothes, it looked really dirty and run down compared to the mixed and vibrant colourful Southall I remember from my recent years in London. As if by a miracle the rain stopped as we headed into Manchester city centre the clouds stayed on the M62.

The traffic lights mauled our convoy severely but not as bad as the infamously quick traffic lights of Zurich city on the 2006 European tour! I remember Barrys fading voice calling CHUR Dave just take the sign for Churrrr…… Id got cut aff from the trikes at the lights and took the lead with all the solos but didn’t have Mistress Garmin in those days, so was stumped as the CHUR sign up ahead pointed in both directions on the next junction, so I took the LEFT had turned right and just caught sight and shouted “Wrong CHUR Dave!” I quickley called the then back man came to the front and readjusted his Mistress Garmin and we eventually rejoined with Barry and the trikes some miles down the road, all very exciting stuff! Hence we were a little nervous today.

We managed to stay together as two groups now and crept slowly towards the centre, passing the now revamped area of Strangeways and the railway station. Tina stood at the obscure Granada Studios side gate corner like a splendid little orange traffic cone, so easy to spot and home in onto, bless you little woman! Peter mentioned the cobbles, they were real enough in “Corrie” wise passengers dismounted as firm hands wrestled the wings up and onto the set, I sat back and waited, then shot around the back of  Websters garage, up a back street around the top and parked up on the corner of the pub. Oh how lucky was that! Everyone else was still buggering about, it took a few minutes but eventually everyone was happy and we set about exploring the famous street with the famous pub, shop and cafe that are part of our lives..like it or not! A door was open to a building, a few of us ambled in and found ourselves on the nightclub set, stepping carefully around the camera equipment I made for the bar and posed for the camera, through another door we found a long hall with a dozen more smaller sets, they were the kitchens and living room sets and the inside of Roys café. I have to admit I didn’t know whose house I was in, I only used to watch it with my mum when I was a teenager, so no I couldn’t find Hilda Ogdens ducks on the wall! It was very interesting all the same. We left as a security guard locked the set behind us! I thought they had left it open for us but seems it was out of bounds. We had ambled onto hallowed ground as far as “Corrie” fans were concerned I guess. We met up with everyone at the bikes and donated £10 per bike to Peter to be presented later to the Help for Heroes Charity, posed for photographs with the flag brought by Phil and Pam Bowker on their black trike. The Granada management were a bit slow and kind of forgot we were coming (hence the studio doors being left ajar) But eventually a reporter and film guy came round and interviewed for Granada local news..they presented it as  “Peter and his bike group”… Charming thought I, oh well that’s show business!Coronation Street was 50 yrs old in 2010 and for me the most iconic shot qas of the back alley and the cat sleeping on the roof. I went exploring with Mark around the very ally’s, we found the remains of Jack Duckworths pigeon shed with the chicken wire pulled open but no sign of the pigeons. Peter told us the set had moved around quite a bit and the alley had moved three times to his knowledge which was amazing as it was all real bricks and mortar.

The most amazing is the scene looking through the railway bridge with the other street going off into the distance. This is actually a huge photograph hung on a wall thirty feet back from the bridge. The illusion is very convincing, you only know it’s a picture when you go right up to the bridge and look around the corner to spot the edge of the photo hung on the wall, it really is that convincing.John and Lynne tried a house door, it opened to show tins of paint and named racks containing wallpaper one rack had the name of Emily Bishop, “Hey I know her!” I blurted out, “She was the quiet one”! We stood for a moment in a piece of TV history before quietly backing out and smiling.Just about everyone had their photo taken in front of the Rovers pub, Chris Smith produced a questionnaire for people to do, twenty questions of “Corrie” for folk  with a prize for the winner. Julie and I declined, We didn’t know anybody after 1970 for gods sake! The winners were Tony and Hazel Walton, Hazel I might add was a child actress in her youth so no surprise that she won! Peter presented the prize and we all booed..I mean cheered, also today it was Evelyn’s birthday so she got a hearty rendition of “Happy Birthday” on the street a  personalized birthday card from APPY WANDERERS and a snog from the men. Yeah go girl! Peter was interviewed for 5 minutes by GRANADA NEWS and we lounged around a bit more eating and drinking our packed lunches, except me thanks to Peter who ate my sandwiches..thanks you fat bs’atrd! I made do with an apple and a cup of tea. All too soon it was time to leave and continue on to part two of this extraordinary rideout.

Waving goodbye to the solitary and overworked security guard we gathered at the exit, got ourselves sorted into the appropriate running order through the centre of Manchester, trikes at the front. 22 glittering jukeboxes two by two behind them and this solitary idiot at the back! Mark and Chrissy said goodbye here and took Phil and Pam Bowker towards Blackburn, we on the other hand headed back towards the right side of the Pennines.

I thought the centre of Manchester affluent, clean, open and roomy but dotted with piggin red traffic lights! More than once pedestrians looked at me as I shouted “Yeah, stood at traffic lights with six bikes Derek!” Mistress Garmin led Barry and Geoff way ahead of us, big D picked his way after them getting a helping pointer  from Geoff now and again about following signs for Ashton.

One has to get to grips with Mistress Garmin because she has a naughty habit of telling you literal and plainly wrong instructions has she never heard of road works and stuff for gods sake! So sometimes you have to remind her who is actually in charge! It takes a while but once you both reach this mutual understanding Mistress Garmin is good to have along, mine is a mature buxom brunette in latex and six inch heels, what’s yours? The long road east out of Manchester was long and slow for a while due to lights and road works, crawling by Romley the road went quicker and got empty around Staleybridge, I remember some dirty dull grey speed cameras hidden in the tree line just Manchester side of the zebra crossings, so underhanded they are that I’m surprised they haven’t been torched yet. Soon we passed by Wooley and got some speed up, by now I could pick up both Barry and Geoff on the CB just about a mile in front of our group. At Hollingworth we peeled left and climbed up into the Peak National Park.

The low cloud had long gone it was now a very pleasant ride along the narrow stonewalled roads gently I rolled Mistress Mable  to the left and right through long and short corners, I glanced at a small dam or two away down to our right. I had spent 16 years living in London, and Manchester just reminded me how boxed in it left me feeling. I loved it for what it was  but I love the countryside more, I seemed to relax a bit more.

After Tintwistle we turned left onto the road to Holmfirth, we climbed high and went into a flock of damp grey clouds, at the top everyone stopped at the radio transmitter and the Holme Moss summit sign, it stated we were at 1719 feet above sea level. It didn’t state the bleak grey mistl wet conditions nor did it warn of the cold wind that shot through ones very bones!

We stayed here a few minutes only, the clouds stayed behind as we began the descent into Holmfirth and the location of  LAST of THE SUMMER WINE and SID’s CAFE in particular. It warmed up quickly as we negotiated the tiny road, cars waited as we streamed past, as last man I  shouted “THANK YOU” as usual and offered a thumbs up, most drivers waved back and smiled.

This is where we ended todays rideout, some went on with Barry to Huddersfield, some split here including us but not before we caused a bit of mayhem in the Café. This series I do know and can happily recognise Me and Barry in some parts of the characters! No comments thank you girls please! The young girls asked us last time to go into the garden round the back as we were frightening the hikers and ramblers, so today we went without prompting to the tables round the back as the girls brought out our cream teas.

The W.O.T (Welfare Officer Tina) got a bit agitated when I got my scone before hers and didn’t know what “We will bring them out and put them on the top table” meant…this is where her cream scones were sat waiting! Naturally I took the rise out W.O.T and yes I got a thump for that, at least we didn’t end up wrestling on the floor on this rideout! We ambled back to the car park where we all kissed and said our goodbyes before splitting to the four corners of Yorkshire. I think today went as well as it was extraordinary, unusual too that the rideout was only 70 miles. Today was a far shorter ride than we normally do. I was really happy to see so many new faces join us, some from well established circles who fancied a change of scene and hopefully enjoyed their day,

I’d like to send regards to Neville and silky scarfed Jill. The Hull gang came today again cheers Chris, Brian and the girls and of course the ex Harley folk Kev and lovely Kim. The trike gang managed to keep up with Alan (Rossi) Penrose and Chris of the Pudsey trike, he is sooo damn nippy! Small world it is too, because along came Mark and Lynne of the huge smile on the other Zanussi Fridge (White 1800cc) Mark I found out services my dads fire! I’d like to say hello and goodbye to my extended family members it’s always nice to see you all again and see you both Mark and Chrissy at the wedding, it will be OK mate don’t be nervous there is nothing to it I’ve done it three times! Holly was todays newest and youngest Wanderer and brought mum and dad in their Zanussi white sidecar outfit, she laughed a lot enjoyed her day and the silly frolics of the old ones! In the car park too I joined the WMC club at Guiseley where a growing number of Yorkshire Wing members are now getting together, organised by Derek and Heather Thornton today so there is now another watering hole to explore in the summer months as well as the many park benches Barry me old mate!

Don’t forget to left click on the photographs to show then larger, there are more photos than usual to go with this write up and I wanted to show you how beautiful you all really are!

TILLATERONTHEN

The WANDERERS SCRIBE

At 0815 hrs we pulled away from South Yorkshire on the M18 and it was still thick with fog. Hatfield Doncaster is on the edge of miles and miles of peaty land, it was all under the sea many years back until a Dutchman got his finger out and showed us how to drain the land hence its often damp and shrouded in mist/fog on wintery mornings, travel just ten miles or more in any direction and its clear! So after nine miles I clearly saw Julie behind me in the car as I braced against the cold on the Yamaha 650 MT03, we took an hour to reach Ripon sixty odd miles to the north. We bought a couple of coffee’s and waited for Barry and Tina to arrive in the van with all the tables and burgers for the afternoon “Barbi” I would like to thank COLIN APPLEYARD MOTORCYCLES at this point for the loan of the van and equipment, without them the Barbi just wouldn’t be.
Barry, Tina, Julie and I had got together the weekend previously and decided to put together the Treasure Hunt in place of the proposed last ride out, we would save that for the first of 2011, By then all my ear problems should be ancient history and I will be fit enough to ride the wing again, so we set of in the car and began to plot! It took nearly all day to do what would eventually take about four hours to complete, we thrashed out the clues…came up with some right “corkers” and some outrageously silly ones, eventually we were satisfied with a fun packed three pages of clues. I rode the route again slowly during the week on the 650 to iron out some bits and alter the wording of some clues, trying to remember that it’s just meant to be a bit of fun and not a course for SAS selection! Tina got her cooking head on the night before and did wondrous things in the kitchen, Barry and Julie would magic it all together on the day with Tina whilst I would attempt to get some photos, loitering with intent, especially around the water feature looking for a scoop!

Jonathon Clegg came with his dad in the car

Josh with THAT cap

It wasn’t long before Barry and Tina rolled up with the van to be followed by Appy Wanderers, within twenty minutes they had parked up and formed an impromptu bike show on Ripon market square,

 altogether in the square we had a van, two cars, eight assorted coloured 1500 and 1800 wings and two 1800 trikes and me on the paparazzi special. We gave out the clue sheets and charged everyone an arm and a leg to take part, Julie came down hard on Tony Pie who said he wasn’t taking part, “that will still be 3 quid” Julie knew he would eat his three quid with interest at the end, he’s not called Tony “The Pie” Hudson for nowt thaa knows!!

Tony "The Pie"

 
Mick and Colleen Emmett sat quietly ticking off their clues as Chris, Chrissy and Adrianne looked up at the Hornblower Monument for clues, Jan began to ask me questions, I grinned back “You really don’t want me to answer that do you? Deryk guided her away before I threw her a red herring!

Mark brought three Clegg kids, taking advantage of the “cars allowed” rule just for today, Young Josh with his pink bonnet and his bro Jonathon, their big sis was going to drive and give the old man time to drool at the bikes. The Pudsey Trike was here again with Chris and Alan suitably dressed in Norway camo trews.

a FUN day was in store for all

The other trike belonged to Cheryl and Sweep, these two left first as they quickly gathered up their clues. We left with the chuck wagon in the opposite direction followed by the girls in the car, we had to zoom over to Swinsty res and get everything set up. Andy was there to greet us, he was the big chief on the ground and looked after our needs whilst keeping a keen eye out for poachers, his boss Colin Winterburn is an even bigger chief and gets a huge thanks from us for giving us permission to use the site facilities.
The stuff was out of the van and Barry had the gas coupled up, Tina was busy sorting the bacon and bread buns, I looked at my watch and calculated they should be about halfway round by now so got togged up and headed off through Blubberhouses to intercept them somewhere on the hunt. It was a beautiful clear crispy day now,

Colleen Emmett waits for clues

 the sun had burnt off the mist to reveal all creatures great and small, in particular that stone badger sitting on the wall in far off Fearby village, I was sure nobody would spot him! Greenhow Hill offered fantastic views only this day everyone would be hurtling up the hill so won’t get the pleasure, I was tootling along Gouthwaite Reservoir when the horde came towards me led by Cheryl and “Sweep” on the red trike. I did a u turn and shadowed them to the next clue just down the road.

The big red wheel sat quietly as Wanderers stood, tapped, poked and counted twenty eight spokes to the amusement of the few hardy souls siting in the beer garden nearby. Like Viking raiders the horde left as one shouting across at each other laughing and waving, I followed a minute later and could only see the back of people’s heads as they stood transfixed, gawping at the vanishing Wanderers through the swirling leaves.

Vikings on a trike?...no its Telford an Cheryl

The car park at Pateley Bridge filled as passengers dismounted and strolled up the high Street looking for clues, I peered from around the corner and smirked, several ladies stood about in thick winter riding kit pointing with pens at this and that. I stood still to blend in with the old Yorkshire stone with its black and fawn smudges but my BRIGHT ORANGE DAYGLO marshall jacket made it quite pointless!

I snook off down the back alleys headed up Greenhow Hill to pause again and take some more shots as they crested the rise.
We leapfrogged each other in this fashion for the rest of the way pausing here and there to look for clues or get a good photo. I wanted to get to our special clue in the dell by the water.

The Troll comes up Greenhow hill

It lay four miles up a single track road through dark shadows as the hedge grew taller and trees overhung blocking out the sunlight, leaves began to fill the lane as Autumn demanded the trees drop them. Cow pooh lined the road as we passed the farm I was riding through the dust, stones, leaves and dry cow pooh, all thrown at me up by five wheels of a trike and the solo in front belonging to Deryck and Telford  so I dropped back even further and finally stopped spitting. Ramblers and cyclists soon appeared in front as we nudged our way carefully forwards, they were from Bolton Abbey which lay just over the river, it could be seen now and again through the thick trees. Honda Goldwings had paused at the ford and the ladies began to re read the clue and look around, Cheryl bless her was about to enter the stream and wade her way upstream to the bridge! Heather had seen the golden chalice swinging from the bridge (a plassi bag on a cord with calling cards inside) and stopped Harrison Ford…..I mean Cheryl… from wading knee deep in the cold water.

Cheryl the Brave

 One by one the Vikings robbed the chalice of its gold and roared off up the steep hill to the bemusement of Sunday ramblers out for a quiet days walk, because I sat with camera and dayglo jacket  I was asked repeatedly what was happening, everyone smiled and trudged off along the trail as finally Geoff, Mark and the girls brought up the rear, they rode over the ford and promptly shot off up the hill. I wondered where the hell they were going! I climbed aboard my bike and rode off after them. I saw a triangle of headlights as Geoff and Chris came back towards me laughing realizing they had missed the clue. Mark and Chrissy sat in a passing spot and waited.

Better off here than in t'house

It was nearly the end now and the clouds began to form, the best part of the day had gone and it turned a bit chilly, I was the last at Swinsty Reservoir, the “barbi” busy, Julie, Barry and Tina were in full flow looking after the kitchen area where people picked and spooned food onto plates before sitting down to fill empty bellies. It was quite a party atmosphere clues were repeated and folk huddled to changer answers and cheat their way to the victory rostrum!
Julie marked the sheets and gave them to Barry to read out at the end of the food orgy. We had a tie! Mark and Chrissy had been judged to have got the same amount right as Derek and Heather. We sat one from each team at the table. Derek was convinced that he was going to win at over six foot and broad he was sure the fight would end with little Mark in a headlock and begging for mercy and Derek squeezed the life out of him, no mate its just a dexterity thing not a fight! I said “OK the first to put THIS together is the winner” with that I placed a dismantled pen in front of both of them, which they both rebuilt in the same time! Oh bugger is what I think I said. Derek has such big hands I was sure Mark would beat him!

4 Very APPY WANDERERS

Maybe it WILL resort to a fight after all? Someone saved the day and suggested the prize of two shirts was halved to each of the ladies, so an APPY WANDERERS polo shirt was awarded to Heather and Chrissy.

Here ended the 2010 APPY WANDERERS TREASURE HUNT, it had been a fab day out in dry crispy sunshine riding in the finest lands that God had ever made. The Comminust Bike Club rules were only  invoked once over the “is it a chicken or hen?” dilemma. If you want the shirt you can actually buy one from us so don’t worry! It was a fun day enjoyed by all, I have never felt so tired but sat at home later that night talking on the telephone with Barry, it had been a success and we discussed how we could be more dastardly in 2011 as today was just too easy!
 The next rideout will be in early 2011 as we give the roads and lanes of England back to Mr Jack Frost and his friends Mr Snow, Mr Sleet and Mistress Ice! 
Untilateronthen

    THE WANDERERS SCRIBE

APPY WANDERERS had a large hole in September 2010 with bugger all going on due to the cancelation of the September adventure and work commitments concerning both Barry and I.

Barry meanwhile has a week in France to visit friends and hopefully explore a few ideas for next year’s tour. I thought what a waste not to do something. I was speaking to Mr Thornton at the time and asked if he would give me a hand to do an extra one? “Certainly!” he said so that evening I set to with map book and thoughts about  sorting a rideout with the various stops for fuel, food and leg stretch time. 

 Using my knowledge of the area I thought the Yorkshire Wolds and the North York Moors should be explored, the views are vast especially as you ride the ridge of the Howardian Hills. On a clear day you can see white blobs in the distant of the top secret facility at Memworth over Harrogate way!

 We would meander the B roads up to the Pickering to Thirsk road (A170) entering the North York Moors National Park and have lunch at the quant village of Hutton-Le-Hole. Then we’d ride a huge zig zag through the park coming out at Pickering. More fuel and a leg stretch here then onto Malton and into the Yorkshire Wolds with its rolling hills of white chalk. I would lead the group dipping and climbing our way along spiffing little B roads until we hove to at the biker cafe at Fridaythorpe. Hopefully big D would be the last man to pull in! The last leg from there would take in the breathtaking views at Garaby Hill…You can see Scotland from here I swear!

I planned to tack through the low lying villages of Fangfoss, Elvington, Escrick and Cawood to name a few before arriving at Squires and the end of the ride, brilliant I thought what a good little ride, about 140 miles of easy riding with plenty to see and pee stops abound…what could go wrong?

Me, is the answer I’m afraid! I am blighted with a damn ear infection that’s causing me no end of problems at the moment. Culminating on the day before the rideout when my balance suddenly went for a burton, my left and rights had put Barry’s right and lefts to shame. I felt so dizzy; I tried a short spin on my little bike to the shop where it was obvious I was finally beaten.

  I phoned big D and Heather to discuss the problem, I couldn’t go now, it was too late to let folk know, he said he’s take the ride, so from helping to do the back door for me he was now leading the ride, hopefully Geoff and Christine will be on hand to help him. I loaned my Sat Nav to big D with the route, “I have never used one of those things before he says”…Oh my giddy aunt! “Sods law” is really piling it on now I thought to myself. So big D just had to learn the foibles of Mistress Garmin overnight! We had ridden the route a month ago so it wasn’t as bad as you are thinking right now. Geoff had a fair grasp of the area too so all should be OK.

 I was still watching the clock as 09.30 arrived on Sunday morning all the same! I hoped it was all going to be OK, I am just sorry to have let folk down.

              Tilateronthen
                                            The SCRIBE..on the sofa and Barry somewhere in France!T1 and T2 somewhere in Austria June 2010
.

Here follows a write up of the day as written by Heather Thornton, the photos are hers too.
 A few weeks ago Dave suggested that as there was no ride out in September and Barry was on holiday that it would be nice to organize “the extra one”.
Dave & Julie would lead the run & Derek & I would be the back door. Everything was organized, the meeting place & time, tea stops, petrol stops, wee wee stops were all in place.
On Saturday Dave had to make the decision that he was not well enough to come out to play on Sunday so the lead of the run was handed over to Derek. Anyone who knows Derek knows that he has never used a sat nav, so this would be fun cos the route was on a sat nav.
On Sunday the sun was shining brightly, shedding the last of its summer heat on our faces as we rode to Squires to meet the group. When we arrived we were greeted with the usual kiss kiss and hand shaking and the group saddled up for the off. Hutton Le Hole here we come.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, BEEEEEEEP. What the hell is that noise ?
It was our alarm clock, 6.45am Sunday 19th September. I crawled out of bed, parted the curtains gently so as not to blind myself with the brightness, looked again at the clock, yes it was 6.45am but it was still dark, the sky was grey and it was raining. Oh well, you can dream.
Sandwiches made, flasks ready, bike prepped we set off in the rain to meet the group at Squires (that part of the dream was right).
On route we called for petrol at Colton and met up with Jon, Sharon was not well so he was riding solo today.
When we arrived at Squires the car park was empty all but for 3 pushbikes. Harden bikers, where were you all?
Next to arrive was Telford & Cheryl on their trike. Cheryl was more surprised than us that Telford had ventured out in the wet stuff. They were followed in by Nick (aka Kitkat) on his trike. Geoff & Chris on Tangerine Dream arrived next, obviously they’d received the text message to say “yes it’s on but Dave’s not coming”.
Time for coffee and a bacon sandwich before the arrival of Mick Gordge, on his old faithful 1500 wearing his colour co-ordinated froggy toggy rainwear. Mick wasted no time at all in ordering his full English breakfast. The last to arrive was Tony (the pie).
Derek had fitted the sat nav to the windscreen and to ensure that it didn’t get wet it was sealed in a plastic bag and to stop it blowing away it was tie wrapped through the windscreen vent. Like I said earlier he has never had, or had use of one before.
We headed off in a light shower towards Strensall where we would have been picking up Dereyck with a Y but as Jan was not well they would not be coming. We rode on through small villages and past derelict castles before arriving at Hutton-le-hole. We parked up and decided that given the wet stuff was still falling on us we would just have a comfort stop and would slightly amend the route and head for Danby where we could have lunch in the visitors centre café. Geoff & Chris knew the route to Danby so they took the lead and Derek & I did back door.     
Hot coffee and carrot cake later we left the café at Danby and attempted to rejoin the dots on the route. Derek was convinced that he had joined the dots and got a dinosaur!! Eventually after not too many missed junctions and Barry’s left turns, or do I mean right turns, we were back on route and heading for Pickering where we could fuel up. Oh by the way Telford, you still owe Tony £2.00 for the petrol. I’ll leave that story for Tony and Telford to tell. As we rode over the North Yorkshire moors it was bleak, the heather had lost its fabulous vibrant colour, replaced by a rusty coloured fern whose only purpose was to shelter the sheep. 
The rain had eased and for a second or two it looked as if it was brightening up, just for a second or two.
We arrived at a very quiet Seaways Café at Fridaythorpe. Normally buzzing and full of bikers but today the rain had obviously kept them all at home. A welcome coffee and yet another piece of cake and we were on the off again. Geoff seemed saddened to see all the skins of his ex girlfriends on display and for sale but stroked them all for comfort.
Telford, Cheryl & Nick left the group on the route back to Squires.
As we rode through Sherburn the sun broke through the cloud and a small area of blue sky was visible but as my Nanna  used to say “ not enough to make a sailors pair of trousers so it will rain again” She was right. 
Thanks to everybody who braved the weather and came on our “Baptism of Fire”, to Geoff & Chris for taking the back door and we hope that all the poorly ones are now better.
The “substitute”

The dawning of Sunday 8th August saw me at Great Ayton near Middlesbrough, I was cleaning the bike in readiness for today’s adventure, I had riden through several showers the day before as I rode up here from home in Doncaster, hence the dawn wash and scrub up. To be honest I was excited about the days event, it seemed ages since our last rideout. The clouds had emptied and cleared overnight leaving gardens fresh and green, the road was drying out in the early morning sun. Nine o’clock soon came as I packed my overnight bag and a few refreshments in the bike, I said goodbye to my in-laws and cruised onto the small A173 passing under the shadow of “Roseberry Topping” the local mountain of 322 metres.  You can pick it out easily owing to its particular shape, its rather like a wonky walnut whip!   ROSEBURY TOPPING……………

 I joined the A171 for the quick run to Whitby twenty six miles away, passing Guisborough and Scaling Dam on the way. The image of Whitby Abbey comes into view from a long way off because it sits on the high cliff top with nothing but the North Sea behind so stands out well.
I called at the usual garage on the last roundabout and saw my mate Barry filling up, the Martian was inside paying the lady, yes, there she was with her silver helmet firmly glued to her bonce, she never takes it off, in winter it stays on to keep her warm and in summer it stays on to make her look well hard! We rode the last mile to the Whale Bones car park, the sun was out and Whitby looked light and summery, youngsters splashed and played in an open air bathing pool to our right, folk were making their way down to the beach with arms full of clobber for the day. Everyone was in for a good day so bugger the money crisis and the dismal spin we are fed daily.
Most riders were here already parked in a long line and gathering admiring glances from the public, a couple of old guys were muttering “Dus tha remember when bikes were proper bikes and not like these bloody armchairs eh Tom?” “aye thas reight  Bill….bloody armchairs!” I smiled shaking my head as I heard that old record once again whilst others stood and took photo’s.                                                    

  Barry bought the coffee, we said hi to the guys sat around the café, I then wandered off to say hello to todays APPY WANDERERS who were milling about the bikes. I met a fresh face that belonged to Keith who came down from Washington near Sunderland, I asked if he’d been here overnight camping perhaps? He explained he hadn’t ridden his red 1500 for two years because of work and stuff and decided to bring his trailer as that hadn’t seen the tarmac for three years! I wandered further up the line wondering about Keith’s train of thought, yes by all means air the trailer but not on a rideout, it’s not practical and could cause all sorts of problems.
Nick the Freak was here with his new blue 1800 trike he brought an old friend out for the day, she was Sexy boots Sue, she was really looking forward to the day so too were Drerekand Heather fresh from their two week sortie into Germany, Austria and a bit of Italy. Alan and Christine sat opposite on their grey trike from Pudsey near Leeds.                   

KEITH of WASHINGTON   

Christine was still a bit sore with the new knee job but was making the effort, good on you girl.
Amongst the bikes at the end of the line were June and Dave. Now let me set the records straight and explain that Dave is not from Geordieland but hails from Redcar, last year I’d recorded wrongly about “The Two Geordie Gentlemen” (Dave and Jimbo) who  had teamed up on one bike during the treasure hunt, I got some stick of them as they berated me loudly in Redcarian speak about their heritage, Dave boasted that he was from Dewsbury originally, but declared the smell of curry  drove him to Redcar…which is not really that far from Newcastle.
With them were Debbie and Pete from Stockton, they have joined us once or twice before with their red 1500, Pete proudly told me that Debbie got her ample bosom in

                                                                                           JUNE and DAVE…of REDCAR

 a magazine recently. I inadvertently looked and thought centre spread? Our conversation stopped for a minute and we stood laughing at each other!
 DEBBIE of STOCKTON     

Pete from York came today on his older 1500, it was his first ride out with us, his bike was still quite new to him and was proving to be a bit of a money magnet at the moment, don’t you just hate that? He vowed to take on some of the mechanic work himself to keep the price down. He was here today on his own, his wife was at home because she is not interested in the bike….yet!  Pete wants to go into Europe at some point on his 1500.  Once you get your first taste you will never look back Pete, I look forward to it every year.
I can still remember my first nervous trip abroad on my own in the middle 1970’s.  It wasn’t really abroad I went across to the IOM for three weeks on my own but it felt abroad to me! The bike was a blue Suzuki GS550cc. Can you believe the bastards lashed my bike to the railings on deck? It’s really hard to believe these days I know but they did! I spent the first week away washing salt marks from the chrome, it never really looked the same after that. Later in 1979,  a year of firsts, I took my first wife on my first Goldwing to Gurnsey, she was a black one (the bike not the wife). It was a naked 1000cc K model. Fairings or panniers hadn’t been dreamed up by the Honda boys back then. She had blue and gold pin stripes too. I remember lashing two suitcases on the back rack wrapped in blackbags, the front end was so light which was a good job really because I had a puncture and came all the way back with the front filled with that useless finileck shyte, What an adventurous pioneer I was in my yoof!
Speaking of pioneers Mr Ron Kent was here too, did anyone spot Ron in his yellow jacket or catch his posh southern accent? Our Ron came up from Maidstone for the weekend! Ron is an unassuming chap with an iron ass and a nice smile. Ron came to Pitlockery with us in June, In fact one of our runs over the weekend was so short for him that he took himself off on a detour just to bang in some extra miles! He also appeared at the Yorkshire Air Museum recently during one or our recent ride outs.  If we did prizes for furthest travelled then our Ron would have a shed full, but we don’t so he hasn’t. I wonder if Ron’s wife really believes him when he tells her he is just popping to the shops for some fags! Ron you put most Wing owners to shame, well done sir!
Deryck with a Y and  Jan stood near their dark blue 1800, these guys hail from t’other side of York. These two likeable toffs are in their element now they have bought into the Goldwing lifestyle, in fact he is about to buy a bike trailer for the camping stuff! Deryck is looking considerably younger these days, he is looking quite the punk with spiky hair and dark shades, Jan is getting looser too she is disregarding her £100 perms in favour of the lesbian cut that’s favoured by most of our women, I even heard her swear recently too!
Mick and Evelyn were here on their 1800 too, these two Leeds folk are coming on more and more of our ride outs and are really enjoying the crack, He is a funny man but then he is Irish isn’t he? They too came up to Pitlockry in June at the last moment and had a great time.
Ian and Adrianne were here on their old coughing dark blue 1500, they have a three foot amber flashing landing light strapped to the rear of the bike! I’m not sure why, I thought he fit it as a joke early this year but it seems it is here to stay, along with his farmyard noise toy, It’s surely going to be the death of him as more and more folk get irked by it, perhaps he will activate it one more time and the booby trap will explode blowing him and his farmyard toy to kingdom Come!
Happy IAN on his mobile  farmyard!

Elaine and Russ from Halifax turned up before we left, they are here in Whitby because Elaine is recuperating, they are old friends and just wanted to pop in and say hi to everyone, we wished her a speedy recovery before pulling out of the car park heading up the coast. Thirteen bikes, trikes and one trailer left the car park.  Russ and Elaine went back to the pub whilst today’s APPY WANDERS embarked on their adventure.
“What are APPY WANDERERS about?” is something I have heard once or twice and why the hell do Barry and Dave put so much effort into it? Let me try and explain like this, Mr X joined us with wifey for his first ride out and was full of enthusiasm but was new to the Honda Goldwing, It seems such a beast to begin with doesn’t it?  He struggled a bit (didn’t we all) and rode quite slowly on the narrow roads and created a few gaps, the tight corners proved to be quite a challenge to begin with consequently he made a few mistakes, which we all did when first presented with this enormous armchair of a bike. Mr X stuck with it though he got encouraged, laughed at, nodded at, and began to get the hang of it, he is now quite competent, relaxed and confidant. Who might this Mr X be? Look around you, he is any one of you new guys! I have seen a few Mr X’s over the years let me tell you! One or two bowed out but most stay around. Barry and I don’t run a riding school by any means, but if we can help someone who is struggling then we will offer to help. Barry even took a previous Mr X on roundabouts for a morning until he believed in himself. Hence sometimes Mr X is asked to ride up behind Barry for a spell. From my position at the back I can normally observe any large gaps forming in the group and can often spot Mr X, sometimes a quick fix is achieved over the CB or Barry and Mr X discuss it quietly at the next stop and move the riding positions around, so far this method works very well for the group. Ultimately our aim is to get you to love the day as we do and get you to ride your bike and explore our roads, we ought to, we pay enough for them! The  Honda Goldwing motorbike looks hugely imposing to new owners, I remember my first wing over thirty years ago I remember both my Dad and I saying “what the f*** have I done??” But with practice and encouragement the monster soon turns back into a motorbike!  Just remember guys we have all ridden like useless twats in our day!  We don’t have much rigidity with club rules or club memberships and all the b****ks that goes with it because we are not a club. Everyone on a Honda GoldWing bike or trike is welcome and you become an APPY WANDERER for the day simply by turning up. You’re free to turn up as often as you like….or not, the choice is all yours! 

                                               PETE of STOCKTON

We had turned into the North York Moors National Park and headed toward Glaisdale, the road was typically narrow and twisty, I say typical because it’s the kind of roads we like to use when taking the the APPY WANDERERS out for a ride, the scenery is always more pleasant and we get to see the views not usually associated with travelling along A roads, you wouldn’t get to ride through the quant and interesting hamlet called Fryup for example. This particular road was familiar to me, I’d ridden along here with Julie several times on our trips up to her parents in Great Ayton. We crossed open moorland riding very close to road side sheep, quite often they ignored us as we passed just a few feet away at    

slow speed. We headed into woodland as we dropped into long gully’s and ran along streams and shrubbery, the greens were very vibrant, with splodges of colour as the flowers soaked up the suns rays. It was the height of summer and we had the rains yesterday, so it all looked and smelt very English. We dropped down into another sleepy village called Danby, then on through Kildale and Battersby. We now rode into The Cleveland Hills and continued twisting our way along, no dry stone walls that characterizes the back roads of the Yorkshire Dales but hedges and trees and rises and bumps and twists the views are not as vast but equally beautiful, it felt good to be out in the countryside. Ingleby Greenhow was the next notable villagewhich was suitably empty on this Sunday morning, we even performed a rare U turn in one hamlet causing hardly any disruption at all. Barry was calling out some information and just to make things a bit more interesting called left turn then swung right as he and Mistress Garmin conflicted.

DURHAM’S BILL

 It was funny and made the mood jovial as a few comments passed along the CB airwaves. I think Derek as our new middle man thought maybe this was a test for him and kept asking Barry if he meant left right or right left? Barry even threw in a “look to your 3 o’clock folks” sometimes to confound folk.  From the back of the convoy I smirked and said nothing. Oh well it was keeping Derek alert!
We crossed my favourite road in these parts, the B road from Helmsley to Stokesley, it’s a great road to ride and to practice ones bike skills, I don’t recommend it on any Sunday though because lots of folk have the same idea and most bikes are of the race replica kind and so all the pilots think they are excellent riders, this road though tells the good they are good and the bad they are truly shyte! It’s unwise therefore to take the gang along this road today! I for one don’t want a race replica motorbike in my top box nor do I care to accommodate a stunned pilot on my back seat. So we scooted across it at Kirkby, turning onto the A172 and the A19 for a mile or so before entering Northallerton.
Like most towns Sunday is the best day to ride through them, the shops are shut and the roads are less congested. Nick called out that he was dropping out, his passenger felt unwell, he quickly pulled his blue trike over onto a patch of grass. Barry called Nick on the CB, I told Barry to leave it because as I passed I saw she was scurrying off the back seat and Nick was attending her needs! Either a bad watercress sarni or ten pints of lager and two packets of crisps was being recycled back to Mother Earth! Catterick was the next place to visit. This is an old army garrison town, it still is to this day and a lot quieter lately though as most of the soldiers are working away. I saw plenty of large dark green trucks in the compounds to the left and right. I am quite interested in this particular world so looked for other types, but as usual the interesting stuff is kept from view, we crossed over the A1 and carried on towards Leyburn and our first tea stop. We passed along Ministry of Defence (MOD) for a few miles and I could see light tan coloured tracks in the distance, they drew a line over the bracken and sometimes crossed each other but nothing moved out there today, no dust, no nothing. At the next left we turned and poured slowly into Leyburn centre to park up on the cobbles. Lids were removed, bums wiggled and people disrobed, top boxes went up as packed lunches came into view as flasks were wrestled open, hot coffee and tea was soon passed around. Packed lunches and flasks have really become popular this year with lots of people, at least we don’t have to stand in a line at the tea house or crowd into the small café to put the fear of god into the owner! Do you remember that chippie

 LEYBURN town square.       up there in Keswick when we all piled in late one Sunday and ordered 16 fish and chips to eat in! Well I think whilst it’s pleasant and dry we prefer our packed lunches outside for now.
Keith had been suffering with his back, he has a long standing fight with it, today he conceded and said he would be leaving us to take a steady ride home; it was getting a bit too sore for him. He had enjoyed it up to here. In his place came Bill and Lorraine Smith from Durham, they had been with us once or twice last year and really enjoyed themselves. Their bike is a 1500, light and dark brown in colour, Bill is still getting to grips with it, they really like being with like minded folk, love the crack and the “mickey taking” they have made lots of friends amongst the wingers and seem to be here to stay, I hope so at least. Lovely Lorraine is younger than most of us and smiles a lot which is a bonus because she has a lovely smile with twinkling eyes. Bill on the other hand is just an ordinary bloke, quite studious in his way and does our country proud in what he does with his dog for a living. 
We all sat or stood around in the sunshine munching on chicken legs, bikkis and other crunchy stuff for about an hour, a few pocket rocket pilots stood nearby casting sideways glances at how organised we appeared but never said anything, maybe they only nod when they put their lids on? To be fair we were so engrossed with each other we never spoke to them either, I even got invited to lunch at Jans house over t’other side of York. It’s probably reet posh so I’ll have to have a shave and put my best clothes on, I’ll have to pick some opera for the ipod, no bloody Black Sabbeth I’m afraid! I’ll let you know how I get on.
It was time to move on, Ian appeared from around the corner and made a space for us all to pull out as one onto the road safely, Keith went back to Washington and Bill and Lorraine joined us. We rode down the hill and entered the Yorkshire Dales National Park. We rode along the A684 in some stunning scenery, we went east to Hawes which was one of those places that’s busy on Sundays, it was mostly full of Sunday bikers, ramblers and car day trippers and the odd local! The road side pubs looked full as folk sat at tables and watched the world go by, we cruised through slowly, lots of folk prefer to make swift progress on the road rather than drift slowly along the wave of mindless window shoppers and yapping brats who wanted just about everything on show! My God how they do my head in as they stop start and drift to the left and right. I have to admit I am one who walks on roads too. When I lived in London I would always walk down Oxford St on the road, it was much quicker and one could keep pace with the red buses and black cabs down this road. I love this place but not on Sundays. Out of the town we turned onto one of our beloved back roads, this time the B6255, following the River Ribble for a short while before cruising through High and Low Bentham then Ingleton. We came to another tea stop at Caton,  CHEERS M’DEARS say MICK and EVELYN 

 it’s a long lay bye with a mobile tea hut just in the wooded clearing, it’s popular with bikers and truckers alike, it was a short tea stop before Barry led us off once more for the last bit down into Morecambe passing through Lancaster. After some trouble free roundabouts we saw the seafront and turned left to find the seafront car park near today’s team photo spot. Barry and I had thought of exactly the same spot without speaking and laughed about it, we are so different in lots of ways yet think along the same lines in other things, especially APPY WANDERERS stuff, we even finish each other’s sentence’s (joking folks joking!) He says we think quite differently and take some really different routes but often arrive at the same conclusion. I have to agree with him on this.
So in the late afternoon sun we all gathered on the prom where the arty structure sits that mirrors the mountains across the bay and have our photo taken to represent today’s “Team Photo” It had been a great day out and everyone really enjoyed themselves. Tina Walton was missing from the team photo today because she chose to check out the new toilets in rather a hurry instead. Upon her return she gave it a low score. Tina knows her toilets very well, she even tried to redecorate one near Hull once but didn’t have enough pink and orange pebbledash.
The ride was declared well completed by Barry and thanks were passed around each other. The Geordie and Redcarian contingent walked along the prom to buy all the fish and chips available, individuals split of to return home or do their own thing, some thought about staying overnight….How did it go Nick? We all said our goobye’s until the next time.
Barry and I agreed to ride back over the “Trough of Bowland” We confirmed that the official ride had indeed ended and smiled to each other, so now the adult (or child?) side of us came to the fore! Three more bikes wanted to tag along. OK cool, let’s go then I said.
Barry led us out of Morecambe and back through Lancaster, in just a few minutes he led us quickly onto the now customary back roads, only now we were going a bit quicker. Barry led, I sat near his tail watching Tina bob up and down on the back, it was interesting plus it indicated to me when a big bump was coming. Behind me rode Derek and Heather, behind them came the Pudsey trike, I was very impressed how quickly Alan pushed it along, corners looked like fun too. Christine enjoyed it too, at least I think she did because I never saw her punch Alan once! Mick an Evelyn chucked on more coal spurted after us, behind them at the rear came Ian and Adrianne, we were going so quick that at times we slowed to let people catch up again. It was so much fun and reminded me of my Thursday play-days with Barry. On one bend Barry met a coach at speed and squeezed the brakes hard as he dropped his shoulder to squeeze by, I was laughing my head off just a few yards behind, there was lots of room it just looked a close run thing, once around the bend we were giggling at each other on the CB’s. There was lots of flipping swearing too, I think that was just the adrenalin though! The road got smoother and wider as we skipped to Skipton on the wonderful A65 at a swift rate of knots. A fish and Chip supper was consumed by the canal in Skipton, we were very happy and chilled and sat around like children smirking from ear to ear at the last fast ride and the whole wonderful day in general.Looking down at HAYSHAM 

 It’s great fun to be an APPY WANDERER!
At about 20.00 hrs we split up even further, Barry led the Pudsey Trike on a swift voyage along the Skipton bypass, I brought up the rear and was very impressed again as it hugged the tarmac and broke the poor bloke chasing us on his Bandit, he couldn’t believe it or was he being battered by his lady friend on the backseat! Either way he dropped back a long way until he got his breath then passed us until Barry took up the chase and escorted him to the last roundabout chewing his ass all the way! Remind me, how old are we supposed to be?  Alan and Christine turned off to head towards Pudsey, I followed Barry and Tina to the clubhouse in Keighley for a last cuppa. I hit the road shortly after cruising over the tops in the setting sun to the M62 at Bradford.

                       T1 and T2 share a moment

I came to a final halt at 22.00 hrs on the drive in the pitch black at home in Hatfield. What a brilliant day we had I told Julie, who was in charge of three horses this week and unable to join us today, we had ridden parts of 3 ride out routes, it had been really good, she could tell I had enjoyed myself!  Thanks again to Heather for those “extra” photographs  x

TILATERONTHEN……………The Wanderers Scribe

                                                           Handley Page Victor K2 “LUSTY LINDY”

 Today’s ride out had been re-jigged, East Kirkby air museum was now closed on Sundays, a visit was planned instead to Elvington Air museum near York. We would be going the pretty way from Thirsk along the back lanes into The Howardian Hills. We know the roads around there and it’s quite a gem of an area, we were both looking forward to the day.
 A westerly wind was getting up as Julie climbed aboard our silver 1800, now looking clean after the recent adventure to Southern Italy. Sitting on the drive with “that look” was POOKA. She is never impressed when we leave Walnut Cottage with lots of “good feeling” vibes emanating from our bodies. It’s plain to see on her feline fizog that she is not impressed one little bit that we are off again. She gave us such a hard time last month after our two week adventure you just wouldn’t believe her bloody whining! “Look cat, if we had a sidecar I’d bring you along” I lied.
 Ten minutes later we shifted into gear as we joined the M18, the wind began to push and pull almost straight away, I was looking up at the clouds as usual. Today I saw plenty of the blue stuff with some cloud it was warm too in spite of the buffeting wind. We banked left onto the slip road as the M62 crossed the M18, a long left downward curve that gives you  the first thrill of the day, one doesn’t have to slow down at all and can do 70 mph with no bother at all on the wide bend…or in my case, a swifter XXmph! Motorways are handy but boring things really so the occasional corners are most welcome! The wind got hold of us properly now as it leant on us, coming in hard from the left. One just leant over a bit more and gunned the engine, I wasn’t trying to outrun the wind (as if!) Ferrybridge power station signalled another couple of long corners as we swept skyward up on the slip road curving over the M62 swinging from East to North to settle again on the straight northbound link to the A1. There wasn’t much on the road today Sunday 11th at 08.30hrs and so the road felt like ours. There is a section of A1 just before Wetherby where the road climbs and you can see far off to the west, it’s really open and majestic looking but today the winds took our attention as it pushed us hard, very hard, we were banked over so far just trying to keep straight, “F*** Me Julie it’s a bit bloody breezy today!” I shouted. I didn’t quite catch her Saxon reply as we pushed on at a fast pace through the roaring winds. I looked in the mirror and saw a car drop back from 30 yds to 100 yds or so. This happens every time in windy conditions, I always find it amusing and wonder just what they are thinking, do they realize it’s actually windy?  Is often my first thought. Not being a car driver I have never felt the forces in the steering wheel.
The Thirsk turn off was soon reached and we pulled over at the first stop for fuel and the loo, presently we moved into the cobbled square in quiet Thirsk parking up outside Greggs. We ungloved, took of our lids undid the Velcro and wandered human like inside for a coffee and bacon sarni special for £1.99. Sitting under the stone cross in the square we didn’t have long to wait before the first of today’s Wanderers arrived, Deryck with a Y and Jan came first followed by the Durham dog man and ….wait a minute.. is that a NEW woman? No sorry everyone  it’s actually the same belter only now she is a brunette and very nice she looks! Well what can I say I haven’t seen her for ages! This brought laughter which thankfully covered over my gaffe! It was approaching 10.00hrs and more wings arrived in singles and pairs. Coming next were Geoff and Christine on their Tangerine Dream minus Mark and Chrissy on the Pussy, they were both struck down with a food bug of some kind. Barry and Tina brought a group from Keighley and Skipton, very quickly the cobbles filled with 24 bikes and trikes. This was the biggest gathering so far this year, I was introduced to several new couples, one who’d come back onto two wheels from a spell on three! Also some established bikers from Border wings, their faces I knew but had never been introduced to before, let me try and recollect without my note book..Mark and Lynne.. erm.. Mick and Cath, Martin and wifey, and ..and.. Hmm, must remember the notebook for the next one! A good turnout of bikes came down from Border Wings, four bikes, very much a fun bunch to be around I thought.  Ken and Jean of Harrogate came too, fresh from their month jaunt to Southern Italy. Our trips had overlapped, they had seen us as we’d passed on the motorway, we remembered waving at a blue wing, but didn’t realize it was them! I still associate Ken and Jean with the dark red 1500 and ultra low windscreen hence the penny never clicked until today, it really is a small world isn’t it?
The silver grey Pudsey trike was here too with hubbi up front and Christine behind nursing her new knee. Nick the Freak turned out with his new white hair and blue 1800 trike, he was one of today’s four trikes. Hey Nick I hope you soon get used to your new wider arse!  Ian and M arrived shouting abuse at me.. bless! They rode down from wet and dark Carlisle and had a very windy passage over Shap, along the fast A66 up over the tops. I know it has beautiful views all the way. I know too that it’s a really wide open rugged place, we’d got beaten up a few times by the elements so really felt for them, they must have been quite battered. Evelyn and Mick of Leeds were here too, they too felt bruised from the winds. I think it is safe to say at this point that everyone had something to say about the winds today! Russ of Halifax came for the ride out before leaving early, today was a short day for him, but still nice to say hello…till the next time Russ and give our best regards to Elaine. From Horsforth way came Ian and Adrianne with Jon Abbot and Sharron his carer nurse (Lucky man!) Well he does say he has a bad back hence the nurse, she also doubles up as his wife by the way!  Heather with big Derek came on their plum red 1800 and the most important gadget.. the camera! Most of these photos in this write-up are hers in fact, cheers Heather! They will be touring Germany any day now so look out for their photos on FACEBOOK upon their return, Still more Goldwings came, Tony “The Pie” Hudson came from Wakefield on his new black 1800. The last to arrive I think was Telford the Chimney Sweep from Ackworth with Cheryl his partner from nearby Featherstone. We had folk from every region I had lived and worked in my past, Normanton, Wakefield, Castleford and Featherstone! 
I caught Barry’s eye and tapped my watch, he was rolling one and happily chatting bikes to new faces. “Time to move mate don’t you agree?” I know it’s only a short run today and we have plenty of time but I could see it getting very busy and the parking area was filling up with day trippers, cars, lots of them and other groups of bikers out for a good days riding. I suggested we move off while we can. Riding on cobbles is hard enough without folk standing gawping at us and generally getting in the way. We shouted for everyone to get ready, minutes later everyone began to move off making their way to the main road.
I had pulled onto the main road first and asked the cars behind to wait a minute, Barry pulled out onto the road as the opposing traffic halted to let us move out, I counted all twenty four bikes, Julie waved our thanks to the patient vehicles, I called out on the CB “All out and rolling Barry” we were on our way again with a very good start I thought. I remembered from the route on the PC the night before it was right at the first roundabout then left at the next one towards the back roads into the countryside. Barry went straight over instead of left at the second roundabout. Detours were frequent so it was nothing to worry about. We did a two mile loop and came back to the first roundabout! The CB crackled with puns and wisecracks as Barry led us straight over the two roundabouts for a second time, four sports bikers stood at the road side and nodded as we went by I nodded back. Barry missed the left turn again and we went round again! The CB came alive as more folk realized Barry was making mistakes, I had to grin as folk grabbed loads of payback, Barry has always been the first to pick up and ridicule anybody’s mistakes so now it was everyone elses turn! He rattled off the longest lamest excuse why it wasn’t his fault, until he relented and said “OK it’s my fault… I Fooked up” Don’t worry Barry It’s a good sign of maturity to show some magnaninity!  The four bikers now stood laughing at us as we came by a second time I fixed a grin as we passed..again. I hope we don’t come round again I said to myself, we did a figure eight as Barry wrestled with Mistress Garmin, trying to impose his authority over her, he finally got the better of her and we came onto our correct heading across the now worn out second roundabout. Hurrah! came the cheers as we released Thirsk from the Goldwing Encirclement. The ride started off with a little Madness before eventually going one step beyond!…..Pun intended.
The jocular banter on the CB lessened as we settled down to a great ride along narrow lanes and navigated the loose shale and close hedgerows, sometimes it’s really nice to ride around 40mph! High Kilburn and its white chalk horse was the first village we passed through, I had got lost here one time and criss crossed the back lanes a bit, we had great fun finding our way again! We passed nearby Byland Abbey and wound our way towards Scackleton and Hoveringham.
A shout went up that someone had stopped, I saw Deryck with a y had pulled over, I pulled over too and told Barry to slow the group a tad as Deryck loped past me down the road chuntering that his hand held CB had fallen off his waist strap, I guess it wasn’t really a hand held unit after all! I told Barry all was well and we would be rolling in a minute. Lucky for him it hadn’t been run over by the guys behind and lucky for them that it hadn’t bounced into the bike. Deryck declared it dead, fekkin dead as he plonked it in the top box, “Oh well shit happens” he says. I got an email from him later saying he applied some gaffa tape and a tie wrap or two, amazingly it was actually still working! Smiling we both rode off quickly after the group.
Ian and M were sat at the next T junction to make sure we made the correct turn, the group were just a hundred yards or so away. Castle Howard was just off to the left with its lake. Way ahead in front of us stood a huge oberlisk a little roundabout steered us around it. I used to come here for the steam traction fairs with my parents when I was a youth but don’t remember the building at all or the grounds. I loved this slow “drive bye” and told myself to come here again and have proper look round. Just tap in Castle Howard on GOOGLE, it’s not actually a castle by the way it is in fact a stately home. Read the bumf on the Castel Howard site if you’d like to learn more. The winds were long forgotten now as we discovered the nooks and crannies that make up The Howardian Hills and it’s great little villages.  A little rain fell on us for a few minutes at the rear of the column before the sun took charge again looking down and keeping us warm for the remainder of the day, the wind though quieter continues to make a right mess of my hair!
We passed through Malton crossing the A64. I remember Malton forty years ago when it used to be a horrible bottleneck as our Dad drove us to Scarborough in our car, a white Austin Cambridge, this was my favourite of our Dads cars. The sign for the next village caught my attention, it was the oddly spelt Wharram Percy.
Wharram Percy is perhaps the best-known deserted medieval village in the whole of England, although there are several others which are in a similarly good state of preservation. The reason for its celebrity is that it was researched each summer by combined teams of archaeologists, historians and even botanists, from 1950 to 1990 following its identification in 1948. Although the site has apparently been settled since pre-historic times, the village seems to have been most active from the tenth to the twelfth centuries. The Black Death of 1348–49 does not seem to have played a significant part in the desertion of Wharram Percy although the large fall in population in the country as a whole at that time must have made relocation to a less remote spot more likely. The village was finally abandoned in the early 16th century when the lord of the manor turned out the last few families and knocked down their homes to make room for extra sheep pasturage. It is now in the care of English Heritage, although only the ruined church is easily visible above ground, much more of the village layout can be seen in the surrounding fields.
The fields here were rich in colour with the various crops in full splendour and swishing to and fro with the wind, the strong gold and yellows reminded Julie of Spain. That’s the real Spain not many folk see as they mostly flock to the Costa’s. We are due a return visit soon!  It’s such a vast and old country with various influences, especially from North Africa.
We now head towards the village of Fridaythorpe and for the first time on the ride I catch a glimpse of Barry and Tina up at the front, such is the length of the group and the twisty dipping old roads. Fridaythorpe was the old site used by M.A.G (Motorcyle Action Group) to host its “INTO THE VALLEY” party weekend. Oh what fun we 3,000 bikers had in these chalk valleys, we turned before Frdiaythorpe and headed along the chalk valley, clearing them on the ridgeline that overlooked the Vale of York, you can see miles and miles as the land flattened out before your very eyes, we were not far from Garaby Hill and the sprint down to the next level. We actually went along the ridge line before turning a different direction when as planned Barry pulled the group over to a halt calling me and Geoff up to the front. We would press ahead to Elvington air museum to introduce ourselves and announce the imminent arrival of APPY WANDERERS, to also clarify the gate fee discount with the old volunteers of £4 per bike and clear a parking spot for twenty four bikes.
We got there pretty sharpish after a nice sprint and a good goggle at the “tarts” at the pub in Stamford Bridge, one poor thing had her skirt hitched into her knickers after visiting the loo and was showing some nice ass! The things you see when out on the bike eh? At Elvington Geoff stood on the gate to control the flow, I stood at the junction further along and waived everyone to our spot whilst asking leaving cars to wait a minute or two as the gang swarmed through the entrance. Later in the afternoon I heard some folk paid £4 per person instead of £4 per bike, hmm, it seemed some people had got their wires crossed, it was too late to do anything now, still, it was still cheaper than £7 per person as the gate price was advertised.
During the Second World War RAF Elvington had been a grass airfield, rebuilt in 1942 and made bigger it was home for 77 squadron and their Handley Page HALIFAX four engine heavy bombers (later it was home to two French bomber sqns) By the end of hostilities 77 squadron had lost over eighty bombers with over five hundred aircrew killed, heavy losses indeed when you consider a squadron consisted of about twenty. These were very heavy losses indeed.  For more information you can look at their website. Yorkshire Air Museum — Yorkshire Air Museum and Allied Air Forces Memorial 
Today there was a big showing of cars from the early 1960’s onwards. I don’t really know the cars of today, I think they are quite boring and plain, but the cars of my youth I do remember with some fondness and can pick a lot of them out. Elvington had 44 aircraft and part aircraft exhibits scattered around and in various buildings, on the main “pan” sat a Lightning, several Tornados, a Nimrod, two Hunters, a French Mirage, Dakota, and a couple of English Blackburn Buccaneer jets, and of course the famous Handley Page Victor K2 tanker “Lusty Lindy” of the infamous take off incident, you might still view it on your PC on the YOU TUBE site. She was being run down the runway to test engines etc one day when she left the ground briefly…she was not supposed to do that anymore! I would have loved to have been a fly in the cockpit on that day! A host of other exhibits can be viewed in the various billets. The French billet is fascinating, paintings of France are still on the walls, painted by a French aviator to remind the chaps of their home country in 1944. The new hanger houses a HALIFAX bomber and a superb rebuilt example of the De Haviland Mosquito night fighter, which got Barry’s attention because this is his favourite of the old warplanes. Today four huge Hispano 20mm cannon sit on a wooden tray for cleaning and to allow visitors a closer inspection, they are gunmetal black and huge, as long as a Honda Goldwing 1800 in fact. I imagine one could be mounted with some difficulty on a trike. Just think we could cruise the clogged up A64 blasting caravans and motor homes alike into oblivion to clear the roads for the rest of us. I’m sure I hear Barry ask the man how much one of the cannons cost, I’ll chip in with you for one of those things Barry! You drive and aim, and I’ll load the bugger and fire from the backseat!  “Lock and load..Goldwings all the way.. Sempre Fi” Oh I can just see it now!

A team photo was arranged with those left on site and a few bikes behind, one of the billets as a back drop, the photo has come out good don’t you think? It was after four and a last run to Squires was on the cards before the day was declared closed. We made an impressive noise as we gathered and warmed up the engines and tested the various tastes of music on the gathering crowds, many were old warriors dressed proudly in their regimental blazers, these guys dwindle in numbers as the years go on old age takes its toll, and they return to mother Earth, life circle goes on. They look on and smile as some of us have the right music to leave by on the sound systems, 633 Sqn..  The Battle of Britain theme..The Longest Day.. and of course “The Rabbit Song” from Chaz and Dave! Cheers Geoff that is a cracker and fast becoming Barry’s theme song!

About thirteen bikes left as others went their different way still with chores to be done before the weekend is over. The A64 came to a standstill at York, we on the other hand did not, we formed into single file and gently pushed our way down the centre, most cars pulled over that extra foot or two to accommodate us, one or two closed or tried to ignore us. Oh what nobbish behaviour from them. You WILL be overtaken by a motorcycle, you’re six foot or more wide whilst we are only half the width, it’s not rocket science!

Squires Café was half empty on this late afternoon as we dozen or more gathered eventually for a last cuppa, I sent everyone on a wild goose chase from way at the back! A petrol garage was needed I sent everyone to the old one I used to use, only it’s not there anymore! They came by me telling me thirteen times “Oi! There’s no bloody garage there” Ok so it’s been knocked down now has it? Well that’s good to know for the next time I’m over this way! My Julie was hitching a lift with Nick on his new blue trike on this last leg so she directed him to the other garage at the far end of town. I waited for her with mug of tea x two. It had been a good days riding and an interesting visit to Elvington, the weather behaved after a windy start and nobody had any drama and  hopefully Thirsk will recover quickly from “The Goldwing Encirclement”!

TILATERONTEN

                                                       THE SCRIBE