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

                                                                              Wee Garry Cairns

The 3 star ARCASAID hotel was actually two separate buildings, it looked like one building had been purchased at a later date and linked by a white wood and glass corridor, on the inside it really did remind me of FAWLTY TOWERS except the moose head was missing from the reception wall. Everything looked old and fragile yet clean, it varied greatly in colour and décor, and the carpet knocked Julie for six with its blue and yellow flowered dots and threadbare edges (£96 per night?) Our splendid abode in the Lodge next door (annexe) had toilet and shower inside the MDF boxed bathroom and the sink on the outside..Next to the telly? (£96 per night?) In the main building Brian and Janet had no shower and were given a bottle of plonk to keep them quiet by Mr Grumpy (£96 per night?) In their defence it does say some have showers and some have baths but they never mentioned mould in Barry’s room (£96 per night?) The décor is wild and NOT Best Western regimental beige and pale blues that’s for sure, but then I do like different! The bar was hidden amongst the floral wallpaper; it was just a hatch next to the foyer with two sofas. It didn’t looked used much, well come on now how often have you seen dead folk drinking? It did not suite me at all, I decided I would entertain myself elsewhere in the coming evenings, besides I didn’t want to be responsible for scaring away the ancient purple rinse ladies or the ex majors and well healed but delicate chaps. The only alert being in the building was “Rascal” He was a beautiful black Labrador, he kept popping his head over the hatch to say hello. His owner was a proper English Grumpy Git of dour disposition (The missing moose head?) He gave our Herr Flick from Austria a run for his money as worst host so far in APPY WANDERERS history. Clare the lady of the house on the other hand was a voluptuous curvaceous breath of fresh air and worthy of conversation over a pint or three. She was bubbly, happy and interesting. (£95 per night!) Breakfast was 100% perfect, the two Polish serving wenches were good, especially young Anna, she made me smile she was a definite bonus to the hotel this year, she was funny, helpful and got on with everyone and had a good command of English, the poor lass struggled with Yorkshire though, she didn’t know what a bloody bucket was and had I to repeat it in a London accent! “I want a backet innit” I said. “Oh you want backet?” she replied. I give her top marks though because she managed to bring me extra bacon every morning. The other lass was OK too until you upset her then she had a notion of throwing toast at big Derek. You should have seen his face! (£95…Priceless!)
The garden was wonderful and time had been spent on it. It was the best thing about the hotel the shrubs had been ravaged this year apparently but what was left was stunning, I was impressed so much that I asked Julie to take note and will purchase some presently for my own garden. I have to say though that the hotel was over priced and not worthy of a return visit…that of course is just mine and Julies thoughts
“So, why Pitlochry?” You ask? Well I’ve come through here a couple of times on my travels and know some great little roads. Last year with Julie I stopped here for a week at the nearby Faskally holiday home site on a Steve Saunders weekend, it is ideally situated for “ride outs” and provides plenty of scope in every direction, also Pitlochry has enough bars and eateries to entertain for several days. Pitlochry too and has lots to offer on its doorstep if the weather turned really ugly, It was a Bank Holiday after all! The stats for the town say this… Pitlochry is a burgh in the area of Perth and Kinross lying on the River Tummel Its population according to the 2001 census was 2,564. It is largely a Victorian town, whose success as a tourist resort was due to Queen Victoria visiting the area in 1842, and the arrival of the railway in 1863. It remains a popular tourist resort today and is particularly known as a centre for hill walking surrounded by mountains such as Ben Vrackie. The town has retained many stone-built Victorian buildings….and on it goes but you get the drift eh?
 So last Autumn I suggested to Barry we do this as an APPY WANDERERS long weekend. Depending on the weather we could do either long ride outs north west to the craggy Highlands or hilly heath lands to the east, if we had poor weather we could instead do shorter trips to nearby castles stately homes and distilleries.

Wee Mark of Lancashire

But for now I escorted the early arrivals up into the high street in search of a snack and found a great little butchers shop for a bacon sarni or two, a large bright bar across the way welcomed us for a few hours. The weather was now bright but showery most of the afternoon, more Wanderers began to arrive at the hotel and phoned Barry who then relayed our location, soon Tony and Hazel joined us as we meandered towards the famous Salmon ladder.
 The info pamphlet says….The ladder was constructed as a result of a 1943 Act of Parliament which laid a duty of care on the North of Scotland Hydro-Electric Board to preserve fish stocks in the waterways encompassing its power schemes. It was completed in 1951 alongside the dam for the hydro-electric power station as part of the Tummel Hydro-Electric Power Scheme and was installed in 1952. It was the first of its type in Scotland. The fish ladder consists of 34 separate pools, each slightly higher than the last and covering a distance of about 350 yards. Each pool has a tunnel opening below the water level to allow the fish to pass to the next pool; a continuous flow of water maintains the water level in the pools. There are three larger pools which allow the fish to rest during their ascent, and one of these has an underwater viewing area with a glass wall and CCTV cameras to allow the public to observe the fish making their climb during the breeding season. We stood here with Tony and Hazel and saw a couple of huge salmon resting, I thought they actually jumped from pool to pool, but this shows exactly what does happen. The ladder is equipped with a fish counter which allows the number of fish making the journey each year to be recorded. In 2006, 7,238 fish were recorded travelling up the ladder. The dam across the River Tummel at Pitlochry (that led to the formation of Loch Faskally) was constructed between 1947 and 1950 as part of the Board’s Tummel Hydro-Electric Power Scheme. Without the fish ladder it would have been an impassable obstacle for the migrating salmon. Naturally this is a great attraction to the public I for one have never seen anything like it and was fascinated to see the huge salmon just a few inches from my face behind the glass.
It was a very peasant afternoon stroll which ended at a pub (naturally) On the walk back we passed a small restaurant bar by the bridge called “Drummonds” We filed in and were soon ordering coffee, tea, cakes and an odd pint, The owner and his staff were great, after the first meal that evening he offered us a deal for every night of our stay, we thought about it and said OK. He even reserved half his tables for the APPY WANDERERS and so every night 27 people filed in around seven in the evening for dinner, drinks and a night of singing care of the karaoke, not my scene at all but the “Ayes” had the vote, A silver lining of this was that I discovered via Bart was a brilliant alcoholic ginger beer and so settled to watch the tomfoolery….night

DRUMMONDS

09.30hrs on Saturday morning after the weather updates and breakfast we began to gather outside, we decided on route No1.We would head north to Inverness via Aviemore then turning south to run down the length of Loch Ness. Between us Barry and I had dialled in about six routes in all directions on the Sat Nav.
We had six Scottish natives with us for the local knowledge as back up to Sat Nav, so on this ride thank you very much Bart and Suzie, she on her howling Honda Goldie Valkyrie and Bart on the 1979 GL1000KZ, it had not a spot of rust about it, just great splodges of engine oil, a tad of grease here and there, a faint whiff of glycol and swarfiga and of course the odd pocket of water which evaporated when the engine got to boiling point! Also you could see some glass shards of a Jim Beam whisky bottle used to launch the beast when Bart first stole it, to top it off the whole thing shimmered in a haze of WD.40, if you got close to it, it smelled of burning rubber and teenage biking  memories….Aaha! now that’s the bisto moment!
Everyone topped up with fuel and gathered at the garage, slowly we left as one, fourteen bikes, one being a fast red 1800 trike with Jane and Stephen from Dumfries they generally stayed behind Barry on the lead bike, we rode up the high street joining the A9 at the other end, picking up speed and headed towards Inverness way up north. Most had wet gear of some kind on as it looked possible it might rain? Up past Blair Atholl castle and along the flat Glen Garry we rode, this road is quite fast so a respectable speed was maintained into the Cairngorms. Dalwhinnie was pointed out by the native in front with a huge thumbs up, I nodded in agreement we had been down that wonderful road before! It was a wicked twisting road that ran towards Kinlochlaggen.
We were an hour or so on this road when Aviemore came onto the horizon, and the first tea stop of the day, a suitable car park with café and bidet was found and wet gear was discarded as the morning began to warm up. The thirty minute stop soon passed and we moved out, I had pulled across the road to assist the move out of the car park, a car approached and slowed as I waved and smiled a thank you but then he slowly squeezed past me into the group as it pulled out onto the main road. Doh! Not being a policeman there is not a lot I can do but ask for motorists patience and understanding, normally it works just fine…but not today! He ended up trapped between us for miles. He didn’t show us any patience or courtesy; did he really expect any in return? Not law braking, just exercising our right of taxpaying road users too. Once we rejoined the A9 he left us as the road turned to dual carriage way status.
Soon the bridge over the Moray Firth came into view and we knew we were at Inverness and 86 miles we had done so far. It was surprisingly quiet as we passed through the outskirts, the few cars and trucks gave us plenty of room and we circumnavigated the four large roundabouts with ease, settling on the A82 for the southern leg, to the left was the Caledonian Canal, this in turn became the River Ness which of course turned into Loch Ness. “Hoots Mon be on the lookout for the wee timorous beastie” imitating Private Frazer from Dads Army of “We’re all doomed, DOOMED I tell ye” Some kept an eye out for the monster; some wag suggested the monster was amongst us already!

The drizzle returned as the tree lined road twisted and followed the loch edge, a great ride if one was solo I’m sure, but with a group it’s another story and of course this was a sightseeing ride out and not a race! Once or twice we slowed more than usual because of traffic and the twisting road. We were soon at the lunch stop and caused the usual stir as hordes of coach parties came over to photograph, East European, American and some Scandinavian was heard, a lot of Asian visitors came over for a look too. We must have been in between the camera clicking Japanese tour groups because they were nowhere to be seen today. A Slovenian woman asked where I was from, I replied “a far far away land called England and pointed southwards then at the Union Jacks that adorned my bike? Maybe she was just practicing her English, which was far better than my Slovenian I have to say! With that I smiled and walked away before getting bogged down with questions. I was amused at the Lock Nessie museum, don’t people know that its all a fairy tale, a myth even? I think if there is something there it’s been put there by man or it’s a species trapped from the prehistoric ages and became land locked, slowly adapting over time from sea water to freshwater which the loch is now. It’s also approx 25 miles in length and 52 feet above sea level. The deepest part is about 760feet; just remember that the Post Office Tower in London is nearly 100 feet smaller. It’s also the second deepest in Scotland to Loch Morar and hold more water that all the lakes in England and Wales combined. Perhaps the Loch is the real monster and not the monster itself?
Drumnadrochit and its Loch Ness Visitors Centre bid us farewell and we pulled out of the busy car park and pressed on further southwards, over the loch under the low cloud you could see Urquhart Castle, shame about the gloomy outlook it would have made a good photo.  It was still a fairly slow ride, when the road straightens out more and the trees disappeared we were able to overtake and go to a more pleasant pace. Fort Augustus was next, we had to stop as the bridge was open to let a passing boat move from the loch into the Caledonian Canal. Lights changed to green and away we went again to Invergarry at Loch Oich, we rode down Loch Lochy ten miles or so further on we slowed to pass the Commando Memorial, it is around these parts that the daring young lions of the 1940’s  invented a new kind or warfare and so the memorial is mainly to those, though a lot of thoughts these days are to the present lions out there in the far distant deserts. We turned left at Spean Bridge onto the A86 as the sun came out in ever increasing segments, the rain spluttered here and there and the wind kept it a tad chilly.
I remembered this road well from just last year because it ran the length of yet more waters, this time Lochs Spean and Laggan. I called Barry at the front to tell him of a white sandy beach at the head of |Loch Laggan and worth a stop. We were able to get the engines up to speed along here as  I kept getting the sweet whiff of WD.40, burnt rubber and oil from Black Bart just ahead, It was like being in my yoof again “blatting” along on my blue Suzi 550GS wiv me mates!! This was Glen Spean now though and not Sherburn Café, a twat in a black CV was being impatient behind me, he pulled out to have a go at a pass but then saw the long line of wings and thought better of it, we trolled along at 65 and he sat back powerless. A long lay bye was empty up above, Barry called it and we pulled over, I signalled really early for matey boy behind, who dropped a gear and shot past us no doubt calling us fatherless SOB’s as he did so.. bless!
We stayed a while looking in the loch, we’d past the white sands a minute earlier and now looked up the loch and the soaked clouds that hung there. Some of the ladies did some soaking of their own down in the woods! The first team photo was taken here when the relieved ladies got back and re adjusted themselves. There was a memorial here to a young soldier of the Royal Canadian Engineers who died in 1941 whilst attempting to raise the alarm of danger to his fellow engineers whilst constructing a Hydro electric tunnel. One other soldier died too but he saved others with his effort. He was awarded the George Cross for his bravery. After photos and a last look up the loch we made ready to move off again for the last leg eastwards, the drizzle had gone leaving dampness in the air and plenty of grey clouds above.
The road turned really interesting now as we skirted around Black Craig off to our left at a respectful 563 metres high, the road rose and dipped as we entered the western edge of The Cairngorms National Park, it was a ten mile roller coaster as heather mixed with the thick peat, long twisty furrows made us take more care as the few vehicles seem to appear at the last moment. If you looked far ahead you’d see the 14 bikes moving along as if cresting continuous grey waves. We turned south now and passed the distillery at Dalwhinnie joining the A9 at the point where Bart had signalled with a “thumbs up” at the beginning of the day, we now rode quickly down in the Perth direction to Pitlochry about 35 miles away. The late afternoon light made the mountains looks sharper in the distance, Glen Garry edged away to Fay Forest Park and the deep green of the firs gave way to different shades from other kind of trees. Blair Castle looked splendid just a mile off to the left in the folds of Glen Banvie. We slowed as we turned off the A9 and cruised down the high street of Pitlochry and back to the hotel.
We washed and changed before going down to Drummonds for dinner, if he hadn’t offered to look after us I think we would have probably split into smaller groups and eaten our way up and down the eateries in the high street so this was a turn up for the books really. The music box was dragged out after dinner and the brave and daft amongst us murdered several timeless classics. One of the locals got up and did a great M People song giving courage to other to have a go. The food was faultless and very tasty every time. Not a bad meal was had ever. I might not use the same hotel next time but Drummonds would definatly see me again. We retired before midnight leaving the noisy ones to trip the midnight oil. I know I don’t do much, but its my responsibility sitting at the back of the gang on the road but it does leave me tired and we would be doing it all again in the morning!
Sunday promised to be a much brighter day according to the weather man so I met with Barry to talk quickly about which route would suite today, we cobbled a route with some extra suggestions by myself and Bart, between us we presented a ride to be proud of! It would be Route No 4 (and a bit!) After some toast slinging and heaps of extra bacon we gathered outside, everyone had got fuel the night before so were all up for it. Barry pointed north I pointed south instead. Getting his bearings he nodded in agreement and pointed south. Me thinks there are still a few miles left with Barry’s left and rights without telling you lot about his bloody north and south’s as well!
South it was then to the A827 riding 25 miles along flat plains split with a twisting river, there were plenty of prancing horses in the fields as their owners were just turning them out, they jogged about a bit before getting stuck into the lush wet grass. We passed through Aberfeldy and detoured around the centre before heading along the forest edge towards Kenmore, did anyone see that small wooden lodge on the left set back in the trees with the red painted logs holding the roof up? It was pointless saying at the time as you had all gone by it! We crossed the bridge at Loch Tay and rose high to its right getting a wiggle on, dry roads and open views allowed a faster run this morning, the few cars on the road let us by without fuss. Picturesque Killen with stone bridge and rocky falls came next as we joined the A85 to ride on towards Crianlarich and Tyndrum. A wide valley began to show itself ahead as we left the wooden National Park of Loch Lomond. The railway to Inverness was down to our right, it hung onto the lower reaches of Ben Dorain sitting pretty at 1074 metres. I knew of a fuel stop somewhere this side of Fort William it had a café and was a favourite bike stop. At breakfast Bart and Suzie said“It must be the Green Wellie your thinking of” Ninety minutes later on the road Tony Walton piped up “sign for Green Wellie on the left” It was a big white building with GREEN WELLIE in big green letters with a garage, it could be seen in ample time and was indeed full of bikes of all kind. We peeled off and parked up where we could amongst all the other bikes. The A82 is a real bikers road that runs all the way through Glen Coe to Fort William about 50 or so miles to the north and on further to Inverness.
It was a good idea now to let folk go on, on their own for a while to Fort William. Barry said just follow the A82 and stop at the café on the left just before the metal bridge at Ballachulish. I could see glints in eyes and silent smiles as one after another they set off, some sedate some not quite! Barry zoomed off, followed by Geoff and Mark as the first group, the rest followed suite at a brisk pace, everyone  grinning as they gunned their engines and raced away free of the “group chain” I smiled and waved as they went past. We waited a few more minutes as Julie had another smoke then set off after them. The Bridge at Orchy was being rebuilt in stone so had long lazy traffic lights, we could see a couple of wings ahead just pulling away on green. We seemed to wait ages. They had been held for a while. How frustrating that must have been, having just slipped their collars!
We settled down behind Derek and Heather for a more majestic cruise, taking in the clean air and fantastic views, I could see Heather clicking away with her camera. Black Mount and Rannoch Moor came into view, the contours fell flat for a while as the hill and mountains ran to the distance to cover the far edges, for the nearer miles lay the soaked moor with its two Lochs and dozens of smaller pockets of water, an odd tree here and there added to the near back drop. I pulled over and we just sat a while looking, eventually taking a few photographs before moving on. The mountains moved closer now with the scenery turning more rugged, the greens and purples of heathers and grass gave way to greys and browns of rock and stone. Wow! you just couldn’t help but crane your neck to look up high to the left and right. Thankfully there were quite a few pull over places, lots of cars and vans littered the road side as people head for the hills, if you looked keenly you could pick up the distant coloured dots of kagooled people getting back to nature. The road picked its way around huge rock escarpments before opening up again to show the massive Loch Linnhe, which just looked like the sea, you could just pick out the mountain ranges of The Isle of Mull, even the heavy clouds did not spoil it, in fact they were behaving today, to taunt us blue sky made an entrance now and again. This was a great ride today, no rain a dry road and the best views in the whole of the United Kingdom, I love Scotland it’s just so spacious, beautiful and empty of us people. When I am reincarnated I want to come back as a midge..not just any old midge but a Scottish highland Midge!
Our solitary ride didn’t last and we caught up with the Wanderers just before said bridge, well most of the Wanderers that is, because Ron Kent was missing. I was sure I hadn’t passed him, we slowed to looked in the café car park just a mile back, I saw a bike but was sure it was a Harley. I dropped Julie off and quickly rode back, I cruised into the car park and confirmed it was a Harley, then returned on the back roads at the hamlet but he was nowhere to be seen. I rode back to the gang and reported in. We were baffled; he had definantly left the Green Wellie I counted everyone off. He had Barry phone number and not rung so he hadn’t broken down..I would have seen him surely? We were still contemplating what to do next when he arrived at speed and pulled in behind us smiling. “Where the f**k have you been then Ron?” I enquired, he said he went towards OBAN after leaving the GREEN WELLIE went very fast a few miles down the road and thought it be a good idea to stop and get ready with his camera for those behind him. “I waited for AGES and began to wander where everyone was and thought perhaps I might have actually gone the wrong way” Ron had invoked “Sods Law” and took the wrong road just a hundred metres or so round the bend from the GREEN WELLIE. T’was the only deviation in 33.8 miles and Ron took it! “You fekkin plonker! didn’t you hear Barry say where to go and where we would meet?” I said, we both laughed “…Wweeeellll…I guess I didn’t really hear him did I?” Laughing I turned to Barry up the front and repeated it, he laughed too. At least he wouldn’t have got lost even though he’s a soft southern poofter from Maidstone, he has a mother in Law who lives in Perth, besides Barry gave everyone his mobile phone number.
We set off for the short ride over the bridge and the fifteen mile ride to Fort William up alongside the clear blue waters of Loch Linnhe, the cool breeze blew in off the water into our faces as we turned into the car park to settle alongside the wall in the bikes bays. We split off here to explore and have lunch Barry, Tina, Julie and I ended up with several Wanderers in a bar that did food, afterwards we basked in the sunshine and meandered along the parade of shops. I was looking at nothing in particular when something caught my eye. It was a Bullshit Meter with klaxon and loud warning. Giggling I reached up for it and pressed the button. I was laughing out loud now as Tina and Tony came to investigate. “I’ve just got to buy this and Tina, don’t say a word to him!” HIM being outside wandering why we were a long time in this shop! We came out and rejoined him as if we’d just had the usual browse and carried on back to the bikes and made ready to move on, a garage was our next stop.
Everyone pulled over just half a mile up the road into the garage; I didn’t bother and pulled over safe just around the bend. I waited a bit then started laughing, controlling myself I called Barry up on the CB, “Yes Dave we are nearly ready now,  so we will make sure it’s clear before we move off” With that I pressed the Klaxon…In an American voice it wailed “Warning warning you are so full of BULL SHIT”  and again and again, this time an air raid warning sounds followed by “He’s got weapons of mass BULLSHIT”…and finally “Though shalt not bullshit a BULLSHITTER”  I was giggling away to myself until Julie told me to put it away. Finally they came around the bend and I tagged onto the end as we rode twenty minutes to the Commando Memorial just across Spean Bridge our furthest destination today.
Several Wanderers made their way over to me as I pulled over as last man in saying how Barry had reacted to my little prank. He was playing merry hell at the idiot with that thing and pointed accusing fingers at poor Mark then C.C who for once was innocent ( a rare thing) the things our Barry was going to do to somebody! Tina bless her kept shtumm as did Tony Walton who struggled to keep his shoulders steady. I decided to strike again whilst the iron was hot! Geoff took the camera I said OK I’ll get Barry and I to pose for a photo and pres it again, this time I’ll get it out of my pocket, take plenty of photos Geoff! Barry was chomping on a fag as I posed with him and pressed away at the klaxon! You must look at the photos to see it all unfold. He tried to ignore the invisible twat at first then he realised it was coming from my pocket; I couldn’t keep my face straight and was giggling like a child. He couldn’t believe it was me, his buddy of all people. I couldn’t speak as I laughed for Britain, everyone else was now laughing loudly as well. Barry came down from 20,000 feet and began to laugh too. “I was ready to bloody bray that bloody C.C,  him and that bloody daft klaxons he keeps playing I was sure it was him” Perhaps now C.C will throw away his stupid farm yard klaxon, knowing how it infuriated and embarrassed everyone…as if he didn’t know already!
The bronze Commando Memorial is a Category A listed monument dedicated to the men of the original British Commando Forces raised during World War II, it overlooks the training areas of the Commando Training Depot established in 1942 at Achnacarry Castle. Unveiled in 1952 by the Queen Mother it has become one of Scotland’s best-known monuments. We calmed ourselves and had a group photograph at the base of the memorial before zipping up again and riding off back the way we came. The cloud cover on the mountain had scuppered the proposed day at the top care of the chair lift. Julie and I have done this already a couple of years ago and say it is worth the effort if any of you guys get the chance to come this way again.
Back down the way we came it was then, some Wanderers elected to sped off on their own to the GREEN WELLIE, miles away. It was a nice solo run for those who wanted to. We on the other hand pulled away from the car park behind the majority who had elected to stay as a group. Just before Glen Coe I passed everyone to get a good spot somewhere in Glen Coe. I settled in wait with my camera, I saw the four Goldwing lights around the far corner and knew the Wanderers were coming, I managed to get some good traveling shots in spite of the sun (or me) being in the wrong place, the back drop was fantastic and made up for my position. We climbed back on our wing and set off after the guys, the clouds had gone now as the clear light of late afternoon arrived, the browns and greens of the glen began to stand out. At the lone piper spot we pulled over and listened to him for a while and had some photos taken after dropping a pound or two into his hat of course!
We said our goodbyes as Barry took the lead but first he went up the road a while to return quickly performing a swift fly-bye on the clear road, for me and the camera, we set off down and out of the upper reaches of the glen. I think we reached the GREEN WELLIE quicker than the upward leg, coffee, tea, biscuits and petrol was purchased. Thirty minutes later care of two nice police motorbike cops who kindly blocked the road we set off on our homeward journey, Just a few miles along though we noticed Black Bart had a flapping pannier, the leather straps seemed to have worked loose, I could see two jiggling plastic water bottles (missiles) that were about to launch themselves in our direction I spurted abreast of him and Julie pointed downwards,  Bart looked nodded and pulled over. I shouted Barry on the CB and said we’d catch up presently, we pulled over too and waited a minute or two. Sure that the leather throw-over’s were more secure we set off in hot pursuit, Suzie had slowed down a few miles further on, she wasn’t on CB so didn’t know where we had got to. She wound on the throttle as we arrived and all three of us rode like teenagers in pursuit of the group. Agile Suzie

Bart took the lead followed by the agile Suzie, who stuck it for a while until the burnt oil, rubber and WD 40 got the better of her, she deftly nipped past hubbi and I tucked in behind the old GL to rekindle my youth with Bart’s faint blue white trail.
We rode with haste down through Tyndrum and on ten miles before peeling left at Crainlarich onto the A85. The roads where fantastic, smooth dry and empty! Before long we rejoined the group as we halted at the traffic lights at the lovely little bridge in Killin. The road was now the A827 and ran ragged adjacent to Loch Tay. This group of Wanderers had gotten into the groove as one smooth group quite quickly, especially after the slower ride yesterday, the few spells on their own had wetted appetites and all were comfy with the faster pace. It’s really great at the back when everyone is doing it right, it looks really good, safe and impressive. We soon came to Aberfeldy with the town centre detour and back onto open roads across the flat open lands. A big contrast compared to two hours ago I must say! Again I caught a fleeting glimpse of the deep red tree trunks of the chalet set back from the road in the woods. The A9 was just ahead now as we slowed for the five mile run to the next turn off and our hotel in Pitlochry.
We washed off the bugs for the last time, Barry wanted to join us but a guest’s car was in the way, the old boy was putting stuff in the car as Barry approached“Are you moving?” Barry prompted loudly and rolled slowly a bit closer as though to say MOVE! But the old boy had our Barry sussed and stood his ground I’ve been coming hear a lot of years and I always park here, Barry was speechless, “ Alright mate calm down I was just asking” I was crouched down washing the front wheel and thought it hilarious, “Yes Barry Shut the F*** up!” I said sniggering out of sight behind my bike. The feisty old fart put Barry firmly in his place. He washed his bike in a different spot. “I bet you can’t sell HIM a bike mate!” “It doesn’t pay to be polite sometimes does it?” He said ruefully
The last night in Drummonds was really fun. The meals were great again and really tasty, the ginger beer was firmly in my favorite beer to drink collection and two bottles were consumed swiftly. That damned Karaoke was offered again and those damned Wanderers rose to the challenge, Tina clamored for the mike and sang a duet with Black Bart called Mustang Sally, we insisted she sang it in real Dublin sole pronouncing “ride sally ride” as “roide Sally roide” It was so funny to hear this tipsy woman give it her best….Unfortunately she just wouldn’t shut up and sang a love song to Barry that brought tears of laughter as she caressed the mike clenching  its head ever so tightly covering it completely so not a sound could be heard! Songs were coming thick and fast now, Geoff and Tony sang the Whurzel’s “I’ve got a brand new combined harvester” very VERY well. “Bat out of Hell” got some stick from Hazel and Tony, it was fun to see everyone having a ball, the older Wanderers splinter group sat at the back giggling and laughing at the antics of the newer Wanderers down here on the floor. Photos flashed as songs were murdered and unlikely couples developed new love for each other, surely that was the beer? I’m just glad there wasn’t any bike sheds around the back!
As the party rocked long after midnight folk began to drift away, Julie and I helped the now helpless Tina on one side as Barry rolled a fag from the other side, our hotel was twice as far away as we meandered our merry way up the road. We all patted each other and wished good night, us going into the lodge (annexe) and them into the main hotel.
Breakfast was late in the morning, everyone had a fine night and a really good weekend, the two ride outs were very enjoyable. The damp of the first ride was surpassed by the second ride out by a Yorkshire mile. Steve and Jane took Brian and Janet to the Highland Games at the nearby Blair Castle yesterday and had a fine time watching men tossing telegraph poles and stuff and managed a ride of their own in the afternoon, so all tastes had been catered for I think. Ron Kent from Maidstone had found a higher plain with his bike, enjoyed and probably surprised  himself too. Please try to bring the wife next time Ron! The local Scots Gary and Pat met us for the first time and enjoyed the crack. They have a nice looking bike and do a vast amount of miles in spite of having a mmm..mmm.. sorry I can’t say it! A  mmmotorhome. Gary just never stopped smiling. I hope we made it a nice weekend for you both and look forward to seeing you both again sometime. Just leave the mmmotorhome at home next time guys!
 We popped back to Drummonds for a cuppa and to say goodbye and thank you for a great couple of nights food and entertainment. Time was getting on, the tour was over and home was south several hours away. Suzie and Black Bart said their goodbyes, they enjoyed themselves and met new friends Suzie had the half ton makeup bag strapped on, I don’t why she brings the stuff because she doesn’t need one ounce of the stuff. Bart squeezed friend and foe alike before staining the car park one last time.
Shortly after those two we said our goodbyes and set off, nipping through the lights on my favorite color, followed by Barry, Tony the pie and Mick the cheeky rascals! I took the lead for a change down the A9. I felt out of place, what the hell was I doing all the way out here in front? I weaved a bit and saw the three bikes behind switch positions so I switched a few more times. Once on the motorway I settled the gang to a brisk pace passing most people and letting the odd speedster through, the weather was the best of the holiday, nice and hot with clear blue skies. Ah well I thought as I sweated, this will prepare me for our two week trip to Italy in a couple of weeks, Rome, Anzio, Mount Vesuvius, Monte Cassino , Pompeii and the Amalphi coast. We intend to see the bits that Charley and Ewan missed on their dash through that region on their trip through Africa.
Tilateronthen            
                                    The Scribe.

 Along the A65 to Devils Bridge we rode. The day was warming up nicely, I was unzipping already, my body still tuned for snow and cold northerly winds and I was intent on forcing warm air and sunshine on my pale skin, determined to fine tune it to summer conditions! We passed by the bridge onwards ever more quickly now until the RV point where we threw out the anchors at a lay-bye to meet up with two more waiting Wings. Chrissy, Mark and snot dribbling Christine with her hubbi Geoff who stood firmly upwind intending not to catch anything! How can she have a heavy cold in these “schorchio” conditions? At least their jaundiced looking 1800 would not show the snot trail as it dribbled down her curves and along the bikes panniers…Tangerine dream my arse! Thoughtfully I asked Geoff to have a few miles at the back when we pushed on again. Mark was a mite troubled as he had come to the conclusion that his CB was in fact well and truly buggered, these were in for another quiet day and so Chrissy brought along a wedding magazine to read.
Bowness car park was reached at 1000 hrs, some familiar faces were already there as were some not so familiar. Tina led the girls away for a loo inspection whilst us men went and talked manly stuff. I was introduced by Barry to Peter Steen the man behind the idea. A wild haired handsome 6 footer, Peter amused me straight away with his “Go compare” looks. He reminded me of a huge ripe fruit, his red race leathers peeled open to his bum where they hung loosely down his side, his hugely curvaceous belly took centre stage as I reached up and over to shake his hand. A right nice bloke he seemed and easy to get one’s attention. I take my hat off to this man and his gang for daring to stir up this huge H4H bike ride idea. We stood around chatting as a few more Wings arrived. There were a couple of Goldwing events happening this weekend and quite a lot had committed to these events. I have no doubt they will do a good job on the day when put in their positions, many had experienced this either as a marshal or having partaken in such things before at those very Gold Wing events, just remember to wave you arms and point in the direction of the ride, don’t just stand there like dolts!
Now then, where the hell was Jayne with a Y? She was supposed to be here, as one of the “pink ladies” at the very front of the parade she ought to be here to get a little practice and to get a feel of what it’s like to have a zillion lights in her mirrors and hear a cacophony of shyte music in her ears for 60+ miles!
When she finally turned up with pretty head bowed she said her darling hubbi had thoughtfully wrapped a chain around the bike overnight and clamped it with a big rusty old lock he’d found. Good man I hear you say……Hubbi had found a good sturdy lock alright but failed to locate a rusty key to go with it! The whole of Bowness closed its ears as Jayne threw a few dozen fecks into him whist stomping up and down. “AAAAAGhNOOOoYOuFEKKInUSELESsARSEWIPe!!!!!!!!!” her pert little bum positively wriggled with incandescent rage….. (Probably) That very same rage hacked the rusty keyless lock off in minutes, sparks and bits of hack saw blade by then littered the pavement. The tarmac gang up the road covered over hubbi with a fresh layer turning him into a mini roundabout complete with directional arrows that protruded from hacked out holes in his head. She maybe small and pert but don’t ever cross our Jayne!

Time was rolling forward to 10.45 as Mick and Evelyn had managed to join us as the last of today’s Appy Wanderers, it wasn’t one of our ride outs, no today was a dress rehearsal for the charity ride for Help 4 Heroes, the Appy Wanderers and none Wanderers alike had volunteered to marshal the event. Peter had some of his team along with him to practice their bit too namely Max and Lesley Fursley. Time to roll, engines coughed gently into life, as dozens of first gears snicked into place and we moved off.  David and Tonia of the rusty coloured trike followed Barry and Tina and Jayne. I think these guys were new to the trike world but were keen to do their bit and help. They would scare the oncoming traffic with their style of cornering that’s for sure, I know life is short but please don’t make it any shorter you guys!! Mark and Chrissy followed on The Purple Pussy, Chrissy flicked the pages of Women’s Wedding Gowns as they passed, bless! Then came Heather and Derek Thornton on their dark red 1800,Paul Mann passed by smiling, that’s just what the sun makes one do! Clive passed on his nice black 1800. Clive was one of the Cumbrians and a really nice bloke, let him tell you the story of his rotating gear foot, if he doesn’t bolt it tight it comes loose you will not believe it when I tell you Clive has a false lower leg and handles his bike better than a lot of wingers, just tap his left foot next time you see him….or is it his right? I shake my head in wonderment at him and am often in stitches at his “leg stories”. Geoff and Christine slithered by on their snot smeared 1800, Margaret Jones came next on the Virago, she likes to be called M and only visits whisky distilleries because she is interested in the process?? Hubbi Ian AKA “Fatha” came next on the Lord of the Rings 1800, we tucked in behind him bringing up the rear, off we go then, eleven 1800 wings and one 1800 trike, we brought lunch with us today on account of no 1500 bread vans turning up, Tony Walton on the old Baguette Rouge Trike would have done a good trade today, he will blend in with the first leg up the lake side on the 6th on his pond green 1500 solo, I hope he puts some lights on to give the poor guy behind a chance to spot him!
The run is just over 65 miles and traverses some fantastic scenery, from the leafy start along the lake up on a rather tatty road surface, this was a good few miles and quite handy because it will keep the pace slow whilst I urge the horde to get moving out of the car park yelling “C’mon keep up you buggers!” Before long the road opens up and runs down between the hills turning into a duel carriageway, the A5029 is a splendid road that urges more throttle! A right turn brings it down again and it wiggles towards Grizebeck, we ride along on the edge of The Lake District National Park, several of us ride jacketless as the sun remembers it’s actually May. The roads are warming up with traffic too, we all find our way through with relative ease, the vehicles generally oblige our group pulling over to let us pass even some tractors do the same, having mainly solos makes progress that bit quicker today. Now we rode up the coast, the beach and sea a few miles to our left whilst Black Combe the tallest point of this huge hill range sat to our right at 600 metres, it’s a beautiful hidden garden of England, we rural misfits ran sweetly up to Bootle and lunch, I practiced my back door skills with a twat in a black fast Merc, I introduced him gently to Mr Patience. We turned into the café car park as the black Merc surged past, hopefully we will meet him again on the run for real, now that would really make my day!
What do you mean no bacon sarnies? I asked shocked and stunned, what am I going to do? Mr Manns chair collapsed and he crashed to the floor as if to reinforce my feelings! Carrot cake and sausage baps were brought out but some lovely local lasses fussed over by the old maid, the regular lady wasn’t working today which is a shame because I quite fancied some scrambled eggs. This is a nice place to stop, it’s really roomy, has a large car park and the staff are quick and efficient with the food, though Paul has plenty to say about his rotting chair…And before you say it Paul is not a fat bloke like….he was ok and we all had a chuckle together.

The sun and sky had got the hang of this summer thing and chilled everyone; we basked like contented Michelin folk soaking up the rays and the lovely hill views. This really is a pretty part of England; I have been here twice and will no doubt come back again, not only for the ride on the big day in June. Every now and again pocket rockets cracked the silence picking up the pace as they cleared the village and bolted off down the clear road towards Waberthwaite, my body has never fancied one but they certainly sound great and always manage to turn my head.

In contrast we purred as we left in ones and twos, we waited for the new Lynne and John, I shouted to Barry we’d be an extra minute of two, Fatha grinned, this means we will have to go a bit faster to catch up, was that a gleam in his eye or just the sun?  Echoes of 2005 the foo fighters and an Austrian mountain came to mind.. Mali the Dwarf, Fatha and Barry..three naughty boys!
We soon caught up, grinning from ear to ear as Sellafield showed itself in the haze on the left hand coast, it’s an odd looking structure in an odd sounding place. The town of Egremont was next with its big and busy roundabouts, Fatha and his Cumbrians would marshal this place, there would be no hanky panky on the roundabouts with this band of straight talkers in charge, the ace in this pack is Eddie, a huge man with beatle hair cut and for sure a throwback from the 60’s, and a huge Who fan, Eddie has a funny, charismatic, monotone aurora that will mesmerise the most impatient driver to a standstill.  Go Eddie!
We turn onto the smaller A5086 through Cleator Moor, Rowrah and Asby, just three villages that time and progress seems to have locked in the 1960’s It’s a long straight forward last leg that winds away north east to Cockermouth, the last roundabout and the end of the H4H charity ride, a 60+ miles meander that is sure to raise a lot of money and give the good folk of Cumbria something to talk about for a good while! We posed for a group shot before splintering off; some went home others joined us in a ride to places unseen, eight bikes I think.

We headed back the way we came with Fatha on the Lord of the Rings and M on the Virago, the pace was upped and we made good passage turning off the A595 shortly we had a short fluid break, we then back tracked to Gosforth and Wellington village. Derek and I overshot the turn as we closed the main group at top speed! We turned around again and caught the group up a few miles along the humpty bumpty minor road. Fatha was taking us by memory to Nether Wasdale and a view to kill for, the dam with a huge rock backdrop was stunning, it’s called Wast Water and contains an old village. After more photos and some tomfoolery care of a naughty little blonde and a dominant male, this happens often and always results in both rolling about on the floor much to the amusement of the others, partners and anyone else in the area, so far the police have not had to be called. We turned next towards Eskdale Green and rode alongside the Ravenglass and Eskdale railway. Onward to Boot and we arrived at the foothills with Hardknott Pass ahead of us, the road had narrowed down and had passing places. Fatha did well to get us here, it was over ten years since he’s come this way, Barry thinks it was about five years since he last came this way.Some of us had Alpine experiences with Honda Goldwings so this was going to be familiar to us, never-the-less Barry warned for folk to keep plenty of space between the guy in front just in case, “Yes mate duly noted” I said to myself and settled into second gear and began to lean forward a little as the road headed skyward from the flat valley floor.

 The road looked bad..really bad all of a sudden, it was just over a car width and had no edging, it was a hotch pot of lumpy dark and light grey tarmac, the camber was all wrong for bikes it was going to be a difficult climb, each switchback was blind too, a huge rock or a hillock on seemingly every bend prevented the passenger warning of any oncoming traffic. OK loads of revs and clutch, no brake and just keep rolling, keeping the momentum rolling is the key, none of this stop start bollix on this absurd excuse for a road, all exciting stuff I thought as the shout went up “Bike down..bike down“ I glanced up and saw Geoff had stopped, Derek was twenty yards in front of me, he stopped too but his bike just kept slowly slithering back I watched as he struggled to hold it still, he slid back into a rock and that just flipped the 1800 over towards me on the downhill. Heather flopped onto the floor, Derek was spat out of his seat and shot Casey Stoner like coming to a halt a couple of yards from me. I was powerless to help until I struggled to park on a flatter bit (joke) and banged it in gear, killing the engine we ran up the hill as Geoff ran down from his precarious perch up above, Both were up on their feet and with us at the bike, key out and pushed into Derek’s pocket first then get him to turn around and lift the bike with his legs and straight back, Geoff pulled from the other side. I and a car driver pushed then helped to push the bike upright, side stand came out and the bike was planted safe but sideward! I couldn’t see them but up and above two corners away Mick and Evelyn picked themselves up with help. These four corners were in really bad condition and we had come to a halt right in the middle, committing the cardinal sin! I was totally in the wrong place to assault the next bend and parked on a lip of gravel for f***s sake!!  I jumped on counted to ten gritted my teeth and gunned up and round the two obstacles….calling them corners would be against the trades description act! Julie walked up after me and remounted we then crested the pass. Glancing back I shook my head and decided we would not include this road in any Appy Wanderers ridouts unless we became too great in numbers and a cull was required!

The downward ride was much easier but still the road was appalling, ripped broken and so narrow, if I said you would not get the usual family 4X4 up without ripping the sides you’d get the picture? I won’t be coming this way again unless I morphed into a.)…A Swaledale sheep… b.) An Andorran mountain goat… c.) Or a member of the Elite US 10th Mountain Div complete with private Sherman tank!
A few miles along the flat we pulled over at a pub for a well earned break and soft drinks. The sorry state of the road had caught everyone by surprise, the 2008 AA map doesn’t give any hint of its severity, and neither does the map source, even when zoomed right down to 1000 metres. A few bumps and bruises and some cosmetic cuts and scratches…and a new one inch vent hole in Derek’s pannier. The crash bars on the Honda Goldwing 1800’s really do save the bikes from major damage at slow speed “get offs”

 
We had a meeting as to what to do now, it was 1900 hrs, Ambleside was to be our heading, on the way we said goodbye to Clive, M and “Fatha” they turned towards Carlisle, we pushed on past Ambleside, Windermere, fuelled up just after, then pressed on to the A65 and Kirkby Lonsdale, one by one we succumbed to the lure of fish and chips in Skipton, this road is most welcome especially in the twilight, most of the pocket rockets had gone home leaving us with a peaceful quiet passage, the rural misfits came closer to Skipton and supper in the cobbled courtyard. By 2200 hrs we had all fed and watered our hot bodies, the day was done for most with just a short hop to home, we said our goodbyes, most of us would meet up the following weekend in Pitlochery where we will discuss a new trike for Derek purely on health and safety grounds you understand!!

Julie and I landed home (70 miles further on) at Walnut cottage after a mammoth 16 hrs in the saddle; it was a fantastic day, all 300+ miles of it. We ventured through the North West of England and discovered Cumbria’s secret garden, forging new winging roads to be remembered for future rides, pushing the envelope on the distant high roads of Hardknott Pass. If we had been around in the last century it would have been the Appy Wanderers who discovered the Americas and not Mr Christopher Columbus!
Tillateronthen
                          The Scribe.
PS
 Remember to left click on the photos if you’d like to see them BIGGER!

Thanks also to the Chrissie and Christine for their photos this time. xxx

Wolley Edge services

Most of today’s WANDERERS had gathered as we arrived and were busy “chinwagging” to old friends and meeting new ones. Barry is the first I recognise owing to our particular orange “dayglow” attire, the front and back riders are the only ones to wear orange… this marks the front and back of the group for everyone, as it says in the rideout hints we give everyone, remember?
Today’s APPY WANDERERS are, Tony from Barnsley on his summer green 1500, known to the working class as The Algae Runner, his woman,

                                            Hazel the English rose of star and screen 

 proceded him on her lovely summer green 1500 trike, I say summer green because I cannot remember the posh colour Tony keeps insisting on calling it, they look nice together if you’ve just had a  “spliff” or two and why have I jusremembered I need to clean out my pond when I get home.
Heather and Derek stood around near their red 1800, Heather was busy taking pictures, this witty woman always manages to get a couple of unusual shots. I hope I can borrow someagain today?The dull grey 1800 Pudsey Trike was with us again, Christine was still suffering with her new knee so well done you for coming today, it’s sunny and will always beat sitting about in the house. It’s a bit wide but a bit quick too, they would set the pace easily for the rest of the trikes whilst hanging on the tail of Barry and Tina at the front.
 Trucker Dean from Nottingham was here again, this time he brought their lass Joanne, their red 1500 had a nice etch on the screen., a wolfs head if I remember correctly.
 Next to them on a new blue 1800 were Ken and Jean from Harrogate way, Ken was keen to tell me of their long holiday down through Italy shortly (whose looking after the rabbits then?) I was getting envious because I had only the usual two weeks to also holiday in Italy this June!
Chris and Eve baby turned up from Hull on their red 1800, it was nice to see them not in the car for a change, how the sun brings out the bikes, a nice couple from the 2005 tour, they were always snogging they were! Good luck with the new recovery job application Chris I hope I never have to call you!
 Telford and Cheryl from nearby Ackworth and Featherstone respectfully came for the first time on oa WANDERERS ride out their red (a lot of red bikes today) 1800 trike, these two will become “Sooti and Sweep” as he is a real chimney sweep by trade. I hope they have a great day out with us.
Geoff and Chris were here also on the 1800 “Orange Puke”, we are going to try and use him in the middle with his CB, and the colour of his bike will make it really easy for everyone to pick out, also if he makes

Telford and Cheryl…The real Sooti an Sweep

mistakes we will see them too!
 Elaine and Russ arrived from Halifax, these two are also veterans of the 2005 tour and were pleased to see everyone, If you want to hear the salmon joke just ask Elaine but make sure you have all evening to spare because it takes about 4 bottles of wine to tell it!
Deryck with a Y and Jan are the last to introduce to you today, these two are from the far side of York. They are quite new to us, having discovered us only last year, they are fitting in nicely and really enjoying themselves. Deryck is still getting to grips with his wing but is doing OK. Jan looked really  beautiful today on account of her new £100 “hairdo” It was touch and go if she would make an appearance today, as you know ladies hair and bike helmets are not a good combo usually, the best hairstyle is “The Lesbian Short Cut” but without the lesbian bit if you please!

                      Jan of YorkTony had just spoken to Geoff on the phone saying that he had decided to come as well, the trouble is that Tony is sat on his arse back home in Wakefield, and nowhere near ready! He would have to get his skates on as we were approaching H hour.. and yes he too had a red 1800. Drop the hammer and the gaffa tape too..yes he owns a car repair garage.. don’t forget a full tank of petrol too Tony!

  Julie leads the way..Telford rings for help.

Tony of Wakefield joins us in Matlock Bath.

We set off a good few minutes after the hour with me keeping an eye out at the back for Tony, the M1 south was empty of the usual weekday hustle and getting together was easy, we only had a dozen miles or so on this road before turning off towards Chesterfield. Still no sighn of Tony,We took the road round Chesterfield and not through it, one could still see the twisted steeple though away to our right as we pulled up at the first roundabout, still no sign of Tony.
 Chesterfield is the town famous for the

‘Crooked Spire’ of its Parish Church, which stands on the skyline like a question mark – how did it happen? Answers are easy to come by, some blame the Devil, some say lightning, one ‘expert’ even blamed bell ringing! But the truth is a little harder to find. Here’s a clue – the lead tiles which cover the wooden Spire weigh 32 tons! Often overshadowed by its Spire, the Church of St Mary and All Saints is an interesting building in its own right. Dedicated in 1234 it’s the largest church in Derbyshire and is often mistaken for a cathedral.
We passed a little place known as Walton where the local Walton cottage  hospital drew witty remarks about how both Tony and Barry had their own beds, Tony in the old cranks ward, just outside was  an empty ornamental pond to park the 1500 in. Barry’s bed was all strapped ready and largactol calming needle at the ready in a glass case alongside the bar of ready use chocolate. This fine little road took us over the rolling countryside made even more pleasant today by the sun as it brought up the natural greens of the land and the not so natural greens on some of the bikes! 
Barry led us to the usual spot in the car park in Matlock Bath, a hugely popular bikers spot due to the fab roads around the area. Why is it called Matlock Bath you ask? Well Matlock Dave an Julie Sharp 

                                                                                                                          Barry an Tina Walton

Bath is a unique village a few miles to the south of Matlock in Derbyshire, built alongside the River Derwent in a steep and beautiful gorge. It developed as a spa town in the nineteenth century and was extremely fashionable and prosperous, with its spectacular scenery adding to the general appeal. It was visited by the then Princess (later Queen) Victoria on 22 Oct 1832 when she was a guest of the Duke of Devonshire at nearby Chatsworth House and again in 1844. These visits served to enhance the reputation of the resort but eventually, the advent of the railway changed all that by bringing ‘day trippers’ by the score. It was at this time that Matlock Bath developed its inland ’seaside’ resort image that it still carries today.
 We hugged the tree line, the 14 bikes taking just one bus length, we were prudent in paying too. Tony finally caught up (15) and told us when sat down later that the attendants check the vehicles and get quite cross when they see no tickets and less so if you have a ticket, even though you may have stayed 3 hrs on a 1 hour ticket.
Julie led everyone on a country mile walk through the darkened woods along the river to the far end of Matlock Bath before crossing to the concrete, cars people shops and bikes and of course the first tea stop. A lot of bikers had come out to play as the sun was out even though temperatures were still pretty cool. I thought we might bump into “Humungus” and his good lady like last year but he admits to being in a caravan instead. He blames the good lady for being enticed to the square glass fibre dwelling! I guess given the right circumstances this could happen to any of us (I don’t really mean that, I’m just trying to help the man out for choosing a caravan over a motorbike) We strolled back towards the car park taking in the many bikes along the High Street. I pointed out to Barry the route that Mistress Garmin enticed Julie and I to take last time                                                                              Chris woods and Elaine of The Salmon.

she insisted we rode up through the houses zigging up the hill-side before zagging back down, it was unsuitable for cars (too narrow) and bikes were not allowed according to the sign except for access, the funniest bit was on the downward leg, we were both leaning back as we tipped down and twisted Andy Williams was singing “It’s so easy” (my arse) we negotiated a wheelie bin when a rambler came round the corner, as his eyes met our headlights he quickly stepped aside gripping a drain pipe “Morning, lovely day! I beamed trying not to swear, looking normal and un-stressed. He just looked on, scooping his jaw from the floor. I don’t think he has come this close to a moving singing all dancing 1800cc Honda Goldwing.. his view of us will have been the same as a road traffic victim. Thankfully we had Stelvio experience to keep us shiny side

                                                                                                On whos ample bosum sits this?

up and get us back down to the real road way down there! I think this was one of those times when one ignored Mistress Garmin! Can you imagine the devastation as Wingers crashed into bins, people and kitchen walls! It would have made the evening news if we tried to bring the gang this way and someone would have made a lot of money collecting all the Goldwing  bits rolling to the bottom of the hill!                                          Is this why it goes slowly Hazel?
Instead we took the road up the way out of town turning a few miles ahead as we did last year for a while riding along some fine Derbyshire countryside, we rejoined the road to Bakewell minutes later running along the River Derwent.

We turned up the B6049 edging by Millers Dale and the huge beauty spot down to the left, it was a long deep valley with an ex railway bridge and criss-crossed with paths all leading to the pub. We slowed as we turned up a smaller road as the road narrowed and bustled with Sunday people, as we neared Castleton and the Caverns of Speedwell, Peak, Treak cliff and finally Blue John our next tea stop. It was a long twisting valley, green baize seemingly lined the hills to

 Nottingham’s Joanne.

the left and right of us, I’d like to have gazed more but the roads were lined with people some awake some not! It’s disappointing to see grown people act this way sometimes, I thought they only went brain dead in supermarket car parks. I was knocked off a bike in such a place in Chiswick by some female twat in a jag, on her mobile and chatting to another Asian sitting in the car with her, it makes my fekkin blood boil just to think about it!
 Dean and Joanne were the only couple who paid a visit down the cavern, they were to turn around at this point returning to Nottinghamshire, hence they didn’t make the group shot today. But don’t worry guys you won’t get into trouble. We are one of those few free spirited groups with no rules..except for the golden rules of the road of course! 

                                                                                               A mile or two from Blue John Cavern

 Parking the bikes proved awkward on the crumbling uneven white stone, I saw Deryck with a Y fumble about reversing towards me as I opted to park on grey tarmac up the way a little, so, my ginger friend you don’t smell I just wasn’t comfortable with our landing spot today! People split away to sit and drink and take in the views, some sat and chatted catching up on news and stuff for some a chance to eat tons of ice cream!

         Elaine..Russ..Chris..Ice cream monsters
After an hour or so we got ready to move again but not before the team photo in front of an appropriate sign we had to move on before Dean and Joanne emerged from their visit underground, they were in for a shock when they returned to find everyone gone! Sorry for that, I hope you had a good day with us and look forward to seeing you next time guys. Chapel-en-le-Frith was the place we rode towards next en-route to Glossop, we stopped briefly for petrol before resuming on the twisting exciting run to the two reservoirs on the B6105. This road had

high bankings  topped with solid dry stone walling on both sides, this was a proper little “rat run” One has to be swift in picking a passing opportunity and be equally as swift in getting round, there are plenty of places for a powerful bike to get round safely.

  Babes on a bridge!

 After a couple of hours of playing follow my leader one needed to come alive a bit more. The trikes had a more difficult job getting past traffic, but with Barry shouting “clear road!” from the front on CB giving encouragement to the trikers. One by one they came on, Hazel was still getting to grips with her new 1500 and gave us a show as she whizzed by in heart stopping fashion, bless you Hazel, forever the film star!
The A628 gave everyone a breather as this road was fairly straight and flat, we turned    

left on the slim A6024, I was miles adrift as a slow moving motor-home driven by Mr Dead held up ten cars, I knew the route well because we had ridden the route a few days earlier and told Barry not to slow down I would catch up, Chris and Eve had stopped at the junction all the same to guide me on, you can tell these 2005 veterans can’t you?
The weather had changed a bit as we spotted clouds and a light haze drift over us, having left it briefly we were now right back into The Peak District. The road was quite smooth if a bit narrow, the moors spread out left and right, Saddleworth Moor lay just ten miles to our left and Holmfirth five miles to our front. Holme Moss with the kink loomed up, this was a steep downward left hand curl switching back to the left, I can’t help but shout “STELVIO” again.
Another tea stop was had in Holmfirth,

Passing through Bakewell

we found spaces in the car park before descending on the café made famous in “Last of the summer wine” noisily we plundered seats, a little like that noisy flock of young Starlings landing at the bird table…only we weren’t Starlings and neither were we young!  Before we could start ripping Velcro, one of the girls behind the counter suggested  we take ourselves to the outside bit around the back, quick to take a hint we upped sticks and went around the back! Perfect, for the smokers, perfect for the room and perfect for the quiet Sunday folk in the café round the front! Tea and scones for those that fancied, I didn’t at first then saw Tina’s Cherry and fancied it! She gave me half of her cherry and I gladly licked it up, leaving most on my face! Having read that bit again there are those that might think something “Iffie” was going on It’s not, usually at this point we both end up on the floor in a torrid love clich! but today Tina was not feeling too good and my arse and neck were aching. I’m putting it down to tiredness not old age!
A few broke away from here on to head back towards Wakefield  and South Yorkshire, The end of the ride was ahead ten miles or so at Huddersfield, we decided to leave here too as my body was aching hear and there, Julies neck was playing up today as well. Tony on the “Orange Puke” would cover for me for the short run to Huddersfield, he has a good CB and is easy to pick out by Barry at the front! We zoomed of towards Wakefield soon to catch and pass “Sooti and Sweep” on the red 1800 trike on their way to Ackworth, we just caught Tony Walton on his new 1500 “pondlife” Hazel just behind hugging the road with all three wheels for a change! They turned off near Flockton heading home to Barnsley. We headed off alone through Wakefield and onto Doncaster landing in Hatfield to be met by “Lightning” the oss and “Pooka” our three legged pussy.
Today was not a huge mile muncher of a ride out, not a great deal unusual or hugely funny happened, even though according to several APPY WANDERSERS a certain twisted spiteful soul is at this moment bursting a gut via a motorbike  forum to find out if something bad happened on one of  our recent  ride-outs. You sad old individual come out of that dark bottled world and join us in the open sunshine Instead,  both you and Je… (oops nearly!) have been invited on several occasions, honestly  you don’t know how much fun your missing out on! You’d have to leave your motor home at home though, it’s strictly Honda Goldwings motorbike /  trikes…and there’s no vote or “nobbling” allowed!
Being out with a group of like minded folk on Honda Goldwing motorbikes and trikes can be mind blowing… an assorted rainbow of pleasing and not so pleasing colours from deep blue, lush lipstick reds, shiny silvers, puke oranges and of course that odd looking Algae green 1500 with the loose wiring as ridden by Mr Walton (bows to on setting dementure and loud applause dotted with hoots of laughter) I have to admit though the rich green 1500 trike suited Hazel much better! It’s all character building and good for the soul…especially if it’s sunny! It gave the new guys a glimpse of what our ride outs are about, it gave folk practice with riding in a group (always a learning curve) Tips and hints were passed to each other on how to do this and that. Whilst the Derbyshire countryside had plenty for the eyes to feast on it gave our lungs the chance to breath in the country air. That uncouth heathen Tony Walton found the sheep quite tempting especially the youngsters, muttering something about mint sauce! Unfortunately Matlock Bath has fallen out of favour with Julie somewhat these days because her favourite Sci -Fi book shop has closed! Barry and Tina got to ride some unfamiliar roads, I got to see my friends again and finally the good folk of Derbyshire were treated to the APPY WANDERERS bike road show!

TILATERONTHEN 
                     THE SCRIBE

Thirty minutes later we got into our bike kit, I put layer upon layer on to combat my cold whilst Barry propped himself against the wall and pulled his winter trews on. We must have looked like the English version of “The Odd Couple”  Im sure!  if it wasn’t for everyone we would have binned it there and then! Our wives were not with us today, Tina was in Bulgaria and Julie was in charge of the ranch.  We were going to share Nick the Freak between us, but now I would have him all to myself.

At 08.30 we arrived at Colin Appleyards motorbike showroom in Keighley and picked up Tony Walton on his new 1500, it was a nice fishpond green in colour, he tried saying it was something green, all posh like, but no it was deffo the colour of summer pond water, Hazel was missing today too, the babe count was going downhill fast. Lynne saved the day as she shimmied up with John and the curvy 1800 purple trike, Geoff and Christine came next on their 1800 Protestant orange statement, I have to avert my eyes on this glum morning, its just too bloody bright!  Colin and Ann Topley arrived, they were masked up in an effort to keep the cold breeze away, it didn’t look too good at the moment cloud and more cloud gathered over us and swirled about, here and there one could catch a glimpse of blue sky but to be honest it felt like it was going to rain. Derek and Heather came with Dean following closely, this was his first day with us and he had ridden up from Nottingham.

 Tony Walton and Dean of Nottingham.

It really wasn’t standing around weather but we stood and waited just in case any latecomers turned up. I took some names of unfamiliar Wanderers for the log, like the couple from Pudsey on their grey Lehman trike. Barry lit yet another roll up and tried to keep mobile whilst I just tried to keep warm. Nick was engaged in a roll up too, I could see he really wished he was mobile and didn’t have to be a back seater today, it’s not something that comes easy to a biker used to being up front. OK that’s it lets go! Gladly we all mounted and pushed of towards Skipton on the speedy bypass, it’s odd how the cold goes away when you’re on the road, it really is the smallest of discomforts isn’t it?
Skipton market place.

Sitting at Skipton was Deryck with a Y and Jan with their blue 1800, he says he still feels new on it, this will hopefully change by this seasons end as he gets the miles under his belt and tastes a few dramas, eventually he will feel the bikes envelope, so don’t worry practice makes perfect Deryck, well for most folk….. C.C sat on the old blue 1500 flashing his new gizmo at everyone, it looked to be some kind of council light stick on the end of a long black rampant rabbit which was lodged just behind Mrs CC, It crowed, woofed, mooed, squeaked and farted as Ian pressed knob after knob thinking it highly amusing to impress the unimpressed Skiptonians as they strolled by, they were grimacing not grinning. The younger bikers have the nutter amongst them always pulling wheelies and pratting about…we have the C.C’s and their silly klaxon!

 
   Colin and Anne Topley…wishing they were elsewhere!

Skipton happily saw us leave on the A65 towards Kirkby Lonsdale and the last pick up point at “Devils Bridge”. This great road encouraged greater speeds as we upped the pace unfortunately farmers use the roads too for short hops from farm to farm and Farmer Tom was taking his favourite muck spreader for a spin, we pulled in behind him in a long line astern and waited for places to overtake. From the rear I saw Barry skip round him and the rest began to follow nipping by as the road straightened for short stretches, the purple trike dashed around it and the 1800’s made hardly an effort compared to this elderly and heavy1500 as it lurched past, Nick and I commented as it wallowed in the dip and its exhausts coughed in protested.  I have owned both and know that there is a world of difference between the boxy 1500 and streamlined 1800, and that’s before any weight or riding style is taken into account. They have different requirements when performing similar tasks, the orange thing nipped by previously as two cars came on, Geoff had loads of room so no drama unfurled. This road certainly made some rusty bikers get reaffirmed with forgotten riding skills. Next came the Pudsey grey trike, he saw a straight piece of road pulled out and gunned it, sweeping by effortlessly, I of course followed in their wake thank you very much!

The police were out in force today as the TV announced it was the first day of the bike season…Oh what tosh, I’ve been out practically all year on my 650 ratter and the 1800 has been out since March with Barry! A strange copper in his police car sat smiling and waved at us as we passed, I waved a girlie wave back as thoughts of an ambush came to mind….yes a camera car was half a mile ahead looking to collect pieces of eight for the councils coffers. I think the police should do something more drastic if they really are serious about cutting road deaths, compulsory and yearly bike training/track days, or working in a hospital casualty room in the month of August or something along the lines of confiscating your bike for the whole summer if you really go OTT.  A  time and a place for everything is always my motto, this morning though a nice man in an oncoming silver 4×4 gave us warning of the trap, not that we needed it.
We picked up some gemstones at Devils Bridge….. down from Dumfries came Stephen, a tall and gentle agitator with his Jane. These two often switch places on the red trike and both are capable trike pilots. Steven is a cause of constant amusement for me, he is quite the opposite to me, he is subtle gentle,                                                                                    Devils Bridge, Kirkby Lonsdale

thought provoking and quite a witty piss taking bastard! He does it so well that some folk don’t realise what he has said. Ian and M from Carlisle put in a rare showing today on their Lord of the Rings 1800, truly a stunning crowd pleaser, it certainly gets the kids going.  One can learn a lot from this old fart! If you get the chance to ride with him do so.

In the past Ian, Barry and I have had some wonderful days out scorching tarmac, I remember one corner in particular on one sunny Thursday, somewhere on the twisting road to Hawes, I nearly did a drive through at speed through a quiet little farm on a corner!! Then there was that recovery bloke who thought he was going to be taken by three of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse as we bore down on him at a swift rate of knots down the narrowest of roads. Sitting here now I can recount many such occasions. I remember my virginal ride down the mighty Grossglockner over there in Austria with Ian, it was so far THE moment of my biking life, So true and sad that all good things come to an end!

The pretty half of The Pudsey Trike!

We found spots to park up and grabbed tea and sandwiches, joining jet jockies, retro riders that made up the leather mix that milled around the bikes. Thirty minutes later climbed aboard the bikes again to head off to Morecambe, today’s full compliment was 13 bikes, of which three were 1800 well handled trikes,  21 happy contented folk out to enjoy our country side.

 
It was getting brighter more blue bits showed through the clouds and for longer periods, we zipped along the twisting B6254 easing by slow running blind Sunday drivers, Sunday brings out the once a week drivers, at least we didn’t see any caravans or worse (motorhomes) Nature dictates safety in numbers and sure enough the cars slow down and pull over to let us pass. As back door man I always wave a thank you or prod a thumbs up in their direction for their courteous gesture, Gawping faces turn to smiles and the odd wave back.

We entered Morecambe from the east and rode along the prom, the wind was really blowing at us from seaward, it was making my eyes run and was bloody cold, the clouds had gone by now, leaving a pure blue ceiling above us, the distant hills across the bay still had snow, surely we had seen the last of winter Nick and I thought. Morecambe was quite full and we had to park in the municipal car park by the market, the man let us park for free if we got in tight together, which was a nice gesture I thought. I went to look at the seafront and promptly lost sight of everyone! I looked up and down the front and saw a nice modern coffee house and got myself comfy and ordered a large coffee and toast. Two more Wanderers soon joined me, Deryck with a Y and Jan ordered tea and soup, we chatted a while about this and that,            

The Barry Walton muppet Show!

soon I left them to it and tracked back to the fudge shop to buy for Julie then made my way back to our nest of wings in the car park, others were already there with a few bags of trinkets, in mine was three bars of fudge.

Tony announced he would part from us on the way, he had to get back early as a baby was due in the family, It was good to see him on his bike, it was a nice example of the old 1500 even though it was the colour of summer pond water! We left via Lancaster, Lancaster I have to say looked quite historic and tidy, was that just because the sun was giving us its full attention now I wondered. We stayed as one until Tony turned off, we climbed past the M6 upwards into the area known as The Trough of Bowland

         Tony Walton

  Apparently it’s a popular misconception that its known as the land where bows were made (Forest of Bowland) No, its stated that the name was coined in 1923 from the 10th century  Norse word “bogi” meaning bend in a river (it runs in the Hodder Basin near Slaidburn) It’s a beautiful unspoilt area, whatever it’s called! We pulled over high on a ridge to take in the views across to Heysham and Morecambe, they say on a clear day one can see the Isle of Man, today was not that clear. We had the official team photo of the day with the stone tower as the back drop. This is a sturdy squat tower and was built to commemorate Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.

 Not many vehicles were on these roads so we could relax a bit and really enjoy the views, the few cars we did encounter moved over or stopped to let us pass. It’s quite spectacular and we ran gently down towards Dunsop Bridge to our next tea stop at the side of the road, again only a dozen or so cars were around, perhaps most were stuck in jams on our motorways? Lynne took her third call of nature by the river, she was on a roll now since the episode in the car park by the Audi in Innsbruck last year, thanks for the heads up on that Stephen, the cheque is in the post!

                                             Dave Sharp……The Wanderers Scribe

It was mid afternoon, the day matured nicely and warmed as the valley gave shelter from the wind. This was a nice spot for a brew and for Barry to light up another roll up. On again we got and rode up out of the valley dropping down the other side, the colours were very Spring like, deep greens dotted with yellow blobs as clumps of daffodils pointed towards the sun, trumpeting the arrival of Spring, little lambs seemed to be in abundance in the fields, running away as the Appy Wanderers circus rode past, I really do hope we have seen the last of the damn snow! Stephen and Jane left us next on their deep red 1800 trike, we waved goodbye tilnextime. Thanks for the DVD’s mate! Ian and M also left us here, a quick drop of his shoulder and they peeled left to follow the trike northwards to Carlisle. I hope they come again.

 
We soon reached civilisation at Clitheroe and took the A59 all the way to Skipton but not before losing a couple more Wanderers, that’s the good thing about the Appy Wanderers, you can join where you like and leave where you like and its all free!  A last tea stop in Skipton and a bag of cheap bread was purloined by myself and Heather for a quid each. “Its not the money” I hear Barry singing! The upstairs room in the bakery echoed to the sounds of light hearted bitching and baiting, even Colin (Ex R.N Gunner) got in some long range shots from the back, He dared to question the structural integrity of the café floor directly under the gang sitting in the corner scoffing cream and chokkies. I have to say Colin would have had a serious point if we had called in on our outward bound leg!  We left the gun deck ….I mean café intact and waltzed back to the bikes to say final farewells of the day. I think it fair to say everyone enjoyed most of the day, personally I found getting out of bed at 06.30hrs to choke on another awful lemsip was the worst part of my day!
Barry and I set of for our customary lat mission instruments check along the fast bypass back to Keighley, we tried our lights, horns, music volume and blew all remaining dust and grit from our vents, etc, I get well stuffed with it all as I ride behind all you guys, Barry on the other hand gets all the bugs etc as he clears the path for you at the front! We stop for the last time at the clubhouse, Nick has had a day on the back and enjoyed it I think, I know it’s quite difficult on the back when one is used to being at the front! It’s Monday now and I’m still not 100% and still have the stiff neck, over in Keighley Barry still has the bayonet between his blades and is still taking the tablets, You guys have been lucky today seeing as we have not been as sharp as usual and some clangers may have gone unnoticed. It had still been a  great day and we are very glad we made the effort. I’m away now for a Jagarmaister or three, park bench here I come! ( I have three in the garden and one’s a swinger)

Tillateronthen 

PS.

A big thanks very much to Christine and Heather for the photographs on todays adventure.    xxx

08.45hrs and looking at low cloud in the valley from Denholme to Bradford

06.45 Tueday we are all up, Julie is going out with the girls and the osses whilst I am going out exploring with Barry on our own osses! He is also awoken at the same time by the baying bitch (pet dog) Heather! Its all going to plan so far. I have the first tea of the day before putting on my winter continance suit, zipping myself in I shuffle onto the new Goldwing MISTRESS MABLE. Onto the M180 for a mile then M18 north for a few more then onto the M62. Just after Ferrybridge I tag onto the end of a long crawl of Monday Friday plebs westwards as they shuffle up the corridor at 20mph a mirade of congestion awaits us at the Normanton turn off, through the Wakefield exit and again at the Bradford exit. How do they do it every day? It takes me twice as long to get to the A606 exit. “They” are putting a different kind of central reservation in for reasons beyond me, all it seems to be doing is crushing the working man!

I turn off at the 606 and hook a left to fly up towards Queensferry and Denholme, the wet roads begin to dry, the grey turns quickley to a bright piercing cold blue, I wriggle through Keighley, zooming effortlessly along the Skipton bypass to meet Barry fifteen minutes after our meet time of nine. We munch on breakfast and drink hot tea discussing the journey today whilst considering the conditions, I think a lot of bikers are going to get caught out in spring on our bombed out ripped up roads, we seem to be slowly falling below eastern european road standards and this year they have suffered more than usual. So mind yourselves out there boys and girls on your first rideouts! We decide  go easy and suck it and see.

 We left Skipton on the A65 turning off at Settle riding up through Horton-in-Ribblesdale Selside etc. we re-adjusted a couple of times as some small roads were covered in frost and not worth the chance, the sun prevented by high walls and trees from doing its morning ritual.
We stopped for photos a few times, it really is quite spectacular at this time of year, clear air seemed to make things more crisp and clear, the tops had a spinkle of snow, Pen-y-Ghent, Craghill and Ingleborough Hill to name just a few. Sheep were plentiful in some fields even new born were dotted here and there.

 Today we saw a couple of Buzzard busy in the sky clashing with battle hardened noisy crows, our speed was well down from our normal explority speeds, shadows on the roads meant frost, whilst wet sections hid holes and offered a free slide! on the dry bits we had lots of loose gravel to contend with and plenty of mud runs as farmers on tractors dumped bucket loads of sludge at field entries. The odds where stacked up against us today for sure!

The day of the first rideout would see most of these hazards gone as it will be warmer, we plan to set of later in the day and the winter “slitheryness” will have been absorbed by dryer conditions and Sunday drivers.

Barry’s sun jig did the trick!

We entered Lancashire somewhere along The Trough of Bowland. We were enjoying the twists and turns of the solitary grey road, we were obviously a bit rusty as we got some entries and exits wrong. I chuckled as Barry buggered about occasionaly on the odd bend, such was the conditions that both our front ends twitched here and there. No doubt the bum cheeks clenched once or twice too!! All the same we were really enjoying the day.
We came down from the moor land overlooking Heysham and made our way to the sea stopping at Morcambe for an hour on the sea front, we admired the far away snowy peaks in The Lake District National Park away over Morcambe Bay.

The ride back towards Kirkby Lonsdale was a bit swifter as the sun got to every nook and cranny of this class A road, we passed quickly through unfamiliar towns and villages before shutting down again at “the bridge” we took our turn to buy hot sausage and bacon sarnies and mugs of tea as Pete arrived on his Ying ting ting ting sounding MZ, Barry strolled over to take the rise, I followed and nodded “hello” I knew a little of his present TV character and had met the man once or twice in the showroom, I found him down to earth, funny and really easy to chat with. We bade farewel and set off for Keighley and a last tea at the Wanderers clubhouse. We now opened the firewalls on the twisting smooth A65. This was often travelled by us especially at the end of days out like today and where able to run away with ouselves for a few miles.

 We began to get into the groove and cruised fast and close. Its a rare treat when you can ride fast with someone you can trust totally and have absolute confidance in, I’d like to balance the above by saying I believe in the old maxim  ”There is a time and a place for everything”  So naturally I don’t advocate doing everything all of the time!

 Morecombe sea front

A farmer did pull across our bows just a few minutes later in his clapped out red van and we adjusted acordingly, a cute reminder I thought of the cretins that travel the roads with us! Today this happened just twice. We scorched along the Skipton bypass before the evening rush hour clogged it up (why do they call it so when it isnt?) At the clubhouse we had the last cup of the day and I found the chokki biscuits as usual, Heather looked on in hope.

Morecombes famous son

I never feed her so I don’t really understand why she always looks so dissapointed at me.
Soon it was time to go and I wolfed the last bikki down to Heathers dismay..again!  Barry waived me off, I rode along the tops of Cullingworth glancing down to my left at Keighley, I returned via Denholme etc and joined the same plebs now going home on the M62 only now they went quite a bit faster…if you can call 60mph faster! I landed home at 18.30hrs as the last red of the evening sky was swallowed, to be met by wife Julie and a purring pussy…… Perfik!

This was the first time I had ventured over this part of our great Island and I have to say the  0.700hrs trudge with the plebs  up through the M62 corridor in the wet and semi darkness was very well worth the effort I thought as I sat on Morecombe sea front looking in silent awe of the mountains in the distance with just the sea between us. The view from Denholme on first picture was the first of many breathtaking scenes of the day. I can’t wait until April when you lot come with us!

 Tilateronthen.
                      THE SCRIBE

Ready for part 1 of the adventure

The ride was cold with driving rain along the M62 but the snow seemed to have cleared away from the roads, especially over the tops near Mountain for that I was thankful, I thought I may have to go “The Long Way Round” via Bradford. I saw two large Pajero’s outside the clubhouse as I arrived, I was so cold that I couldn’t swear back properly at Barry! I got out of my wet clothes and into some dry warmer clothes and drank a cup or two of hot coffee. “Oi, where is the b-b-bloody bacon sarni then?”
Mali was speaking on the PC via the skype connection to wifey at the other clubhouse in Bulgaria, I nudged him winking and waved and shouted “Hi” to Janice on the ‘puter then grabbed my coffee and went through last minute questions with Barry in the other room leaving Mali and Janice to talk.
It was time to go! Mali was to leave early in his vehicle calling at family before meeting us at Ferrybridge services on the M62 about an hour away from Hull and then onto the overnight ferry. Barry and I had more coffee waited for our take off time, we had a rough plan for the road trip, it was a fluid one, the only rigidity was the ferry time out and the flight time back, otherwise Europe was our oyster for a week! Russ came up to wave us off as he was in the area, he had some good news for us that took us nicely to our start time.
DAY 1. KEIGHLEY TO ROTTERDAM….343 miles
“Biggles”  turned the key and the 18 year old diesel coughed soundly into life, I’ve never seen so many knobs in a car (not including us two!) We were loaded to the gills with toilets for Barry’s new house. We had coffee, tea, sugar which were stashed in my galley in the foot well behind the pilots seat, the milks were to be purloined from the first tea stop we came to as would the electric kettle, we had more electric plug points in here than a Barratt’s show house. We took a few “just in case items”  a new shiny red shovel, tow rope, window wash by the gallon, spare anti freeze,  a jerrycan, spanners, sockets, wrenches a big hammer,  a packet of Rennies for me some Gaviscon for him and yet more bloody spanners. Barry says we probably weigh over two tons! Our two grab bags fit nicely in the gaps left, we had gone over the check list several times, we felt sure we had everything and felt confident we would overcome any eventuality.
Both our furry hats sat on the back seat, we would use them in the days ahead along with gloves, combat boots new shreddies and lined winter pants, goggles and my black wooley commando hat snuggled with my two cameras on top of the log book along with all the maps, there would be no room for loud shirts and fancy trews on this adventure. He looked at me and said “Are you ready then Alginon?” “Yes Biggles, lets jolly well bugger orf” I replied, the anchor was pulled in and we picked our way through parked cars down the hill into and through Keighley settling on a south easterly direction to pick up the east bound M62 and the first stop at Ferrybridge to meet up with Mali, our third travel companion in his equally old crate.
Two hours later and he STILL hadn’t shown. Where the hell was he? We checked our timepieces for the umpteenth time. They say that time waits for no man, they were right, we had run out of it and had to make tracks. Mali had no phone, his Bulgarian phone didn’t work over here. He had the walkie talkie but was useless at this distance. So we just had to keep the faith and wait for him to contact us. Reluctantly we pulled onto the M62.
Just down the road Mali rang with news of a slight hiccup, he said it was no problem really he was at a garage at Dewsbury but would make it for the ferry. Thoughts of hospitals and such stuff evaporated instantly! At Hull docks Mali rang again this time with gloomy news, the garage could not fix the heater problem, and had broken the thermostat cover when putting it back together again!  They were working to fix it with a bonding agent, the part was cast metal so fingers were crossed that the fix would work. Normally this would not be a huge problem but today was not normal, Mali was in transit to his home in Bulgaria 1500 miles away and was booked on the overnight ferry… in an hour or two. The door was closing fast in front of Mali
We had a discussion as to the available options, we got the maps out on the floor of the ferry terminal. Barry rang the garage again and asked Mali for an update… it wasn’t looking good, the part could not be fixed so a replacement was required but this had to be bought from a dealer near York and wouldn’t be fitted until at least the next morning! It was hard to take in at first, Barry’s mind was racing, I was slowing down thinking well he’s f****d for today let’s sit back a minute and look at the alternatives. He could follow us the following nights ferry and we could wait for him somewhere, preferably before entering Slovenia or he could drive down to Dover and drive east through France sometime tomorrow. He had Maps and was well able to do it.
On the ferry later that evening, Mali rang again to say he would probably head over to France from Dover In the morning  go through France to intersect our planned route hopefully somewhere in Germany, he would ring again in the morning with another update. It was a bit depressing we were powerless to help except to talk routes and to remind him to get a working mobile phone for tomorrow and give himself a  kicking for tinkering with the heater! Oh WHY didn’t he just leave the damn heater alone? Sods law had conspired against us, the simplest of jobs had been given to an unsupervised ham fisted apprentice who broke the part, who didn’t have a replacement, the nearest one near York, this lost him his ferry ticket and refund as it was a last minute cancellation and was going to put him about 24 hrs behind us at least! On the plus side, it would be a cheaper round at the bar tonight (it’s not the money) Mali knew his way around Europe to get home no problem at all. He wouldn’t be lost, just on his own. We mulled over where in Europe we might wait for him. The adventure would not unravel, we wouldn’t let it!
We had one or two stiff drinks at the bar and shook our heads in disbelief, settling down to listen to the crap singer in the stern bar for an hour or two. The crossing was a bit rough and sleep didn’t come to me easy, what would tomorrow bring for him I wondered as I finally drifted off to sleep. Barry meanwhile was breathing hard in the opposite bunk, he was in a deep sleep I hoped.

DAY 2 ROTTERDAM to KEMPTON in SOUTHERN GERMANY…..501 miles
Breakfast was enjoyed in a lighter mood as we neared the continent, later we stood outside on the after deck picking out the Dutch coastline in the pre dawn light, it was quite fresh and damned windy, if one stood at the railings it fair blew the skin from ones body, years ago it would have made a mess of my hair but not these days alas!

An hour later and we were driving down the ramp and introducing ourselves to the young Dutch policeman, he listened as I ticked off where we were going, “Good luck and have a good trip sir” he said, Barry clicked our Sat Nav on to assist our passage. To hear her mispronounce the long sounding road names made us laugh out loud and made us feel superior in spite of her 24/7 demands

It is such a huge port area here at Rotterdam and goes on for miles alongside the auto route, refineries to the left and right, the sun was breaking through, It was Saturday the truckers were not in abundance thankfully, our 2 ton crate was not exactly the nippiest of things! I saw white powder here and there in the huge flat fields, it had been snowing but not much. We droned east towards The Ruhr in Germany, our spirits were up high, we were on the continent “The Tinkerers” drama felt less negative this morning as I imagined the dastardly apprentice auto mechanic swinging gently from the gallows in the morning light in Dewsbury..The little Bastard!!…My vivid imagination made me feel so much better. We settled down to the short hop across Holland and prepared to tangle with the aggressive German black cars, we see them every year but they still take some getting used to.
I got myself set up with the map to plot our route and keep an ear out for what Sat Nav was telling Barry to do. The swine has a tendency to “throw a curve” now and again, as the next two new bridges proved and she tried to send us into Rotterdam. She comes this way every year why can’t she remember like us men can?
We passed through Holland after about 120 miles still heading in the direction of Dussledorf and The Ruhr before swinging south on a new heading towards Cologne, then south east again for Koblenz and Mannheim going south underneath Frankfurt this time. The sun was gone now we could still see light snow on the fields here and there, the roads were dry and clear. We pulled into a service station after two hours for a leg stretch when Mali contacted us, they were struggling to make the bond work so would have to fit a new part after all. He was going to head for Dover and hoped to get on the midnight ferry, he would use his long distance lorry driving experiences to catch up, he was still a long way off, we talked about meeting up somewhere in Austria along our route, that was depending on how quickly the new part was fitted, we remained optimistic. We put his predicament from our minds for now until our next prearranged “sitrep” Settling down to a faultless drive on the German auto bahns, we were beaten up often by the dreaded “fast black ones” We kept a steady 70 mph all the way due to our two ton weight and 18yr old crate so when one after another the blacks roared past we both let out an involuntary yell “FOOOOK ME!”  Getting overtaken whilst doing 90mph on the bike is bad enough but our slow speed of 70mph made us feel so much more aggressive, it happens with such a rush and roar that the expletives came thick and fast as we are frightened shitless for a second. Barry said “F**k me that f****er came up my a*se from f******g nowhere!” It’s always the same on the first days in Germany. We were laughing and shaking our heads, they were coming up so quickly from so far back that to see them coming was very difficult.
It was time for a brew so I slipped quickly from the navigators position through into the galley (back seat) but not before kneeing our crate out of Barry’s selected drive. Whoops! I must remember not to touch that gear stick thing …..I only did it twice more after that! This was our second German kettle as the first one proved to be kaput, Ha! So much for their famous efficiency “Deutch Der Spring Tic Technics” my arse!!! It took 40 minutes to brew a full kettle, we had more multi sockets on board than in a students bedsit. There were more knobs sockets and switches in our crate I couldn’t help but be impressed, no batteries required in this baby! The PG when it came was like necter and Barry did the Bisto sound, I on the other hand went European and had black coffee an lots of zukker. Oh yes this was the life!
All afternoon we droned on through Germany, the white stuff stayed with us all the way, it seemed all Germany had a dose of snow, sometimes it looked like it had been quite deep but by now of course it had all been cleared from the roads. The turn off for Kempton came at about 18.00 hrs and we stopped whilst Barry punched the Sat Nav… “FIND MY HOTEL YOU BITCH” It helps to  assert ones authority over these things before they do the same back, right? Having gone left, left, right, right, right we landed at our digs for the night www.hirsch-kepmton.de as the last grains of daylight went. This was a clean well run overnight stop and one we will use on our bikes in June as a stopover on our way to ITALY in June. We are combining this adventure with a “recce” for a possible 2011 tour.  Even though you APPY WANDERERS are not here you are still in our thoughts! We had dinner and a few drinks here in the busy Italian restaurant before retiring early to bed. Mali rang about midnight with a new update, he was finally on the Dover ferry and would hit France by 01.30hrs. He intends to head east to intersect the planned route then play catch up. We would speak again mid morning to work out a plan, with that T1 and T2 rolled over and returned to deep slumber. We would like to point out at this moment in time that we had SINGLE beds, we only share the days together and not the nights!

The ANTICA hotel, Kempton

Day 3…KEMPTON to MALTA in AUSTRIA….approx 281 MILES.
There had been a large snow shower during the night and the town was being swept early by two or three snow ploughs, those small boxy one seater municipal street sweeper vehicles cruised up and down keeping the roads open, whilst out in the rural parts they used those high waisted Unimog 4X4 trucks to keep country life flowing, we followed one such vehicle for a few miles until we, we slid only once before getting back on the auto route, still heading south towards Austria. Another update with Mali was forthcoming we noted his progress and decided to dawdle to let him catch up quicker, so in a while we would take in some back roads and have lunch in Berchtesgaden. This had been a holiday destination for many Wanderers since 2005, we wanted to see the progress of the hole in the town centre, the heart had been ripped out of the place when the old hotel and shops where torn down last year so we took the chance to check on progress. The mountains were in view to us now as the clock ticked past the hour of eight, snow draped along the sun kissed ridges and peaks, it looked fabulous, the temperature was down to about -5 and seemed even lower when I persisted in sticking my head out of the sun roof to take a photo or two. We passed the glass factory and the lovely fast curve where Mr Lovel had a “moment” with a big blue forty ton chrystal glass laden M.A.N truck, and threatened to turn “The Purple Pussy” into the biggest chrystal pink jigsaw this side of Christendom! I’m still giggling at the memory and no doubt he will be when he reads this, well done that was my high spot of 2009.
Our twisting road wound its way through narrow gaps in the mountains and followed the river; we came across an amazing sight on the rock face to our left, stopping the car we stepped out to stand mesmerized at huge icicles’ and great  “clods” of ice as the water had seeped through the rocks before succumbing to the big freeze, I didn’t know ice could have so many colours, white silvery shards hung amongst green, turquoise  and dirty brown examples, Barry stood amongst them to show scale when I took the photograph. We made use of the stop and struggled round the back of a hut in eight inch of snow for another minute of a different Bisto moment! We thought it a good idea if I stood up in the galley and photographed the scenes through the “turret” I lasted about a minute, it was sooo cold, I dropped back down with red ears. I wrapped my head in extra fur, applied goggles and popped back up again, at some point a local appeared behind us. I was pointing up high to the left and right in amazement, I bet he thought I was doing Hitler impressions, but I can say with hand on heart I really was pointing around in amazement. I stayed up as we followed the river all the way to the town. It was raining slightly as we stopped and had a light snack at the friendly kebab house. We strolled down to the precint to find the new hotel growing from the big hole, it is going to be one of those “Well being” spa hotels according to the posters we saw last year. A few outlets were already open for business, the hotel and the other outlets looked to be on course for its summer opening in 2010.
We strolled around for an hour or so when at 12.30 we rang Mali again for a progress report, he was nearly at Munich now. “Barry, he is just three inches behind now! Using the map I figured he was just over two hrs away at his speed of 70mph, his vehicle was identical to ours so we knew this to be a fair assumption, we left wet Berchtesgaden and made for the auto route which lay about forty minutes away, we said we would make contact again in two hrs. We chose our route without needing Sat Nav, these roads were familiar, we drove down the hill to the lights and left along the bypass half a mile to a small road on the right just after the 1944 guard post hut and the salt mine then up over the tops towards the Panoramic Strasse, turning left towards the town below. Snow and mist stuck to us as we slowly wound down the blind side of the mountain into Hallein driving past the large multi stores where some Appy Wonderers had us pull over in 2009 whilst they went in search for travel kettles.
We soon joined the route south again and I checked the maps and decided Mali was only about ninety minutes behind us on the auto route. The cloud was replaced by a thick grey blanket that dumped heavy snow on us, the lanes merged into one white track, we began to climb again we saw the huge snow ploughs that worked in pairs, one on the outside lane, the other a hundred metres away on the inside lane they were big orange industrious vehicles with lights flashing to front and rear, each truck had a huge plough to the front and another that run down the length of the body that  slightly angled out so forming a single right angle(ish) plough, the lead truck pushed the snow into the path of the second and he pushed it away to the side. But still snow began to build up on the tarmac as we settled to 40 mph. The occasional local still went like a bat out of hell around us! I got the impression that owning a 4×4 to some folk means they are invincible. We pulled over after a while at the services and sent Mali a text of our position, we also called him to double check then we settled in to wait the return of “The Tinkerer” The snow let the sun appear, it lit up the surrounding mountains just a few minutes before dropping out of sight as dusk closed over us. We walked around a bit, looked in the shop and had a coffee when the walkie talkie crackled into life

five minutes later than his projected estimated ETA. I kid you not folks it was that close! Minutes later “The Tinkerer” pulled into the services, we waved and shouted insults in the usual juvenile way when men get together!
Mali shuffled out of the frozen interior of his crate wrapped in three pairs of undies, all his socks, big coat and blue thick wool hunters cap with ear flaps tied down his hands stiff with cold inside huge bikers gloves, the poor man could hardy swear back he was so cold! It was good to see him, “The Tinkerer” really was just a couple of inches away! We took him inside for coffee and a warm, he proceeded to tell us his story in detail regarding the garage in Dewsbury, a simple quick job had turned to “kack” For that, we thank you Mr Singh and your young apprentice! Another incident befell Mali, as he trundled through Austria when two of their finest police officers pulled him over for a check!
They were plain clothed and rode in a huge shiny black, maybe it was his Irish plates, maybe it was his unusual attire that caught their attention? Here is how the “tug” went……..
“Papers pleeze Danke, ver are you going and vot haf you got in ze back Mein Herr?
I’m g-g-oing home to B-Bulgaria and thats k-k-kids clothes, f-f-food and b-baby sss-stuff”
The second officer must have become suspicious of Malis physical state because he then said
“OK, you vill  take it all out pleeze, ve haf to have a butchers hook”
One unterofficer looked in every box then went through the babies clothes, Mali couldn’t help but mutter
“You won’t find anything in there to fit you mate”
“Vot?”
They are all CHILDRENS clothes in there, the officer still did a hand sweep of all the boxes.
“Vot is all zis food for Mein Herr?”
“ I’m meeting my mates up the road and we are going to have a barbi”…
“Vot?”
“Yes, we always do it”
“Vot are ze ski’s for Mein Herr?
“They are not ski’s it’s a fold down baby cot that rocks on rails”
The policeman said something about all Englishmen being mad, they eventually sent Mali on his way. Courteous and polite they were but just not needed today! Perhaps it was fortunate that me and Barry took the back road today, or that could have been us and I might be scribing this from zer clink!!  It was a humorous story but wasn’t at the time for Mali, who had now earned a new nickname, he is  “Lucky Lacy”….because he isn’t!

Dusk had firmly set in as we hit the road in convoy for the first time, I folded another map page over as we pressed on south east now, we kept in contact by walkie talkie talking away like lost pals.  The village of Malta near Bad Gastein was our destination, we had met the English folk of our next hotel at the recent NEC bike show and had booked two nights here. We spoke to the lady of the house and used her directions to the hotel, but we just missed the turning in the blackness, we had put Sat Nav to bed.
Malta was a small village we figured the hotel would be easy to locate and Barry had Roslyn on the end of his phone, Sods Law pops his head up again and we head of into the hills, the road turned to a thick snow track we couldn’t see lights anywhere. Barry rings again “You don’t want to be right up there dear! Come back to the village and look for the church on your left, we are right behind it” Look for the CHURCH. She says! But we are sat in blackness up strange mountains. “How the F*** am I going to see a church in this  bleedin pitch black Barry?” (I was getting tired by now… can you tell?) We drove back down to the village and stared hard into the darkness. “THERE” we both said we could just see the steeple fifty yards away from the street lights. John and Roslyn were on the door waiting for us as both Pajero’s  pulled up at www.hochalmspitze.com John provided drinks as Roslyn showed us to our room over the road, the restaurant is in one building whilst the bedrooms are just across the road. We had thought about having an extra day here earlier as a break for the two drivers, and maybe a peek at THE GROSSGLOCKNER just a short hop away but now the extra day meant Barry and Mali could sort out the heater problem. John and Roslyn were really nice, friendly, helpful and  enthusiastic, Roslyn had only recently embraced motorcycles and loved it then took the plunge with this biker friendly venue. John was an ex garage owner and able mechanic, he knew Citrons inside out, he proved to be an excellent help to the guys, offering extra special sockets, a blowtorch and coffees….and of course a red milk crate for Mali.

Day 4 and 5 at MALTA ………”The Tinkerers” day.
After breakfast, Mali opened the bonnet and climbed in to have a good look, Barry leant over and joined him. I stood around looking at the mountains all around us, John came out to see what we were doing. Barry and Mali decided to try and put right what was not. At about 13.30 hrs they had done what they could. Proving their work though was more difficult, trying to run the engine up to a high enough temperature that would activate the fans just wouldn’t happen it was too cold. So we decided to drive down into nearby Gmund for lunch and see if anything happened. Lunch was had but still nothing happened so we went back up into the mountains.We retraced the route from last night and saw beautiful sights especially the ice formations and the frozen waterfalls, higher and higher we climbed, still nothing happened with Malis fan but at least it wasn’t loosing water, so we agreed to bash on in the morning on the auto route into Slovenia. We turned around returning down to the hotel going slowly admiring the stunning views and stopping often to take photographs. That night we sat chatting on our own in the hotel bar where we had

dinner and drinks and generally chewed the fat until midnight. I felt optimistic and we all felt happier now Mali was with us, at least if he had problems we could help.

DAY 6 …..AUSTRIA-SLOVENIA-CROATIA-SERBIA-BULGARIA ….790 miles
07.00hrs and we were all awake and down for breakfast, we had a special full English breakfast as advertised in the menu, here in winter the menu is not in English, they bring that one out in the Spring and I have to say it looks very good! 08.00 found us paid up and driving away from the hotel waving goodbye to John and Roslyn, it was beginning to get light as we climbed up to the stilted auto route hundreds of feet above, a string of low mist clouds formed and clutched at the nearby mountain side we climbed to the same altitude we gathered speed on the wet road heading to the Slovenia border just an hour away. Both vehicles sounded OK, ours was just that bit louder probably because our fan was working!

This was pointed out to Mali in his fridge a hundred metres behind. A short answer was his reply! I sat looking at the mountain tops through the light wispy cloud, soon we began to climb above this and the clear blue sky looked perfect, we could feel the suns heat on our faces as it burst through the windscreen yet the temp showed only -4.
Pretty soon the Austria/Slovenia border came up, we stopped showed passports and pressed on…to the toll booth to pay our passage. I think it was just 6.50 euro for the whole run through to the Croatia border 120 miles away. We got the “vinagrette” too for another 6 or 7 euro’s. I think it’s pronounced vin-yeta but I/we Brits have a way of making their words fit our own tongue! I remember for example the first time I saw Clermont Ferrand on the French road signs I pronounced it “Clement Froid” and have known it as such ever since! In some countries you have to pay to drive on their roads, this is not a huge amount (except for Switzerland) The duration of validity of the toll varies in each country, plus you get the cute little sticker that gives one a certain “cudos” when back in little old England and lets lesser mortals know that you are indeed a man of the road…or woman! Some countries just ask for a toll payment if you travel along their auto routes, France being a typical example. Don’t try and avoid paying this it WILL end up costing you dearly. I found this to my cost when I was a rebellious youth. I remember wiggling my cruiser past the automatic toll booth in Portugal thinkin “bollix to paying the toll” I thought I was a proper clever little stick until I pulled up at the manned booth 200 miles ahead, that “rebel moment” cost me over a hundred quid, I felt a right plonker I called myself some pretty awful names all day after that! So folks remember to pay up and keep your tickets, the boys in blue could ask you for them. Ok enough of that lets get back to the adventure!
A couple of hundred yards further on we saw a tunnel entrance, this was The Karawanken Tunnel It was over seven kilometres long, we saw huge fans in banks of five above us as we entered and by the end of the tunnel I had counted fifty of them. It was a marvellous piece of engineering. Work began on it in 1986 and took five years to complete, it’s partly owned by Austria. Less than a month after its opening, in late June 1991, the Slovene terminus of the tunnel and its border post were briefly seized by an armoured detachment of the Yugoslav Peoples Army during the Ten-Day War. The site witnessed brief but intense fighting, which included the ferrying of reinforcements to the Yugoslav troops by helicopter and culminated in an ineffectual airstrike by the Yugoslav air force. The border checkpoint building was heavily damaged in the crossfire.
A twisting auto route of about 120 miles length in sunny conditions followed a long mountain range and brought us to the Slovenia/Croatia border. We were briefly looked at and waved through, then again through a second barrier, we had to drive a hundred yards forward to the Croatian checkpoint where two officers asked us the usual question, “Hello, what have you got in the back?” The two Croatian officials asked, “A couple of toilets, would you like a look?” I smiled. They both just looked at me and our passports eventually saying “Your English aren’t you, why are you going to Bulgaria? After Barry’s reply They nodded their heads revealing a slight smile before nodding us towards Croatia, I guess it pays to try and smile and be perhaps a little humorous, I think we were in danger of going over the top at times though with our toilet explanations. I looked back and saw Mali had been pulled over by the two female Slovenian guards at the first barrier, we pulled over and waited, he was fifty yards away so it was difficult to hear or see what was going off.  He drove up slowly shaking his head, he forgot get a vinagrette at the last toll booth so Mali was fined over a hundred pounds!

An English Spiv!
Zagreb was to our left as we pushed on eastward it was cold and the land flattened out, it began to look a bit bleak now, the mountains lay behind us as a low gray damp cloth took over the beautiful blue stuff, the land really opened up but to be honest we couldn’t see much through the damp conditions which cut visibility to about a mile, we settled down to a fairly drab and boring 200 mile trip, it was so drab I took photos of road signs, we drove through huge open rural expanses punctuated often by clumps of small black spindly bushes, and long lines of uniformed black, grey lifeless looking tall trees that ran for miles along the road side. Not many other vehicles shared our road.
Dozens of Buzzards perched along the road on fence posts, normally I don’t see these as I’m in the front seat on the bike, I pointed some out to Barry, we both agreed for such a good looking bird they have been blessed with a poor name. Here and there stark against the bleak backdrop strutted Egrets, they are miniature stalks and are white in colour.
I tried but could see not much of anything else. I was paying attention to the motels that were at the service stations, I was not impressed by what I saw so far, they were in a very poor condition, one had several windows missing, we discussed the state of the motels and felt more and more uncomfortable at the thought of staying in one of them for the night, we remembered the motels near the Hungarian/Romanian border they too had windows missing! Maybe it was like this because we were only a few miles from the Croatia/Bosnia border the likes of BanJa Luca and Prijedor, victims of ethnic wholesale murders 15 years ago just a few miles away to the south? Or because the road simply wasn’t used much and there wasn’t need for accommodation? We thought maybe we would find a hotel in one of the  towns? I saw one ahead called SLavonski Brod but looking back now I realised it was the only town! Except for the capitol Zagreb we’d passed four hours earlier. The more we thought about it the more we didn’t feel like leaving the vehicles overnight so talked about maybe carrying on all the way to Bulgaria. I figured along with Sat Nav that we could be at our Bulgarian hotel before midnight, it was quite do-able, at the next stop a decision was reached and we would go all the way. The Croatia/Serbia border came next, there were lots of guards and officials here as we got a financial kicking, Barry was unable to secure insurance cover for Serbia .Nobody was offering cover back home in England so we had to buy it at here the border, the guards kept the documents as both Barry and Mali went to the insurance broker in the main building, I cleaning the windows and lights of the vehicles as the boys returned, the 280 mile run through Serbia had cost each vehicle £110 in insurance! “Screwed” was the only printable word that came to mind, but when they have guns AND our documents there was very little we could do, at least everybody had to pay and not just us. We drove up to the next guard post unsmiling as they double checked the documents before sending us on our way, finally we were in ugly Serbia, this too looked bleak flat and empty, the other route from the north through Romania back in 2007 seemed a more attractive route at this moment in time. I never thought I would say that as that road was unfinished and very punishing on both bikes and bodies!
Two hours later we arrived in Belgrade at rush hour, the auto route went through the middle, we couldn’t go around, there was no ring road, it was dark now as we settled in with the traffic as it shunted its way through the city and out the other side, I saw on the nearby stadium that Elton John was due to appear, “I bet he’s not bloody driving here!” I joked to Barry, the city held us up for about half an hour, the oldest rickety trucks and buses vied with us for space everyone in front swapped lanes back and forth, it was a nightmare at times. We eventually cleared the city and idiot city drivers to pulled over again on the other side to re group and have a bite to eat and look at the maps trying to judge our progress, so far we were doing quite well, after the break we felt OK about going on, at least we were clear of the city now and could get back up to 70 mph without fear of getting our nose or arse crunched. We had two hours to go before we left the auto route at Nis, then we would turn east to Bulgaria….sanctuary!
The snow had been falling for the past hour when we hooked east towards the Bulgarian border on a minor road, the snow was slowing our progress as we were forced to sit behind local traffic, the road twisted and turned and offered few passing places. at least that’s what we thought, try telling that to the truckers! One sat behind Mali and was making to overtake at any moment now. Sat Nav was still doing OK at this point until she went all dark on us then returned to say we were driving through rocks with a river and main road about a mile away to our left? I looked at the map with the torch, on Sat Nav  we began to cross the river and joined the highlighted road again, it seems we had been on an adjacent road through the rocksI I counted down the miles to Pirot then Dimitrovgrad. The border was just a few miles ahead now as the time approached 22.00 hrs. We were suddenly overtaken by that forty ton truck I thought the lights close behind belonged to Mali at first, but in the driving snow it was hard to see far, he bashed on past us through the slush and snow, the conditions made no difference to the truckers I assumed they knew these roads well or they were taking some awful risks, this happened to us a few times and we just had to grin and take it. The border into Bulgaria was very welcome, we knew we were not too far away now, Barry and Mali crabbed sidewards in 4 wheel drive up the snowy incline to the fuel station and filled with a final tank of fuel before making our way to the Sofia. Mali slipped into his Bulgarian mode and found out a big truck had overturned ahead, no surprise there then! The Sofia  ringroad lay ahead a few miles  as did a rude reminder to the conditions of the local roads over here. A fast moving truck in front suddenly braked and swerved fifty yards in front of us, we slowed to see huge shell like craters that potted the road in front. “FOOK ME! ”-CRUNCH- BANG- THUMP! “Mali look out for holes mate!” I shouted on the radio.  Mali said later all he could hear was our laughing as we bashed into the holes, it was a good job Barry put a bank of spotlights on the roof, he flicked them on infrequently to light up the darkness, sometimes when the snow was really heavy the lights couldn’t penetrate and it looked just like a huge net curtain being wafted badly on the windshield, lucky for it it abated when we hit the Somme like ring road and the lights showed the shell holes, Barry had time  to wiggle the steering enough to hit just the smaller holes, I was glad we were not on our bikes tonight! I followed our progress on the ring road by noting our heading with the on board compass, the road had deteriorated badly and was going around the city like a old threepenny bit. We turned onto a south east heading, the snow stopped and we could see the odd aircraft lights coming in low which meant the airport was in the right place and we were nearly at our turn that would take us away from the city and onto our last leg towards Lovech just about an hour away now. The sat nav had us on track but it didn’t let us know exactly where we were, it just said we were on the right road, using the map is defiantly helpful. The snow began to fall hard again. Barry found by trial and error the right combination of lights to use in the driving snow, we soon came across that truck on its side in the ditch, we had no thoughts about it, it was just noted, I think we were getting that tired, not far to go now. Mali took the lead now and found our turn off to Lovech, he struggled to see familiar waypoints in these conditions..as did the Sat Nav now, some animal suddenly jumped out and ran in front of him, it looked like a small dear but couldn’t be sure as it leaped back into the tree line. We still met trucks making haste they were really cutting the corners In front of us, it was 02.00hrs now as we came into Lovech and the hotel at last. Mali did the quick introduction, we took our keys and went to our separate rooms whilst Mali drove home the final mile. I stood looking out of the window with just my socks on and I was swaying from side to side, I couldn’t stand still, we had been on the road for nearly 800 miles in 18 hours! I remember the last time we came here the last bit took us about 15 hrs, we had come in from the north via Romania in the pitch black, that was a tough ride too. It seemed to take me ages to unwind, I lay there with the Bulgarian version of MTV on and waited for sleep to take me.

Avan and Barry

The next morning we met up in the bar for breakfast, cheese, jams and some kind of fritters with coffee, not the usual breakfast but nice all the same. Barry had presented the Hotelier Avan with a picture of my hero, we spoke in different tongues briefly he was so happy with the gift, Avan’s wife came over she was a lovely dark haired lady, we got a bit mixed up and called her Joan throughout our stay when in fact her name was Anelya! Their son Iyyav spoke good English and joined us too and we are now pals on FACEBOOK.

DAY 7 -8-9……In Lovech.
After breakfast we walked to the bank to get some local cash, the first was struggling because the PC had crashed, so we went to another, the security guard looked on as two guys in furryats drew money and said hello to everyone in the bank, they are still somewhat reserved and we took some getting used to! Later we drove up to Mali’s in the nearby hills, Janice had just got the bacon on as we arrived, it was nice to see her again, their home is just about complete now and looks great. It is so well insulated I was too warm and wanted to go back outside!
Once Oleg arrived we took a tour of the hill side and the properties including the site of the forthcoming Wanderers clubhouse, we all piled into one of the Pajero’s and drove up and down the hill, I got up through the turret again and took photos it was all so

original the only tracks seen were ours, Barry thought it fun to drive through snow laden thin branches and cover me in snow, in return I flashed the camera in his face as he was driving along!  Mali pointed out properties for sale here and there but they were under about so much snow it was hard to make out much, and a lot of imagination was required. it was the same when we came up to Barry’s place, which had been torn down ready for the rebuild, so this was very hard to visualize the progress. Except of course the old stone “Kazzi” For some reason this was still intact in one corner of the plot, maybe they have not heard of portaloos over here yet? Oleg kept laughing saying  “Barry no house” When we first met earlier in the day he introduced himself by saying “Hello Barry…you old git” Ha ha ha what a good guy he is! Mali kept pointing at the thick snow saying what was going to be here and what they would build in that corner, I thought it amusing to see all three of them nodding as Mali pointed to the snow, it really it didn’t make any sense to me at all!
The afternoon was spent slowly because we were still pretty worn out, I think more than we thought if truth be known, later a quiet meal was had that evening with Mali and Janice.
The next morning Barry went early with Mali and an interpreter to the government building to get the Pajero registered for Bulgaria, I spent the morning mooching around town, this was my third visit here so it was a familiar stroll taking pictures in the deep snow, In the -10 conditions folk were hunched up in thick clothes and sorting out their morning chores I helped one guy who slipped onto his ass, he was most surprised when I started in English, he looked a bit confused then shouted something in Bulgarian at the slippy ground and struggled on his way. Come lunchtime Barry was done and we all went for a ride to the village of Drenov where Mali and Janice first lived, It lay on the hills about 7 miles away, the route was familiar to us from that ride in the tiny yellow taxis in and out of those bloody bomb holes! These days the road to Drenov had improved greatly, meeting Hatchko and all the family again was really good, we were shown great hospitality as usual and offered the dreaded Rakia, Barry declined…I took his! We sampled their home made wine too, we had a gathering to attend in the evening so we made our excuses and managed to extricate ourselves from the house waving goodbye to Baba Stasia the lovely old lady of the house. Mali and Janice stayed a while longer.

Barry and I left them and went for a drive onto the airfield, he let me have a go with the old crate and I did some doughnuts but it was a long wheel base thing so slid forward more than spun round, it was fun. It was so cold, beautiful and white it was very quiet too on the edge of the hillside. Normally you can see the faraway Balkan mountains but today it was so white it all blurred at a few miles distance.
A couple of hours later found us at dinner, it was in a sunken tavern and we took over most of it, most of the guys tonight worked for Mali and would be working on Barry’s house this Spring, so it was a chance for Barry and the lads to get to know each other more. Meanwhile I met the ladies, to my right sat Natasha she was a Russian and wife of Valu the silver Fox, he was adorned in new Bulgarian army shirt and pants, he has promised to get me one later this year! Natasha showed me pictures of her Dad, he was a tank driver in the 1960’s in the good old USSR. She spoke little English and I spoke even less Russian but with the drinks and lots of smiles it didn’t really matter. To my left sat lovely Venita who was the wife of funny guy Oleg, she took a shine to my camera and proceeded to take dozens of pictures all evening, we cannot converse much either but we send “smilie” icons to each other on SKYPE and I send her the photos she took! When we left to walk back to the hotel it was so damn cold it hurt, I had no hat on so my head and ears were instantly frozen, I have to say I was completely sober by the time we got back, got back to join Avan at the bar of the hotel, Avan talked a lot and we nodded a lot. Iyyov came in to join us from the bowling alley upstairs, I was telling him about Natasha’s dad in the Russian army, Iyoyov said his dad was in a rocket regiment as a Captain in his youth. “Wow, has he any photos?” I asked Avan shook his head and shook his finger, “Niet Russhi” Iyoyov said his dad hated that time, they all did, I tried to make light of it, but poor Avan got quite sad so we changed the subject, I was aching to ask more but didn’t.
The next morning we took our time rising, we had a stroll around town with Mali and Janice called at the supermarket and bought supplies, in the afternoon we returned to Drenov, we had to meet young Nadka, Barry had given a birthday gift but she wasn’t around the previous day, Valu the silver Fox ushered us into his house along with Natasha, Nadka a puppy dog and several cats, it was a homely little place. Out came the Rakia, Barry again declined ..good man more for me then! Janice had a nip, as did Mali, but I went toe to toe with Valu, I was being hospitable (and stupid ) Natasha and Naka brought out plates of food warm nut parkin cake, lumps of brown chocolate that tasted like marshmallows then a plate of white chocolate lumps that tasted familiar too, orange and lemonade for Barry…and yet more Rakia for me. At some point Valu thrust a big bottle of the home brewed moonshine in my hands plus two huge plastic containers of lovely dry red wine. It was a brilliant afternoon, though it later I admit was a bit hazy, I do remember going for a swim in the hotel where Barry joined me and the five teenagers left us to it after I urged  the young lass to put MTV on the telly as we splashed around. I’m sure we had dinner but for the life of me I can’t remember where.
The next day we said goodbye to Avan and Anelya, Drenov village with Barry n Janice

I called out from my seat  I’ll be back” in Russian! All 6 foot something of Avan came up to me wagging his finger at me again only this time he was laughing. Anelya gave us both a gift, a decorated clay oven pot which now sits on the kitchen window ledge. Barry drove the Pajero to the airport on a faultless drive, except for the few miles when we couldn’t see bugger all because the wipers and water jets had frozen up! It was getting colder. (a week after our trip Janice told us it had dropped to -30) We drove up close behind a yellow bus to get some slush thrown on the screen.  At Sofia airport Barry handed the keys to Mali and Janice and we hugged goodbye, we had a wonderful time, an adventure followed by some great traditional hospitality. I keep saying I won’t come here again because it’s too far and the roads are awful, yet here I was again! Barry and Tina would return to check on the progress of their house in Spring What’s the chance that we and the bikes might be back in a year or two to share a glass or two of Rakia with old friends like Valu and Hatchko do you suppose?

Dosvedanya Comrade.
Or…….. Tilateronthen!

I arrived at work early on Sunday morning the 25^th of October in mild temperatures and under a light grey blanket, its dry so far, but rain has been promised by Carol of the yellow coat.  It was 07.00 or 08.00 depending if you’d remembered to move your clock. I’m not sure if Star Fleet command would approve of us buggering about with time like we do twice a year, but I do because it means I get an extra hour in bed!  I’m at the Immigration Liaison Office doing some catch up work and preparing the movement orders for the next day’s removals. It’s 10.00 hrs now and I’m wondering how the ride-out is going and how many braved the weather because Carols rain has arrived and it’s not a slight drizzle! Puddles begin to form and merge with each other as the detainees head back inside and moan about the weather.

The meeting place in Ripley early on Sunday morning

My informant tells me Barry and Tina were head of a ten bike group today “Old Geoff” and Chris sat at the back this time, in the middle were Colin Topley, Mick, Nige and Denise, Brian and Janet, Nick “The Feak”. Tony and Heather and two new couples, Bill and Lorraine from the North East and Deryck and his missus on a lovely blue goldwing. They pulled out of Ripley, I trust the whole village knew what to do now as Barry will have stood on a high rock and reminded folk in his loud voice of the route and how to ride in a group and to remind of wet weather riding, wet leaves and other such hazards. This puts to bed  some nagging thoughts and answers some questions, always a good thing to start off with everyone on the same playing field don’t you agree? So with tyre pressures correct and good sound brakes (C.C wasn’t with the group today!) everyone zipped up tight and set off after Barry and Tina in the direction of Pateley Bridge.

“Sir, Mista Shap (me) can I fax this letter to my solicitor? I cannot go back to my own country I have problems there and what about my children here?”  ”I wouldn’t bother wasting your time with the fax Akindayo…. The paperwork has been sorted and is in order, your flying back home tomorrow.”

It was drizzling and somewhat grey as Barry led off from the start point in RIPLEY with the wet ones trailing behind. Mick Gordge was hacking down the lanes in hot pursuit, his old blue bread van going like the clappers! He was calling Barry on the CB, at first Barry thought his CB was playing up and called on the back door man “Old Geoff”  who remained pretty clueless as to the noise on the CB. The noise turned out to be Mick calling from afar. “Barry Oh Barry where art thou?”….or summat like that!

 A steady approach down into Pately Bridge.

He had guessed correctly the direction the wet ones had gone and soon saw in the distance the Protestant orange 1800 wing belonging to the apprentice T.W.A.T.Say no more!

It was a careful ride up the twisting oily leaf ridden road that followed the shores of Gouthwaite Reservoir a gap or two appeared in the group as a few nerves jangled. The dog lover from Durham lost sight of the guys in front and slithered to a shaky stop, wondering if he’d took a wrong turn. Mr Topley was right behind and took him in hand (once a sailor always a sailor eh Colin?) leading him to the café at Stean Gorge for a well earned tea stop and bacon buttie.

“Right then Jacob, you and I are going to the reception office and are going to get your fingerprints taken OK? He knods at me smiling. “Yes OK he says”  ”Good O then, come with me lad, I wave him to come with me. His English not being so good a bit of animation is quite helpful”and disarming.  Jacob was a huge man from Sierra Leone with hands like shovels! Bloody hell, his will be difficult to fit onto the form properly I thought to myself,  Jacob padded in behind me smiling and clutching his ID card, “You can these prints Albert, I’ll put the kettle on” I said to my “oppo” smiling mischievously to myself.

The gang piled noisily into the café, a church service was in full swing and his flock crooned out a song or three. They sat and listened as they warmed up, ate and drank warm beverages. Sufficiently fuelled up the gang wrapped up tight bidding farewell to the flock, the Michelin extras waddled out into the elements and struggled to cock old legs over wet steeds in the car park. Not before Barry paid a visit to the portaloo. “Old Geoff” thought it might be fun to rock the bog, I’m glad Barry was only doing a No1 and not a No2, I think he has probably been watching the short videos on YOU TUBE of bored young soldiers playing pranks on each other. Being a spineless apprentice that he is, the man never went to the bog once during the rest of the rideout according to my spy! The thing is Geoff old mate, these things don’t end at the end of the day, these things gather momentum and of course retribution can take a long time. The only way back is bribery!

Geoff swings gaily by as Barry prepare to whip his apprentice into shape!

With empty bladders and full bellies “the wet ones” turned towards Lofthouse along the cold tops before passing Roundhill and Leighton Reservoirs, turning right towards Masham , turning left at the lights on the A6108, through the rain ahead they could make out Jervaulx Abbey. The puddles began to form and merge but still the gang enjoyed themselves!

A sharp left hander ahead onto another tiny road took them to Coverham and Carleton. This road is, as I remembered, tiny and sunken earth berms ran along the “road” it would be tricky if a car or worse still a tractor approached. It twisted along the edge of Coverdale as the wind got a grip of the day and fairly ragged it about. The rain and the wind began to make the conditions a little uncomfortable for people to say the least. Thankfully the road soon began to drop off the edge and out of the wind  before dropping into Kettlewell and another stop at the regular café, everyone was fleeced of their well earned money here as Mr Topley found out to his dismay! Perhaps we should resort to taking our own coffee and teas in 2010? At least they were in the dry and had plenty of room as the usual day trippers and sedate walkers vacated the café as the Appy Wanderers antics and general friendly rowdiness drove the quiet folk out!

“Boss boss that fikin china man won’t give me the black ball fikin bitch” I pointed and shouted “Xie XIE! Give me that black ball I flicked my extended open hand in a “come hither” jesture not unlike Bruce Lee did in one of his films. ( Animation helps a great deal with all these languages flying around) Xie and the other eight Chinese argued loudly, this attracted more detainees into the argument. Oh no, it’s the Chinese verses the rest AGAIN! The noise attracted more staff to the games room, after some frisking and tugging, the black ball appeared and young Egor Slavitch was able to claim it for his game, eventually some calm returned in the games room, I sat back down and carried on scanning the morning papers trying to appear calm and uninterested.

The sun threatens to show itself

After the fleecing of the Wanderers at the café people were glad to get on the move again! This time they stayed low and out of the wind for a while, at least until Barry took a left up the side of the valley in the direction of Arncliffe, this tiny road runs along the River Skirfare on the left, it’s a beautiful day if you were a predatory falcon of some kind I guess, letting the wind sweep you faster along as it hunted for prey, but alas the Goldwings are not predatory birds so don’t enjoy the conditions as much. Malham Tarn is off to the left as the wanderers come over the rise , turning left down into Malham village and some respite from the winds. The girls take advantage of a dry spell

Shortly after Malham the ride turned right to Winterburn, Hetton and into Cracoe before coming into Skipton. Mick shows of his extendable pole trick 

It was here that the days rideout ended, not quite the long day as The Appy Wanderers are used to but with the wet and windy conditions it was best to keep it an appy but short day eh folks?

We counted the last of the fifty six assorted detainees back onto Elm wing as they finished their tea, we waited for the last two lads who were helping to serve the food to return, Assan the only fat Ethiopian on planet Earth came first, his arms full of extra bread then came  Mussuya the toothless Angolan scallywag who came up grinning saying “Goodnyte boos, see yoo in morning” He told me once that he had his front two teeth pulled out as a child because it was tradition in his village, We signed for our IRC roll of 125 bodies and had it verified. Hurray we had reached the end of another day! The day staff said bye to the evening duty staff, the usual adult banter swayed back and forth as we left the building!  I changed out of uniform handed my keys and radio in at the gate. Puffing and panting the three miles home on my peddle bike was hard work in the rain and wind, I wondered what kind of day todays “Appy Wanderers” had?

Tilateronthen

PS……….Thanx very much to big Deryck and Christine Smith for the use of some of their photos. x

                                         THE SCRIBE.

Chris Nutbrown sorts his stuff.

Its 09.45 and as I arrive in Skipton I can see some Goldwings already parked up, there is a definite nip in the air this morning as folk snuggle up to hot tea and coffee, Autumn is just around the corner. It’s got the makings of a beautiful day and guess what?  Nobody has come in a car!
I see Tony Hudson and Nick the Freak stood with hands thrust firmly in trouser pockets, obviously feeling the mild chill. Nick’s pale pink 1500 on possibly its last rideout, he is trading in for 2010, his hand should be a lot better by then too, Nick will be right up there with us in 2010. These two guys are teaming up for todays effort. Quite an odd couple, a bit like Laurel and Hardy when you look at them
There are a number of Leeds troublemakers here today, Heather and Derek Thornton, Ian and Adrienne, Chris and Geoff on Tangerine Dream, did you know Geoff is officially old now? He turned 50 last week, they had purloined a new sex rug for the bike it was white with orange flecks and matched the bike nicely, good choice Chris. The Leeds ringleader Sharon eyed me up from the back, she was with her bitch…John, a right pair of smirking Abbots I must say!
Just arriving from South Yorkshire was Brian and Anne with their friends Chris and Marie all the way from Hull the “Cod head” county. Their 1500  looks very nice even if it is a breadvan, I liked the extra paint bits. Chris had a beautiful black number under him with just the right amount of bling, it’s known that I am attracted to black 1800’s!
I just love Anne’s leg warmers, they are upside down leather coat arms you know, the fluffy blonde bits at the bottom cover her petite ankles and matched her tousled blonde locks and so rounded the image off nicely.
Colin and Anne Topley were here again, she was cold and had been sitting on her hands all the way from Castleford so nipped of to get a hot drink. Colin probably thought it was quiet warm having spent his youth on the high seas with the Royal Navy.
Giggling Denise and Sir Cattle Grid were welcomed as they purred up on their Snow Princess.  As usual Nigel had his boatdeck trainers on and Denise had her snug pinkers on, in my eyes this footwear has become their trademark and always makes me smile.
The other odd couple from up Geordie way were well wrapped up and ready for the challenge, this was a youthful fit chisled Dave of Redcar and Jimbo…who was the exact opposite in looks but immense in character, he is good for everyones laughter lines, I think he is so funny and would be an asset to any party. Dave was the navigator whilst Jimbo was in charge of the steering bit at the front.
Heather gets wind of something

So this gang  of highway bandits were the treasure hunters and more importantly they were todays Appy Wanderers. Barry had arrived in the van with the barbi stuff and two good cooks…..that’s two good COOKS, Julie Sharp and Tina Walton our two long suffering wives. The clues and directions were handed out, maps books appeared and smiles and grins turned to studious deep looks and fags were lit. Puzzled,

The odd couple do the sums

Jimbo reached for his Geordie phrase book then began to nod as things made sense. Jon and Sharon Abbot sat down and pondered some cheating tactics.

Geoff looks for some pictures.

Old Geoff looked then looked a bit more but was unable to find any picture he lost interest and gave the sheets to Chris. Pep talk before the “off” at Skipton

Barry gathered folk for a quick chat and kept pointing to me and laughing, from the other side of the road I could hear some words like “trust” “Him” and “don’t”, the gang  began to cast glances in my direction, murmuring and nodding collectively. Hmmm.. I’m not sure I liked the way this was going!

Colin ponders Barrys excuse why he’s not riding today

What’s my job you ask? Well basically as it is our first attempt at a Treasure Hunt I was going to try to make sure everyone  got on the right track and was able to follow the clues.  We had figured that once they got the first few clues it would run on rails. Chris and Marie head for the first clue

I intended to observe from afar taking photos as folk meandered lost like through our stunning countryside with sheets of paper looking for clues and to try and keep Barry informed as he and the girls set up camp at the end of the hunt. I was going to help if anyone got really REALLY stuck..at least that’s what I thought until two minutes ago, I’m not too sure now though! Perhaps it would be healthier if I just stayed here in Skipton for the day?

The Geordies hit the road to nowhere!

The bikes set off at intervals toward the first clue, the sun was out now and the morning chill had gone. Barry and St Honda, the patron saint of Two Wheels and Sunshine had delivered again, providing good weather and more fab roads. Victor Meldrew and Ann hit the treasure trail

I turned towards Malham at Gargrave, soon I saw the first group of Wingers at a set of Gate Posts they were looking for flowers somewhere in the stone, Ian and Adrienne later said they counted 13 flowers, she says we put a red Herring in too by missing the second K in Kirkby Malham!  Maybe just go look at the STATLEY GATEPOSTS a hundred yards further on and just count the 4 flowers cut into the side of the posts, it’s supposed to be a fun day not a serious wartime exercise Captain Mainwarring!
At Malham everyone had dismounted and were searching for clues around the village, thankfully Elvis the pig hadn’t left the building. Nick and Tony got a cuppa and sat looking, Jimbo stood in front of Elvis but his eyes wandered over the pasties in the shelf below, a rambler eventually pointed Elvis out…just six inches in front of him!

Meet Stan and Ollie

It was here that two Wingers attempted to take me out of the equation, outside on the pavement one Golden one even turned his engine off in his attempt to quietly run me over.My bike was here earlier!
Colin and Anne were quickly collecting their answers then had a bit of a discussion on the old pack horse bridge as to the identity of one of the iron animals,

Colin sees off some vital evidence

the bird was easy, not so the squirrel which in their eyes was either a rabbit or the rare Malham long eared mouse! Colin pretended to hoof the damn think into the stream, I swear he was smiling!Elvis? what do you mean Elvis?

I left them to it as Brian, Ann, Chris and Marie arrived to join the fun.
Malham Tarn was off to my right as I climbed high and right, I stopped a few miles ahead at a cattle grid and basked in the sunshine on the hillside and waited and waited and waited, a lonely sheep eyed me up from a distance, I wished the gang would hurry up because everytime I glanced round the damn thing seemed to be edging closer to me. Maybe I should have left the “Old Spice” alone this morning?

Love on the horizon

I was saved from an uncertain togetherness with one of God’s creatures by the twinkling of distant headlights. Geoff and Chris shoo away my amourous admirer

I got up off my knees and got a few shots as they passed by eventually and I slowly followed them towards Armcliffe. I was entering killer dog territory again at the farm in the dip. Just a few days earlier on our test run the little black terrier caught sight of my flapping tails and chased me up the hillside just like he did last year! Barry was beside himself with laughter at the bottom, he was actually encouraging the dog. Only today the thing was sitting yards away in the field panting, lucky for me. No doubt we will see each other again in 2010.
Arncliffe was next on the list, I followed behind Ian as one group very nearly missed the first clue, someone spotted the pub and yelled out. I watched them from a distance, the keyword in the clue was what was Mr Miller LICENCED to sell, once you got the drift of that the rest was easy(ish) I hurried to the next village, Kilnsey and right turned to the bridge before Coniston to await the next lot and take some pictures. They had to get through the smallest gate in the world

VERY slim folk only

Chris is triumphant in her quest

go under the bridge, pick their way over boulders and tip toe through shallow waters to the centre of the bridge arch and pick up a card.  Anne and Marie tip toe to success!

Most of us are fat looking so-and-so’s in our kit so this bit proved to be amusing for all of us, a gentle cheat was a farm gate a few yards away..I have to say that most used it! Amazingly big Derek Thornton slithered through the gap, lifting his belly over the parapet, something I couldn’t do.
Leeds gangmenbers look a litle euphoric!

Big Derek performs a miracle

The Nutbrowns had a slow puncture in the front tyre of their 1500, lucky for them the bike has a compressor built in for such things so they were OK to carry on, this proves that the 1500 breadvan has two things that an 1800 doesn’t have and ought to, a compressor and huge luggage space! The slow puncture didn’t bother them coz they produced a mobile canteen from one of the tardis like sideboxes and Marie tried to bribe me with a cuppa but I declined, pushing on instead to Grassington to capture images of other clue gatherers.

Leeds gang member Jon Abbott

Sharon Abbott The Leeds ringleader

Grassington was full of Sunday tourists and a mini market was in full swing. I stayed a minute to photograph the Leeds ringleader again before leaving them to buy savouries and snacks from the stalls and hopefully get a few clues whilst filling their fat faces! Yes folks I just might have accepted a bribe at this point. With rumbling belly I pushed onto Burnsall to the next port of call, I saw nobody here so carried on through the cars and meandering people.  Burnsall is a really pretty place and I would like to have stayed a bit longer, the bridge is well maintained and easy on the eye as was the ice cream van! The date on the bridge was a little blurred and scarred hence just the year was requested.
Pushing on to Appletreewick now, the keyword being UPWARDS, hinting that one should keep taking the upwards  road and not deviate left or right. Eventually one would intersect the B6265 after negotiating a couple of difficult Stelvio like twisty uphill bends.
Clue 18 was a dig at Mark (AKA stumps) Lovell,

Did I leave the iron on?

short in stature but long in character and regular supplier of hip flask bless him. STUMP X CAVERN was the answer required which was along a fine bit of road that was gently swept by the mid afternoon breeze. Onto Greenhow Hill and the next clue at the little Norman Church. The next clue is “go to rubber like homes”….BLUBBERHOUSES Do you get it now folks?
This is a great road for a swift blast, a long undulating road of vast views away to the left where you could see the vast golf balls of Mendleworth, a U.S communications facility, make of that title what you wish! The road then heads down steeply before intersecting the A59 Skipton to Harrogate road, ride this for a hundred yards and turn off at the church that was once a chapel…the clue asks “Name the chapel please”, the church name is what you see first, so a bit sneaky is this one!
It’s just five minutes to the end now and the directions given lead everyone to Swinsty Reservoir, enter the sky blue gates before the blue water. Most were there by now with the last few bikes just a few minutes behind.

Tina slaves away as per normal.

It took about 3 hrs for most to complete. Barry, Julie and Tina were busy cooking burgers sausages and stuff under a bright yellow awning.A quiet moment!

We had obtained permission from the water authorities to hold our barbi here, this is where the treasure hunt entry fee of £5 per bike went. The food was plentiful, in fact we had plenty left over to feed some tired out youths who were doing some walking expeditions, they were involved in Duke of Edinburgh awards I think. Their vehicles were near us and they were very happy to help us clear away what was left.

Denise and Nigel.Treasure hunt winners.

Everyone tucked in and enjoyed each others company in the afternoon sun. Mark and Chrissy made a great effort to come to the barbi. Chrissy

Chrissy had come from the night shift at the hospital, Mark brought the old hipflask filled with mature sloe gin, wonderful stuff it was too, just a nip is all that’s required.  All I wanted now was another bottle and a park bench! Tony spilt the beans about one of Marks little adventures in Scarborough and got chased off for his effort, it was funny to watch the boys squabbling. The impromptu bike show of eleven Honda Goldwing 1500 and 1800cc motorbikes attracted the general public’s interest. One of the localpark rangers dropped by to said hello again to Barry. Everyone seemed to have had a fine day, the girls were much fitter after climbing on and off the back so many times to last them until next season!APPY WANDERERS  Sunday family

It was nice to see some not so familiar faces. Proof that what Barry and I are doing is worthwhile and we are on track achieving our goal, that being to get folk out of the house, pub or meeting and onto the roads of England!  Barry and Dave the first of many APPY WANDERERS

Time passed by quickly, the ambiance much enjoyed but time was time and miles had to be done to finally get ones feet up for the last time today. We all began to trickle away homebound, it takes ages to say goodbye to so many friends. The Nutbrowns got a good luck from us all as they returned to “Cod head” land with their slow puncture. I followed Barry and the girls back to Keighley but we were held up by some old codger and his wife out for a slow ride on their H/D Why he didn’t wave Barry by I don’t know, he just hogged the road for miles. We emptied the van and Julie and I had a nice cup of tea at the club house then rode the last sixty odd miles home, parking up finally at around half seven. I am looking forward to next years hunt already, going to find some devious places next time though!
The Wanderers SCRIBEFor the record Denise and Nigel Corby were victorious in stealing first place, two extra burgers were awarded as were two of our new design dress Polo T shirts, well done! Oh nearly forgot to mention which team came last, this award goes to the Laurel and Hardy….Tony Hudson and Nick the Freak.
I promised Denis that I would include this little story so here it is ….Whilst sitting around chatting Nigel and Denise were talking about their barbi kit and she said she even cooked peas on it. A flash went through my mind of the longest thinnest kebab stick in the world and before I could engage brain to gob I blurted out, how the hell can you do peas on a barbi! Honest I knew the answer before I got to the end of the sentence. The air cracked as Denise fell apart with laughter at my manly dumbness, she laughed and laughed and laughed! Are you happy now you have got your own back buggerlugs??  Xxx

Tilateronthen
                                      THE SCRIBE