It was Friday lunchtime when they began to arrive in numbers, Julie and I had been here since yesterday as were “The Crabbes x2” They had just taken themselves off to Edinburgh on the train for the day. Barry and Tina came up the drive with the usual suspect in tow, Geoff and Christine..Mark an Chrissie followed by Tony and Heather, all on dry looking 1800’s. They had a good rain free run up, unlike us who yesterday had one or two rain showers and a burst of hailstones even! Most of the Wanderers were here in the Arcasaid Hotel, the poorer folk had booked into servants rooms up a side street nearby. Our hotel was ok..ish, it seems the wonders of advertising works well! For me it Scotland’s version of FAWLTY TOWERS, it was a holiday rest home for the nearly dead! For sure it was not really suitable for an Appy Wanderers weekend but we will make the best of whets available here in Pitlochry and not just the hotel

                                                                              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.

                     
It was 0700 hrs when Julie and I hit the road on a cloudless warm Sunday May morning, a bit like one of those long forgotten hot summer days, it felt really unusual! We were off to Bowness in the Lake District for a dress rehearsal run of the Help for Heroes (H4H) charity run due on June 6th 2010, The Walton household was the first stop for tea and toast then off we went up the Skipton bypass for an instruments check, everything worked ok including the speedo! 

 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

            
Sunday morning came with a thin grey sky up high and chunky grey clouds, a bit of wind but no rain, I pulled on my leather trousers and fleece, I even put my summer gloves in the top box, I was expecting some heat today in spite of the weather report which I completely ignored for some reason..yes yes maybe I’m getting older and senile! But probably because I thought it was May and the tulips were out in the garden! Julie opted for the full monty winter kit again. The cat went out of her own accord this morning, and Lightning the oss? Well that bugger couldn’t give a damn as he was busy mowing the grass in his field again!
At 0830 hrs we were winging our way west on the M62, arching right presently onto the A1 we flew low around the cooling towers of Ferrybridge heading north towards Ripon. As usual I was keen to note what the clouds were doing, as we approached Wetherby twenty minutes later we had climbed enough to observe conditions far away to the north west, “Hmmm, not sure about this” I mumbled to myself. On one hand I could see low and high cloud, even some gaps and clear blue sky was in evidence and the surrounding grey clouds even had white tops, evidence of the sun! But on the other hand I saw grey clouds with that smudge underneath as though some errant child had put their thumb on the still wet canvas and smeared the cloud down to the ground, this of course indicated rain! It was still a bit cold but I put this down to the early morning. We landed at Ripon market square after sixty minutes on the road, we took our helmets off and it started to rain! (and I started to swear)
It was only a quick shower but our mood dipped slightly so we nipped into the Sunday café, a huge chocolate cuppa topped with cream brought me back to happy mood again! Like birds arriving for their morning feed Goldwings began to land, Ian and M Jones first with their “Lord of the Rings” Wing, these were old friend from Carlisle we were happy to see them again. Mick on his trusty 1500 came next, another 05 veteran! Barry and the flock arrived minutes later. Barry promptly set about ripping the Purple Pussy 1800 apart! “T bar Dave!” he shouted. Mark complained that his CB wasn’t working properly,  he shouted me for a T spanner AND lube now. Chrissy was getting used to this now and had stood back unperplexed….unlike Mark who got his never ending supply of fags out and stood pointing at this and that! Meanwhile folk drifted to the café for something warm wet and sticky.
Derek and Heather were on song with smiles  “bon-omi” for everyone, Heather was one of my camera bitches and busy getting some good candid shots, always on the prowl for the naughty shot she is!
Mr Tony Hudson trusty stalwart from Wakefield on his smart 1800 was here on his own again, this time he was adorned with his new wind resistant rubber continence suit..I never knew one could stretch so much (By the end of the day I wished I had one on too..good thinking Tony)
Geoff Smith our CB middle man on the hot orange wing with Christine stood with us and kept warm, a bit like those fat penguins do every year at the south pole.
Blake the male model put in a brief appearance from Leeds way, with his plain but shiny silver 1800. He had family arrangements today but popped across to say hello and get his photo taken to improve his portfolio, it was nice to see him even though it was brief. Next time my friend, next time!
Deryck and Jan from t’ther side of York arrived last and in a bit of a tiz, Deryck let Mistress Garmin lead him a merry dance insisting Ripon market place was elsewhere. Poor lad had been generally fekked around by a machine. Perhaps this was how “The Terminator” trilogy started in the future when those damnable Garmins  took over the world?? On the back of their blue 1800 Jan was looking cool with her non lesbian hairdo, bless!
So at the beginning we were ten bikes with Mr Hemmingway heading back home for a nice day with the kids, having managed at least a short spin on his bike. Our rideout number today therefore was actually eight 1800’s and one 1500 which on reflection was a good number considering the disappointing Bank Holiday weather forecast and a traditional family gathering day.
It was just after 10.30hrs when we declared the Purple Pussy well f***ed. The CB was probably rusted to buggery. Mark did remember a while ago a full flask of hot water had “sloshed about a bit” in the top box. It might have nothing to do with it but then it just might! Hey I’m glad Mark is back after a month in Australia I’m writing about him lots already! He is such a genuine character and funny to be around, we are glad Chrissy is back too but for entirely different reasons!!!!!!!
Now that everyone had a smile on their faces it was time to move off, folk were chattering away on CB’s  except for Mark and Chrissy of course who today just had each other to talk to! We took a different route towards Masham through some really small hamlets with Olde Worlde names like Nunwick and Norton Conyers, I did the route originally for Barry today on Mapsource on the PC and put a lot of waypoints in as it kept trying to take the main road an inch away. Consequently Barry was being out talked today by Mistress Garmin he couldn’t get a word in at times. She was so disruptive and noisy that even his human inbuilt sat nav got confused and he called “Left turn coming up” before disappearing right, it was highly entertaining and made everyone giggle. Just before West Tanfield enough was enough and he ordered a “Right turn… bugger this…RIGHT turn” and we took a short hop on the A1 up to Bedale before skipping back onto the planned route. All day Barry got ribbed about his left and right turns poor lad, I imagined everyone thought it only courteous to take the micky as the boot was now on the other foot! It’s the price one has to pay for being the mickey taking comedian that he is.
A nice way to look at going wrong with the map directions is to say to yourselves “We have not gone wrong we are just going a different way” Julie and I have over the years discovered some wonderful countryside by adopting this slow laid back philosophy although we can’t always remember where we have been.
We settled in some sort of order on the A684 from Bedale to Hawes, I had Ian and M at my front with Deryck and Jan in front of them, we were not a long group today so Geoff had an easy day and was able to heckle Barry at the front about his left and rights, unfortunately his jibber jabber ran amok and he got himself into deep shit with Christine as Barry managed to turn the tables on him. For that Old Geoff paid the penalty and lost his chokki biscuits (Thank you Christine)
Meanwhile back to the business of riding! Most riders today were relatively senior in goldwing experience so had a very smooth day overall, Ian gave Deryck more room as he was still on his learning curve and covered his brakes more than usual. Mick was gleefully making the old blue bread van go pretty smartish, Tony was having a great time as a solo rider today and was hacking after Barry on parts where it was safe to zoom a little. I could see Heather on the back of Derek with her camera clicking away, Christine my other camera bitch had her’s out too (camera I mean) and was doing her best to get some rearward shots. I’m sure we will have some good ones to use.
The weather was not improving, it was still cold, we were climbing up and riding over open ground so the winds were having a whale of a time with us. By now I was wishing I had my winter thermals on and not my manly leather trousers.
 We passed through Leyburn onto the old tank road and the army ranges, recently the target buts had been re-modelled to resemble targets on the present areas of conflict. There is some story circulating that they were originally shaped like minarets unfortunately some cretin had taken a photo and complained so the targets had been altered to avoid causing distress?? It makes logical sense to me to have targets of women in carrying bundles etc, children on pushbikes and men in religious clothes, and as for Mosque shaped targets on the tank/rifle ranges, well that’s obvious according to news that has filtered back that the enemy they are fighting are frequently hiding and shooting from mosques. The story might well be codswallop and just put out to cause mischief eh?
We pushed on to familiar Reeth and the usual left (or right) turn towards Tan Hill, Barry suggested we stop for a coffee at the CB Inn just a few miles further as we were turning away from Tan Hill presently to ride north West to Barnard Castle, we slowed to enter the unpaved potholed car park, slowly picking our spot as the cold wind tugged pushed and pulled at us, the girls dismounted and ran to the toilets and the boys sorted flasks, Julie gave cups of soup to several folk  whilst Christine gained her revenge and gave Geoffs favourite chokki biscuits away “That will teach him” she says, “Here have them all!” His face was a picture when he returned from the toilet with the women.
The clouds had gone but it was still quite grey and overcast, the cold wind was really biting up here. We donned lids and gloves then formed up on the road after carefully picking our way from the awful car park surface up over a ridge onto the tarmac. The next valley was the start of “killer cock robin” country and the scene last year of the murder of a father of two. Barry managed to spook a male pheasant who was strutting along the edge of the road with his two chicks minding his own business, Barry had LOADS of room but managed to kill the poor bird, the rest of us riding close behind rode through a short shower of bird feathers! Meanwhile Barry was most impressed at the sturdiness of his fog lights as he rubbed away the poor birds lifeblood. Lo and behold me thinks this is why Barry now has a blood red wing!
Down in the valley we had a welcome break from the cold winds as we twisted and turned along tree lined roads, the small gnarled trees above us looked so old and the bark was refreshingly green in colour, a healthy sign of no pollution.
We nipped across the busy, fast A66 to another small road that let us enter Barnard Castle town briefly before turning north again, we had a short stop as a clot in a 4×4 played with his instruments such as lights, indicators, gear stick and such whilst sitting in the middle of the road, this tweed twat was typical of a Sunday driver and well worthy of deep looks of contempt, first Geoff, then Deryck then me! The long straight road to Eggleston was on an old Roman road if I remember being told correctly once. It’s so beautiful and open up here and so very good for the soul, it’s good to be away from civilisation sometimes.
At this point we stopped for the team photo, someone had spent days piling little stones onto a very neat pile next to a sign which Barry topped off with the last stone. The fancy name plate said of “DURHAM LAND of the PRINCE BISHOPS”. It’s a rather curious statement isn’t it? The thing is, apparently the seat of the Bishop of Durham is the fourth most significant in the English church hierarchy and he stands at the right hand of the monarch at coronations. Hence some signposts for the modern day County of Durham are somewhat fancifully subtitled “Land of the Prince Bishops.” So yes we gathered here today in the chill wind for the group shot.
This crest riding little road took us north west to Stanhope then onto the A689 along the valley heading west and on through Wearhead  before turning north yet again towards the comic sounding Dirt Pot Allenheads and the ordinary sounding Allenheads! The road was worthy of a bit of speed here and we began to “get a lick on” Barry pulled the group along, increasing speed and stretching us out a bit. The singlies had much fun here! Here and there we encountered stelvio type corners and drops before zooming off again along the ridges and valleys for a good few miles before dropping down to a mature speed entering the village of Allenheads. The hardy policeman propped up the wall, a speed gun hanging by his side, he was stood in high a visibility jacket at the end of a long half mile drop, I shouted if he was cold as I passed at thirty MPH, he shouted back in the affirmative. Did you know that Allenheads is credited as the village with the highest altitude in England?
We filled with fuel here before turning away from our intended destination of Tea and Scones at Langley Castle, unfortunately they had two weddings booked for this afternoon and we were offered just a 45 minute slot at midday so we cancelled, we normally spend well over an hour here taking in the great views from the roof. I don’t suppose the two happy couples would welcome 15 or so puffed up bikers in the background of all their photos and generally crowding their £20,000 wedding loudly crowing about the cold and asking where the bloody scones were!!
Instead we turned south west towards Alston and a faintly remembered tea stop, thank’s to Geoff, this turned out to be Hartside Café, I had actually been here before but came from a different direction so wasn’t quite sure of it until we actually landed there. The views are fantastic as it sits right on the edge and looks out over Penrith and the sea away in the distance, it’s a great biker haven for obvious reasons as we would show everyone on the road down the hill in an hour or so. Meanwhile it was dinnertime and a disorderly line formed whilst the tone in the café turned in our favour! Mick was unlucky today and stood several places along in the line, Deryck has a photo as proof! Tony was chomping at the bit and pointing at some scrawny Sunday hill walkers as they appeared in front somehow. It took a while to warm up as we were fair chilled to the bone, it wasn’t long though before the colour began to return to our cheeks as hot tea and soup ran through our bodies.  We stayed a while before returning to the bikes outside in the wind and snow flakes…I kid you not! We all saw the few patches of snow that lay on the tops, we all saw too the beginnings of a light snow shower and shuddered, Barry stood at his bike to see a sock marked L and R over each grip! The joke was still rolling on, everyone was getting in on it. T’was only fair after all the ribbing that Barry shells out to people. Keep gritting the teeth Barry it should stop any day soon! The giggling was blown away on the afternoon winds as were the snow flakes
The ride down the hillside was a fun ride and easy to see why there was a bikers café at the top. Just a few miles further on and we turned left on a small road through Eden Garth onto the B6412 following the railway to Culgaith then onto the fast A66 heading east before joining a great little road again, this time the B6259, we crossed the railway several times as we rode through some wonderful countryside, Kirkby Stephen was soon reached and passed, within the hour we pulled over at Hawes. It was decided earlier that Hawes would be the last waypoint for today’s ride out, it was handy for most people to split here and head home south, east or west. We said our goodbyes and kissed ruddy red cheeks. Barry would take some with him over the tops towards Skipton, the rest left in dribs and drabs eastwards to pick up the A1 and speed generally southward.
Julie and I left first and a minute later took an impromptu detour… not the wrong way but just in a different direction, remember?  We soon returned to the intended route and were now maybe half a mile behind Geoff and Tony, we kept picking them up on CB, I thought about catching up but had just thirty miles of petrol and would have to pull over soon for more so settled to a steady pace, overtaking the odd car here and there, we sometimes caught a glimpse of a Goldwing in the distance but the traffic was not light this evening so we took our time instead. We could hear Geoff and Tony on their CB’s for quite a while, I think we probably kept pace with them but the traffic prevented any realistic attempt to rejoin them as there was the real possibility of smearing ourselves along the cold grey jagged dry stone walls that ran close alongside. I can’t see the point of that can you?
We stopped at Bedale for petrol and didn’t hear the guys again. The A1 south from here was a 50 MPH zone for quite a while through the road works as it was being widened. When the restriction stopped the road ahead was wonderfully empty of traffic so we dropped our visors and got a pretty lick on zooming towards the M62 which I have to admit was reached rather quickly.  We slowed to take the exit, joining the M62 at a slower motorway speed! It seemed to be that time of the evening when nothing much on the major trunk roads, I twisted the grip more and more whilst keeping a sharp eye out slowing down twenty two miles and a few minutes later for the M18. I could almost smell the hot bath now! My God it had been really, REALLY cold today but such fun we wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Finally I leaned forward and turned the engine off at Walnut Cottage. We prised ourselves off the bike and groaned as blocks of ice turned back into fingers toes and other pointy bits! POOKA gave that “open the fekkin door and feed me look” as she does. Lightening was STILL mowing the field.
Today was a 300+ mile ride for our silver 1800 under miles and miles of grey sky and cloud, we were pulled, pushed and generally brow beaten by cold slashing winds, we felt a slither of rain, saw a dot or two of snowflake and still heard laughter and still saw smiles in abundance on rosy cheeked Wanderers, For me I enjoyed today with some funny cold people, it was altogether a most enriching experience again. Maybe a January ride out might not be such a bad idea after all?…..I’m kidding folks just kidding!
Tilateronthen
                                      THE SCRIBE.

Today was a clear sunny Sunday 18th April, Julie and I had ridden nearly 30 miles to the start point on the south bound M1 at Wooley Edge services.

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

AAAAAAAAAAAARRGH! Came the cry from the kitchen, Heather came bolting out, “That bloody dog” I muttered as I sat half asleep waiting at the table for my bacon sarni. He groaned again, puzzled I tottered into the kitchen to find Barry gripping the work top as hot spasms of pain shot through him, “My backs gone, my backs gone, all I did was turn” I squirted brown sauce onto my bacon, and thought his timing was crap! I was still suffering from a heavy head cold and chesty cough and was not sure if I would be up for today and now Barry goes and does this! We both sat at the table feeling old before our time. Barry found some dickliwhatsit tablets that would relax his pain.  Meanwhile I had weaned myself of the antibiotics last night and sipped Lemsip No 47 of the week. Bloody good start this is!

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

So I said I might go out on the bike again on Tuesday because Paul the weatherman said its going to be fine and I’m off again. Barry smiled saying “I have to change my day off this week from Thursday and Tuesday sounds like a good day to have off, besides we should inspect Aprils new run over the Trough of Bowland don’t you think? “Right then, 09.00 in Skipton it is ” I replied grinning back at him as I left the showroom.

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

PART 1

THE END?…………

We stepped over the pile of junk mail and into the house to flop down into familiar comfy chairs. ”Barry…… Barry are you there mate?” I whispered.  For the first time in two weeks there was no answer.  Peace reigned at last as the realisation of that fact seeped through my bones and the tour was over, a long sigh escaped from deep inside of me. passing through teeth forming a faint smile, a job well done I thought.  As Julie set to with the unpacking, out in the drive the wing ticked and clicked as the engine cooled down, I too cooled down, relaxing as my mind rewound to the dock side at Hull two weeks earlier. Now, where is my cup of tea?……..

The Purple Amethyst at Hull.

 DAY 1…….. WINGS BY THE WATERSIDE.

It was a warm breezy afternoon on Friday 19thJune 2009 as we neared the Hull docks , suddenly we passed Barry and the Appy Wanderers on the opposite lane of the carriage way, they had arrived to top up their tanks, we had just done that minutes earlier and were just turning into the dock area. I keyed the CB, “Hello Twat 1 from Twat 2 nice to see you, we’ll talk again at the check in area, Remember it’s the Rotterdam boat and not the Zeebrugge one I reminded them, a healthy riposte boomed out from seven Goldwing pilots. I grinned happy that we had got off to the usual noisy start!

In Hull, Yorkshires windy city!

Relaxing in the bar aboard the ferry

Rocky offers Barry a helping hand as he molests our wife

The American flyboys had names like “The Razor” and “Iceman” Our glorious RAF chaps have Red 1 and Red 2, so Appy Wanderers had Twat 1 and Twat 2. I was to take my place at the back doing the back door job whilst T1 was to lead with Mistress Garmin aiding (sometimes not, as the case was to prove)
We found “Amethyst Dream” at the check in area, this was Lynne and John on their purple 1800 trike, however we wouldn’t be totally complete until the end of the next day when Clive and Pat Hammond would join with us, they were to meet us at the first overnight stop deep in Germany, they would be making their way from Richmond, that’s the Richmond darn sarf in Landan, wiv the uuuuje park and deer (oop north we makes do with ducks and duck ponds!) Clive and Pat would travel via the “Chunnel “then on through France.
Meanwhile back with the main body of Appy Wanderers, we were now on the ferry and had lashed our bikes down, had found our rooms, ditched bike stuff, and changed into our customary yellow shirts, supplied once again by Colin Appleyard Motorcycles of Keighley……. thank you again kind sirs.
This newer  P+O ferry was researched last year by Julie and myself, she is The Pride of Hull, along with her sister The Pride of Rotterdam and they are proudly  marketed as P+O’s new flagships may I say what a pair of buxom beauties they are too!  We found them to be a lot more roomier, especially on the car deck, we were not hoisted to the roof on the meccano like rickety bike ramp nor blathered in oil, grease and filth, she was much newer and cleaner, more user friendly and brilliant for bikers. The far away destination ferry port sits in the huge Rotterdam complex but is much easier to access than the smaller Zeebrugge ferry port believe it or not and is better served by the auto routes. No longer will Barry lead us a merry tease around nearby housing estates whilst looking at the distant dock cranes as we fumed and fucked about on the outskirts!  Hull to Rotterdam offers a better all round service for our needs. I think we have seen the last of Zeebrugge and the two smaller mature ferry ships. I’d like to add that all the staff on both routes are equally as professional, knowledgeable and friendly.
I stood at the round end of the ferry (stern) at the outside bar with shandy in hand and gazed up the estuary at the towering Humber Bridge ten miles or more away, we generated towards  “yellowshirts” as they made their way to this natural meeting point and we gradually got noisier as expectations grew.  We had a mix of veterans and first timers amongst us; the vets have enjoyed each other on these trips for five years now and were quite the familiar family! The “Newbie’s” were not left alone at all as Barry and I doled out insults and compliments  in equal amounts to old and new Appy Wanderers alike! 
The afternoon past into evening dinner after which wine and ale was consumed, we joked and talked of the impending adventure, Adrianne’s partner Ian tells me several times during the evening he is an advanced rider, I certainly questioned that fact after the trip! They are riding a blue 1500 bread van that looks like it has done quite a few miles, its offside exhaust sits at an odd angle, he also has a squawk box with a very loud frog and cockerel noise, it was going to sound interesting and fun, I couldn’t help but wonder if Barry and I had covered everything. I thought  maybe Ian would  be an asset and be a helpful chap to have along with his advanced riding skills?
Come 22.30hrs and folk gradually retired to bed, after all we were robbed of an hour as we sailed to the continent and had an early start in the morning and a long first journey of about 360 miles, others soon followed whilst Ian sat staring at a picture, he says it was his way of fighting sea sickness. Tomorrow would also be the start of a learning curve for some and a quick jog of the memory for others, especially as the first of the anticipated fast black German 4×4 would be encountered. Don’t ask me why the fastest are black, they just are!
DAY 2…….THE LONG RIDE
At last the door opens and bright sunlight rushes in, the deckhands signal the gentlemen to start their engines. We had 360 miles to cover before our first hotel on this the first transit day; it was going to be a long but effortless ride today. The “deckies” adorned in bright orange boiler suits, beckon us into gaps as they stop the cars and we are off the ferry, through light customs checks and onto the auto route in quick order. It was fairly quiet as we headed inland.  Rotterdam port is vast and spread over the huge inlets for twenty miles or more.
We settled into our running order, I think the new guys found it painless in the light traffic, everyone knew their position and with only a few new adventurers there wasn’t much for me to do this morning except keep a keen eye, and to keep up and enjoy the day!

Who’s that behind the bike then? 

We rode through Holland at an early morning 70 mph; it will change when we hit Germany I kept reminding folk, it was almost like riding in England so far except we were on the wrong side of the road! We flew east towards Arnhem before turning south east towards Venlo to enter The Fatherland, skirting the edge of The Ruhr, this was a heavy industrial concentration of towns such as Dortmund, Essen, Duisburg and Dusseldorf.
The German motorways, I’ll call them auto routes now we are in Europe, are very well built and maintained and the drivers for the most part have a very good sense of road discipline, personally I love riding over here, I feel much safer on these roads. We pulled into one of the service stations to top up and have lunch, Mark sat at the pumps and looked confused, foolishly he shouted across to us “What do I put in Barry?” “PETROL!” we all hollered back “OH aye, sorry I’m just having a blonde moment” admitted the man from Lancashire, behind him blonde Chrissy smiled and whispered something in his ear.
 Back onto the autoroute again, Barry encourages everyone to increase speed to 80mph….I mean 120k…ish, this is about the slowest they drive on their auto routes. We were getting used to the quicker speed when it happened, a German 4×4 zoomed past us, as if we were standing still, boy he was really shifting. What colour was it? Black of course! A few Saxon words hit the airwaves…you know the ones. “Welcome to Germany!” I replied to the new guys, “there will be a lot more and a lot faster, don’t worry its perfectly safe, I’ll  call when a really fast one is coming through, if you’re in the fast lane either speed up or move over, just DON’T dawdle in front of him OK?””  We had discussed this at the meeting at Barry’s weeks ago, and mentioned it often but without actually seeing it in the flesh so to speak, some folk probably find it hard to imagine. We were a relatively small group so we would follow the leader in overtaking, experience shows it works well.
Frankfurt was the last big city before we stopped for the day, we pass close to the airport and its massive new buildings, it certainly made one look up as one passed close by! The 360 plus miles were soon tucked under our belts as we pulled of the auto route into the small town of Marktheldenfeld and our half way hotel.
It was our second visit here and the staff are ready for us with keys and a smile as usual. Clive and Pat are here already, they were a quiet pair from the nicer part of London. Clive had this knack of glancing around without moving his head and often looked quite serious whilst Pat on the other hand was a real head turner; she sported a blonde bob and smiled a lot. They had been riding motorbikes a long time and were really well travelled on Honda Goldwings, recently touring part of Norway. Their red 1800 sat there now flanked by the rest of the gang. Clive had a he tool boxbox strapped to the towing hitch, he said it was for Pats knickers, we all laughed except for Tina she went green with envy and a light bulb went on in her head, look out Barry an idea is forming!

                                                         Rocky with Pat Hammond

We changed before returning to the patio area and got stuck into a few glasses of the local ale. The weather had been OK so far, sunny and cloudy with a few spots of rain now and again, Mark and Chrissy were both hot people today, they had heavy duty bike kit on and jeans underneath, I guess they were unsure what to put on on their first trip on their bike, everyone repeated “All that bike kit AND bloody jeans, I bet you a bit warm eh?” Mark with a 24 hour fag glued to mouth and pint in hand agreed, Chrissy smiled and said not a lot to start with she had a warm smile and looked at you through long blonde locks, yes a quiet girl which is quite unusual as she hails from Australia. Mark on the other hand was from Burrrrnley, sorry I mean Blackburrrn and made up for quiet Chrissy, this was their first tour and had their purple 1800 just a month or so, he was full of excitement and was a very funny bloke with an infectious laugh, his little legs became the target for many many jokes, you just made sure you sit upwind of his constant fag smoke!
After dinner at the hotel we strolled of in groups to join in the celebrations just up the road, it was the towns special birthday and the streets were packed with people enjoying themselves and gathering to listen to the various bands dotted around the centre that were playing on makeshift stages, food and drink was plentiful from dozens of stalls in the centre, they stretched down both sides of the street, it was packed with revellers all eating bloody sausages on a stick in a bread roll  chopped up on a plate of tasty source.it was nice to be part of it for a short while.
DAY 3……HEADING FOR BERCHTESGADEN.
In the morning it was all gone and cleaned up, this was a very clean and well sorted town, a council to be proud of I think and not unusual from what I have seen in Germany over the years. We paid our bills packed the overnight bags and set of south again on the second leg, I took photos of each bike as they left, everyone smiled for the camera.       

Steve and Jane Lenza of Scotland

We were reminded within minutes where we were by yet another fast black car, we tightened ourselves up as we progressed south on the auto route. We were back down to nine bikes, as one of our number decided to return home. We rode on confidently further south, we rode on towards Munich. It began to get busy at the back for me as fast cars chewed at me wanting to come by….

                                         Clive and Pat Hammond of Richmond, London

Folk were reminded to speed up more as they occasionally dropped back down to a slow English 70mph, which of course is not the way to go on these roads…as the Germans were quick to point out! We were in the outside lane often overtaking trucks caravans and motor homes Barry moved back over as soon as he could, only staying out if I said it was clear at the back. It was quite safe but busy all the same. Quite often a car would slow down and take photos of us especially the trikes; this would cause cars to stack up behind him! Only once on this day did some guy come by on the inside, he was coming on like “Billy Fuck” in some huge black BMW; It was later identified by T1 as a Mclaren BMW race spec road car. He was carving everyone up and not just us. Then to top it all a good old boy in his dirty white motor home pulled out and just keep coming, coming right across our bows… Do you remember that T1? A very exciting morning this proved to be for T1 and T2 and a steep learning curve for the new guys!
Stopped for lunch somewhere in Germany

A couple of hours later we could see horrible black clouds they lay across the distant mountains,  underneath them lay thick grey sheets of rain. we were less than sixty miles from our exit so Barry pulled us into a service area for a while hoping it would move on, the traffic had slowed to a crawl so the pause was a good call. We donned the wet gear and waited a while, it became clear it was not moving so we changed tactics a little, the two veteran trikes suggested the solos carry on and filter down the slow traffic, they would make their own way to the hotel, both had stayed in Berchtesgaden several times before so it was agreed we would do this. I pulled on extra long black rubber gloves that came up to my elbows, they might look a little naughty and nursey like but they are the best kind of gloves when going through heavy bouts of rain. A rare halt on the autoroute

There was a lot of room on the auto route to filter and whilst it’s still not quite the accepted thing to do in Germany yet most let us past save for the odd driver who remained obstinate and refused to move over a few feet, Barry took one group and I brought on the new guys a hundred yards behind at a steady pace, the trikes on the other hand  took their place in the traffic. After several miles the traffic cleared and we were free again, everyone had done well in these difficult conditions. Barry led us off the auto route and we took the back roads to Berchtesgaden through forested areas on superb tarmac but we were getting too tired to enjoy it fully unfortunately. Mistress Garmin (T3!)stepped in and threw us a red herring that promptly took us through the housing estate of a growing village, for some reason it did exactly the same to me last year, only this time we followed it through to rejoin our road again a few miles further on. We soon ran alongside the familiar fast flowing river on the valley floor for about eight miles, this led us into Berchtesgaden via the railway station. We caught glimpses of mountain through rain filled clouds above us but for the main part it was wall to wall cloud! We reached the hotel and parked up in the familiar roof top car park, bike keys were turned off and the clocks showed over 650 miles completed in two days. Adrienne wipes the drips away in Bertesgaden

The girls went ahead and sorted the rooms out as the guys pulled bags from panniers and secured the wings, I looked at the clouds, they seemed just a hundred feet above me, they still looked laden with rain and threatened to tip all over us at any time. I shook my head in disappointment and told myself not to worry it would be clear in the morning….probably!
DAY 4 ……DRYING THE GLOVES.
 Today was an off bike day, the mix of 1800, 1500 solos and both 1800 trikes sat resting in the morning drizzle, Bike kit was left to dry and bums left to recover! Most of the group toddled of down the road to the salt mines. This area is originally known for its salt extraction, billions of years ago there were seas here but as the Earth shaped itself mountains grew and surrounded huge areas of sea and eventually covered the trapped lakes of seawater, Methods were devised to extract the salt now deep in the mountainside way back in 1517. Until recently only dignitaries were allowed to visit, you even get to travel by raft on a huge saltwater lake, I dipped my finger on our previous visit and I can confirm it really is salty, yuck!
So this morning Julie and I took a walk up the surrounding heights at the back of Berchtesgaden, and explored all along the walkways in the hills often stopping to look down at the town square to see a bombsite scene. It was a fresh damp morning more like a fine February morning, which was fine because I love February’s!
 The huge hotel complex and parade of shops along with most of the underground car park on the corner had been torn down to make way for one of those wellbeing type hotels with spas and health centres. Unfortunately it won’t be ready until 2010, I’m told  it took 8 yrs to agree the final plans, so much do they fight to keep things as clean as they can that even the high cranes are electric powered and can hardly be heard, they try hard to keep things in keeping with the town. The centre is quiet this year as a result; no doubt a return visit after 2010 will see the place back to its normal busy self. By late afternoon the gang trickled back into town after their great day down the mine, Tom even discovered the local brewery, Tom is a brewer by trade so easily sniffed the place out , he didn’t get time for a proper visit unfortunately.

Tom leads the way and forgets the rain

In the evening we explored the towns eating houses and chatted about the days events, hopefully we would ride the mountains in clearer weather, Ian tells us again that he is an advanced rider but I’m not convinced. Ian, bless him, is fighting a battle with his swollen leg and so determined to come along that he bullied the Dr into giving him some medication, so perhaps that’s why his riding is a little bit erratic and maybe that is why he says he will pull into the fast lane whatever is coming up quickly, I’d like to have seen that, on second thoughts perhaps not, I don’t fancy scooping up his gammy leg from out of the grill of the big black motor. He says “Whatever” and “Bring it on” a lot like some petulant teenager!  Perhaps the drugs are making him talk such bollox!!?
 We drifted from the eating house, Brian and Janet sloped off, Janet claiming she was going to change her shoes, which was a nice way to say they were off for a bonk!  After visiting a couple of bars we too drifted back to the hotel There was a gay bar too but I’m not ready to talk about that place yet.

DAY 5….. DEPRESSED ON A BUS AND A BOAT.
It’s still bloody raining and the sponged up grey stuff still sits above us obscuring the beauty that lay above, I so much want to say “Look up there, I told you it was beautiful and it is isn’t it?” 

                                         But we don’t want to go on a bus Daddy!

I felt like the beholder of a secret! As it was still a bit glum and wet outside so half the guys went to Salzburg for the day on a bus whilst the rest of us went to nearby Lake Konigssee, also on a bus, Hmm , so much for a bloody biking holiday. I think I was getting a tad frustrated!
I bought several small bottles of various schnapps and drunk them during the day, Jagermeister being my old favourite, I introduced it to the guys who for the most part liked it. The lake is very tranquil it’s surrounded by huge mountains and has a peaceful aurora; the bikes were soon forgotten as we rode across the lake to the far shore, getting off the boat at Salet and walking to the small lake of Obersee further into the woods. Stephen was so taken in he tried to walk on water, only to sink to his knees nearly, reminded instantly that although he was Scottish he was still mortal! What most amazed me were the trees that grew out of rocks. they looked sculptured and unreal I couldn’t take my eyes of them. We found the return boat and returned to the halfway point at St Bartholomew. I sat on a bench to drink more schnapps and looked at the new church red roof nearby, an ice cave was visited by some of the group as the rest of us decided to head back and catch the bus back to the station in Berchtesgaden. We were denied a trip up the mountain and the scenic views of The Jenner once again due to low cloud. Ahh well, perhaps another year I thought. Barry kept looking at the sodding clouds and saying things like “Hey I think it’s getting better” and “I think the rain is easing off mate” If he carries on saying stuff like this I swear I’m going to kick him in the nuts. Pass me another schnapps someone! Over dinner we chatted about the days adventures on a slow boat and for the others a trip around beautiful Salzburg and their ride home on a bus full of school kids (suddenly the trip on the lake doesn’t sound so bad) Scottish Stephen tipped me over the edge that night when he asked what kind of bike gang were we turning into? Riding aboot on buses an electric boots! Bragging aboot £10 travel teas maids an how WE can have a cup of tea in our room so much so that other couples began to pine for one themselves…Mark an Chrissy step forward! Throughout the adventure this question arose, like the time Tom bought himself a crystal earring and Ian spent a million pounds on some ornamental pieces of crystal, and then came Barry and his field research for a handy milk container for the teas maid for Christ sakes!!….. Did I mention that we had one too?

                       DAY 6……..WE GO WHERE EAGLES DARE!

Today we take to the bikes and damn the weather! It’s only about an hour’s ride to the next valley and a visit to BURG HOHENWERFEN, This is the castle used to in the film “Where Eagles Dare” although the famous cable car scene was shot elsewhere in Ebensee. It was also used in backdrop scenes for the mythical mini TV series a mystical adventure called “The 10th Kingdom”. It was built originally in 1075 by a duke who had stations above his head!  In recent times it was used as a state prison and in the 1930’s an accidental fire caused much damage, the cost of refurbishment led to the ownership passing into government hands, where up until 1987 was used as a training centre for the Austrian Police department.An eagle….naturally!

 These days it’s for the tourists to explore, it is reached by cable car or a walk up to the back door via the “tradesman’s entrance” winding up through the woods. The views are fantastic of course even on this cloudy rainy day looking down the cloud filled valley. We take in a guided tour and look at a display from the Historical Salzburg Falconry, the birds were reluctant to fly in these damp conditions, but the close view we had of the eagles was very rewarding all the same. We took a wet ride home; I saw that evening that we were very happy to have been out on the bikes in spite of the rain and I felt much happier with myself.
DAY  7…….THE ICE CAVE IN THE SKY
Today half of us went back in the general direction of the castle to visit the biggest Ice cave in the world, EISRIESENWELT ICE CAVES. The entrance is 1642 metre up a mountain though. Work THAT one out folks! It’s so high up that you look down on the castle we had visited yesterday and it looks like a toy castle on the hill way down below about half a mile away, this we could see when the rain and thin cloud cleared away.

 Tina looking….?

Tina being a tight arse and a stumpy Martian bought a teddy bear wrap around hat, put it on and appeared ten years old again, hoping to get entry at a child’s rate! But it didn’t fool the ticket officer at all as she waddled towards him from the direction of her 1000th  toilet visit, that’s another entry in her “Bogs and Bidets of Europe” book.
To get to the cave entrance (Which by the way is 4800 above sea level) we had to walk steeply upwards for twenty minutes then a four minute cable car up the steepest part then walk upwards again for another twenty minutes, we left Janet at the halfway café, Steven suffered a bit also so joined Janet, the rest of us padded onwards and upwards like Hannibal and his Elephants, it’s no wonder they dropped like flies! On we walked until we reached the cave entrance, it was huge and had air doors that we had to pass through, when we did the temperature dropped suddenly and our carbide lamps blew out (naked flames) we re-lit and set off in our party, the guide showed us fascinating ice formations to our left and right, the cave was so huge you could sit York Minster inside, the caves were discovered in 1849, but the folk at the time had more pressing interests like finding food and staying alive! So the first expedition wasn’t until 1912 when life got easier and people began to show an interest, previously only known to hunters and trackers, the whole complex goes on for over 40ks, however the touristy bit goes forward and steeply upwards 134 metres (then back down again) the scaffold steps have been drilled into the ice and are so steep you catch your knee on the step in front. Not for the lame, lazy or fat people, they practically say that in the tourist information too, there are 1400 steps to be climbed after all. Every few minutes the guide stops and lights a magnesium ribbon and shows great ice mountains with names like “The Bear” or “The Elephant” He explains that these ice formations are MILLIONS of years old and that they are able to calculate the age by the layers of ice in  pale blues and greens rather like rings in the trunk of trees. I can now confess a secret now I’m seven hundred miles away…… I was caught short and had to take a leak! So no  maybe I put their calculations out by a few million years with my green stain, maybe my DNA will be discovered in year Zillion nought one and I will be famous. It was an act of nature not vandalism, because we more mature men need to pee a lot more in sub zero conditions right guys?
 No photos were allowed because of the upset to the timetable as groups moved along quickly, the constant flash photos would have spoilt the effect for people and blinded the guides, so the photos you see here have been borrowed from the official site. It was hard going for all of us except of course for Jane our lithesome Scottish racing snake!

I think we all agree it was well worth the effort. An hour later we reformed at the car park miles below, out of breath, thighs and calves bulging but well satisfied with the visit, a lot better than pumping iron in some gym!
As we twisted slowly down the mountain road on the bikes ( we weren’t at the bottom of the mountain just yet) A view of the castle appeared and we stopped to took photos, it looked moody with the thinning clouds slowly moving across it, BURG HOHENWERFEN is by far the ugliest slab sided castle I have seen it did the job though and looked darkly imposing, just how Mr Eastwood and Mr Burton climbed out of THAT window is truly unbelievable! Suddenly the sun burst through a hole in the greyness and bathed us in warm rays ; the previous few days were soon forgotten. Oh isn’t Mother Nature wonderful?  I swear my wing picked up speed all on her own! We remembered a supermarket and pulled over to let Mark and Chrissy purchase a portable tea making machine. What kind of bloody bike club are we? I remembered. What the hells next, fekkin Motor homes???
Later back at the hotel the new guys listened to our tale of the ice cave in the sky, they told us of their tour to THE KEHLSTEINHAUS (The Eagles Nest) Even though the weather was unkind and they didn’t get to see the fantastic views they all had a brilliasnt time, Hitler’s golden lift takes you to the very top at 1834 metres, there lies his tea house, too small to bomb accurately in 1945. It’s an odd fact that he rarely used it as he had claustrophobia, had a fear of heights and was half way to going completely of his head! How the world might have been now if as a young art student Herr Hitler had not been refused a term at the Vienna Academy of Arts? The Eagles Nest is now visited by the ordinary folk of the world. You can’t escape its great historical standing whichever side you are on. I have visited so often that my bosses at work are getting a little concerned! I was heartened to hear the ‘newbies’ had enjoyed it, all this cloud and rain was making me feel a bit of a Billy Liar because I’d gone on for ages saying how beautiful the place was, about the mountains and the views, I really was beginning to feel guilty.
That night some of us went to the local Chinese and had one of the best meals ever. Others went for an Italian meal. It became interesting at the end of the meal when they presented us with little pot cups because when tea was poured into the cups  a picture of a nude man or woman appeared in the bottom of the cup, now how original is that?  Jane had several cups of tea in several different cups checking all of them out, Janet on the other hand drew a blank, and all she could make out was a Turkish soldier with a fez on his head and a big gun in his hand?? My darling Janet darling you have spent far too long on The Falklands as a young lady! Perhaps you should drag Brian out from underneath his beloved Jaguar now and again and change HIS shoes!
DAY 8     TO THE GROSSGLOCKNER
It was 11.00hrs and we had covered the sixty odd miles in suspiciously clear weather, I didn’t trust it and kept looking up at the strange blue bits and white fluffy cotton.We now sat at the foot of The Grossglockner, bathed in warm sunshine, my tail was finally up! Barry said it’s a single road up and that we should stop at the summit for lunch, it was agreed, I took photos and smiled a lot, very happy at the weather, very happy indeed! We zipped up as we I set of, I was zooming away quickley to find a good spot to photograph everyone on a picturesque bend.

Mark and Chrissy

Most everybody that came around had the hugest grin on their faces. I think Brian and Janet had the hugest because they had come here several times to find it closed due to a fogged in summit……but not today! We mounted up and shot of in pursuit, We saw the usual mad European cyclists who always managed to get to the top, they must have been in first gear for hours peddling hard to reach their goal, Rotherhams Brian and Janet

I didn’t envy their effort but the feeling they had when reaching the summit must have outweighed ours by a long chalk! Janet and Jayne

We had lunch at the half way stop amongst the stuffed animals and Rossi lookalike. it was a bit misty now but warm, we pushed on as a group after this individual stage, we went through the two long tunnels reaching the far side of the first summit, it was raining a bit, which in normal circumstances would have put a damper on things but up here on The Grossglockner it had no such effect whatsoever. The road ahead.

There was snow here, it was patchy but big and deep, at the road side for instance it was over ten feet in depth. It turned quickly misty as cloud arrived and drizzled over us. Within a mile it turned really sunny and clear and dried us and the road. This is typical weather for “The Gross” I stopped at another bend with Barry and watched Tom and Michelle  lead a red Ferrari up the road, both he and the German driver had huge grins on their faces as they gunned it up the hillside, I’m very happy to report that Tom didn’t let the Ferrari get past him. Michelle mumbled“ It was great” from deep inside her full faced helmet. Oh yes this is the stuff of wet dreams! When I die I don’t want to go to heaven I want to come here!
 

                                                                    5 Men in a boat….

The very end of the road was in fantastic warm sunshine with really jaw dropping views of the Franz Joseph Glacier, along with other ice tops they are slowly melting back, global warming caused by us is blamed, but according to scientists the ice age has come and gone before, maybe this is just good old Mother Nature at work again? We spent a couple of hours here just soaking it all in and caught a few sunrays at the same time, it was wonderful. Dozens of bikers were here as usual, on every trip here over the past few years we have seen dozens of bikers, so word is getting around, we even spotted a Honda Goldwing all the way from Russia.
 We turned ourselves around for the return leg of mostly downhill turns, twists and switchbacks. I followed Mark and Chrissy who had Tom and Michelle close behind, we zoomed off down the road we were all fired up for the return leg, it was so exhilarating dashing along the spine of mountain tops at nearly ten thousand feet above sea level, huge swathes of snow sat along the road side, we rode quickly along the smooth, small but perfect road, the snow banks were about fifteen feet or more above us and just a yard or so away. Not much grass or trees here because we were way above the tree line. The rest of the guys were held back by roadworks at the summit, it almost became a hill climb speed trial in reverse for us three. We were doing really well until we hit the rain again and slowed down to a safer speed. We went through the two tunnels to emerge at the other side of the mountain range in drizzle and cloud, I was asked to take the lead  which I did and so with CB I called out “clear road” or “car coming” as we passed four coaches, our momentum increased and we skipped down very quickly all the way to the toll gates and……..bright sunshine again! Mark was coming in his pants it had been such a brilliant experience for him, Chrissy?  Well she hadn’t quite stopped yet and murmured contently for a while. Mark lit a fag like you do after such a mind blowing ride, I knew exactly how he felt from our  first time in 2005, I’m just so glad nobody arrived to challenge his moment…steal their thunder so to speak.  This day will stick with those two forever. Tom and Michelle arrived as did the rest over the next five minutes or so. Everyone was in a state of euphoria and rightly so, all the girls enjoyed the ride …..Except Adrianne.
……….“No I bloody didn’t” she replied to my question “He kept up a bloody running commentary that he was about to lose his brakes then finally said yes I’ve got no brakes now, ”the pillock, I was bloody petrified!” Oh no, his brakes failed on The Gross? What bad luck I said. At least they were safe and now he has the chance to put his bike in order. I mentally awarded the poor lass a George Cross Medal on the spot. I’m just happy to say there were no accidents and no injuries; in fact a great day was had by everyone. Tomorrow was a transit day to our next hotel at Landeck on the other side of Austria.
It seems Ian knew his brakes were worn and hadn’t bothered to get them changed, Advanced rider or not I think he has dropped a huge clanger, their old 1500 when loaded with luggage and the pair of them aboard is a challenge for decent brakes on these roads never mind worn ones, I felt them later that evening and cringed. Crisp bread was smoother. We have more sever alpine roads to explore in the second week, what on earth did he think Alpine roads were?? Perhaps he will get a new disc Fed Ex’s to the next hotel at Landeck?
…………………………………………………………Follow the continuing  write up in part 2!

                                                                                 PART  ll

DAY 9 …………MOVING TO LANDECK  VIA THE CRYSTAL FACTORY
We had breakfast, paid our bills and said goodbye to Petra, she was selling the hotel this year so this is the last time we will see her, and she has taken good care of us since 2005. We rode of in dry weather and cut through the back roads through the mountains, we intended to go on the old trunk road before the auto route was built, and had less than two hundred miles to go so an easy ride was anticipated.
We stacked up behind an old Austrian camper van labouring up the twisting road, he pulled over and waved us by as the CB cracked into life and a Scandinavian sounding voice said something, Barry asked if it was me speaking, I said it was probably the campervan, maybe he was wishing us luck. What actually happened was this…..Clive and Pat had been to Salzburg the day before, Now Pat was a great fan of “The Sound of Music” and enjoyed their visit, so much so that she was singing away to herself, she was singing songs from the film. Now then, unbeknown to her, hubbi Clive had clicked his CB switch and everyone with CB’s heard her as the campervan had moved over, I put two and two together and got five. Ooeer! So sorry Pat for mistaking your singing for an old Scandinavian campervan driver!!! Clive your rascal of a husband was to blame this time!!
On the way to Landeck we planned a lunch stop that would benefit Ian of all people. It had been billed during our preparations as “One for the ladies” It was a visit to the famous SWAROVSKI KRISTALLWELTEN. (Chrystal world) It’s the actual factory where the Chrystal is turned into works of art.  Barry thought the girls might fancy a visit, but it actually interested Ian more because he loves the stuff and has a big collection at home. So this was to be a big tick on his list of “must do’s” Well done that man!
The morning was an easy ride through villages and a few towns, the rain visited us again, we pulled over at a garage to top up with fuel and don our wet suits again. We set of into the traffic, pulling onto the auto route for a short while. There was silence on the CB and nobody was answering me, I pulled abreast of Mark in front and pointed at my ear and shook my head tapping my mike at the same time. I think he got the message. I pulled over and quickly checked the CB channel, Julie had knocked it at the last garage, I flicked it back to channel 15 and set off after the distant group, I caught up in double quick time, Mark had relayed my problem to Barry and when I stopped he guessed what I was doing. We have ridden together so much these days that t this rate he will guess when I need a pee before I do!  We soon came up to the next exit we needed to the glass factory over there on the right.
We curved round and round getting tighter and tighter on the new unpainted tarmac; these are the best and brilliant roads to hone your cornering skills! We leaned the wings over more and more, what remarkable bikes these monsters are! Mark and Chrissy had drifted purposely right across the lane as he went in a bit hot so taking a wide line. I was a few yards behind him and higher up the downward curve when I saw a big blue articulated truck with SWARVOSKI painted along the forty foot length of its trailer coming towards Mark! Just for a second only I could see what was going to happen and managed to utter just one short word then Mark saw him too and did a split S with soufflé, dipping hard onto the correct side of the road, it was a dangerous moment. God only knows what the truck driver thought; do they have the same word in Austrian? Did he even see him even? I never heard any air brakes but by now I was laughing my head off, I keyed my mike managing through my giggles to enquire after his highly entertaining manoeuvre. We parked up a minute later in the factory car park, I was still in fits of laughter, everybody looked on puzzled as he and I shared the moment, nobody else knew anything about it, Even Julie didn’t see it and Chrissy thought he was showing of a bit! He said to me after the tears of laughter and the cack in his pants dried up that he thought it was one way road and he was ever so surprised when he found himself staring at the swiftly closing chrome grill and headlights of the huge blue M.A.N truck! It made me chuckle for days after, even now it’s making me smile broadly as I re-live it. I just wish somebody else had witnessed it too. I’m glad to say once more, no accident and no injuries on this day just one forced change of underpants!

A horse…..with crystal trinkets

Most of the gang went for a look inside the visitor’s centre the rest of us had lunch and rested. Eventually they returned some had trinkets, for example Tom bought himself a pair of Chrystal earrings…don’t ask. Ian bought what he came for and spent a pretty penny too I’ll bet! It doesn’t really do anything for me so I’ll say no more.
We saddled up and pushed on towards our hotel on the Kaunertal road a few miles from the town of Landeck. It was a huge hotel that specialized in bikers in the summer and skiers in the winter, it was one of those well being hotels where they provide spas, massage and swimming for the less able folk, many in wheelchairs, it was such a huge place, the car and motorbike underground facility was second to none with garage equipment and a bike wash bay, bikers were well thought of, even down to the wash bowl and cloth at the main door to clean helmet visors! It is also the official BMW test centre for cars, we have in the past seen secret cars all masked in black tape with sensors stuck in various places, we are met by the happy Charley Kafel the hotel has been in his family for years, he is a nice bloke and always has a smile on his face, Mrs Kafel is as stunning as she is leggy. We have stayed here before so his welcome is really genuine, I also met him at the bike show at the NEC. After meeting Charly I always manage to sink a schnapps or two, even at the NEC last November! I’m sure he has it on tap. He is very bike orientated and commited, for example someone had parked their trailer in the garage, we mentioned it to Charley, the next minute it was removed and placed in the camping bay round the back. Try and get that kind of service back home! There are about six of these kinds of biker hotels in the mountains, they all work with each other, and sre  to be keen bikers themselves. Just go on Google on your PC just type in www.motorrad-hotel.com and let yourselves be introduced to a whole new world!
Everyone could see we had gone up a gear in accommodation, the food here was very VERY nice if just a bit rich sometimes, well it was for me anyway. The bar was huge, spacious and had splendid staff who paced around supplying drinks at a nod of the head.  After several nods of the head it was time to retire, our belly tanks nearly full for the night.

DAY 10….UP THE KAUNERTAL FOR AN AFTERNOON
Today we would ride The Kaunertal, and for the first time in bright blazing sunshine! But first we cleaned the bikes, the jet wash was used first to clean the worst of the muck from the wheels before lightly spraying the top side of the bikes, the car park outside filled up with drying bikes and proud men eagerly polishing their toys.

One for the ladies

Janet pulled the men from their bikes to arrange a “fat belly” photo shoot, judging by the photo there was just one who didn’t like the way he looked and sucked in his belly….Barry! The girls had to reciprocate of course which they did! The hotel guests began to appear and looked on thinking correctly that we were all mad!
One for the lads.

It wasn’t a long day on the bikes so we didn’t leave until around ten thirty, heading up the way towards the toll booths at the start of the pass road. Coming up the mountain

After that it was an invigorating ride up to the dam and the halt before the “twisties” up the mountainside.  The water at the dam was calm and green as usual, some photos were taken and once again Julie and I went up first to pick out a good spot to take photos of everyone as they came around. We led the way, within a mile I had half a dozen Germans  hard at my heels, I smiled  and  increased the speed  it was one of those passes with lots of open corners so one could plan the line up the corner and give it plenty with ease…its helps too that we have ridden this several times now. I found a good spot and pulled over, signalling early to give the guys plenty of time as to what I was doing. As they passed they did so with grins and a thumbs up, it’s nice to ride with strangers sometimes even though it’s only briefly. I can’t help but wonder what they thought as they chased us two old farts up the mountain on a “lumbering” Honda Goldwing!

Purple Pussy chases Barry (The don’t catch him of course!)

We got set up, I framed a nice backdrop and waited, it wasn’t long before we heard Barry doing a “Norman Collier” on the CB, This told me he was within a mile, perhaps less in these lower hills. Julie saw them starting their ascent far far away just as the dam stopped and the road started to twist and turn skywards. Five minutes later Barry swept by followed closely by Mark an Chrissy, they were hanging onto Barry’s tail as he showed them the ideal line to take, Tom and Michelle came next, I saw him grinning through his “Darth Vadar” helmet. Ian and Adrianne loomed up next heaving their old banger effortlessly round, Adrienne’s long blonde locks swishing wildly, “looking good” I shouted. Ian wore his handsome smile as usual, and Adrianne waved. Brian and Janet arrived, Janet was clicking away with the camera at me the cheeky mare! Brian threw their 1500 into the corner. The two trikes have no problems on these corners; in fact they probably have totally different experiences than us two wheeled folk! Clive and Pat came last taking it easy because Pat doesn’t like heights, she is ever so brave and sits on the back taking in the wonderful alpine smells and sounds, she closes her eyes when enough is enough! The top of the KAUNERTAL is not a beautiful place to visit in the summer months, quite ugly grey ang gravel pitish! There is all kind of winter equipment and building materials doted, not cleared away into compounds just left by the side of the few buildings, for sure this is one of those places that probably looks better in winter, all around, slate grey is the colour, it’s the centre for the ski activity so that’s probably why snow vehicles, bob cats and building material is in evidence. 
Last September Barry, the girls and I sat at this café and watched huge cement trucks struggle up and round  boulders as they negotiated the temporary shale tracks carved out of the mountain side, they climbed to the very top to pour their cement into the foundations of the new cable car system that we now looked at as we sat at here nine months later, we especially noted in surprise that the drivers had their cab doors wedged open in case they had to leap out! It was quite mesmerising to watch. Then pick their way around boulders as big and try to keep on the shale tracks, it was so steep and loose underfoot I’m sure we would have seen one loose control if we sat there long enough.

Standing on top of the world.

After lunch some of us took an expensive ride on the brand new cable cars to see the view from the very top. It was a fifteen minute ride in silence as the cars lifted couples to the very top of the world. We were rewarded with the most fantastic view ever ever EVER! At 3526 metres, (that’s about 10,578 feet) We stood on the snowy ridgeline and stared at wall to wall mountain tops as far as the eye could could see, we were looking at Austria Switzerland and Italy all at once, it was magnificent, clear and sunny. Tom, Barry and I stood in silence as if looking at our first naked girlfriend from our puberty years! A snowball came our way and we tramped about in one foot snow for half an hour taking it all in and taking “summit photographs”
We were blessed with clear blue skies for a while, the onset of darker clouds signalled our departure.  I think I get a bit of an idea why climbers climb mountains now; it really is worth the effort. We went back down the way we came in single unhurried order, the hotel was about ten miles down the one road, so a solitary ride back was enjoyed, Barry and Mark encountered a few brown goats on the way down, the girls took photos until they hopped over the barrier and down the side. We came across familiar rolling road blocks in the shape of grey handsome looking young cows, I pulled up behind two of them, I followed slowly as they swayed and shimmied along the road swishing their tails to and fro, I dare not squeeze past them fearing their sharp long horns, instead I turned up the volume and let Led Zep hopefully clear the way, unfortunately they liked the old rock music and just carried on, heads nodding in unison to the howling sounds of ”Black Rod”! This went on until suddenly they broke into a canter then a gallop turning and leaping the low barrier and disappearing down the side. So the next time your over here and see those triangular signs advertising cows, take heed folks they could be just around the next bend and you might not see the warning signs…piles of cow dung! Once past them we soon progressed swiftly and reached the dam, the road turned back to normal again, long and level!  We rode along the valley floor, along the last ten miles to the hotel, we parked up in the underground car park with Barry and Mark, others soon arrived back in one’s and two’s. Tea, coffee and cakes are served every afternoon around four o’clock in the bar, it’s a real treat because its free, everyone gathers in the bar grabbing a chair plonking kit in corners and tucking into the afternoon tea, “What kind of bloody bike club are we?” comes to mind again. Nearby three mature German bikers in leather and long hair have maps spread out chatting about their days ride, I looked around and saw the scene played out with couples, and small groups of older chaps on old BMW’s Then there our gang, laughing and hogging the cakes and tea! We sat outside drinking our tea staring back up the valley just managing to see the mountains in the distance, we had managed to outrun the rain for a change and saw some wondrous sights today!

 John and Lynne joined at the hip!

DAY 11……CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG DAY.
Another day of two  adventures today as the “old guard” took themselves off to Innsbruck by train whilst Barry and I escorted the “Newbies” across the wooded Fern Pass in hot sunshine, we pulled over at The Blue Lagoon for a coffee, the lake was a peaceful hue of blue green hence the name… probably. We had sprinted up the side of the mountain so now took a long glide down the other side heading towards the olde worlde town of Fussen; just on the edge was our destination, the magical white castle of SCHLOSS NEUSCHWANSTEIN (New White Stone Palace) Is a 19th century castle commissioned by Ludwig II of Bavaria as a retreat and home to his very close friend and composer, Richard Wagner, you’ll not be surprised after seeing the castle to note that the plans were drawn up by a former theatrical set designer! Work started in 1869, however just before it was completed the King was declared insane and shortly after his arrest he was found drowned in a shallow pool……along with the professor who declared him insane! Hmmmm…Apparently nobody was available from the then royal family for comment.  Oh what a mad world we live in eh?
The colourful history just adds to the lure of the place, 50 million people have visited so far from all over the planet, this works out at 1.3 million per year, plus some Appy Wanderers! We left the new guys to explore and headed back to The Fern Pass, they would make their own way back later in the day. Barry, Tina. Julie and myself stopped off at an old ruined fortress castle of Ehrenberg, the origins of which go back to 1293. we saw it on the run in earlier, we climbed the hill to the top of the ruin, history tells of invasion and counter invasion from the 1500’s onwards from the likes of Duke Meinhard II of The Tyrol, and a gang of Swedes later on, plus the French lot and then the Spanish hordes. The trouble with Ehrenberg was that the hill just four hundred yards away was higher up and each invading group had a whale of a time just lobbing projectiles down into the fortress! In 1971 a fund was set up to begin to renovate the whole place, starting with the buildings below, so up at the catle ruin itself they were just starting to renovate it. In fact the first thing we saw when we finally got to the top was a bloody orange cement mixer, two jackets and two lunch boxes belonging to the two workmen, it brought a smile to our faces! The views were worth the long hike, you could see all down the valley and could quite understand the dominating vantage point as it straddled the only road into the then Kingdom……….except for that bloody bigger hill sitting four hundred yards over there and the advent of the siege cannon! We stayed a couple of hours just chilling out in the afternoon sun and admired the views.
We returned to our two bikes and had a great ride back up and down The Fern Pass, it’s a wonderful, smooth and wide road that allowed the use of more speed than usual for a spot of “pass bashing”. Both Goldwings flew as one; the mid afternoon traffic was nearly nonexistent!  On the downward leg an Austrian local on his Suzuki GSX1100cc latched onto us and sat about thirty metres behind; I dropped into line astern and informed Barry of his presence. He sat there a few minutes looking at us with left hand on his hip. I have to admit that we got a bit mischievous at this point; it was too good to resist! I asked Barry to call if it was clear as he rounded the downhill into blind corner I duly timed it to overtake an articulated lorry on a diving blind bend! The jet jockey behind suddenly went from crouching tiger to flustered hen and sat bolt upright, “Donner Und Bltizen!” he probably said to himself I wish I could have seen his face! We did this for the next few miles, he couldn’t work out if we were completely bonkers or just plain suicidal, we four were chuckling at his dilemma, as we got to the bottom of the pass, it was here that the road began to straighten out. “It’s your turn to play with him Barry” I laughed as I waived him by. He zipped past me dropping his leg as a thank you. He squirted by Barry so quickly that his rear end snaked as the slick tyre spun up. Barry zoomed off after him as a corner approached the Austrian slowed, just around the corner was a village with restrictions, Ah So! this guy was a local and seemed quite sensible! This was probably his playground. The poor guy just could not shake us as we went through village after village, giving us time to catch up. At one point at pedestrian lights we pulled up to his back wheel side by side like a couple of highway cops! How he resisted the urge to look round I don’t know,he off he shot again rear wheel spinning up again and snaked off into the distance……until the next village! On this went for over twenty miles, he must have been beside himself, he must have heard ABBA blasting through the speakers and seen us both laughing our heads off in his mirror. We got to the roundabout at the auto route entrance slipway  he was going back up the way he came, he looked up the road at first before seeing us actually on the same roundabout as himself; he stared and waved slightly before he sped off. It was a hilarious episode. GSX man would surely not mention this episode to any of his race bike pals for fear of losing his street “cred” We two on the other hand couldn’t wait to tell everyone that night. 
The expedition by train to Innsbrook with the “old guard” was a more serene affair; they were messed around a bit by a local cycle race and nearly missed their train. I’m told by my Scottish spy that one of our ladies was taken short and had to answer a call of nature in a car park between the fence a and a fancy BMW car, Imagine the look on Herr Schmitt’s face when he not only saw a radiator leak from his brand new car but found before passing out that it tasted of fermenting liquor, he was last considering suing BMW when he leaves the clinic.

Riding into Italy

DAY 12……..THE TIMMELSJOCH  AND ANOTHER LITTLE SHOWER
A full day out on the bikes was enjoyed today by the whole group, we would explore some great landmarks in the Garmish-Parken Region, We got the boring bit out of the way first and completed the Auto route run, the highlight of this section was the ride over The Brenner Pass, we pulled over to discard some clothes as the temperatures rose, we topped our fuel tanks and set off again. We passed into Italy at a checkpoint manned by police officers dressed in reflective glasses, dark blue uniforms, high black shiny calf boots, huge flat topped hats and white webbing belts, with a pistol strapped to their hips. I remembered The Village People for some reason. We rode on past with a nod and a smile, not returned I have to say. Barry pointed out some buildings high to the left, I pointed out some concrete barriers just two yard to our left and some steel barriers two yards to our right!  We exited the auto route presently and entered the most picturesque village then went round a few times before stopping for a few minutes to consult the map. Mistress Garmin had “advised” this turn which turned out to be one junction early, the auto route passed high above the village on spectacular bridging, we rectified the mistake and rejoined the auto route, I reason that we were on an adventure and had gone a different way, not got lost, because that’s exactly what you do on holiday right? We would not have seen such a pretty village or been able to inspect the bridge from this angle otherwise. At the next junction we exited and found our little road to head into the mountains after this hour or so passing down the valley.
The first pass of the day was Italian and called The Jaufenpass, and good practice for the mother of all passes tomorrow! The over banding was typical of the region…..Plentiful and very bloody wide! It was no good trying to avoid it. The secret is to go just that bit faster and skip through it, I know it sounds mad but it works perfectly, we have seen lots of bikes over the trips up here and not one had come to grief. You see you’re not on one long strip but crossing at an angle over dozens of the buggers!  It was a wooded ride upwards and very pretty as you glanced away to the right, following this pass came the Via Passo Glovo, the trees grew less as we passed the tree line and the land turned rugged  and sparse.

A coffee and strudel break

We crested the top and ran steady amongst empty windy roads and darted in and out of a couple of tunnels, the snow sat around in high banks as it had done all the holiday on all the high passes.  Sheep and cattle kept ones’ mind  alert as they meandered around chewing the grass. We dropped down again before heading into a village and going straight back up again up the other side. We stopped at the base of the next climb and had lunch, sitting there looking up at the twisting road, it changed, first to a light grey line then a creamy white ribbon as it zig zagged upwards to disappear in the folds of the mountain, Folk were encouraged to go up on their own and stop at the top at the tea house for a breather. So off we went in dribs and drabs I ran with Barry for the first part before stopping to take in the vast views. I stood on the one foot stone parapet that was all that stood between life and oblivion and was that creamy ribbon we could see from the café way back down there. I watched the guys coming up, silent at first as the black dots turned into red, blue and black motorbikes, only on the last turn could one make out what types they were and could only hear them on the last hundred yards or so, I waved at Clive as he came by, Pat had her eyes closed again but sat smiling as he described the scenery in his gentle way. Through the pitch black tunnel we rode passing into a long gentle descent amongst lots of snow that sat banked up, it was usually well over ten feet high, I have so far resisted the urge to stick my finger in it as we zoom past it! The mountains on both sides along here were plain grey and full of slate or so they seemed, a scene of rough beauty if ever there was one. The top of The Timmelsjoch came into view and the toll booths. We posed by the flags for photographs, some mature English folk walked over to say hello and chat for a while. Everyone stuck their sticky pass badges somewhere on their bikes, all mine are in the top box, Hey look at me!

Mark bought yet another metal pin badge and emulated a veteran as he pinned it to his leather waist coat, he wondered why he was getting back ache as his weight increased. I joked that when he falls of the next time he would probably disappear in a shower of sparks with all the bleeding badges he had acquired now! Time was passing and we had miles of beautiful roads to go yet. We said our goodbyes to the old English folk and slipped down the mountainside again, we soon ran along the valley following the raging green river, we passed through several towns, I halted at some crossings to let some old folk cross, the last old boy gave me a right look followed by a right mouthful and waved his stick at me, I’m at a loss to explain his actions, maybe its “back door rider” syndrome again like with the Romanian village attack dogs on the 07 adventure? I caught up and repeated what happened, all I got in return was laughter on the CB! Barry thought we might take a detour to miss out the auto-route bit and take a “little road” that should bring us out not far from the hotel, then the rains came again.
We pulled over at a garage to don water proof gear again as it got really heavy and prolonged. A 360 at the next roundabout took us back to that little road and we began to climb upwards in pelting rain, Ian began to slow as his rear brakes began to fail again. He hadn’t done anything to fix them and consequently he slowed greatly creating a long gap between the main group and the last three bikes. Barry and Mistress Garmin were at it again and we did another 360 looking for a particular turn, we hauled around one by one still in the pouring rain, it was getting a bore now! As we got to a village Barry called out to turn left at the village, unfortunately Ian, Clive and I had just passed it. I saw it and called for Ian to turn around again, I directed him to the turn which we approached from a difficult upwards angle. I stopped to hold the traffic just a minute and to let Ian and Clive make the turn, so tight was the angle that they had to use both lanes, it was difficult but they did it. I on the other hand was in the wrong spot all together, I rode on and turned around  further down the road, all the while I could hear Barry calling, I was too busy to reply, I’m not too sure he would have liked my answer at that moment in time to be honest!  I eventually got on the right track up through a village, Barry kept calling to take the left turns up the hill, what a bloody awful pig of a road it was. There was no worry about getting lost we had map and mobile phone and was only one valley away so no worries were setting in, I was just fed up of the 360 turns, the heavy rain, and the bloody gap caused by the brakeless 1500. We rejoined the group as they sat at the top of the hillside. The rain abated as we crested the hilltop and rode on stopping briefly at a great viewing point, only it was a bit cloudy and the bleeding rain was catching up again, we pressed on down this side of the valley managing to keep ahead of the following rains. A wet end to a very exciting and exhilarating day!
The bar got some hammer from me after tea; I was in need of venting some steam after the last bit of the day’s adventure, much later I was laughing with the rest of the midnight barflies at our antics. Charley joined us from his night out in the mountains after a boy’s night out, he topped off my night with some banter and plied us with various Schnapps, I’m getting quite a taste for the stuff. By midnight I was looking forward to the next ride in the morning.
DAY 13…….. THE STELVIO IS CALLING
For me this will be the day of days on this adventure because it’s such a magnificent achievement and quite a technical pass to do especially on a Honda Goldwing. That’s not official it’s just my opinion OK?  It just has to be done; we had planned to do it on the last day in order that everyone had lots of practice on lesser passes.
Once again a nice sunny day graced our company as we headed down into the valley and turned left towards Italy again, the lake at St Valentin meant we were on the correct road, the checkpoint came and went without any problems they just stood and observed, clearly we were not their target today.  We passed dozens of farmers harvesting the long grass, they used a two wheeled shearer with a little motor on top that made short work of the grass, girls and young boys gathered the cut grass. It was a huge gentle valley that pushed a strong breeze into our faces, it made it hard to hear the words on the CB but hey what nice scenery and the turn was miles away! The miles were reeled in and Tina got her wish finally. To stop in the walled village of Prato alla Stelvio. It was a very Italian place with light brown high walled buildings that looked somewhat ancient and unlived in, we spread out and explored, Julie and I sat by the river and had a drink, others arrived in dribs and drabs we sat around chatting, we then had a stroll round the sleepy back roads of the village taking plenty of photos, we were just like Japanese tourists for God’s sake! A look at the clock meant it was time to go back to the bikes. Those who had arrived early back at the bikes had found some cherry trees and were busily stuffing themselves whilst waiting for everyone else. Clive and Pat decided to stay in the village giving The Stelvio a miss.
We rode through the village, passing slowly through the busy square I stopped to let some people cross when it happened again, this old dear scowled at me as she crossed and gave me a mouthful. I have no music on, I’m smiling at her and definitely NOT saluting, is it the colour of the bike or what?
Five miles or so further on and a last pep talk about the road ahead, and it was time for everyone to go explore again, we’d agreed to meet at the hotel halfway up, suddenly a couple of GoldWings came past. They were English, they smiled and waved, Barry knew them, he shouted “See you at the top” Everyone set off at their own pace, as back door man I would wait five minutes before setting off, Julie and I sat twiddling thumbs for what seemed like twenty minutes before moving off, not ten minutes later the bloody rains visited yet again! We passed Mark and Chrissy as they donned their jackets, within minutes he was on my tail and far too close for the difficult bends ahead, I asked him to  fu…I mean go on ahead of us. Which he did rather too eagerly, a bit like a young oss at his first jumps I guess. Tom whipped his black beauty by me in fine style Michelle’s little hand waved as they passed, I’m sure he was glad he wasn’t on one of his prized scooters today, he’d probably end up carrying it! The first part of The Stelvio is full of steep angled corners with views obscured making it very hard for our girls to declare the road clear or not. The Stelvio zig zags  are so tight and steeply cambered that you have to approach  from the opposite side of the road in order to make the turn, going in slowly then gunning it going in the opposite direction upwards  exiting on the correct side of the road, gunning it because the steep camber tries to pull you down into the storm gutter! it’s a really good idea for the girls to look up high over their shoulder and shout “clear” or “car” or “can’t see”  If its “car” or “can’t see” then you need to stop or slow before attempting the turn, otherwise you simply won’t get round! On the wooded lower section it’s often “can’t see” as trees, supporting walls and bloody grass got in the way!  By the time I got to the half way point everyone was there ok and ordering drinks whilst staring at the now familiar zig sagging thread of ribbon that disappeared over the distant snow covered top away in the distance. It looked quite daunting to me the first time I rode it in 2005 so I knew what the first timers where thinking as they gazed up.
After a few coffee’s it was time to complete the final leg, again folk set off in singles, we sat and watched as they roared away up the mountain side, we set of behind Mark and Chrissy, he had slowed going into the corners and was making better progress, both Chrissy and Julie were doing a great job….until Chrissy missed a bike coming down and Mark found himself head on with a vehicle, luckily it was just a motorbike  he slowed right down and managed to cut right back inside, both bikes passed, the German and I exchanged glances and smiled. It’s easy to do and isn’t a great drama after all when it’s two bikes. The girls both spotted a Marmot dashing along the top of a supporting wall, these are a lot like beavers in size and shape and live in the Alps. We zip past a lorry as it groans its way up the pass – we wait for a short straight bit before doing squirting past him. The top is in sight with just one bend to negotiate, which we do especially easily after the last couple of dozen!

The view from the top of the STELVIO

At the top is a plethora of European bikers looking very pleased with themselves, I sat on the wall and just looked back down the valley at where we had come, no matter how many times I do this run it still makes me look back in awe, people were mooching about the few tatty shops all selling pretty much the same things, everything had STELVIO printed on it somewhere, it’s getting quite tatty these days  and in need of a refurb, and the café that served up the lunch wants blowing off the face of the Earth, the food was bloody disgusting. “Lurch” the waiter had problems stringing his words together and ought to return to rehab; the next time I do this I will be taking a packed lunch….it’s not the money!

OK, so try the STELVIO on this then!

Amongst the people milling about here was Englishman John Kent and a few of his friends on their wings he runs tours too and is an old friend of Barry’s. He was the guy we saw at the very bottom of the mountain. After everyone bought stickers and stuff we set off down the other side heading towards Switzerland.
It was a more serene affair going down this way. The Umbrail Pass was more serene compared to the previous accent up The Stelvio but still a ride that demanded skill and good brakes…..Something that Ian didn’t have, I mentally awarded poor Adrianne her second George Cross of the tour for bravery above and beyond!  We turned off the tarmac part way down and rode across compacted gravel ,half way down this minor road we entered Switzerland, Ian slowed right down again and I stayed behind him just in case and called to Barry who by now was way ahead down the mountainside. Fortune was on Ian’s side as we made it to warm sticky tarmac; the rest of the group had waited for us as we closed with them a mile further on at a village.
The Offen Pass was our next point of interest, it wasn’t half as difficult as the previous ones, the road was wider and the corners were open, no walls or trees to obscure visibility. They were still tight and the inside of the corners fell away sharply as usual demanding good throttle and clutch co-ordination. The group wound itself upwards; the girls took pictures and sometimes waved to the others on the bends below then it happened.
From thirty yards away I saw Mark flatten the corner of the uphill right hander and slow down to a stop he put his right foot down but he had at least two foot of air between his foot and the ground, the wing just keeled over slowly like a shot Elephant, I was calling “Bike down “before it hit the ground, which it did, it rolled further over as it hit the gully of the storm drain, Chrissy was dumped on her arse in the dust. Ian filmed it as he rode by? I stopped the bike and ran up the last couple of yards, Tom saw it as he was just in front, he came running back down the road, Julie stood at our bike watching for traffic. Chrissy was struggling to move, One of the short flagpoles had gone through the loop on her jeans and pinned her to the floor, Mark was flapping about a bit and still plugged in, I thought he’d do a John Harvey! I  unplugged him and sent him round to the other side of the bike, We had pulled Chrissy from her impalement and I looked her bum over carefully, it was fine, VERY fine! She stood with Julie, dusting her jeans down as Tom, Mark and I shoved the bike back up, I stabbed my foot under the back wheel as Tom now stood with his back to the bike holding it, I told Mark to bang it in gear quickly, his adrenalin was flowing hard as he bounced hard on the gear lever and broke it off!  “Oh fuck, its broke off!” he shouted. “No, silly bollox I meant like this” and leaned forward to press the reverse button, we then got the side stand down and relaxed. Barry arrived from up the hill and checked over the bike, as we checked Mark over, both seemed OK, the bruises would appear in 24 hrs no doubt  At least it had been a nil mile an hour get off, although on this occasion  they tumbled a longer distance than normal. The bike seemed rideable in spite of Mark kicking off most of the poor bloody gear changer! Our next stop was just half a mile  or so at the top of the pass, once there we looked underneath properly this time and find not a single mark, no oil drips, no anything, just some damage to the paintwork and the decapitated gear changer of course!
Both Mark and Chrissy had escaped the spill with bruising and dented pride, Mark says it all began to go wrong when he missed a gear on the corner. It is a big learning curve on these special Alpine roads, there is nowhere in the UK that one can get any practice on. Mark hadn’t ridden for a number of years and had only recently acquired his Goldwing, his personal learning curve was perhaps the steepest and for sure he has probably made the most progress in the skills department out of all of us. I hope he learns from his mistakes and manages keeps the faith.
 The rains visit us again at the top of this pass; it was becoming a daily event now this week to see some heavy rain by late afternoon. We gathered ourselves and donned wet gear once again for the long downwards ride towards the Austrian border about an hour away. It was a gradual descent along this crumbling road, it jinked left and right as it hugged the mountains, we could see brighter weather ahead but we just turned and twisted around the mountains and this kept us under the grey hazy blanket that slowly drifted from right to left. The road works didn’t help either, last August it was just the same. The Italians don’t seem to have the same energy when repairing the roads as the Germans and Austrians do, the road became a river of water as we slowed yet again at the back due to you know who! The gap grew bigger and bigger as we tottered on at a slow pace, a  Mercedes Benz cement mixer came close to my arse we were going so slow, I knew it was a Merc and that he was really close for a while because I could see the big badge in my mirror! The border came into view and the 1500’s topped up again at the garage for the short run home on the auto route. I awarded Adrienne another George Cross. I firmly refute Ian’s claim to be an advanced rider and if he mentions it again I’ll shove his shagged out brake disc where the sun doesn’t shine! Let me see that handsome smile now you bugger! We got back to the hotel having missed tea and cakes, Oh no!  Dinner was snaffled early and seats grabbed in the bar, the days’ events were re-run over and over again, especially the tumble of the “Purple Pussy” What an exciting day we had, it was a long and enjoyable ride with an unfortunate incident but most of all we were all OK.
DAY 14….. TO DO NOT A LOT
This was a free day to do not a lot, some drifted down into the village, others went further to the town of Landeck, the rest of us explored the beauty spot we visited briefly a few days back before being chased along by heavy rain clouds.
Today started off in fine style as usual clear blue skies and warm rays of sunshine bathed us. Julie and I found the spot again high up the mountain side the views were the usual fantastic long spectacles that went on for miles and miles, we stayed an hour looking down in silence and wishing we lived with such views, but then if we did we would have nowhere to ride our bikes to would we?A view point somewhere high above the hotel
We took a different route down to the local village of Prutz and filled up the bike ready for the next day’s journey back up to our overnighter in Germany. We had one last blast back up the valley to the hotel, this time in plenty of time for tea and cakes, I picked a spot out of the way in a corner and began to convert the daily scribbles into notes in preparation for the last supper tomorrow. When I’d done this Barry joined me and we sat chatting about the holiday, both agreed it went very well in spite of the inconvenient wet periods, we both crossed fingers for a dry run in the morning. Dinner was had for the last time here. I was craving for some bacon sarnies, all this fine food was splendid but not really my cup of tea, in fact an old German lady said to me back in Berchtesgaden over breakfast that their bacon was so thin it was rubbish and that the English made far better bacon! How right she is.
DAY 15…….THE RIDE HOME PART 1
It was around nine when we left the hotel for the last time and headed for the auto route at the village down the valley, we slipped quickly up the slip road onto it in the early morning sunshine, the traffic was light and we were making good time, we headed up and over the Fern Pass, well, we would have done but the fekkin rains arrived again! We donned rain suits and headed of down the side with now customary huge gap between “HIM” (Captain Caos) and the group, me as usual sticking with him, keeping an eye from behind and reporting our progress to Barry. We finally got together about 6 miles up the road, this was to be the cross country bit to reach the auto route, once on it we just had to eat about two hundred miles. Our riding on the auto route by now was precise and perfect, we had ridden together so much in two weeks now that we felt very comfortable with ourselves, from the back it looked really polished, only broken now and again by the big black German 4×4’s. Only this time we moved around the lanes in near silence at time, the CB was quite redundant at times Just Barry calling out the occasional increase in speed  and getting my update of the rear.
We saw huge bilious looking clouds all day dark blue and dark grey, in the distance they looked a shade purple, we managed to avoid most of it, in fact we discarded the wet gear at one petrol stop. We were close to our final exit when the weather turned really muggy and hot, the temperature turned 30 degrees, we came off a junction early due to road works and worked our way to the same halfway hotel as two weeks earlier.

                                                     One last viewpoint over Landeck

It was a shorter transit day and boy were we glad of it, it was getting really close and uncomfortable. The first thing we did upon arrival was to have a cool shower before gathering on the patio to replenish our body liquids, the winds began to blow as the impending storm got closer, here we go again we thought, another late afternoon bloody drenching at the end of the day! Only today it skirted around us and we relaxed.
The last supper was a night of joviality and was becoming a tradition with our novelty prize giving for great deeds. For example Mark got 1st prize for crashing. Our Scottish heathens Steve and Jane got a prize for finally becoming Englishified. Brian got one for a faultless two week of group riding. Tom got one for the huge transition he’s made from the scooter to the Honda Goldwing. Adrienne got a chest full of medal for being the bravest woman of the tour. Even I got something,I got some new yellow rubber gloves. I had brought some enormous heavy duty gloves that I pulled on every time the rain turned nasty (several times unfortunately) I could only pull them on if I pointed each arm skywards and pulled hard on the rubber gauntlet pulling it all the way up my arm pits, they may have been a tad too long I’ll grant you that but they kept me warm and dry…except for the sweaty arms!  As is the tradition I gave this log its first and only airing in its raw, adult and uncut version, nobody was spared a good slagging off as I got into top gear and told lie after lie! Everyone took it as intended, laughing and pointed at victims as I went round the room with the hatchet, daring to say what people thought but dare not say. I can be so rude and outrageous I know but the laughter just seems to egg me on, folk had tears streaming down their faces. I’d like to sit down and listen to myself one day, I bet I’m funny.

Telling the adult version of the LOG

DAY 16……THE RIDE HOME PART II
Barry thought we ought to leave early for the 360 odd miles ride to the ferry at Rotterdam, he reasoned that we might get the heavy rains again, heavy traffic on Saturday  especially around the likes of Frankfurt, and that we couldn’t afford to be late, the ferry won’t wait. I agreed completely because he’s perfectly correct of course;  a lot could happen in 360 miles. As it happens not a single hitch tripped us up!  We rode on fast flowing roads and made brilliant progress at good speeds. We were nearly riding like Germans! We arrived at Rotterdam in plenty of time, and found the terminal with unprecedented ease, in fact we were so early the check in booths were still shut when we landed. People got settled in groups and waited, a few of us hopped across to the pub and had refreshments,  other bikes arrived and we began to compare adventures as bikers always do. I spoke with an English couple who had been exploring Norway, I keep hearing about bike riding in Norway it sounds quite tempting! This couple live just ten miles from us, I promise to drop by and get more information from them. 
We were waived towards the ferry, by the Dutch traffic handlers; it was a stress free time on this newer ferry, lashing the bikes in grime free and well lit conditions was a pleasure. We were at the outdoor bar in no time at the stern, musing over the day, “Sods law” stayed away today as did the customary rains!
I always get sad about this period in time, it’s been a roller coaster of high dips for two weeks and now it was over. All the planning over the previous six months, the frequent meetings with Barry to sort out ideas and routes, all the chokkie biscuits and tea (thank you Tina) all done and dusted, I was tired too, very tired and quite glad  to see the back of it all for a while at least. I’m afraid I’m not the best of company on the last night!

Next morning at the dockside in Hull we kiss and shake hands for the last time for now at least. it’s been really good to meet old and new friends, I say goodbye to Barry and hope never to hear him for at least 24 hours!!!  …..T2 to T1, signing off!
                                                                     

 Barry says, untilthenextimethen

                                                       tillthenextime……… The Scribe  

PS

I would just like to thank Steve an Jane / Brian an Janet / Mark an Chrissy, for the extra photo’s. x

Pooka, our three legged cat skipped off to seek shade in the garden on this glorious Sunday 14th of June as Julie and I get our black 1800 out of the garage, she barely offers a backwards glance as we busy ourselves…or should I say Julie does as she gets me to check and double check that I have everything. This getting older lark has its drawbacks for sure, now where are my fekkin glasses?
We leave Doncaster heading towards Barnsley then onto Huddersfield for the second meeting point, I have to say the landscape around Barnsley is fast healing, the huge grey scars and black spoil mountains are slowly turning green and beautiful as the once vibrant coal industry disappears into history, most areas are regenerating whilst others have got themselves seemingly stuck in a time warp. I can’t help but drift back to my early years as a coal face worker and the hardships that came with it, the money was good but boy did I work for it.
There wasn’t much on the roads at this time and we took in the voluptuous greenery and smart stone houses in rural West Yorkshire. It took just over an hour in bright sunshine to do the 40 miles to Huddersfield and reach the meeting point at the Huddersfield branch of Colin Appleyards,  car showroom, a big thank you to car salesman Ali for coming in early and letting us use the shop facilities.

Gordon AKA Havatrucker

First to arrive was pipe smoking Gordon on his bronzey looking 1500 with flashing council light and various other wired up gadgets, he was quickly followed by old contemptibles Brian and Janet from Rotherham on their old red 1500.
Tony from Wakefield landed next on his new 1800, an ex showroom model, a kind of pale dirty red colour, no wife today though, she was working….I know the feeling honey!
Ali got the kettle on as the rest arrived, they settled on the now open forecourt amongst new cars, unzipping coats and removing helmets, greeting and kissing each other, nodding and smiling in recognition, the new guys were greeted with nods winks and warmth.
Mr Nick Scott for example, arrived from Bradford by himself on a pale looking  purple 1500 that had seen plenty of time on the road,

Nick from Bradford and the pale ride

Nick told me he was going to have two fingers removed shortly from his right hand, which is at the moment strapped somewhat. It was damaged at work a while ago and the fingers in question are a burden and quite frankly he views them as less than useless, the operation hopefully will let him use the rest of his right hand with ease. I have to say that from my spot at the back he looked a competent rider, in fact he rode better than some guys who had ALL their bits in working order! I am confident that when he has recovered from it all he will be back with us and sporting some new hydraulic gadgetry on the handlebars that will allow him to stay free on two wheels, I look forward to your return Nick.

Magnum P.I AKA Andy Tennant

Andy Tennant and Colleen (G.I Jane) came in combats and matching purple tops to suit the 1500 they came on.Colleen was to have a moment later in the day on a bumpy road and became somewhat dishevelled. I’m sorry I missed it, its a good job I have a very colourful imagination!
Mick Gordge was back with us, minus Christine today so I resigned myself to standing behind him at every food stop of the day! One day Mick you are going to stay at home and complete Christine’s forgotten tiling. His German gay bar drinking partner Russ was with us as well on his 1800, minus Elaine as she was busy selling all the shit from his garage at a car boot sale. Mick and Evelyn came from somewhere over Leeds way on their 1800, Mick is a very handsome Irishman with a lovely shock of silver hair to die for, he reminded me of country and western singer Kenny Rogers.  Evelyn was a tiny bubbly lady and flashed the biggest smile of the day.
Mark and Chrissy sat on “Purple Pussy”…..a 1500, purple in colour and named as a gesture to his non Goldwing mates! Chrissy was showing off her Australian flag and looked a lot better than a couple of weeks ago when she was slain by flu. Oh, just one thing guys, don’t mention buzzing bees around her because it freaks her out OK?

Ah....Chrissy

Lynne and John of Sheffield were to bring smiles to our faces at their deft handling of the 1800 purple trike, although John’s eyesight is pretty shot these days it seems. He thought the spandexed woman on the cycle had a great ass…..only it wasn’t a woman, Now, everyone knows a mans ass looks like a potato whilst a womans ass is like a beautiful peach.
Old Geoff and Christine on their orange 1800 sat near Barry and Tina, Geoff was wearing a lurid orange shirt that strained against his body showing off his manly belly curve, it’s no good breathing in boy, we all have one! Christine however dressed more sensibly I might add.

No, this NOT Christine!

We waited a bit longer after the ten o’clock start for any who still might turn up, after all what’s another ten minutes between friends. If we were a proper club we could maybe impose a late arrival fixed penalty, but we’re not a club so we won’t. Two red 1500s from Trent Wings were the last to arrive. Enter Jean and Ian new riders escorted by Dean the Trent region rep. So folks that’s who the APPY WANDERERS were today, fifteen bikes in all, about to have a great time exploring the roads that criss crossed The Peak District National Park, before lunch at Matlock Bath
We posed for a hasty group photograph (because Christine hates posing), after which Barry asked for our attention and offered some important advice especially for folk who were not used to riding as a group, pointing out some basics and explained what was expected of everyone, it’s a darn good idea that we all sing off the same hymn sheet so to speak don’t you agree? Finally he points to me as “back door man” Some think he is being personal, but no it just means that I shall stay at the rear as Barrys’ eyes at junctions and traffic lights etc. After all chaps not even the great “Barry Bollox” can see the antics of all fifteen bikes all of the time!

Todays very APPY WANDERERS

It was time for the circus to leave town, waving Ali goodbye we topped up at the first garage down the road before setting off for the day’s adventure. Holmfirth was our first town, unfortunately we rode in from the North so missed the café made so famous from “The Last Of The Summer Wine”, we were soon through this little bottleneck and heading skyward up towards Holme Moss, sneaking looks over to our left we could see Winscar Res down below and the famous Emley Moor TV mast miles away to the east. It was a great sight, the weather was great too, just a few starched white clouds, tons of blue sky and warm rays from the sun.

Gordon leads "The Scribe" up out of Holmfirth

We dropped of the hillside and crossed over another reservoir before dropping down further, Glossop lies at the bottom of the hill, we turned left at the lights and started uphill again climbing steeply on Alpine practice roads, this was the A57, the famous Snake Pass, a bikers haven and old trunk road from Manchester to Hull and the ferry to the continent (Come Friday 19th June and we APPY WANDERERS will be on that ferry..yipeee!) We twisted and turned along the road heading towards Sheffield. I was sitting at the back staring at Gordens huge orange council light. Forty minutes into the ride I heard John on the trike directing Barry to our first tea stop at Derwent Dam.
It was not a surprise to find that there were no parking spaces whatsoever, so Barry had a word with one of the rangers who gave us the nod and we huddled into the coach park. Everyone defrocked and joined the queue behind our Mick  for tea and pasties.

Mick, our very own Artful Dodger

I was sitting quietly chilling with Christine as a couple of ducks plodded around our feet picking up scraps, when one of the little buggers jumped up and began snatching at my pastie. She knew no fear as my stare was met with dumb insolence…and another snatch at my pastie! I was thankful this damn duck had no teeth. Did you know these things are prone to heart attacks on take off, have homosexual tendencies and are into the odd gang rape.  I’m not making it up folks I read it in a newspaper article, hence I gave up the remains of my pastie.
Tina inspected the loos for the book and we all double checked them out before gathering at the bikes again.  We rode alongside both Derwent and Ladybower reservoirs. It was during the Second World War that huge four engine Avro Lancaster bombers practiced low flying along these dams, now then everyone, these dams are not exactly straight so looking down at the water below us it was hard to imagine these bombers with one hundred and two foot wingspans belting along at two hundred miles per hour whilst keeping it down to just sixty feet from the surface….at night! Did you know that a basic model with no bolt on extras or chrome would set you back a cool £45/50,000 back then? These days that would be over 1.3 MILLION squids!!!!
With the money in mind I quickley caught up with the rest in a bit of a sweat, we left the area and headed over the dams towards  Bamford and another set of piggin traffic lights, people didn’t two up at the lights so we didn’t get out as one group from the lights, but hey, it was a lazy Sunday rideout not a race, so no worries  (not like next week on the German adult autobahns..yipheee! )
Barry employed the drop off system a couple of times, using Old Geoff, because of our size and it worked well. We had other road users to contend with more as the day matured and people took to their tin boxes, some made light work of skipping around the vehicles whilst others didn’t. I committed to passing an old red sport car and progressed quickly up the side of it to find bikes in front braking suddenly dipping in quickly in front of the sports car to stop behind some of the guys on a slip way who had stopped to let us catch up. Muttering a few pit expletives I kept the throttle open grinning at the sports driver sitting a few feet down to my left, I kept the momentum going, passing quickly and safely but finding myself going from 15th to 5th in the pack in a Rossi style move. I guess the “sheep flock syndrome” had just kicked in and instead of moving along to clear the vehicles then reforming further along the road, some guys thought  “I must stop because I am supposed to be behind THAT red 1800”!! Oh well it certainly woke me up for a minute!

We closed up a little towards Chatsworth House as we crossed another cattle grid and drove through beautiful meadow land, the road got smaller, Chatsworth House nestled behind and to the left of us and we stopped at an old humpty backed bridge and more traffic lights, some of us pushed easily through the standing traffic passing obscene bulky 4x4s. Can anyone tell me why these things are used on perfectly smooth roads, why is it that some anal types can go from a saloon car to a fekkin five ton tank or worse, a bleeding plastic motorhome and presume they can drive it just as well. It really grips me…can you tell?
Well anyway, most of us wiggled along the little road and round the big fuck off blue tank before scarpering off down the road towards Matlock, Nick got round the 4×4’s no problem passing me with Brian and Janet who settled just in front of me. I saw Dean and Ian the two Trent bikers between the cars and the big blue tank about a hundred metres away I let Barry know up front. They were playing it steady as Ian and Jean only had their 1500 a few weeks and Dean was keeping him company, anyway Matlock was their playground so they knew the area well. Matlock was only about five miles down the road.

Matlock Bath shimmers in the midday sunshine

We wanted to park up in Matlock Bath amongst all the other bikers but we would need about fifty yards to ourselves, so we slowed looking for somewhere as Darren (Humungus) and Janet from Stoke came into view, their black 1800 glistened in the sunshine as they waved and took pictures, they suited up and followed us before joining us as we squatted into another coach space.  It’s really nice to meet you guys after chatting on the web a couple of weeks ago. Arriving at one’s destination is a nice feeling of achievement, (a bit like arriving on the continent on Saturday morning after a brill night on the ferry). We overloaded the ticket machine whilst some opened up bottomless bags and proceeded to picnic on the nearby grassy hillock, Mick Gordge looked a bit crestfallen as they ate first. We drifted off in small groups to soak up some sun and enjoy the company of bikers along the riverfront walk, a little group of us settled at a café and watched the world go by.

Beauty hath no age for our Mick and Evelyn.

To see the shapes sizes and colours of the ladies….sorry I mean bikes go by is just the beez kneez! I stood with Barry and Russ as three spluttering scooters cackled into life and three guys festooned in parka combat jackets and heay denim jackets toddled off down the road.

One of Toms mob

Then a real old beauty hove into view, it was a really old but pristine MotoGuzzi in military colours with an even older crusty looking enthusiast atop the Italian beast.
Darren and Janet joined us at the table with coffee, tea and milkshakes. These two had joined us all the way from Stoke, Darren is HUMUNGUS on the website, drop by and give him a pat on the back why don’t you? If we were a proper club we would have presented you with a tin mug or something as furthest travelled, but we’re not so, you will just have to make do with becoming APPY WANDERERS for the afternoon and friends for a lot longer! (Plus a mention in the log) I loved your black 1800 with just the right amount of chrome devilry stuck to it. I loved Janet’s smile too, it was infectious;

Smiles from Stoke..Lovely Janet

One couldn’t help but smile back. I bet you broke some hearts when you were eighteen years young, young lady!

APPY WANDERERS wandered up and down the pavement ogling at the fine machinery and the odds and sods in the shop windows. Barry stood us a round of ice creams just as a reincarnation of “Tank Girl” swayed by, dressed in tight pvc pants …just, check out the photo.

"Tank Girl" Laura sways for charity!

Laura was doing it for charity and swung her box rattling the coins, I waited for Tina and  my Julie to sway by too as they dipped in and out of the busy shops.  It was soon that time again so we inspected more loos before meeting up at the bikes at three as arranged.
We said our goodbyes to the Trent two, it’s always great meeting new folk, leap on the motorway and “pop” up for the next one guys…it gets better. The Stoke Rogues also bid us farewell and left after riding a few miles with us somewhere behind Matlock as we squirreled along a fab B road, we were sixteen bikes for a while now we dropped to thirteen, we got a fair spurt on as the cars, 4×4’s and chugging m****homes faded from view for a few minutes.

Clear roads smooth tarmac...beware "Biker Country"

We turned north passing Haddon Hall and Stanton-in-Peak, people stopped and stared as we interrupted their day briefly, kids waved, gents nodded and the ladies beamed, a dark haired lady with the most horrendous long GREEN dress waved and smiled as we passed, “Nice dress Missus!” I lied as we passed. Oh well it made her day!
We soon found the A6 and bounded on quickly in the direction of Buxton, hang gliders soared on warm thermals away to our right at the cliffs edge (We would see more of these guys next week in the Alps) Julie went click click click at anything and everthing with the camera, it all looked so green and inviting, it was a good job I wasn’t leading I would be stopping here there and everywhere! High above us a couple of ugly buzzards circled and enjoyed their Sunday too.
We arrived in Buxton and dribbled along the high street stopping at the several sets of traffic lights. We finally began to pair up at these stops and I started chatting to Tony from Wakefield about his new 1800, he’d bought it in Castleford, “Oh yes I know Castleford well, I’m originally from Normanton”.  “Aye I know Normanton well” he replied, “Oh? I’m actually from the village of Altofts to be exact” “Aye I know that as well” he repeats. The lights changed and we moved forward, for the first time today I really wanted the next lights to go red, I was intrigued about Tony all of a sudden!  “What school did you go to?” I shouted, he shouted back “Normanton Secondary Modern”. God only knows what the folk around thought as we chatted each other up on Buxton High Street whilst riding 1800 motorbikes! “Aye so did I, AND I was the Head Boy…how old are you then I shouted?” we both stared at each other for a second “I’m 50…you?” “I’m 51”, we sat looking at each other in disbelief. The lights went green and eleven goldwings disappeared from sight, we were oblivious as we struggled to remember names of classmates from nearly forty years ago. Julie sat bemused by this exchange. Tony my friend make sure you come on the next ride we have some history to catch up on ……especially Denise Thornton, Carol Arrol, and Gayle Machen, the first of many loves. We must compare notes!

Old Geoff looking good...shame about the shyte shirt though!

Back to the ride, we saw we were now on our own, I tapped Mistress Garmin, she rasped “take next exit right”, I hollered it to Tony now sitting just in front, we cut left and left the high street, we hit the burners catching the group in a minute or two, they were no wiser to our short trip back in time!
It was reservoir time again, passing close by Strines and Dale Dike Reservoirs, the road was nice and empty, everyone felt loose now and elongated the group, running along at a nice pace, we were about 800 metres long and really enjoying the back end of the day. The road began to tip and buck, we knocked a few notches off as the bumps got harsher, a right turn off the road caught the last three bikes out and we shot by, I saw Geoff and Christine briefly as we shot by having just managed to pass a bimbling Sunday driver in his huge road hogging silver tin box, we had to go a distance before finding a suitable place to do a U turn. First us then Tony and Gordon swung around and turned running after Geoff down the tiny road hidden by the long grass. We rode down a familiar road in the direction of Stocksbridge, were my pal Joe nearly kissed a stone brodge on his Virago 750 on one of his first outings on his bike!  We lost Russ as he turned off toward Halifax, we had said goodbye earlier to Lynne and John on their gafferless purple trike as they headed in the direction of Sheffield. Barry pulled over behind a truck at a stopping place for a break. Andy pulled out his flask as Geoff and Christine pulled out their bottomless black and presented Julie and I with a welcome  instant coffee, meanwhile “G.I Jane” secretly  pushed her bits back in place, the road was so bumpy that she and her underwear began to drift apart! we chatted a while commenting on a great day as the sun began to morph from a bright gold blazing spot  to a warm orange orb.
It was time to fragment again I shook hands patted backs gripped Barry in a friendly meaningful  manhug.

Who needs women when we have each other and the bikes!

I picked up the small ladies and bade farewell to them. “Until Friday then” we few said, to each other, promising not to be late on Friday at Hull docks, Did I mention that another group of APPY WANDERERS are going to the Alps for a two week adventure? Hence I’m sitting here burning the midnight oil in an effort to get the script ready for inserting into the site before we go.
Julie and I headed south on the M1 as the rest headed in the opposite direction, we sat silently on the motorway, I turned Mistress Garmin and the CB off and we reflected on a brilliant day in The Peak District over there in Derbyshire, wonderful roads, great views, friendly rogues, cheeky reprobates new pals and old geezers we followed gladly all day. Now we were cruising on our own, we left the M1 turning east on the M18 towards Doncaster. The sun was behind us now as we ticked off the miles towards home.
Hardy, Blue and Barney hardly cast a glance at us as they munched the sweet grass in that lazy way osses do. POOKA the three legged cat sat on the mat waiting for us on the steps and tapped her claws on the door blind, impatient for food…Home sweet home. She will have a longer wait on Friday, did I mention that we are going away for two weeks to the sun kissed Alps, taking in Holland Germany Austria Italy and Switzerland?…………
Tilateronthen
The Scribe