Devon, September 25th-28th 2009

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There were no wildebeest in evidence at Walkers as Jason and I pulled in at around 8.30am on the Friday for breakfast and assembly of the squadron; in fact, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon would have to wait for several hours yet. “Piledriver” Pete on his new KTM, John on “little wheels” as “big wheels” had run out of MOT, “Domino Man” Mack, Carl “The Tranny”, Jason "The Beast", yours truly "Bombardier Barnard" and "Shivering Tony" set off to meet Cameron “The Torquay Tart” at Wantage.

Having now decided to go via Luton instead of Milton Keynes, the A505 stretched out in all its glory morphing into the A418 through Aylesbury and then on to Oxford. Now we can say with confidence that a goodly proportion of ER members “went to Oxford dontcha know”

Cameron duly collected we headed off down the A338, stopping for healthy ham salad rolls for some, cheeseburgers for others and nothing at all for a couple. Part of the plan was to do the A30 rather than the A303 but this proved to be a bad move as the traffic was awful and there were so many 30 and 40 mph restrictions that the journey became a chore. At least it was warm and dry. This is the sort of road which takes you through picturesque villages with names like Compton Chamberlayne and Middle Wallop. 50 years ago in an open top Morgan or MG, with little traffic, this was the road to drive with a wicker picnic basket on the boot lid.
 

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Undaunted but rather tired we used the sat nav to guide us to 86 Avenue Road, Torquay – The Briarfields. Tan, the proprietress, came out to greet us and we checked in with John and myself able to get a room each and Tony and Cameron sharing a twin room as they were both heading home on the Sunday. The Briarfields is cheap, clean and cheerful. End of the pier cheerful in the case of Chris, Tan’s husband, who was perhaps a little excessively ebullient for reserved Norfolk tastes and a bit too “hands on” as well. “Good oh!” seemed to be his favourite expression and the mismatch between him and his wife seemed evident to all. Even stranger was to come at breakfast the next morning as the woman of indeterminate age served breakfast – more plastic surgery than Jordan with a sort of David Guest fixed grin.

Anyway, on to Torquay. I had always known this was called “The English Riviera” but had never been. I can honestly say that the title is well deserved and that I plan to visit again in future, either on or off the bike. We walked the 20 minute walk into the town, through Torre Hall grounds and passed the huge helium balloon which would have made a good excursion but for its £14 ticket price. We could nearly buy a pizza for that (sorry, but you had to be there). We had a well earned pint in the Irish bar and ate upstairs with a view across the harbour as dusk fell. Excellent food at a reasonable price. On to Wetherspoons for a couple more and as dusk fell the Torquay scenery changed as the pub filled up with many young puppies and unfortunately, a few old dogs too.

Carl bought a Cherry Sourz which I sipped and liked, so bought one as well. I also found the Welsh Malt there which we’d had at The Lion in July. Back to the digs for a comfortable nights sleep and up for a tasty breakfast at 8.30. Good oh.

Here is one of the relics.

John programmed in the southern point of Dartmoor to his sat nav and used “shortest route” I like to do that too when on a bike as you get to go through all sorts of places and down tiny lanes that you just wouldn’t otherwise countenance. We passed through tiny streets in really quaint Devon villages before getting off the main road near Plympton and then crossed into Dartmoor.

Piledriver Pete was already having problems with a hard rear. This was to be a real bind for him during the weekend and we all hope he gets its sorted as we do all enjoy his company a lot, even if after a couple of pints no-one has a clue what he is talking about. At least it takes a couple of pints, which is more than can be said for some……

Dartmoor is a 40mph limit now, but the scenery can be lovely, many Dartmoor Ponies in evidence and we tracked across to Princetown, site of the infamous Dartmoor Prison. With the sound of “Norman Stanley Fletcher” ringing in our ears we made our way north.

The days always start fairly leisurely, become spirited then a bit manic. We did have another grasscutting event. I mean, if you are going to follow an old fart on a TDM into a bend, make sure you have the skill to come out the other side. I had been going in very fast to a left hander at the bottom of a hill and on the rise of another one. I realised that there was a depression at the bottom and my soft suspension compressed, grounding down firstly the peg, then the centre stand outer followed by the centre stand itself. It did sit me up a tad and I remember thinking “bugger, wish I could have seen the sparks”. Apparently they were such a show that they were best viewed from the other side of the road from the grass verge!

We stopped at Ifracombe for a pasty or a crab sandwich. It was a pretty harbour with a kamikaze pigeon.

North Devon is as pretty as south Devon and the Exmoor ponies are different to the Dartmoor variety from what I could tell.

Back in Torquay, as we walked down to the harbour on Saturday night we passed a place called Pier Point and I wondered if there were many people hanging about there. It’s my sort of humour, OK! (Albert Pierrepoint was the last British hangman). We ate at Pizza Express at Jason’s request but in reality this turned out to be an expensive meal. I had a Pizza La Reine, which means The Queen. Pete asked if that meant if it came topped with corgi and swan. I thought I had a weird sense of humour…….

Wetherspoons was getting a bit busy by now and having done our second 300 mile day we wandered back to the digs, contemplating buying a bottle of Scotch from the garage over the road to have as a nightcap on the terrace, but realising that with another 300 mile day tomorrow, this would not be a good idea!

On Sunday some scorned the full English breakfast, some changed their orders and Tan tried to keep the cheeky chappy in the kitchen. Good Oh. Having the physique of a racing snake I find a full fry up has no affect whatsoever, as long as I pick a room without a mirror.

Cameron and Tony were setting off for home on the Sunday, so we went north again towards Minehead where we had a cream tea at 11.30 am in glorious sunshine. Some 20 miles earlier Pete had given up with his Super Duke and returned to Torquay. John had decided to do his own thing on Sunday as he often does and we would meet up for dinner later.

The coast road from Minehead to Lynmouth is stunning – watching motorhomes struggling with Porlock Hill was amusing but another good reason to come in September and not during the peak season. We went down to Barnstaple, now just four of us, then to Tintagel and Padstow, the latter was really pretty, but again in the height of summer it is really busy. Carl and I did a bit of semi off-roading trying to find the lifeboat station, but to no avail. I think Mack nearly died when he heard that it was 97 miles the quick way back to Torquay. He had been unwell all weekend with a cold and a bad back.

Back to Basil’s place for a quick wash and brush up and down to Wetherspoons for what was about the worst service and food I have had in ages; cheap though, but crap. Sunday night was fairly quiet so at least we could hear each other speak.

Monday morning was grey but dry and warm. We breakfasted in leathers and were on the road for 9.30 am with me at the front navigating to the A303 rather than the A30. Pete, always a great substitute for Tony in his absence, got lost and went home via Dartford. I think it was also the most comfortable choice for him. John set his own route from the burger stop and went off first, leaving the four of us, soon to become three as Carl, Mack and Jason took a wrong turn in Aylesbury and I continued to Milton Keynes. I did slow down, honest, but I didn’t see any lights in my mirrors so set the sat-nav for Milton Keynes and knew we’d meet up at Barton Mills anyway.

Slight incident in Milton Keynes. As I pulled into the left hand lane at a roundabout and slowed at the lights, the black hatchback in the centre lane decided that he wanted to go left after all and just pulled out as I was alongside. I saw the driver’s girlfriend put her hand to her face as she thought the car was going to hit me. Luckily I was in a low gear and was able to turn left up the carriageway he wanted to go. I stopped and turned to the car, furious and said a few choice words. Instead of apologising the driver, a young man in his 20’s, who didn’t realise how close he was coming to not reaching his 30’s, just smirked and drove off. Now I was incensed and chased the car, overtaking it, shaking my fist etc. The car slowed down and pulled back. I cam to a roundabout where I had to turn right and the car would have to pull up next to me. Instead, he flew across the roundabout, narrowly missing other cars. I calmed down and proceeded in an orderly fashion.

After miles of seemingly interminable roadworks and 40mph between Milton Keynes and Bedford I eventually got to Barton Mills – John had arrived sometime previously. Had a coffee and a bite to eat as The Tranny, The Beast and Domino Man arrived.

That was the end of the 2009 trips for Eastern Riders and a splendid one with which to conclude a good riding year. I think Devon will be on the itinerary for other years and maybe we’ll also try Northumbria sometime.

Please bear in mind that trying to sort nearly 200 pictures (and thanks for those who contributed) into the right order and then make a witty and relevant caption is quite a long task, hence some of the captions being "don't know" as I didn't take the picture!

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Bullet cam video. I'm trying a different format so any feedback re viewing would be appreciated. I can't change the bullet cam quality though!