Lakes and Dales weekend, September 16th -19th
2005
Isn’t it funny how at one moment you have plenty of time, then 5 minutes later
you know you are going to be late? That happened to me on the Friday morning
when I suddenly realised that I was going to be late arriving at Swaffham. As it
happened, it didn’t matter that much, as Tim hadn’t arrived and at 9.15 we
decided to set off in the steady showery rain to our breakfast rendezvous at the
Farm Café.
We had just ordered breakfast and removed the wets as the sun was threatening to
shine when Tim arrived. As he was later to pontificate from behind a pint of
Kronenbourg, advanced riding calls for preparation and observation skills; well,
the Mille had refused to start, he had no wets or mobile phone either – or a
jumper come to that. We said nothing and none of us took the p**s over the
weekend in the same way that I won’t here. Oh yes, and the rear tyre – we’ll
come to that later.
Setting off up towards the Humber now 5 strong we shivered out way to the
crossing and although it wasn’t raining, Tony put his wets on for an extra layer
of insulation. You’d have thought with all his layers of fat that he wouldn’t
notice a little September breeze.
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Coffee/hot chocolate at the Humber observation point and the weather was starting to clear up as we headed off towards Beverley and across towards Bainbridge, stopping for afternoon tea in Thirsk where they operate a really strange parking disc system. We didn’t have any, but the parking attendant was a friendly local guy who let us stop for a drink without needing one. |
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By this time the roads were getting interesting
and the A684 which takes you straight (?) to the hotel is a joy – nice tight
twisty sections and some sweepers too. Talking of sweepers, some of the local
farmers could perhaps employ them to get the **** off the road. It was authentic
cow**** and I don’t care how sticky your tyres are, ride through that and you
start to manufacture your own. If you see what I mean. It was probably this that
added extra tread to Tim’s tyre, but, more later. As he reads this he’s probably
only muttered “bastard” twice and I want to keep him simmering.
Arrival at the The Rose and Crown was a welcome sight; even more welcome was the
first view of the two Lithuanian and on Russian girl that were now working
there. We all remembered the Iron Curtain female athletes from the 70’s. The
girls were nothing like that, pretty, mysterious, a little pouty and with
accents that even made the Masham brewed “Blek Ship” sound sexy. Not that I
noticed much you understand and for the benefit of any wives reading this, none
of the other guys noticed them either.
Organiser’s privileges saw me take the single room and we met at dinner. All
fired up for the weekend, we talked obligatory total bollocks, had two bottles
of wine, a main course and a pudding. The next night this had fallen to one
bottle and no puddings and the last night no wine, though Tim and I had some
mussels as a starter. Plus more “Blek Ship”
Every bar has one and the Rose is no exception. In a bar so smoky you could
smoke kippers in there, through the fug came the fine figure of Dennis Brown,
proffering his snuff tin. He had wild white hair and a wild red beard and
moustache, due in no small measure to the snuff. I didn’t get all the
conversation as I was crying with laughter half the time; needless to say his
old 350 had done 140 mph up the M6 or whatever at some stage. Also mentioned was
a Talbot Alpine but I never quite got to understand what that was all about.
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He did mention some spectacular roads mind you which Gary, Carl and I remembered the next day after Wallace and Gromit (as Tony had gone to the Wensleydale factory in search of cheese) went back to the hotel. Tim had felt the chill as we rode across the moors passed Hadrian’s Wall. Bless.
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So, that Saturday we had gone up as far as Penrith and then took in the unclassified that Denis had mentioned about 30 times the previous night. Not for the first time that weekend would be confronted with 1 in 3 roads with a switchback so sharp that any stall or hesitation would have seen you and your bike tumbling a very long way. |
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Sunday saw our trip to the Lake District with a great fast ride on the 684, up to Kendal, Windermere, Ambleside then the single carriageway Wrynose and Hardknott Pass. Some people were riding up there on a Sunday morning on bikes WITHOUT ENGINES! What’s that all about? Aside from my un PC observations regarding a female cyclist, we waited for the dozy car drivers to inch there way up the switchbacks; it really was quite amazing, like a platform game. Slip the clutch in 1st on the way up, hit a bump and try to stop the front from coming up to meet you. Going down gave the front suspension an good workout.
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Later we went round Buttermere and it was truly spectacular. We stopped for coffee as usual and Gary had pointed out that Tim’s rear tyre, instead of being his beloved whitewall indeed had a white strip all the way round the centre. Silver, metallic ones to be more precise. All the tread had gone from the majority of the circumference. |
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Tim decided to ride back to the hotel and try to
find a tyre dealer for the morning. I think was half hopeful that we would act
in a comradely manner when he said “it’s okay guys, you go on and enjoy
yourselves, I’ll go back by myself”. We all said “OK then!” It was just as well
he did go directly back, as the Hardknott Pass was like a longer, narrower and
twistier Snake Pass, but wide enough so that when to cars cleared was what bikes
were made for and really gave your tyres workout. If there hadn’t been so many
cars going up the other way I’d have turned round and done it again.
Tim had made it safe and sound back to the hotel and was to be found in the bar,
two drinks ahead of us. He certainly maintained his lead and may have pulled
ahead at some point. How unlike the road. (Is that 4 or 5 “bastards” now?)
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In the morning Tim left early for Leyburn to get his tyre fitted. The day before he had rung them and after much searching the proprietor had come back onto the phone with an amazed “I got one o’ them in stock”. Needn’t have worried mind, as they actually race Milles and prepare them at the depot. By the time we got into Leyburn, Tim was ready to roll and we set off with a view to cross to the Nth York Moors to do the Stokesley to Helmsley run. We stopped for coffee in Stokesley and watched the pensioners trying to park next to the bikes, despite the fact that there was no room and even if there had been, save for getting out of the sun roof they couldn’t have got out. It was warm now and sunny, so I put on the iridium visor and removed a layer. Carl neatly wrapped his Goretex over jacket into a neat package, put it in a bin bag and bungeed it onto the bike; then remembered his keys were in the pocket. More about keys later, as I don’t escape this without incident either. |
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Off onto the Helmsley road and I was riding in no1 position and set off like the
proverbial, encountering a white van going in the same direction which seemed to
be driven by the German girl from the Nurburgring Ring as it was lifting the
outside rear wheels on the corners! Anyway, shot past and away. Apparently, when
Carl went past just as he gunned it his wheel hit a crest and according to Gary,
did the most amazing wheelie past the van, all unintentional.
Lunch north of the Humber Bridge was where I realised that my house key and
spare fob, normal kept in my left jacket pocket, was missing. Searched all
luggage etc but just not there. I thought it may have dropped out if I had
forgotten to zip the pocket but I was sure I’d checked as I always do.
Nothing for it but to press on home; we were all getting tired by now and after
a comfort break in Horncastle we suffered Boston and the A17 to King’s Lynn
where the final coffee and fill up was taken at West Lynn from where we all rode
our own way home.
On arrival home I duly warned the neighbours that they would hear the burglar
alarm soon as I had to break in through the back door. New neighbour was so
helpful and I hadn’t even met him before, there’s always a positive in any
situation. What I thought was a flimsy plywood panel wasn’t that flimsy at all
and I managed to split the door too.
A trip to B&Q for some bits and bobs has seen the door panel replaced and the
splits patched and repaired. A call to the coffee shop in Stokesley also turned
up my keys which I had left on the counter and they are kindly posting them to
me free of charge.
All in all, another 1,000 mile trip which was great fun both riding and
prattling on later in the evening. Apparently I prattle quite a lot. Don’t you
believe it, I don’t snore either.
We agreed to have a committee meeting in October time so we can get so trips
pencilled in for next year; I think we all fancied Scotland and the Isle of Skye
as one, anyone else any thoughts?
If you haven’t done an “overnighter” then you don’t know what you’re missing!
The pictures from the trip can be seen in the
Lakes & Dales 2005
album, found
from the album page
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