Wales weekend. August 24th - 27th 2007

 

Well, what can I say about Wales again. This is the 6^th/7^th year now I think and to try to write something original may prove difficult. In the meanwhile, here's a pretty picture.

Of course, in the early years there was no Mack, who provides endless opportunities for comments. We have seen the return of AA Ray, so he is always good fun. Of course, this year we have Jason, a new source of stories, but he is a big bugger so I may have to be careful.

Added to the mix is, of course, Tony the wayfarer, never knowingly on the right road, Cameron ………….. and of course Carl, who continues to ride the FJR impressively quickly on improbable roads.

Missing this year was Gary, who’s good excuse was his new fatherhood – congratulations for Oliver – you’ll be begging for trips away from nappies soon! No Chris S for the second year running and no Brian or Clive this year.

Anyway, I wasn’t going to bother with a piece this year, but apparently some of you actually like these mindless ramblings, so I think I may have enough ammunition for an article. Here goes……

Friday 24^th August

A misty, drizzly start to the day. In Scotland I think they call it “dreach” or something. From the Extreme Rain Riders experience of Scotland it would probably be a heatwave on the Isle of Skye.

Having had to leave the Storm in the garage as the immobiliser decided to permanently immobilise (the alarm immobiliser has now been stripped out) I took the TDM. At least I could take the dinner jacket and bow tie in the hard luggage and not worry about petrol stops. Met Jason and Mack at the Watton roundabout, having ridden past them looking for Carl and Tony, who arrived shortly, Tony on his new Tuono – very smart. Ray also arrived with Carl on the V-Strom and our merry band was complete save for Cameron, who would meet us at Moreton in the Marsh at our usual lunch stop.

Ray was the first to get lost as he missed the breakfast stop at Red Lodge, but he re-appeared and we headed west, hoping for brighter weather, which arrived around Milton Keynes. Normal petrol stop at Chipping Camden with some rather strangely bearded MZ combination riding person.

Cameron was waiting at the pub  in Moreton; he too has a new bike, a silver/grey Blackbird. The weather was, by now, turning warm and sunny and that’s how it stayed for the rest of the weekend really. There were hundreds of bikes about, all shapes and sizes (much like the membership of ER) enjoying some much awaited good weather.

A pleasant lunch, we set off on the A44 to Llanbister, the trip passing without incident and we were met with a free drink at the Lion by Janet. Up to the chalets and I was banished to a single room because of my alleged snoring; how dreadful to have to have a room to oneself. Never mind.

After the customary ER bonding of walking round in undergarments for an hour or so, we saddled up and went across to Aberystwyth for fish and chips. A glorious evening as we parked right on the sea front. There is a new café on the front with seats outside and whilst they didn’t do fish and chips, their sausage egg and chips was quite acceptable and Tony found a vegetarian option, although, as he said, he wasn’t going to get fat on the size of the portion. In fact, he’d have to eat solidly for a month to get close to fat I would imagine.

Top up the tanks and a spirited ride back to the digs, passing the place where Chris S was T boned a couple of years ago. Those of us that were there paid particular attention to that junction.

AA Ray had decided to share with us the fact that he is an arachnophobe and I had a score to settle from a couple of years ago. We all walked down to the pub in the evening, very easy because it is downhill; about 1 in 4 in places (or 25% in newspeak). Tony and I decided to stay on for a couple more beers and the rest walked back – although they never did it again! Ray the landlord took us back later after he’d had “one more drink” and I arrived at the chalet to find Carl and Ray ready for bed.

A word of warning to the uninitiated. If you ever share accommodation with Mr Sayer, DO NOT allow him to get into the premises before you do. As I went into my compact but bijou room and pulled the bedclothes back, a frog leapt up and went under the bed. “There’s a bloody frog in my room” I shouted, tipping the bed up to retrieve the thing. Ray was straight on the scene with his customary smirk and a “ I wonder how that got in here then”. Hmm.

The next morning, or it could have been Sunday, Carl knocked on my door, slid it back and said “come on quick – look!”. He had found a spider in the shower and was going to present it to the still dozing Ray. It had the desired effect but unlike the frog which was released to the wild, the spider, like the Who’s Boris (you probably need to be over 40 to reference that), was never to frighten anyone again.

Saturday 25th August

Anyway, where was I. Oh yes, Saturday morning arrived as so often happens after Friday night. A beautiful, misty morning which was burnt off by the time we had dressed and ridden down for breakfast. Yet again, cereal, orange juice, tea/coffee, full cooked breakfast all included in the £15 per night we are still charged (yes, we have rebooked for next year already). The weather forecast seemed better for the south of Wales, so that’s where we headed.

Ray and I brought up the rear – apart from trying to digest breakfast the scenery and views were stunning and the temperatures across the tops were quite high. Most years we shiver across them in the mornings, but this was really pleasant.

We all fell foul of the very helpful “SLOW/ARAF” sign painted on the road, right at the entrance to a bend on a flick-flack road. It was still a bit damp from the dew and each of us noticed the bikes twitch as we went over, although it wasn’t till later we realised the same had happened to each of us.

Breakfast digested I went on the attack. Jason reckons the TDM looked like Knight Rider in his mirrors, but this was one bit of road just made for bikes like the TDM – still would like a bit more power but then I wouldn’t get 57 to the gallon would I! Apparently I was about an inch from either the pegs or the exhaust going down on the A483. I was waiting for something as I didn’t think I could lean much more, then remembered that the last grounding had been the centre stand at a roundabout and I didn’t fancy that at 85mph.

A nice, bumpy piece of road into Hay-on-Wye saw us waiting for Mack and Jason for a few minutes – there were several dopy drivers about (one who was going to reverse straight into me until I blew my horn) and the road was very bumpy, so much so that Jason felt he had a lot in common with Victoria Plums.

A refreshing ice cream with the whiff of sewer on the breeze and we were back to the bikes for another petrol stop. It was there that I moved my nozzle without stopping the flow (make your own jokes up as you read, please)  and squirted petrol in my left eye. It bloody well burns I can tell you and in my haste to unlock the topbox to retrieve my water bottle, I snapped the key off and in disgust, threw them on the floor. Luckily, Jason had picked up a watering can full of water by the pumps and 10 minutes of sluicing my eye with that washed it all out with no effects. He also subbed me for my petrol as Mack had kindly filled my tank for me. My wallet, of course, was in the topbox, but at least I’d be able to get back to the digs to sort it out later.

We all stopped for a break in Welshpool and I found a locksmith some 10 miles north who was prepared to operate on the topbox if I could go to him, so I set a course on the Garmin and Ray agreed to come with me for company. It was one of those meetings that you would rather not have had to have, but were quite pleased you did anyway, as you will see.

The locksmiths house was way in the wilds, but his wife appeared at their parents (next door) house, which they were emptying after 37 years. Their parents were moving to somewhere more amenable (this place has 9 bedrooms). She came out with a jug of fruit juice as she thought we would be hot after our ride, the locksmith started his work and we were soon joined by the daughter, father and mother too, all at the 5 bar gate chatting about Norfolk, motorbikes and life in general. The locksmith got the box open but didn’t have a blank to cut a new key. His wife then re-appeared with a small bungee strap which held the box shut admirably. All done, £10. Really nice people too.

Ray got directions back to the main road so went first and took the wrong turning and got us lost, so I plotted a “shortest route” back to Welshpool on the Garmin. I don’t think either of us had been on such narrow tracks except off-road. I was glad I was doing no more than 10 mph as I rounded a bend and found two cars coming towards me. The only way past was to ride through the nettles on the left, but we got to the main road eventually and then back to Welshpool and then Llanbister.

Mack, Tony, Cameron and Carl wanted to ride into Newton for a curry on Saturday night, but Ray, Jason and I wanted to go to the pub, so we duly did our own things and the three of us walked down to the Lion again. Ray wished he’d bought trainers rather than boots as the blisters he’d picked up from the previous nights walking took their toll.

When ordering my meal from the menu I asked Ray the landlord for the Steak and Ale Pie. Ray pointed out, in his inimitable way, that what you saw on the menu was more a guide to what could be there if they had it, but if you gave him an idea of what you wanted, he’d go and check the kitchen to find the nearest thing to it. As the puff pastry tops hadn’t yet been fitted to the steak and ale it was, of course, now Beef Casserole. Delicious it was too. Jason had one of the curries, apparently made to an authentic recipe by Ray the landlord’s Indian friends. I can’t remember what AA Ray had – Toad in the Hole would have been appropriate given the previous night’s prank.

The Newtown Wanderers joined us for a drink around 10.30 pm – we three had been drinking brandy and malt whisky (not mixed) and shooting the breeze – great fun. Ray rode pillion back with Carl and Jason and I called for the local Ray the Taxi service a little later.

Sunday 26^th August

Another hearty breakfast set us up for North Wales, across the tops and the reservoirs, up the A4212 and the Llanberis Pass. Some stopped for the view, others to obey a call of nature. One in particular was seeing how far down the hill he could pee.

The abandoned slate works and village near Ffestiniog looked picturesque, but must have been bleak and desolate places in the 1800’s and later, especially in winter, with no real transport in or out to civilisation. Bit like Wisbech then.

Garmin came in handy again as Carl tried to navigate us back to the A5. I plotted the route and led the ride over what became an increasingly bumpy mountain road. Boy, was it bumpy, with crest, yumps, bumps and lumps. Fine on a TDM or a V-Strom, but very, very uncomfortable on a sports bike, especially carrying bruised plums.

I did what anyone else would do – rode like buggery! Mack dropped back a bit, then caught up again as I could imagine him being bounced around but not wanting to give me the smug satisfaction of clearing off ahead. The road narrowed, so I had to slow (lots of tractors about) as there was nowhere to go if something big and immovable appeared round the next bend.

At the T junction, apparently most hadn’t enjoyed our little roller coaster ride. Jason made gestures towards me and mispronounced my surname as Bastard, not Barnard, for some reason.

Off down the A5 we caught a motley bunch of bikes, some two up, the tailgunner being on a Blackbird. We were obviously riding faster than them as we had caught them, but as soon as I tried to pass the Blackbird, he gunned it so I couldn’t get past. I made the same gesture as Jason had made to me, but they were too crap to pass so were intent on stopping us too.

Eventually a car coming the other way was flashing his lights. Clearly this can be either because someone’s overtaking and he thinks he hasn’t been seen, or because there are police ahead. The motley collection slowed down straight away and I opened up and we went past, keeping an eye out for Plod. Round the bend they had pulled in a bike coming the other way. Apparently, they watched Mack all the way past as his new can is rather raucous. Thought the FireStorm was loud! Cameron had had problems with the Blackbird rider too.

Down the A494 back through Bala, I was riding at the back of the pack. The Three Musketeers and D’Artagnan (Carl)  had blasted off ahead and I didn’t think there was much point in trying to catch up, but then you know how it is. Anyway, Tony waved me past, overtook Ray and gunned the poor little TDM. Just coming up to the roundabout a few miles further I caught sight of Jason turning left, the road to Newtown being a right turn. Aha, I thought, one down, three to go, so I rode like crazy to catch the others, but never saw a sign of them. I know the TDM isn’t as fast as a sports bike, but I was quite downhearted. Got back to the barn and there was Jason’s bike and Ray’s too. It was I who hadn’t heard Carl say we were going a different way home, so I was the one who flew off with the others watching me from the side of the road. No wonder I never caught them.

Sunday night and Tony joined us at the pub too. Monday morning saw another hearty breakfast, an extra £5 in the kitty from each of us (that cat is getting really fed up with that trick now) and orf we jolly well went. Cameron sloped off at Moreton and we stopped at a little café at Chipping Norton for coffee and then it was ride all the way home.

Ray and Carl peeled off at Barton Mills up the A1065. I was riding with Jason and we caught Mack on the A11 berating some dozy motorist who, as the traffic was queued solid, decided to U turn without using his mirrors.

Great trip and weather. Did I forget to mention that Tony got lost? It probably went without saying anyway.

All booked up again for next year, although I believe Cameron has gone to Aberystwyth for the weekend since, so taken with the riding was he. The road surfaces and amazing though, quite unlike England and especially not like Scotland!

That’s all folks. Photo album here

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