I've been everywhere. HD all countries on the planet

It takes some careful consideration to be outlandish in an environment where outlandish and overlandish is the norm. Where squirrel is skinned and gutted then devoured as a display. Where lash ups, bolt ons and frankly, stuck on and hopes, are gathered.

But still some tried at the Horizons Unlimited meet up. Unfortunately the need to have to try, set those who didn’t need to try apart and only highlighted what a pillock you were for needing to stand out.

The same could be said about the scars of travel. Seems the more, the greater and the more damaging  the scarring, the less interesting I found the people were. After all aren’t they just bragging that they got something wrong?

Fortunately these folk were few and far between, it’s just they were the loudest and most obvious and alcohol only increased their volume.

One bloke kept blathering on about how a Garmin tracking your speed at certain points, was a weapon that authorities could use against him..okay so you go fast and take risks you little go faster risk taking guy you, the choice is, don’t, or don’t use a garmin zumo, being oh so out there and dangerous and going on and on and on about it, doesn’t make you look any better, even arriving on your Ducati 99 something-or-other, just added to the impression that you needed to be seen, more than we wanted to see, or hear you.

Anyway, some interesting talks were held in the three rooms, Asia, Africa and Australia, including one by Johann, a swedish guy who was riding in S.America and had developed www.gaiafix.com Take a look if you have a trip planned.

Dan Walsh was there and we had a chat, we even had a couple of acquaintances in common, Stefan Bartlett your ears should have been burning. Yes I remember you as an objectionable little scooter monkey at the Cannock Advertiser, covering WI jam competitions and trying forlornly to build them up into something more than they were, just for your own credibility, and dismissing motorbikes out of hand…see I’m not sure how it worked out that you now…oh never mind, it’s your own conscience that you have to live with.

Then there was Gus Scott…we both thought fondly of this guy…sad loss.

Ted Simon signed a Jupiter’s Travels for me and I believe now has a Three Teas sticker on his bike.

Sam Manicom was there too with his reworking of the reworking of the book about his original trip. But bald blokes with pony tails bother me, so I avoided him. Manic Nick Saunders showed up and was…manic and the bloke from Terra Circa was wearing his most obvious ‘marketing attire’ of white racing overalls and tweed jacket…less said about that the better.

Once again I managed to set up tent next to the snorer, but on my other side were my real heroes of this trip. A couple who were sharing a small tent, had a couple of 650s and were setting off on a ride to India. No hulla baloo, no matching promo T shirts or any of the trappings, just a couple who were unceremoniously about to undertake an epic journey of discovery. I truly wish them well.

Rode up on Thursday to Ullapool. Fairly eventless trip up, although there were signs that there was something quite splendid, riding wise, in the area. The campsite was quickly found as was the chip shop. Typical tourist town prices though, I guess that they make money on people who visit once. It’s not a trip that has generated any Unchained recommendations, although I always felt it should do and that’s a disappointing outcome.

With no obvious pitch up for bmws I put my tent up next to another bikers tent. He was broad Scots and his accent was so thick it would have blunted a Sheffield steel knife. He may have fore warned me, but if he did I dinna ken, that during the night he would demonstrate an ability to whistle, snore, sing and fart in his sleep.

In the morning I moved.

The early morning was glorious and so I set off on a ride. It was spectacularly good and the down side was that I wasn’t sharing it. Still with my own agenda I could stop when and where I wanted  and so took copious amounts of pictures and I’ll share them with you.

There’s a 12 mile stretch from Lochinver back to the Ullapool Road that I defy anyone to not nominate in their top 10 roads anywhere. A tin of corned beef, a slab of cheese and a couple of bread rolls with a loch and a few mountains as a back drop and it’s almost idyllic.

Since being forced out of the USA, this was the first place I’d found where there wasn’t the sound of traffic. Even on the Yorkshire Moors, the echo of sports bikes pervaded the solitude. You knew they were somewhere, even if you couldn’t see them. Here on this road, nothing. Only the noises of nature. Space, space like I’ve not experienced since leaving the spaces of the USA and Central America. It felt clean, fresh, liberating.

I got back to find that the GSer camp had built quite considerably and a gathering had formed around one particular tent. It was full of Scots in various states of drunkenness, some vertical and defying gravity, others obviously having lost that particular challenge, several times…wee drams passed hands and Jaeggermeister was quaffed.

The chippy beckoned a second time.

That night I found that my camping neighbour didn’t have the range of my earlier sleeping buddy. He did however have mastery of the snore and had a volume that beggared belief, even with my ear plugs rammed home the rhythmic intrusion was insufferable. If you know you do this, why park your tent slap bang in the middle of everyone else’s,, why not be unselfish and set up on the edge?

The following day’s organised ride mirrored my solo ride, so I was off, alone, again, going my own way.

Drizzle in places, stunning throughout. The pass into or out of Applecross, is as near to anything vertical that there can be to ride in the UK. It’s the highest pass. Easy peasy to start with but there’s a few switch-backs and blind bends that just tickle the vertigo buttons.

Video link  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZSmuLGpu5w

Sights of the Highlands

Two weekends on the trot that the sun has been shining and with the bike back and nothing to stay in for I decided to ride out again. This time Yorkshire and Cumbria.

The Sun had bought out the 1 litre sports bike crowd and a few more HDs than I remember being in the UK, must be a fashion thing. Still, the roads that appeal to these riders are not those that a GSer looks for, so my sheep trail single tracks were almost empty, apart from an intrepid cyclist or two and the gypsy caravans gathering for next weekends Appleby Horse Fair.

Pics to follow.

Llanberis-Bets y Coed junction Snowdonia

Well at least I’ve been able to salvage something and unlike my marriage, where the silence has been deafening and I’ve just been written off, with my bike I’ve been inundated with documents, call centre conversations, discussions with a stream of people behind glass, who profess to be customer service centric but aren’t…yet I’ve finally got back on the road. 

North Wales yesterday, just me and my bike.

Great Orme is a large rocky outcrop. It’s home to a Bronze age mine, a funicular tramway and these…

rutting is in full swing

Tea was taken in a converted railway carriage in Bets Y Coed, along with a salad with cheese, 

“What sort of cheese?”. 
“Welsh cheese”, 
“Yes but what sort?” 
“Dunno, it’s just Welsh”. 
Ah national pride and staff that can’t give a toss.
“I’ll have that then please, but can you add extra Welshness”.

Great Orme has switchbacks that are tighter than a bankers tax return, not many of them, but tight enough to require a stop and three point GSA turn when confronted by a car coming up, as you go down. Pay a pound to the man then on to the rock face road that sinuously hangs above the sea, in a tight one way road of contours. Again, as good as anywhere I’ve ridden, just not very much of it. Britain is compact, which is good as you can comprehend it and bad because it doesn’t challenge your boundaries of comprehension in the way vastness, or extremes, do.
On the summit of the Orme is a Bronze age copper mine…surely that will be a copper age mine then…(I know…just playing).

Good to be back riding, I will sleep the deep sleep of the satisfied and pleasantly tired.