OT Short Way Up or....Two Yanks in Scotland, The FINAL Chapter...Last post Options

[stephenaki]

Every great adventure starts with an idea that somehow or another blossoms into a grand scheme that sends our minds on a whirlwind of anticipation and visions, or delusions, of grandeur. Burly men and lusty wenches, beer, rum and…oh wait, that’s the other delusion I had…never mind. Back on topic, as the title would loan itself too, it is a play on the Long Way Down (motorcycle documentary of Ewing McGregor and Charley Boorman as they rode from John O' Groats Scotland to South Africa on BMW GS1200 motorcycles) and not even a 10th of the mileage; one, neither Lee or I are rich and have a full fledged support crew and two, neither Lee and I are rich and have a full fledged support crew. Did I mention that neither Lee nor I are rich and have a full fledged support crew? I won’t bore you with the details but after several discussions and then Lee’s acquisition of a shiny new GS1200 we finally settled on taking a 10 day trip to Scotland from our little slice of Deutschland. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/piratenanner.gif)

I don’t remember exactly how it came to pass but I do recall looking at the big map in our cubicle and discussing options of where to go and by the end, the destination was Scotland. With the general destination now set it was time to determine where and when. Over the course of the next few months it evolved from Glasgow to Inverness and then one fine day Lee said, “hey, why don’t we ride up to John O’ Groats?” At first the idea didn’t quite register as to why in the hell anyone would want to ride up to the top of nowhere but, after some thought, the hamster powered dimly lit light bulb in my mind flickered and remembrances of Charley and Ewan’s starting point in the Long Way Down played across the back of my mind like an old 8mm film that had past its time and flickered a lot. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/blink.gif) (IMG:style_emoticons/default/blink.gif)

So I thought to myself, sure, why the hell not? I hear the country is beautiful and they speak English…of a sort. Now what? Oh yeah, I guess ‘we’(which really means ‘I’) should plan a route up and a route down. This would also lend itself to an ever changing plan of attack with no rhyme or reason as the only input I really got from Lee was, ‘dude, I just wanna ride.’ Gee thanks bro, you’re about as helpful as financial advice from Madoff. Oh yeah, we also settled on 10 to 20 May as our target date for the trip and no, we didn’t realize we were leaving on Mother’s day until later on.

I will have to say though that Lee did insist that there were at least two things he wanted to see and visit, Ace Café in London and Stonehenge. I was a bit worried about Stonehenge as he kept referencing Pagan rituals and furry goatskin pants…At six plus feet tall that would be a curious site to see.

Goatskin pants aside, we had also decided that we would visit a friend of mine up in Warwick to have a look at his 1920s era British motorcycle then visit the National Transport Museum in Coventry where Charley Boorman’s bike is supposedly on display. Since our interest was primarily on riding in Scotland we sorta decided to keep to the main roads on up towards Glasgow before disembarking from the ‘M’ series highways to the smaller country roads.

The original plan also called for a trip up to Bastogne, Belgium then across Northern France to the coast and then north to Calais. I then set to work using Google Map as my planning tool and using the terrain and satellite feature with the photos option flipped on and off intermittently to develop a first draft plan. Once I had a draft I posted our route to my Vulcan Drifters Owners Group UK (VDOG) to get some feedback and sent it off to my friend Alan in Warwick as well. Several things happened when I did this, Alan was reminded by his wife that the time we were coming they would be in Spain watching a formula one race and several members of my VDOG UK group offered some suggested changes as well as lodging for us.

After several discussions with Lee and route changes based on feedback as well as input into Google to gauge riding time and overall trip impact, we axed Bastogne and the country roads through France. Instead, we opted to avoid the toll roads in France and make it to Dover on day one of the trip with a stay in Dover that night. In case you’re wondering, Stuttgart, Germany to Calais France via autobahn is approximately 757 KM or 470 MI; reality is we did 500 miles that day with an unintended side trip into Luxembourg but that will come later. We had also decided that we would push on to the southeast perimeter of London if we felt up to in on that first day to buy us some additional time for the next day’s activities.

The other change was that we would cut over to Rhayader, England and take the A470 up through Wales to Conway before pressing on to Scotland. This was recommended by Andy, a VDOG UK member who offered us a place to stay and met us at Stonehenge. We did not stay with Andy but pushed on to Rhayader instead; never the less I did bring Andy a bottle of wine and 4 bottles of Andechs Doppel Boch for his offered hospitality.

Of course, as the Army says, no plan survives first contact and some minor changes would be made along the way but, the initial route was set and our accommodations would be campgrounds and a night at Bongos (yes, I’ll get to Bongos as well).

Now the only thing that remained was to try out my new sissy bar travel luggage and get used to using a GPS. For this we planned several rides whereby I would construct a route using Google then transfer it to my TomTom via a program called TYRE or Track Your Route Everywhere. TYRE allows you to import a route from Google maps, adjust it to suit your needs and save it to an ITN file that the TomTom can pull up as a programmed itinerary. Great little program and it is free.

Several rides later we were comfortable with each others riding styles, use of the GPS and how my bike felt with a full load. Lee tested his panniers and additional load on a business trip to Garmisch from Stuttgart in April as well. So lets meet our intrepid adventurers, get to some pre-trip photos, and close out the first chapter in this little adventure.

Lee on his brand new BMW GS1200
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Yours truly on a vehicle that is actually running as opposed to my 914.
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Finally the first draft load out of the bike with my Riggpack sissy bar system. Final adjustments would be done later to clean it all up.
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The following installments will have much more pictures I promise. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/beerchug.gif)

[stephenaki]

THE FINAL CHAPTER

As with many adventures, an end is imminent; I thought if I just put off writing about it then it would really never end but alas, this tact doesn’t really work. I will admit that JoG was fairly anti-climactic but then I look back at our original plan of only going as far as Glasgow, then Inverness…holy shit! We rode our silly asses all the way up to friggin JoG, Scotland! How cool is that?! OK, yeah, there wasn’t shit there but it was still a blast getting there! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/piratenanner.gif)

So here we are now in Corbridge, England enjoying the overwhelming hospitality of a member of the local constabulary, Bongo, and his family. I think Lee and I were both reluctant to leave but at the same time looking forward to getting home; it was a bit of a war of emotions, at least on my part.

After a late night of lively conversation and mirth and many a beer and couple of glasses of wine later we stumbled off to our beds and promptly impersonated a couple of bears hibernating in the winter. The morning came much later than any other day and I believe we rose somewhere between 0830 and 0900 which was the latest we ever slept on the entire trip.

We stumbled into the kitchen where Bongo looked like an all too irritating alert squirrel (I think it’s the hair), given our still rather lethargic states, and he immediately pressed us for our preference of morning beverage. COFFEEEEEEEEEEEE PUHLEEEEEEEEZEEEEE!! Didn’t take him long and Lee and I sat at the table with a couple of cups of coffee and Bongo producing some cereal and milk then following that up with a more traditional English breakfast. I’d marry the man if I wasn’t already married and he weren’t a man!

After filling our bellies we got cleaned up and loaded up and waited for Chevazon, or Big Dave, as Lee referred to him, so we could head out to visit a couple of sites before the ferry ride back to mainland Europe. Dave promptly showed up at around 1000 on a stock 1500cc Kawi Drifter in the original color my bike used to be, Gooseberry red!

Chev’s bike is the one on the left.
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Chev is also a former member of the constabulary but he recently retired; guess the Brits got wind of us and thought they needed a couple of lawmen to keep Lee and I out of trouble! I think they just wanted to make sure we got on the boat and left!! All packed up, dressed up and were off! First fuel then to Hadrian’s Wall followed by a couple of other spots. Bongo took the lead with Lee riding tail end Charlie.

The day was brisk with intermittent showers as we blasted through the country side towards our first destination. We almost rode by it when Bongo suddenly slammed on the brakes and turned into the parking lot for a Hadrian’s Wall settlement center. I saw the parking lot and settlement and was thinking, ‘hmm, wonder if that is where we are going? Naw, Bongo’s going too fast, he’ll pass…HOLY SHIT! BRAKES!!!!”

I think Lee and Chev were kinda in the same boat as they saw me hit the brakes and make a quick right into the parking lot. Bongo admitted when we stopped that he had almost missed it. So, were here, lets go see some dead Roman shit!

From Left to Right, Bongo, Lee, Me, Chevazon (aka Big Dave)
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Well, that was pretty damn cool, it’s not every day you can stand upon a settlement that was in active use for over 400 years! Of course most of the Romans were probably thinking, ‘who the hell wants to live here, it friggin rains all the damn time!’ We did actually see sun and blue skies and it pretty much stopped raining on us when we departed. So now where too? Hell if I know but it doesn’t really matter, we’re just lemmings following the leader!

SEE! I Told you the sun shined in the UK!
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Next stop, Angel of the North! Angel of the what??? Well, “The Angel of the North is Britain's largest sculpture. It boasts a wingspan of approximately 165 feet and towers approximately 60 feet over the edge of the Great North Forest near Gateshead. The sculpture was made from 200 tons of steel and was assembled on-site in February of 1998,” (http://www.mostly-medieval.com/travels/six8.htm).

As we tool on down the motorway we can see this thing, it is rather large and impressive and…exactly why did someone think this was a good place to put this statue? As both Bongo and Chev would point out, more accidents happen on the stretch of road that you can see the statue from because people who haven’t seen it slow down to look and all the locals try to avoid the ‘gawkers’ who have suddenly slowed down in front of them!

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Nevertheless, we motor up to the parking lot and visiting area to get a better look of this mass of steel with outstretched wings. This time, we don’t nearly miss our stop as Chev is leading us and his pace is a bit more sedate than Bongo’s, or at least I think it was Chev leading?

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Well, now we are running out of time as we are supposed to be at the ferry port by 1400; time to go get some lunch so off we zoom to a small part of Newcastle Upon Tyne that sits next to the ocean. The place kinda reminds me of what I would see if I looked at a picture of Coney Island in New Jersey. We park and lock up the bikes and walk about 50 meters to a small fish and chips shop and go in for lunch before we head off to the ferry.

I will admit that it was the biggest piece of fish we had gotten since being in the UK! Holy crap, it’s larger than a 6 inch sub sandwich! Yeah, we ate it all! It was damn good too! Of course it was during lunch that Chev noted that, ‘our colonial cousins still haven’t got how to use a fork properly.’ Hey! We resemble that remark! Lee said, ‘colonial cousins?’ To which Chev replied, ‘yes, if you were Australian, we’d refer to you as our colonial penal cousins’ or words something to that effect, it’s a bit fuzzy now. Pretty damn funny! And they say the Brits have no sense of humor, sure they do, just look at Bongo’s hair!

Well, it is now nearing 1300 and a bit past so we best be on our way to find the ferry launch; good thing that Chev knows the way cause it was confusing getting there. As we get closer to the port we can see the ferries in the distance. As we pull into the port we first go down to the ‘passenger’ area and get directed back up to the vehicle waiting area. OK, too easy. We pull in and, WOW, lookit all the damn bikes!!!

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Evidently there was a large group of Dutch bikers that were returning to the Netherlands after a bit of a long riding vacation in the UK. There must have been between 50 – 100 bikes, all makes and models and they all turned to look as we pulled up, three 1500cc Drifters and one BMW GS1200. I think it was the sound of my and Bongo’s pipes that drew attention to us as his exhaust was also an aftermarket deal. Chev still had the stock exhaust which is considerably quieter and Lee’s GS is quieter than my daughter’s bicycle!

So we roll up into a small pack of protective Meerkats and we look out amongst the sea of metal, some shiny, some matte, and what do our wandering eyes spy? Hey, is that a midget?! OK, I don’t know the politically correct term so if you don’t like it, fuck off. Yep, there he was, standing…short, a Dutch midget, pygmy, minikin, Lilliputian, man of diminutive stature, vertically challenged biker….You get the picture. Is he riding ‘bitch’ or solo? Damn, he’s riding solo! What’s he riding? Hmm, looks like a Yamaha Virago. OK, did he have to lower it? You can imagine all the questions going through our heads as we are pondering the unique challenges this motorcyclist must have. Well, we did figure it out but before we get to that, pictures!

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Bongo trying out my highway pegs.
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After our rounds of photo taking the call goes out that we are getting ready to board, the Dutch start mounting up and Bongo says, ‘hell! I gotta see ow ee rides that bloody thing!’ Nothing funnier than watching Bongo run out to get a better look of the midget on the bike, kinda like seeing kids gawk in wonder at the big balloon floats at the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade. Sadly for Bongo, he didn’t see how he stopped as the pack rolled up too tight to afford him a view. After a few manly hugs and hand shakes, Lee and I followed the Dutch contingent towards the loading area.

Lee and I did get to see exactly how our diminutive rider got on and off his mount when we rode into the belly of our seagoing beast and watched him as he dismounted and tied his bike down. PLATFORM SHOES! Not just any platform shoes, 4 or 5 inch suckers! They were friggin huge!!! We didn’t get to take a look at his bike but I am pretty sure he had to modify his shift lever, maybe put in a heel shifter?

Well, enough of that, time to tie down the bikes and make our way up top. Lee had the misfortune of having to watch, in a growing panic, the female German motorcyclists struggle with tying their bikes down next to his. He finally thought it wise to assist them so that their rides did not topple on top of his beloved GS. I also gave a hand as there were two of them and one was behind my bike! How damn difficult is it to use a friggin ratchet strap?!! Evidently, too difficult for these two to figure out! Once the bikes were tied down, we grabbed what we needed and made our way through the spider web of straps that tied down the scores of two wheeled machines to find our room. We were leaving beautiful Britain and just a day away from being home.

Waiting to board
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On our Way
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First off, if you travel by ferry and it’s an overnighter, pay the extra money for a decent room. It was hotter than hell in our little economy bunk and the walls are made of paper so you hear your neighbors very well. Other than that, the entertainment was decent with the food and drink decent but a bit pricey. It was probably the easiest day we had to date, less than 50 miles total then sit on a ferry heading across to Amsterdam. Up to this point we had a somewhat of a plan on what we were doing; we really had no plan for what we would do when we hit Amsterdam. We were not due back for at least one more day after we hit the Netherlands but hadn’t done much research on the area. Screw it, we’ll figure it out in the morning.

The morning came with an announcement on the PA system of how far out we were from Amsterdam, time to get up, shower, get some breakfast and then wait to go down, untie the bikes and figure out what we were gonna do next.

The morning was fairly innocuous and we assisted our German friends with untying their bikes as well. Much to my dismay, the rider behind me bumped my rear fender while we waited to get the green light to exit the ferry. Since the sweeping rear fenders on a Drifter are ABS plastic, it was not damaged but I WAS NOT happy with the rider behind me! Oh look, green light! Quick, get me the hell off this boat before the rider decides to see if she can actually damage my bike!

Getting ready to de-rigg the bikes
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Lee gives the ADV Rider Salute!
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Just Waitin to get off the damn boat!!
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It sure is weird driving on the right side of the road after getting used to driving on the left! It almost felt unnatural but, we got over that fairly quickly. After a short consultation, we decide to head towards the center of Amsterdam and take a look around. Easier said than done and the traffic was heavy and not nearly as predictable as German or even British traffic. We got to the center of town, stopped for a short bit and had another discussion. It was at this point that the barn door syndrome kicked in and we decided to just head for the house.

Take a glove off, hit, “Navigate to” and then touch “Home” and off we went out of Amsterdam in search of our way back home. The ride back was akin to our ride to Calais but with less wind, we stopped a couple of times to fuel up but by 2000 hrs, we were home. Our adventure was complete and we had just navigated our way almost three thousand miles from start to finish and this did not include the miles covered while riding the ferry to and back from Britain.

Start
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Finish (2,837miles)
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I glance through the many photos we took on that trip now and reminisce on what a magnificent time we had and all the great people we met along the way. It was a trip of a lifetime and I hope to do additional trips to other places whether in Europe or back in the US in the near future. Eventually, I hope I can do a similar trip with my daughter when she is old enough to ride her own motorcycle. Until then, I’ll just have to drag Lee along on any future ventures!