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.

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.

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


Yours truly on a vehicle that is actually running as opposed to my 914.


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.


The following installments will have much more pictures I promise.

This shouldn't be buried in the sandbox IMHO. Moved to the garage.

Sounds like a pretty cool trip. Shar and I want to do a road trip (much shorter version) in August from Frankfurt. If we're both employed when the time comes around that is...

Let me know when you get ready to go; if you're going to the UK and Scotland I can send you the trip route links and give you some recommendations.

Not going that far actually. Starting in Franfurt since we have friends there. Tentative plan could possibly include something like Switzerland, France, Luxemburg, Belgium and even Nederlands loop kind of affair. If one of us is unemployed, we'll still go since the air fare is already purchaed with miles, but we'll stay with the aforementioned friends in Frankfurt and bum around for a week or so.

In the summer of '97 I drove from Munich to Venice, stayed a week, then back to Munich, a very beautiful trip. Then from Munich to Denmark in one day, not much to see but the German country side, which is green and lush.

Day 1, May 10, 2009, Stuttgart to Dover or...OW MY ASS HURTS!

Well all the planning is complete, arrangements are made and all that is left is to load the bike and head off to Patch Army Barracks in Vaihingen to fuel up and link up with Lee. I had planned on loading up the night before but some last minute changes in my packing precluded me from doing this. Still, it was merely a matter of throwing the Riggpack on the bike and heading out.

0450 and I am awake! The alarm was set for 0500 but I have a habit of always waking a few minutes before my alarm goes off. So, after laying there a couple of minutes, I drag myself out of bed and get in the shower then go down and get something to eat. BIG BOWL of oatmeal and a couple of eggs with some Canadian bacon! I figured I’d need it and, as it turns out, I did.

By 0615 the bike is loaded and I push it to the street before starting her up and heading out. Since I live in a small duplex complex area and my pipes are not exactly quite AND it is 0615 Sunday morning…yeah, need to roll her out to the street where the sound of the bike won’t reverberate off the buildings in my quite little German neighborhood. Mind you, my bike is 692 lbs dry weight, she has half a tank and about 75 lbs of luggage on her due to the wine bottle and 4 bottles of beer. I was sweating before I even got on the bike and was damn glad to feel the cool breeze as I made my way to the installation to fuel up.

What you must understand about me is that I am anally on time! It drives me absolutely bonkers if I don’t get to a destination at a minimum of 10 minutes prior to my scheduled arrival time so I had at least 30 minutes until Lee showed up and we were on our way. So what do you do with that extra time? Well, you pee, you take a picture of your odometer and the loaded bike…you pee again (large cup of coffee for breakfast as well) then, you wait. I’m used to waiting, Army motto is ‘hurry up and wait’ so this was the easy part. So here are the pictures to include the starting mileage on Lee’s bike.

Drifter Odometer


OOOOOOHHHH, AAAAAHHH, MMMMMM...DIGITAL! Lee’s starting mileage.


Hmmm, that looks like a lot of stuff!



By 0700 we were on the road barreling up the A8 to our first refuel stop, Kaiserslautern Germany. The weather was, as the British say, a bit dodgy and it was overcast with a smattering of very light rain up until we got within an hour or so of the Belgium border. The temps were running in the mid 50s and climbed up into the low 60s until we got closer to the coast.

Finally, after months of planning and changing plans we were on our way. I remember the elation and excitement that Ewing McGregor exhibited as he and Charley headed out during both their jaunts and I embraced this exuberance wholeheartedly! I was also thankful that we had not invested in bike to bike communication units as Lee would have gotten tired of me screaming WOOHOO in my helmet and making up silly songs as we careened down the autobahn.

Careened is probably a very accurate description as I glanced down at my speedometer and I was doing 90 miles an hour! I glanced in my mirror and saw that Lee was a hundred meters behind me and keeping up so, I just kept pushing on.

We probably made it to Kaiserslautern in record time and I also came to the conclusion that if I didn’t want to refuel every hour or so I would have to cut down my speed to a more reasonable pace so I didn’t run through my gas like a drunk through a cheap bottle of wine. Lee on the other hand had plenty of mileage left given his GS was much more fuel efficient and 10 years younger than my 1999 Drifter. To the Drifter’s credit however, I didn’t need to refill the oil like Lee did as he evidently got the one that liked to burn oil when you drove it hard.

So, here is a snapshot of our route to Dover; as you can see, we traversed Germany and Belgium then cut south to Calais. Why? Cause were cheap and didn’t want to have to screw around with the toll roads in France of which, there are many.

So here is a snapshot of the route we took, as you can see, we stay out of France most of the way.


So, to keep a more fuel efficient pace, I brought her down to 70 miles per hour and we made our way from Kaiserslautern to our next fuel stop near Trier…or at least that was the plan. As we are approaching noon I am getting a bit hungry and the bike is starting to run low on fuel so I figured we would stop at the next parking area and I would plug in fuel stations to the TomTom and see if we could find an Esso in Germany before we cross into Belgium. In the distance I see what is clearly a parking area, hooray! Gotta pee too! As we get closer I also see the sign that says…Welcome to Belgium! Oh crap or auf Deutsch…Scheisse!

Oh well, shit happens. So we pull over and take a break to pee and I start looking up gas stations on the GPS. I figured we would see places to eat along our route to find fuel. As chance would have it, there were several other bikers there taking a break who were from Holland and were headed home. We struck up a cordial conversation and as I went to go water a concrete barrier they all gathered around my ride to worship its awesomeness and bask in the glory that was the dragon(yes, another delusion of mine). Of course not only did Lee let them know that it was what he called the ‘village people’ paint job but, he ensured he got photos of the gathered worshipers and me peeing on the concrete loading dock. My photos of him were less entertaining. For the record, anyone that admires my bike is officially termed what Lee calls a ‘leg humper.’

Oh, look at der beautiful Drifter..aahh poor BMW, you must feel so inadequate…



Sometimes…ya just gotta pee!






Hmmm, the GS doesn’t look nearly as loaded down...




I wound up choosing a gas station that was about 12 miles from our little border crossing. What I didn’t realize was exactly WHERE it was in relation to our stop; I had thought it was just up the way in Belgium. Nope. So off we go to find this fuel stop and after about 2 miles we turn off the main highway and start down some back roads. By this time the weather is absolutely beautiful with brilliant sunshine that sets off the vibrant colors adorning the rolling hills of western Belgium. Not sure where the place is but we really don’t care as the roads are graceful and curvy and the scenery is beautiful. Aaahh, this will be great ride to Calais if the rest of Belgium is as scenic as this.

Now, remember in our first installment how the total distance from our start point to Calais is 470 miles? Well, our little side trip to find fuel and a place to eat is what added the additional 30 miles to make the first day a 500 mile affair. Nevertheless, we are enjoying the break in pace and to our complete surprise we come across a sign that simply says…Luxembourg. Damn! We drove into Luxembourg to get gas! Not a big issue except the gas station didn’t have any souvenir stickers we could slap on our helmets; guess were just gonna have to go back!

After finding our station and tanking up we set out to find food; first place looks a bit pricey and we decide that the management and patrons would probably not appreciate a couple of bikers in their establishment. So we backtrack along the same route and cross back over into Belgium and find a little road side Imbiss (fast food place) to have a bite to eat. Lee takes this opportunity to call his wife and inform her that I can’t navigate my way out of a wet paper bag and took us to Luxembourg for gas! He was still mad at me for telling him he couldn’t take his goatskin pants to Stonehenge.

Well after a fulfilling and inexpensive lunch its back on the bikes and onward to Calais. You know that feeling of elation when we first started? The thought that this would be great if the scenery at the start of Belgium continued to stay that way? Yeah, those both went away as we got further into Belgium and the terrain flattened, the sun really kicked in the heat and we realized the Belgians are absolutely horrible drivers! We went from rising hills and gentle curves where everyone stayed in the center or right lane unless passing to flat, hot, straight and anarchy in motion. My brother states that the definition of anarchy is a parking lot, I beg to differ, I would opine that the definition of anarchy is the A3/E40 highway in Belgium near Brussells and the rest of the way to the French and Belgian border.

We wondered if it would ever end! It did but before it did nature threw us a new challenge that would set the tone for most of the trip… wind. Strong, gusty, push you all over the road type wind. Evidently and unbeknownst to us at the start of the trip, there was a strong pressure system pushing down from Iceland that was keeping the clouds and rain at bay but bringing high winds that were gusting up to 30+ miles an hour. This would be the dominating weather for the rest of our venture and I would contend that we rode close to 2300 miles in heavy winds for most of our trip.

A few bits of information for everyone; when taking the Calais to Dover or vice versa ferry, book ahead! We discovered that the advertised price of approximately 30 Euros for the ferry on the P&O website only applied if you booked ahead. We wound up paying 68 Euros a piece for the ferry trip over. They do supply a tie down for your bike that you route over your seat to keep it secured to the deck.

Nice big pad goes over the seat and under the strap to protect your ride.


You can pay for any food or drink in Euros however, you will receive change in British Sterling if you are traveling from Calais to the UK. This works the opposite if you are going from the UK to Calais and finally, they have beer! In reality, beer always makes it better. Oh yeah and one more addendum to using the ferry…you have to buy your ticket BEFORE you go through the border control booth; more about that in a minute.

In truth we started to hit the winds as we got closer to the coast so thought it was just because we were near the ocean. The winds kept up on the other side of the channel but we again attributed this to the proximity of the ocean. As we pulled up to the pier at Calais we saw a sign that said “tickets.” Well, the only other ferry I have used was from the Island of Sicilia Italy to Italy’s mainland and there you pay at the booth as you drive up. We would learn that this is not the case here.

So we get in line at the first booth which happens to be the border control/passport booth. The young British woman at the booth checks our passports then asks us some questions and we have to show her our military ID since we live in Germany. She stamps the passport and we head for the second booth thinking this is where we buy the ticket. Well, much to our chagrin, we should have followed the sign that said “tickets.” So the nice young shiny headed gentlemen points us to where we need to go and informs us to buy a ticket then go back through passport control and THEN come and see him again.

Aaah, the things one learns when he knows so little. After acquiring our tickets we felt it would be prudent if we went back to the same passport booth to avoid confusion. As I pull up to the young British woman she gives me the, ‘why the hell are you back here again’ look followed immediately by the ‘oh, never mind, I know why, you’re a moron’ look. With tail tucked between my legs I smile and say, ‘yeah, we were stupid, but we got better!’ (yes, I am a Monty Python, Quest for the Holy Grail fan) She grins and just waves me through. As I stop about 25 meters up Lee is having a short conversation with our British friend and I am positive it is something about wet paper bags, navigation and my inability to read signs. I would claim it was the language barrier but the sign was in English.

The final bit of the trip was a bit anti-climatic with our loading up on the ferry then transitioning to driving on the left side of the road and finding our campsite. We had toyed with the idea of continuing on up towards London but decided instead to get up early instead of trying to ride in the wind, and eventual dark on the opposite side of the road. This and the fact that we were pretty damn tired and all we really wanted was a beer which we found at the Kings Head pub down the way. Before we made off in search of liquid nutrients though, we gave Malcolm a call to let him know we were in the UK and planned on meeting him in the morning at 0800 at the Ace Café.

We never did find the campsite manager and departed the next day leaving 14 British pounds wrapped in a piece of paper with a note and my contact email address on the site managers shoe mat. Since I have never received an email I am assuming we paid the appropriate amount. So here are the photos of our ferry trip as well as some of our first campsite at Kingsdown on the white cliffs of Dover.

Waiting for the ferry.




Damn! I’m sooooo glad I can get off this damn thing for a while!


Tank bag? Check! Ass pad? Check! Sub-Atomic Blaster to shoot Belgian drivers?!...

Oh Look! There be the ferry!


OK, now that were on board, lets tie her down and go find a beer!


Dude! Aren’t you done yet? I hear a beer calling my name!


Shut up! Can’t you see I’m not 10% smarter than the single strap I’m working with???!!


Ooops, almost forgot to turn of the GPS!


Bikes are locked down, time to get out the good camera for some pics!


Some pictures of the port and out leaving it.




Lee contemplating life and whether or not his ass has callouses on it.


Hey! I think were doing the annual ferry race! Damn, were last!!


Lee, get up there and see if they’ll let you drive so we can win this race!


BYE BYE CALAIS!


HELLO ENGLAND! Pictures of our first campsite at Kingsdown near Dover.
This patch of asphalt is within 50 meters of the facilities.





See the wall on the right? Perfect windbreaker!





Time to find a beer.


Next installment? Learning to split lanes i.e. drive between cars in traffic in London traffic!

I assume you'll be in the Stuttgart area to see the Porsche museum. If you will be around let me know when and I'll shoot you my number so you can give me a call.

That's a must see for this trip regardless of financial status. I'll let you know...

Simple tip, Monty Python, do not mention it, we all got over it years ago. Why is is it that everybody still thinks we think about Monty Python... it is done finished the end... no more

When Douglas Adams died, we got over it too... Send new talent. We will wait impatiently.

Personally love Monty Python and Benny Hill; I, and I don't think the rest of the US population, don't believe that it is all you think about. Yes, they are done but their humor will live on and I will continue to reference them during this discourse if the situation lends itself to it.

OK, so it was sunrise that the previous picture was taken at Dover as Lee pointed out to me. I was writing the damn thing after a ¼ bottle of Jack Daniels Reserve and was a bit fuzzy!

What Lee failed to mention is that we took a moment before heading off to the pub the previous evening to give Malcolm a call and set up a meet at the Ace Café for 0800 the next morning; this is what drove the early rise and departure.

As the day began to lighten at about 0430 our merry misfits were already stirring from within their nylon man caves and debating the pros and cons of crawling out of a warm sleeping bag to run to the toilet in the cold to pee. The sleeping bag initially won but Mother Nature tends to be a bit persistent and we both finally started moving about and tearing our site down by about 0500 this fine cold and clear morning.

The best part was the wind had subsided to a brisk breeze versus the wrath of the Anemoi (Greek wind gods) we had experienced in France and when we first got to Dover. It was our unabashed hope, however futile this may have been, that it would continue this trend for the rest of the trip.

By 0600 we were on our way to find a gas station to tank up and were actually on the road to London by 0615. Before we go any further, lets take a look at the map shall we? This is our intended route for today with the planned stops for touristy things.


What is of particular import is the fact that London, in particular the Ace Café, is approximately 2 hours from Dover. Put on your thinking caps, on the road by 0615, two hours to get there…Monday morning…what time does work normally start???? I didn’t factor this into the plan as I assumed, incorrectly, that the M25 ‘ring’ would not be that busy since I thought it was a bypass route. Tells you how much I know about the UK and the London area.

Be that as it may, we are both glad that we decided to spend the night in Dover; it made running the M25 gauntlet on now the LEFT side of the road easier to deal with. Although the route would have been much clearer in the evening our sore hind quarters and tired minds would not have adapted to the change in left side riding versus right as well and we would have hit London in the dark.

As the afore-presented map displays, the plan for the day was ambitious to say the least, it was made more so by the London traffic and Vulturnus doggedly sending his unlucky winds of the East to attempt to interrupt our course. Gratefully, we would discover, the British DO know how to drive lending the traffic to a very orderly procession of steel that was predictable and easy to adapt too.

For the most part the winds were only challenging for about an hour; the closer we got to London the greater the number of buildings which would significantly hinder the winds. Now the challenge became the increasing traffic flow and the inevitable...'Queue.'

We refer to it as a Stau in Germany and traffic jam in the states but it matters not what colloquial term you assign to it, the outcome is the same and, traffic comes to a grinding halt. At first it wasn’t a big deal as we were still running on time but as it got later in the morning I began to get concerned.

As we sat in the queue we were consistently passed by British bikers as they zoomed through the traffic and ‘split’ the lanes screaming willy nilly between the stopped traffic. Remember the day 1 comment about me being anal about time hacks? Well after sitting in traffic at a couple of spots and watching the Brits split the lanes, I turned to Lee and said something to the effect of, ‘Screw this, were going in!’ I think Lee heard something else not sure what but he followed me anyway pausing only briefly to cuss me out in English and any other language he was familiar with.

Now, I don’t split traffic, I didn’t get ‘taught’ this skill and it is illegal in most US states. Doesn’t mean I haven’t done it but, I do have a fairly large cruiser so need a good amount of space. Lee on the other hand has NEVER split traffic until this trip. His biggest worry was the two boxes hanging off the sides of his GS; he didn’t want to clip anyone with those suckers! I just have an engine crash bar with fold down highway pegs that I kicked up for this bit of maneuvering. The other advantage I have is I run BUB Big Willy exhaust pipes on a V-twin motor; yeah, you can hear me coming! As Lee will attest, people began to pull left and right to make way for me; I felt like Moses parting a steel sea!

So we get through a rather long queue and we race off again when it clears only to run into another one and this time I stop and wait for Lee to pull up. Well, that was exciting; don’t think I will do that again as I sorta lost Lee a bit in the last one. As Lee pulls up I mention that I don’t think we’ll do that again and Lee says, “Why? I now know how to do it now.”

OK! In that case, off we go again! Several queues later we are finally off the M25 and close to the Ace. There was really only one bit that caused consternation as a large blue truck in the center and a panel van on the right made a rather small gap for me to slip between. When Lee got to the gap the wagon actually pulled left and closed it leaving Lee stuck behind him. Not sure whether this was intentional or not but Lee forced his way up the gap and the van driver decided that he best pull back over to the right to let the crazy motorcyclist pass.

I have read recently that ‘filtering’ is legal in the UK and there is an ambiguous line between filtering and lane splitting which is considered illegal. As such, British bikers split lanes as a matter of course.

As Lee already mentioned, my GPS did not give a very accurate location for the Ace Café but I did have enough sense to stop and ask for directions. Well, we were close and here are the photos to prove we where there.

WOOHOO! I'M HERE!


DUUUUDE...CHECK IT OUT!



IF I SQUAT DOWN ENOUGH HE'LL LOOK ALMOST AS TALL AS ME!


First order of business was breakfast as we were both famished the above pictures were after we ate. The Ace is not a very big place and it was actually nice that there wasn’t a whole lot going on that day as we had no problems finding a seat and experiencing for the first time a traditional British breakfast. I think we both miss this now that we are back in Deutschland.

Well after a pleasant breakfast and some lighthearted conversation with Malcolm it was time to head off to Stonehenge! I called Andy to let him know we were on our way and we mounted up with Malcolm in the lead on his white 800 Drifter. Malcolm split off eventually and Lee and I rolled on to Stonehenge.

SAY HELLO TO MALCOLM SO RICO...SUAVE...OLD...Wait so am I, never mind.


Nothing really exciting or comical about the hour and a half ride to Stonehenge; it was actually somewhat pleasant as the hills and greenery helped to block out some of the wind. Shortly after we got there and did our 2nd circle around the parking lot, Andy showed up with his wife Paula on his yellow GS1200 and we managed to snag a spot that a couple of cars had just pulled out of and were side by side. SWEET!

First order of business, divest my luggage of the bottle of wine and 4 bottles of beer! Since Andy’s GS is set up for touring he had plenty of room to secure my delivery. Next, lets go get some pictures! What?! You want 9 British pounds for us to go in and look at some big rocks?! I think we’ll just stay outside of the fence and stick our lenses through the chain link to get the pics. So, here they are! NO, we didn’t let Lee dance around it in furry goatskin chaps but I know he was doing this in his head because he would randomly get this glazed look on his face and a rather disturbing grin...

IN MY MIND I'M DANCING...NOT GONNA TELL YOU WHAT I'M WEARING...





A bit smaller than expected but still quite fascinating in my opinion. After our little walk around we went back to the bikes to have some coffee and chat whereby Lee began to drool over all the add-ons that Andy had on his GS. To be honest, I was a bit jealous myself as Andy’s bike was set up quite nicely. I hear that they have lowered the seat height for vertically challenged people like myself; if I can put my feet on the ground I may be convincing the wife to let me get one!



ANDY'S THE ONE SITTING ON THE SLOPE


So after our coffee and bullshit session we decide to head out and Andy tells me to take the lead. I loaded up the route to Coventry into the TomTom and off we went. Andy would ride with us for a bit then split off as Malcolm had done. At this point I discovered a quirk in TomTom that took us on a route that would cause us to miss our goal of seeing the National Transport Museum in Coventry.

It may be due to the use of the One XL version of TomTom vice an actual motorcycle style GPS. Regardless, if you load a route from TYRE into the TomTom, either choose shortest route or fastest route if prompted. I chose, ‘avoid highways’ which was a mistake and took us on every back road it could find between Stonehenge and Coventry. Andy would correct me later and tell that those weren’t back roads but main roads...OK, maybe in the UK they are but us Muricans call them back roads! I had told Andy to take the lead if I was going the wrong way and he finally did; eventually he pulled over to a parking area to discuss our route as the time was getting late.

So we weigh the options to get to Coventry and we choose to get back on the M4 to make up the lost time. Andy points us in the right direction and off we go; he would follow shortly but Paula took the time to get her camera out to take pictures of us as we rode down the highway.

DAMN THAT BIKE LOOKS A BIT OVERLOADED!


CIRCUS BEAR ON A MOPED!


About 30 minutes down the road Andy points to the direction we need to head and we eventually part company. At about 1530 we stop to eat and I want to re-evaluate our options on the rest of the trip up to Coventry as time is quickly slipping away and the wind has returned with a vengeance to harass us on our journey.

Since the museum closes at 1700 and we were still about an hour out we decided to skip the museum. Maybe next time; off to Rhayader and our second campsite! Well now, after we got off the main highways and away from the multiple traffic circles the roads were beautiful! In fact, I was having so much fun that I failed to pay attention to my mileage and gas gauge!

So, about 20 miles our from Rhayader, we pull off into a picnic area with a little sign for information so I can plug in a gas station to the GPS. Didn’t quite expect to take the Drifter off road but didn’t have much of a choice as the ‘pull off’ was more of a short gravel road up a hill to a picnic area.



HI HONEY! WHAT? OH..YEAH..STEVE'S AN ASSHAT!


ABOUT THIS OFF ROAD SHIT!


This would be a preview of some of the country we would be riding through for the rest of the trip. After a check to make sure the gas station was in the direction of Rhayader, I found one that was about 7 miles in the direction of travel and we headed back down the gravel track to get some fuel.

After filling up we continued on and leisurely rolled into town. Rhayader is a very quaint and unassuming place with plenty of shopping, restaurants and pubs to meet everyone’s interest.

The campsite, Wyeside Caravan and Camping, was easy to find and the reception was very helpful and friendly. The site itself is very well located and less than a 1/10 of a mile from the town center and all the eateries.

The camping area was very clean and well kept with great facilities for laundry, toilets and showers. The showers were an especially welcome luxury since our last shower was either the morning of our departure or the night before our departure from Germany. I would recommend this campsite to anyone on the forum that is in the Rhayader,Powys area. Here are the pictures of the campsite we stayed in.


















After setting up and cleaning up, we headed off to find a pub. Since we had such a late lunch neither of us were hungry but we had plenty of room to try three of the local draughts and they were damn fine ones at that!

Amusingly, an elderly gentlemen came over and asked if we were the ones who just pulled up to the campsite on the BMW and cruiser. Lee said yes and he asked where we were headed. Lee said John O' Groats and he looked at him and said...'Why?' Of course the answer was...because we can.

We talked to him a bit more as he rode quite a bit when he was younger and then he went back to sit with his wife and, as he got close to her we heard him say something to the effect of... 'they're going to John O' Groats from Germany because they can!'

The night we would find would be a cold one, if you travel in this area and Scotland and plan on camping, invest in a good sleeping bag that is rated for cold weather in the 30s and 40s (Fahrenheit). I woke up at about 0300 to pee and actually put my riding jacket on with the liner to fight the cold! Other than that, I slept like a rock.

So ends the 2nd days journey; the next installment…journey to the land where air turns to water.

When you went north from Stonehenge you drove through Devizes and right past the company where I work. In fact the office I use looks out onto the A361 and I could have waved as you went by. Beautiful countryside, and great motorcycle roads. You may be getting wind, but you're also getting an awful lot of sun. Well done.

We were quite fortunate in that just about the entire way up to JoG it was sunny. Beautiful area Wales; just gotta keep an eye out for errant sheep!

For some reason after the first day in the UK we continued to wake between 0500 and 0600. This day was no exception and by 0600 we were up and moving despite the chill in the air. It was probably the chill that made us move a bit quicker to stay warm! Today would be an easy day, no highways, no crazy traffic, no lane splitting and NO TIME HACKS! We basically had all day to do this leg of the journey and we were in no particular hurry.

Since we were packed and out by 0700 we knew not much would be open so planned on riding about an hour then finding someplace to eat. We would spend the majority of the day on the A470 that goes up the middle of Wales towards the coastal town of Conwy.

Informational note, the Wyeside campground office opens at about 0830 and you pay a 5 GBP deposit for the gate key. We failed to coordinate our early leave time so forfeited our deposit. If you stay here and plan on being out early, make sure you talk to the management about it!
The morning was clear with absolutely beautiful blue skies! Saddle up, drop off our gate key and off we went. Since we tanked up a mere 8 miles from the campsite we were good on fuel and took off at a leisurely pace.

The views as we made our way along the route were spectacular with lush green hills punctuated by swathes of yellow flowers and spots of white that were the numerous sheep in the fields. We rode till about 0800 and as we came into the town of Mallwyd I spotted a sign that said lodging and food at the Brigands Inn! Woohoo! I’m hungry! Well, the inn didn’t look open but we pulled in and I got off the bike and went in to see if they were serving breakfast. YEP! SCORE!

I have been a bit remiss in not providing the links to some of the places we stayed at so, before we go any further, here are the links for the campsites we stayed at in Dover and Rhayader.

http://kingsdowncamping.co.uk/ - Kingsdown Campsite near Dover.
wyesidecamping.co.uk – Wyside caravan and campsite, Rhayader, Powys

OK, now, on to breakfast! And a mighty fine breakfast it was! If you’re in the Mallwyd area in Wales and want a place to stay or eat, here is their website: brigandsinn.com. Absolutely lovely wait staff, very accommodating and friendly and great food to boot. Ever notice how food is so much better when you’re chilled and hungry? One of the older ladies on staff was born and raised in Ireland and she and Lee had a wonderful conversation about the area as Lee had visited Ireland a month or so back. The ladies who operated the Inn were fantastic and in truth we did not meet a single person that we didn’t like during our entire trip.



Feeling warmed up and satiated we got back on our metal steeds and headed North along the 470 towards Conwy with our eventual destination being Keswick. Lee has already pointed out how beautiful the scenery was and here are some pictures we took along the way.






Old Castle in the middle of nowhere...


HEY! LOOKIT ME!!



Now I must make an observation about English and Scottish warning signs at this point as we have now ridden through some gently curving roads and come across a standard sign that we see a lot of here in Germany.

In Germany we slow down, push and lean hard and have a grand ole time tearing up the turn! This is not the case in the UK. No, in the UK we would learn that this means, ‘hey, no sweat, it’s really a very gentle curve that you can actually throttle up on…’ It didn’t take me long to start screaming at the signs loudly, ‘COME ON YOU F------ P---- SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!! YOU AIN’T GOT SHIT!!!’ In fact I don’t think we encountered one set of turns that this sign forewarned of that warranted anything more than a dull yawn.

On the other hand, you really gotta watch out for the BIG GODDAMN ARROWS ON CURVES! Those don’t come with nice little warning signs…no, you just see them in the distance and all of a sudden say, ‘OH SHIT!’ as you brake, throttle down and push hard so as not to run off the road or into the other lane!


When you see these in the distance…be prepared for a sharp curve…or two…sometimes through a narrow stone gate!

OK, now..where was I? Oh yeah… yes, the wind was still with us but the mountainous terrain helped to quell some of its righteous anger and made it easier to deal with as we made our way through the Welsh countryside. Let’s take a look at the days route shall we?

First portion of the days ride.


Second portion of the days ride.


Well, as we got close to Conwy (spelled and pronounced Conway in English) we spied a mighty set of spires in the distance that looked pretty interesting. The GPS said to go on through the traffic circle and turn right in the opposite direction of the spires to get to Kesswick. Instead, I pulled into a gas station and had a talk with Lee about the castle we saw. It wasn’t a long conversation, we decided to go check out the castle and proceeded to look for signs to what it might be and just sort of navigated in the general direction.

It didn’t take much time to find the castle and as we followed the signs to a parking area we were pleasantly surprised at what this would present us with. As we neared the castle we had to pass over a long bridge and then wound our way through a huge and quite majestic stonework gate into the walled city of Conwy.

If someone had taken a picture of me they would have seen a big grin as I rolled under the gate saying to myself, ‘this is so f------cool!’ Around the corner we went and into a parking area that was a mere 100 meters from the actual castle itself.

We parked, got our valuables and off we went to explore Conwy castle!

Bridge on the left is what we rode over to the castle




View from atop a tower!


Inside Conwy Castle








After our little tour Lee got himself a very nice Wales sticker that he put on one of his panniers. I unfortunately couldn’t find a similar one that would not take up half my helmet. I am hoping to find one in September as I’ll be back in the area with my family on our way to the Autumn VDOG UK rally in Somerset. We'll have just come in via ferry to Hollyhead and will be driving the opposite direction I rode on this day.

Luckily for us, our parking spot was right next to a little food stand and it was fish and chips for the both of us! Great food, just took a bit to get it out to us, no worries not like we were in a rush! Besides, the day was just beautiful so we sat out and enjoyed the sun while waiting for our food.

Feeling fat and happy we mounted back up and headed off to Keswick going around Liverpool and then along the M6 for a short bit before breaking off again and heading up into the English Lake district. If you have never been to the Lake District in England it is simply a beautiful area! I am extremely jealous of the lucky Brits that live in this area!

I wish we had gotten the opportunity to get some photos of the area but the roads just didn’t provide good places to stop and get photos without putting ourselves in jeopardy of being run over. There is just no description I could provide that would do the scenery justice. If you truly want to see it, you will just have to go and visit the area!

As we got into Keswick we actually turned off right before we got to town in search of a campground called Castlerigg. It wasn’t too difficult to find as it was off the main road into Keswick and there were well marked signs. We pulled in, parked the bikes and went to the reception area to have a chat with the owner. She was a nice woman but a bit strange. There were also a lot of rules and there was no convenient restaurant near the campground. No big deal, we’d just drop our load and head into town for a bite to eat. We paid our 7 GBP each and then scoped out the area to set up our tents.

The area was well maintained and clean and already had quite a few caravans and tents up. We found a spot then went back down and got the bikes. Now, when we were talking to the owner and when we were scoping out a spot the wind was only mildly blowing. Once we pulled the bikes up and got off them the wind decided that it was time to get us back for hiding behind the hills and mountains!

I pulled out my tent while Lee sat on his bike and stoically watched my attempts to roll out the tent and fight the wind. I was so focused on not letting my tent blow away that I am sure I missed the look of mirth in Lee’s eyes as he took bets in his head on whether or not the tent would become a kite and carry me away. I fought the wind for about 3 minutes and then looked up at Lee and could tell that he had the same thought…hotel.

So, I rolled the tent back up, stuffed it back into my roll bag, got on the bike and we rode back down to the reception desk. After a short conversation with the owner, she gave us our money back and off we went in search of a hotel. The owner quite understood and didn’t blame us given we were considerably more exposed to the wind than the other guests with caravans or cars.

As we rolled down the hill into Keswick we saw a number of very well groomed establishments of which most looked like they cost more than our cheap asses wanted to pay. If you’re on a romantic sojourn in the area of Kesswick you will find a number of attractive bed and breakfasts in the area; we however, were not so inclined to partake of these dandy accommodations. At the bottom of the hill we saw a small simple looking building that had not only rooms but a pub in the same building. It was called the Twa Dogs Inn. Looked like a winner so we stopped and got a room with a couple of beds for 30 GBP each. I couldn’t find a website for them but if you do a search on ‘Twa Dogs Inn’ you will get quite a few hits with reviews.



The room was clean and best of all…NO WIND! The pub was great with some outstanding local beers and very good food. The host, I think he was also the owner, was very friendly and the place just had a great atmosphere. I believe we tried about 4 of the beers they had on tap so when it was time to turn in for the night we slept very soundly. I would recommend this place to any travel worn and weary riders that want a no frills, clean place to stay with great food and drink.

So ended our 3rd day on the road; great scenery, beautiful weather (despite the wind) and great people; you just couldn’t ask for a better day!

Next up… welcome to Scotland boys!

Day 4, 13 May 09, To Scotland we GO!

This is it, this is the day that we cross into the land of the Scot! You know the northern portion of Great Britain where the Romans built a big wall to try to keep the suckers out! Not sure why, nicest people we ever met on the other side of Hadrians wall!

The morning found us quietly as possible loading up the bikes as we made our way down the hall and stairs from our room in the Twa Dogs Inn. As with the previous mornings we were up by 0600 and getting things in order. Since we didn’t have to tear down a campsite we moved at a more leisurely pace.

Coming out of the Inn we could see the tops of trees swaying a bit but not too badly and it was our hope that the wind would let us move along unmolested. Our location was deceiving as the buildings and trees around us very effectively blocked the wind so we felt nary a breeze as we left the sleepy little town of Kesswick. So what was our route today to be? Let’s take a look shall we?



As you can see, we were to continue up the A76 to Gourock and catch a ferry over to Dunoon. Well, the GPS took us east instead to Penrith then up the M74 into Glasgow before cutting over to Gourock. Not as nice a ride but I didn’t realize it had done this until later on. I think the fact that I was hungry had me concentrating on someplace to eat vice the route we were on. We did eventually pull off into one of the rest stops on the M74 and have ourselves a proper English breakfast.

As we continued along the M74 our hearts were light and our pulses quick as we got ever closer to Scotland and at the town of Carlisle we were there. No kilt clad Scotsman playing bagpipes, no cheering crowds, no scantily clad women offering us Hagis and Ale, just a large sign on the left side of the highway saying, “Welcome to Scotland.” It was as if the introduction to a book was now over and the real story ready to begin. This was, after all, our primary goal, ride our motorcycles in Scotland! Everything prior to this was just a precursor to the real adventure or, so we had originally envisioned.

The reality was that up until this point it was truly an adventure just to get this far! Between the butt busting 500 mile run into gale force winds, lane splitting maneuvers in London and beautiful vistas in Wales you really couldn’t call our first 3 days a prelude to the main story. No, the adventure began at day one and truly never let up.

Carlisle was just a waypoint in the adventure and a sign that yes, we were actually going to ride our happy blistered butts all the way up to John O’ Groats and back! We did learn that just maneuvering through Glassgow was an adventure in itself as the sun shone full upon the GPS making it tricky to see. Were it a real motorcycle GPS this may not have been an issue but, it wasn’t. It was my cheapo TomTom OneXL stuffed in an Aquabox mounted on my handlebars; not the best solution but it worked and I just had to work around its drawbacks.

At least we didn’t spend much time in Glasgow and on the main road as we got to the north end of the city we quickly departed the main highways and shortly found ourselves riding into rolling hills and gentle curves indicative of the area. Westerly, our route took us through a couple of towns and eventually, we reached the Gourock ferry pier. If you recall the last picture of my previous post you saw the picture of a triangular standard with the Scottish Lion Rampant in its center. The Lion Rampant is part of the Scottish Royal Standard but what is more important, if you noticed, is the fact that the damn thing is stretched almost completely out to the left! Why? Yep, you guessed it, WIND! It found us again and this time it wouldn’t let us out of its sight! But enough of that, here are the pictures of our little ferry ride to the quaint town of Dunoon aboard the Saturn.









A Few views from the ferry




Prior to our boarding we had met a gentleman who talked to us about our bike trip and where we were headed. He espoused that Oban was his favorite place in all of Scotland and that we would enjoy it a lot. He also quipped that normally the weather is horrible and the going saying is, ‘you shoulda been here last week, it was beautiful then’ but that it was the exact opposite in our case. No, he said, ‘last week was horrible! Good thing you’re here this week!’ We would find out later during the ride over that he was with his father who, after coming over to admire our bikes, said he once owned a Royal Enfield and then asked if we had room to take him with us! Marvelous people.

Dunoon is quite an interesting little town and, had we a bit more time, I think I would have liked to have explored it a bit more. However, we felt it best that we press on and we bid Dunoon adieu gently throttling on for Oban. The scenery was not overpoweringly dramatic until we turned west and began our trek along the different Lochs in the area. The hills quickly became small mountains and the views absolutely spectacular with the sun shimmering off the water and the lush green of the surrounding country side wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Along the way we would encounter pockets of vibrant colors, pink, red, violet and yellow as swathes of flowers along the hillsides or well maintained gardens from residents along the route came into view.

Regretfully, it wasn’t until we were motoring north along Loch Fyne that we had the opportunity to stop near Saint Catherines to get some photos of the scenery. Here are some of those pictures, as you will see, there is a town across the loch. That would be Inveraray and we would be making a stop there shortly.



[img]http://i273.photobucket.com/albums/jj217/stephenaki/Scotland%20Ride/IMG_1204.jpg[img]



The road we were on



What do my eyes spy? Is that a spire from a castle?


And is this a tower that overlooks said castle?


As we stood there admiring the view I had spied the afore pictured castle in the distance and, after a glance at the map Lee had, was pleased to see that we would be passing by this intriguing edifice. Since we were not in a big hurry we decided that we would stop to check it out and if it was open to the public or not. As luck would have it, it was.

This impressive edifice is Inveraray Castle and it is the seat of the chief of Clan Campbell the Duke of Argyll and located on the northwestern side of Loch Fyne. It is both a tourist destination and the home to the current Duke of Argyll. If you’re interested in visiting the castle you can find information at their website, http://www.inveraray-castle.com/. The castle architecture is quite unique and the interior was very interesting with a mix of modern day decorations that accentuated its status as a live in castle and, a couple of areas that displayed how the residence looked further back in history. Very enjoyable time; unfortunately, pictures are not allowed of the interior so all we can show you is what it looks like on the outside.

Main entrance to castle



Backside of castle




Miscellaneous shots of the castle



After our little tour it was time to push on but we did come to one unanimous conclusion about the current Duke of Argyll…his wife is HOT!! Sorry, just had to point that out. If you visit the castle you will see current family photos and well, to put it in a southern US colloquial term…’that boy done good.’

So back on the bikes and continue on our leisurely ride to Oban. I forgot to mention that I had given Lee a set of maps with our route highlighted on the day of the trip. He pulled them out at Rhayader so he could gauge where we were at on the route. This was our fail safe in case we got separated since we didn’t have a bike to bike comms system. Of course what this also enabled me to do was play in the twisties! Thus, I would run the route fast and hard, well as hard as you could with a cruiser, scraping floorboard bolts on the turns and then slow down as I got close to a junction that we would turn at.
This also provided me the opportunity to find a turn out and whip out the camera to get a few shots of Lee as he came up the road. Unfortunately, I was never able to coordinate a spot where I could catch him on a curve! We talked about him running up and getting pictures of me but I kept forgetting because I was having too much fun! So here is a shot of Lee, not overly exciting but it is technically an ‘action’ shot.



We had considered getting a bite to eat for lunch at Inveraray Castle but since we had gotten a late breakfast we decided to push on to Oban. We never did eat lunch and didn’t get a chance to eat until we hit Oban. This wasn’t that big of a deal as we were really only about 38 miles from Oban anyway.

So on we trekked, two Americans riding a German and Japanese motorcycle…did I mention the irony of this particular mismatch of men, motorcycles and the country we were motoring in? Sorry, wayward electrical brain current…It was probably around 1400 or so when we hit Oban proper and we promptly followed the GPS down a narrow road that hugged the coast and offered fabulous views of the ocean and the craggy shore upon which the water crashed. The road was Gallanach road and it was the route that would take us to the Oban Caravan and Camping park.

I had searched for campsites on the internet and was really only able to find this one and the pictures looked nice so I thought we would give it a try. Well, it wasn’t difficult to find and there were signs along the way however, the person who was measuring distance from the signs to the camp was evidently using some other version of the mile. Eventually we came to the campsite, parked the bikes and just kinda looked around. We decided that it looked good and I went off to the office which I would find was closed with a sign that said go to the barn next door.

It was at this point that fortune smiled upon us as it cast aspersions upon someone else. While I was up trying to find the campsite manager a gentleman came up and spoke to Lee. When I got back to the bikes Lee informed me that this was NOT where we were going to stay. The gentleman that spoke to Lee had wandered over to the barn and then came back and spoke to us again and, as it turns out, he and his girlfriend or wife (didn’t really get the details) had paid the fee to stay at the campsite but, after going to the actual camping area, changed their minds. The actual tent area was quite wet from some heavy rains last week and a good hike to the bathroom and shower facilities.

Now, they had just gotten there about 15 minutes prior to our arrival so hadn’t pitched a tent or even opened the door to their vehicle to get out their gear. If you remember my day 3 post, we had had a similar event at Kesswick and opted to find a hotel. It was fortuitous that we ran into this couple as we would learn that the owner to the campsite was refusing to give them their money back even though they hadn’t even set up camp. Well, they took the time to tell us the issues they were having and gave us a sheet with a second campsite that was recommended to them by the Oban visitor center. With this new information and upon wishing the couple the best of luck, we headed off to find the Roseview Campsite, www.roseviewoban.co.uk which was literally about two miles north of this site and inland a bit more.

Off we went to find the Roseview campsite! Of course at the time we hadn’t realized that all we needed to do was take a right at the first intersection on our way back down Gallanach road. No, instead we wound up going all the way back to the town center where there was a round about and followed the directions on the paper that the couple gave us from said round about. In effect we drove about 5 miles instead of 2. Nevertheless, we found it and got a sweet spot a mere 25 meters from the shower and shitter facilities.

Upon entering the office, Goldmember, as I shall call him and, if you meet the man you will understand why I call him this, asked us how we found his site. After we told him, he mentioned that the owner of the other site had just called him to warn him of two trouble makers that would be heading his way. We assured him we were not them and he asked us what we knew about it. We told him what we knew and Lee pointed out that the discussion between the owner and the couple had actually started off very civilly with the couple trying to come to an agreement with the owner on the issue.

Goldmember listened and mentioned that he wasn’t sure how he would handle it if the couple showed up at his campsite and would have to think about whether or not to turn them away. As it turns out, they did show up and he did let them stay there. The couple also told us that it wasn’t until the local constabulary showed up that the owners of the Oban Caravan and Camping Park agreed to refund them their money. So, if you’re in Oban and you are camping, I recommend the Roseview campsite and please say hello to Goldmember for us. The only drawback to Roseview is they are about 2 miles from town.

Well once we got set up we decided to walk, yes, walk, to town to find the distillery and a place to eat. Turns out we just missed the distillery by about 15 minutes but we did find a great little restaurant called the Coast up the street from the distillery. Here is there website, www.coastoban.com. The food was great as was the beer and the waitresses were quite attractive as well. For that matter, Oban seemed to have cornered the market on hot chicks in that part of Scotland! Oban truly was a great little town and one that I hope to go back and visit again soon!

After a great dinner and a couple of beers we walked back to the campsite; we took some photos on the way there and back and here they are.

Road to Roseview




Of interest in Oban is McCaig’s tower. It is an architectural curiosity that sits on a hilltop and overlooks the city. It was designed and commissioned by a wealthy banker named John Stuart McCaig in 1897 and completed shortly before his death in 1902. The tower was to serve as a lasting monument to his family and to provide work to the local stonemasons in the winter. If you do a search on McCaig’s tower on Wikipedia you can learn a bit more. We did not get to the monument until the next morning but it was well worth the visit as the views were stunning and the tower itself along with the grounds quite remarkable. Don’t miss the opportunity to see it if you visit Oban.

Panoramic view of the inside of McCaig Tower





Views from atop McCaig Tower onto Oban and the bay




Back at camp we checked on the weather for the next day; Goldmember told us that the report called for light rain and light winds for most of the day. With that we took the time to prep our helmets with water repellent on the visors and then headed off to bed. We looked forward to what the next day would bring.

Day 5….who’s got the tampons?

Day 5, 14 May 09, Hey! Where'd that wall come from??!!

Today would be the day that Lee hit the wall, figuratively speaking that is. By day 4 we have ridden over a 1000 miles of which at least 800 was through brisk to gale force winds. Lee has been put through his paces on a new bike with a different riding position in less than optimal riding conditions and this is, I believe, the first time he has tackled a trip of this magnitude on a motorcycle. It is amazing how these things add up and eventually rear their head to remind you of your mortality.

The morning started like all the others, up early, pack up, Lee starts his bike, I roll mine down the hill till we are out of earshot of our immediate tent mates and, off we go. As stated in my day 4 post, we didn't get the opportunity to visit McCaig tower on our arrival to Oban so; we took the time now to visit. Here are a couple more shots of the inside of the tower.




So whats our plan for today? Well, the original plan is as shown below.



What happened however is that before we embarked on our journey I had a thought. Instead of running the entire route, let’s just run up to Fort Augustus, drop our gear and ride the route with unencumbered bikes. Since Fort Augustus was on the route and only about 31 miles from where we intended to turn westward it shouldn’t really impact the day much. Lee thought it was a good idea so this became the new plan.

As we set off we knew that the first part of the ride would be a short one and we could then take our time on the second part during the day. We would discover the joys of the 'Little Chef' restaurant chain this day as happened upon a Little Chef in the middle of nowhere and stopped for breakfast. For the Americans on the forum, think IHOP or Waffle House and this is basically what a Little Chef is. Inexpensive food, served hot and quick and, we could get the large English breakfast that we had come to love.

Fueled with food and caffeine we pushed on towards Fort Augustus but just had to stop along Loch Linnhe to get some pictures as the day was turning out to be quite beautiful. We also found that we could see Scotland’s highest mountain, Ben Nevis, from along our route to Fort Augustus.

Lee pulling up to turn off


Ben Nevis


Views across Loch Linnhe






Giddy with excitement the views provided I couldn’t wait to see what was in store later in the day and in short order we pulled into Fort Augustus and found the tourist info center. To our dismay, there were no longer any campsites in the Fort Augustus area that allowed tenting. There was a new one being built but it wasn't ready yet. No problem, I had scoped out another campsite in Drumnadrochit on the western side of Loch Ness called Borlum Farms http://www.borlum.co.uk/ before we had departed on our trip. It didn't take long to get there and the roads were great with gorgeous views of Loch Ness, no Nessie sightings from my side and I don't believe Lee saw her either.

As we zipped around corners, Urqhart castle came into view and since Lee had gotten stuck behind a rather large truck, I pulled into the parking area to let him catch up. We looked at the place and decided that we would come back later after we pitched camp. As it turned out, the Borlum campsite was less than 5 miles up the road from the castle. Within 5 minutes we were there and shortly after our arrival we were set up and I was ready to roll out. BAM!! What the hell was that?! BAM! BAM! Oh, I think Lee just hit the wall!

It was bound to happen; the question was who would hit it first. Lee won. After setting up camp Lee looked over at me and said something to the effect of, 'dude, I just don't feel like fucking riding anymore today.' Well, that was that. The day was done. Well, not quite done but paired down quite a bit more. Instead of running the route west then north and back around, we opted for closer attractions and visited Urqhart castle instead. They don’t have a website that I could find but here is a site that has some history and info on the place, http://www.aboutscotland.com/ness/urquhart.html.

We decided that this would also be where we got lunch as we had seen a café sign on the entry into the castle when we pulled into their parking area. However, we didn’t anticipate having to deal with a passel of French teenage girls who also happened to be visiting the castle at the same time when we got there. They were a bit annoying at times but we both have kids and patience and, in reality, they were fairly well behaved. We took quite a lot of pictures and Urqhart is a bit deceiving in how big it is, it may be in ruins but it is a series of ruins that is spread out quite a bit. Still a great place to visit if you’re in the area. I would ask that someone tell me why they thought it was a strategic location. If you read the history you will find that they got their asses kicked repeatedly. I just don’t think being on the low ground with you back against the water is very strategic.







Damn that’s a big Trebuchet!


Hey! Watch me lift this thing!


I told you not to touch the balls! Now look where they put you!





Loch Ness…Anyone see Nessie?



After the castle we loitered on the curb and tried to figure out what to do next. I had grabbed a brochure of local attractions and one of them was the Glen Ord distillery in Muir of Ord with another being the Loch Ness monster museum in the opposite direction of the campsite. Hmm, Loch Ness monster museum or single malt Scotch whisky? Yeah, not much of a decision, off to find some Scotch! Muir of Ord was only 19 miles from Urqhart and the ride to it was a complete blast! Great curves up into the hills and beautiful views the entire way there!

As we came into Muir of Ord it was clear that we would need some assistance finding the distillery so we pulled over and I went into a little shop and asked the clerk where it was. We were close! OH SO CLOSE! She told us to continue down the road a bit, go over the bridge and we would see the sign; probably less than a mile from where we stopped to ask directions.



We just missed the one tour so opted for the one that started in 30 minutes and, would be the last one of the day. By the time the tour started we were joined by two elderly couples that were traveling together. In all there were 6 of us on the tour and it was quite nice with such a small group. If you have never done a distillery tour, take the time to do one. It is absolutely fascinating and amazing how they get such an incredible drink out of barley. Here is a site that has info about the distillery as I could not find a site that was their own, http://www.discovering-distilleries.com/glenord.

At the end of the tour was a tasting but, being on motorcycles, we only tasted the one that they primarily made. It was incredible! I don't normally care for Scotch but, I have only had the blended stuff, this was a 12 year old single malt called Singleton and it was damn good! Unfortunately, it is currently only sold at the distillery and in the Asian market sector; guess I just have to go back to get a case. I did buy a bottle of Singleton and a bottle of Cao Ila which I also found that I liked.

We talked a bit to the tour guide who was an interesting fellow; he was following in his father’s footsteps as his father had also worked in a distillery and he regaled us with stories his father told about smuggling whisky out of the distillery. Very entertaining and quite enjoyable but, our time was up so, we headed back to camp. We had a nice surprise when we got back! Another camper had shown up when we go there and the young woman who was just finishing setting up was HOT! Seriously, she was a looker! Too bad she was with a bunch of bicyclists of which one was her boyfriend; I think we could have taken them! Oh well, not like either of us could take advantage of it anyway; at least we confirmed on our ride back that there was a nice little restaurant about a tenth of a mile down the street on the edge of Drumnadrochit proper called Loch Ness Inn.

Nice place, great beer and attractive staff, the women that is.


I pulled the picture off a site that gave info on the Inn, that weblink is:
http://www.laterooms.com/en/hotel-reservat...-inverness.aspx

We enjoyed a good meal, several beers and then walked back fat and happy to our campsite where we prepared for the next day’s ride before turning in. Although we didn't do the long ride originally intended it was still a good day and a needed break. Urqhart was enthralling and the distillery absorbing so the day was still a great day. Before we close out this chapter, let’s get a couple of photos of the campsite. Sorry, we didn't get any of the hot chick.




Next installment...Happy Birthday too me!

Day 5 - 15 May 09, Birthday best spent…

Well, it has been a bit since I updated our journey, I was in Tbilisi for a week, came back and headed straight to Paris so didn’t have a chance to catch things up. Once I got back I wound up getting sicker than a dog and now, after two weeks of being sick, I can finally post an update. Oh yeah, got the 914 back as well.

After a day of relative leisure, time marched on and so did my age. May 15th was my birthday and it was also the day that we would reach our intended destination of John O’ Groats; was there any better way to spend ones 43rd birthday? I think not.

We had gotten into the habit of prepping our gear the night before with the assumption that we would get rained on the next day and the night prior had been no different. Until now however, we really didn’t have an occasion to use the rain gear but today, we would be thankful that we had stuck to our routine.

We woke up to the light patter of rain upon our tents, nothing really significant just a drizzle but enough to energize us to move as quickly as possible so as to avoid getting too wet before we got on the road. Where we were situated, was on a hill with a partially enclosed and covered kitchen and sink area below us. This was convenient as the kitchen and wash area had some long benches that we set our gear on in order to keep it dry. This allowed us to pack up our tents and keep the amount of wet things going into our bags at a minimum. We were actually welcoming the rain as it was a sign that the winds had let up as we were told that the clear skies were attributed to the strong winds.

Oh how wrong we would be! In a matter of minutes we were packed, dressed in rain gear and on our way out. As before, we would search for some place to eat along our route and hoped that we could find ourselves another Little Chef to eat at. This would prove to be quite a bit more problematic than we thought as we had truly departed off the main highway and found ourselves wandering sparsely populated areas with little open and no chain style eateries. As we travelled North West along the Dornoch Firth we tried at a couple of towns to find an open restaurant meandering off our GPS route into the towns along main roads. This would avail us no luck and only bring about frustration that increased as our hunger grew.

The problem was, as stated earlier, we were off the beaten path. Here is a picture of our route and, as you can see, other than the initial ride through Inverness, there was little else along the way.



As we turned off the A9 towards Dornoch Firth the roads narrowed and the traffic dissipated even further than what little was already on the road. We were still in high spirits at this time as we were not totally famished yet and as we turned onto the A836 we found a scenic turn out that overlooked the firth. It was quite a view and we could see sun down in the valley in between dark and foreboding clouds. The effect was quite dramatic unfortunately, my pictures only show the dark and cloud covered skies.






We did encounter a strange sight as we stood admiring the firth; a dead fish lay upon the wall. Clearly not what one would expect to find so high above the water.



The fish was next to a plaque that went on to explain the Scott’s concern about the Atlantic Salmon and their efforts to conserve the fish. OK, got it but, I still am not connecting the dots on why we have a dead fish on the wall; the symbology is lost on me. So, I don’t get the fish symbology, I do get that it made me think of food so we consulted the map to see what towns were along the way. There were several small towns but none would yield a place to eat. We wound up pulling into a gas station on the outskirts of a village called Laird and grabbed something out of their little heated food keeper on the counter.

It wasn’t stupendously flavorful but, it was food and by this point we didn’t care what the hell it was, we were hungry. We were also chilled and wet and the food went a long way in warming us up and re-motivating us for the rest of the trip in the rain. We had actually pulled into the Laird visitor center trying to get info on the town but it wasn’t open yet so we back tracked to the gas station. Now that our bellies were full we decided we needed to take a pee break before we continued on so, back to the visitor center and we waited for about 10 minutes for them to open. Since our bellies were full and our bladders empty it was time to press on in the steady but light rainfall.

As we motored along Loch Shin the wind found us once again but thankfully, the rain was starting to lessen to more of an intermittent mist. This was a good thing as we soon discovered the joys of single track road as we continued along Loch Shin; this type of road would stay with us for the majority of the ride up to JoG. Prior to this trip we had discussed the rules of the road in this type of situation and hadn’t really come up with what the rule of thumb was. I don’t think we got it quite right as we followed other cars but we did learn a very important rule. Tractor trailer trucks ALWAYS have the right of way on single track roads!

Well off we went on a new adventure as we discovered that single track is easy when you can see down the road a bit and know what’s coming. When you start going up and down mountains and CAN’T see down the road, well, then it gets interesting and the pucker factor ratchets up a bit. Despite a few less than comforting sections along the route the views were stupendous and the rain eventually stopped all together. What’s amazing is that we would run into a house or a lodge along the route in the middle of nowhere! It is absolutely unexpected when you glance over a loch and see a large estate with nothing else around it for miles around.








Probably even more surprising was the discovery of an old British armored personnel carrier across from a farm when we turned northeast towards Sangmore; that and the public phone booth made us stop to get a few pictures.






We didn’t stop again until we hit Sangmore a bit after 1200 and paused at a small quaint tea house to have some lunch then refueled at a gas station up the road before pressing west along the coast to JoG. Along the coastal road that dipped south on occasion to go around a loch we began to hit some heavy winds but the views were so magnificent that we just didn’t care. I do have to ask though, who puts a fucking cattle grate at the apex of a turn!!!! That was a fun bit as we saw the warning sign then realized where the damn thing was AND, it was wet!!! OK, enough bitching, here are some more pictures.












Well, after running up and down the various valleys and hills and changing from single track to dual track and back again, we finally pulled up to an intersection that gives you two choices. Left to the visitors center and the famous sign post or right towards Wick. Damnit! We rode a total of 1800 some odd miles to get to this point, I’ll be damned if I’m going home without my picture with that stupid signpost!! Left it is! I would be remiss if I did not mention that it was around 1500 when we got to JoG and the wind had steadily gathered force the closer we got.

We weren’t the first set of bikers at JoG this day, no, there was another couple of guys on Harleys that had ridden up from Royal Air Force (RAF) Mildenhall via the east coast; they were also Americans and were basically heading the way we had just come from.



Just so everyone is aware, the signpost is not public property, if you want your picture with where you started, the date you arrived and the miles you drove, you have to pay a photographer to take it. He will however allow you to also take your own photos if you pay him for a photo. We got two 5”x7” photos for 12 pounds or about $17. Lee currently has his hanging up in front of him at the office. Here is the picture we got with our cameras; the other two yanks took them for us with our cameras.






So you think the story is done? Not quite, we still needed to go and find some cheesy souvenirs before we stopped for the day. We walked over to the souvenir shop and got some stickers and a couple of patches and I bought a hat and sweatshirt, now it is time to find a place to stay. Did you know their ain’t shit at JoG? Just one hotel that didn’t look all that inviting so we decided to push south to Wick which was approximately 15 miles down the road. In retrospect, probably not the best idea as the wind was rockin by the time we set off.

Funniest thing that happened was a little friendly competition from a white horse. As we passed by the A836 a pasture opened up on our left with several horses to include a white stallion. As we approached, he whipped his head around to look at us and as we pulled up parallel to him he took off in a run and literally began to race us down the road! We did this for about 300 feet before he ran out of pasture to run in and came to a fence. We were both tickled at this horses little exhibition of bravado and only went fast enough to stay slightly ahead of him. It was very entertaining.

As we continued south the wind began wailing and was literally pushing Lee and I all over the road making it probably the longest 15 miles we had ever done! We came into the outer edges of Wick and pulled into a Tesco to fuel up and get lodging recommendations. The clerks gave us a map of the city with hotels on them and referred us to one that was down the road about a mile. I believe it was the Nethercliffe hotel but can’t remember for sure. We found it without too much difficulty and, after getting settled, getting dinner and having a couple of brews, called it a night. The day had been challenging, exciting and alarming at times but all in all a great day! It was now time to head home but not without a couple of stops along the way.

Next installment, we visit the home of the Queen Mum!

OK, Day 5 should have actually been day 6 as we are now on Day 7, 16 May 2009 and making our way home.

One would have imagined that the climax of our adventure would be reaching our goal of John O' Groats. Although it was an exhilarating ride to get to JoG it was almost anti-climactic when we got there. I will attribute this to the fact that we were both pretty tired from fighting the wind most of the way up and I think the added tension on some of the single track also took a physical toll on us.

You don't quite realize the amount of physical energy it takes to ride a motorcycle a long distance until you finish the trip. Neither one of us are out of shape, no we are probably in better shape than most being military but motorcycle riding is different from any other activity in how you use your muscles. Not a lot of big muscle movement but a significant amount of small muscle and support muscle movement that drain your energy over long periods of time.

Good thing the Scots and Brits like to have pubs in their hotels because there is nothing better than drowning your weariness in beer! Which is exactly what we did that evening as the day was turning to evening and along with it came rain, lots of it. After a beer or three we headed back to the room and prepped our helmets for what we assumed would be another wet day and discussed our return and our plans when we reached Amsterdam. Truth of it is we didn't really 'plan' anything; we were just going to wing it! Before we got that far however, we had a stopover in Forfar and Corbridge along the way.

The morning found things wet, and we had done some planning the night before that I would load up my bike and pull it out across the street and then Lee would ride his to the parking lot and load his gear there. The reason for this is the hotel management allowed us to put our bikes in a small narrow courtyard of sorts between the two buildings and there was very little room to maneuver. I was positioned the best as I brought my bike in after Lee so had room to load my bike but, I had to get it out of the way for Lee to ride his out of the courtyard. In addition, Lee needed to expand his panniers to load them but he wouldn't be able to get the bike through the small gate opening if the panniers were expanded.

In truth, with Lee's panniers, it was not a big deal as it took him no time at all to load what gear he had in his cases. It takes a bit longer to load my bike as I have to strap things on then zip them up then throw on the rain cover. We still got out by 0700 and were off and running, in the rain, and cold, and clouds. Clouds? What the hell are you talking about? OK, it wasn't really a cloud we rode through, no, it was fog so thick you couldn't see 2 feet in front of you!

We'll get to that in a minute but first, as is now customary, let’s look at the map!



As you looked at the map, you will have noticed that we would cut through what looks to be a rather secluded and scenic road near Huntley. Remember that point as we will get to that bit of our tale a bit down the narrative.

As was also customary, we were out early so would find breakfast later on down the road; off we rode into the damp morning with a steady patter of rain beating upon us. As we began our trip down the eastern coast of Scotland we were greeted with vistas of waves crashing against the shore, some beaches scattered along the route and long tall grass bending with the wind. We could see this despite the rain and although it was wet, it was still pleasant as it wasn’t a torrential downpour. As we got closer to Helmsdale we began a decent into a valley and it was at this point that we ran into a mixture of rain, mist and then thick fog.

I had been flipping my visor up and down throughout the ride as it kept fogging up on me because of the slow speeds in some of the areas. Well, this had the effect of getting the inside of my visor misted up a bit along with the outside, add fog to the mix and I basically couldn’t see SHIT! I literally slowed down to a crawl and I could see that Lee had popped on his hazards to make sure people saw us. I finally saw what was meant to be a scenic pull off and pulled in with Lee following behind stopping with a bit of relief.

I took off my helmet and damn, It’s not just my helmet, the fog is thick as hell! I looked at Lee and said, ‘dude! I can’t see a F------ thing!’ He was pretty much in the same boat as his vision wasn’t much better. We talked about it a bit and Lee said, ‘whadya wanna do?’ Too which I replied, ‘well, we can’t stay here all day waiting for the fog to lift, but I’m a bit concerned about people flying up behind us.’ Almost as if it was scripted a big ass truck with a flatbed comes screaming down the road past us.

We both kinda looked at it, looked at each other and mentally said, ‘fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!’ Well, I made a decision that we would just have to press on and told Lee to put his flashers on when we pulled out as I figured the fog would clear as we got further into the valley.

So off we went into the abyss of moisture; onward as brave souls or stark raving mad lunatics with a modicum of hope that the abyss would pass and our way would clear. Onward and downward we spiraled, I looking through what appeared to be a window of specks and distortion with Lee bravely serving as a beacon to two daft riders on a wet spring morning fervently hoping that no more behemoths of steel would pounce upon our vulnerable state. As fate would have it, the abyss parted within a mile as we got lower in the valley and we rode out triumphantly from the clouds of doom greatly allowing our nether regions to unpucker!

On retrospect, I wish I had gotten the camera out to take a shot of the crap we were in but it wasn’t just foggy, it was also still raining and I didn’t want to have to deal with it. As the road unraveled its mysteries we found ourselves closer to sea level which kept us out of the fog but, the rain continued to plague our trek lightening up a bit as we reached Dunrobin. It was at Dunrobin that I spotted a sign to the castle there and we took our first detour of the day. If you google the place you will see that it is a nice place but we didn’t do much more than stop and take a gander as the weather was crappy and we were getting hungry.







Back on the road and in search of food! As we continued on we once again came to the Dornoch Firth and I did a side trip through Tain on the southern side of the Firth to see if we could find a place to eat with no luck. It wasn’t until we passed Allnes on the northern side of the Cromarthy Firth that we saw a sign for food in Evanton next to Novar Toll. We pulled off onto the B9176 and almost immediately saw a travel stop about a mile before Novar Toll. We gratefully pulled in, dismounted and made our way into the restaurant which was what we were not, warm and dry.

We both ordered the traditional big ass English breakfast with pork and beans and took turns finding the bathroom. It was at this point that Lee told me that his boots were wet. I had put on my rain overboots but Lee had not and although he had treated his boots, it wasn’t enough to defend his feet from an hour or more in constant rain. I offered my overboots to him as the rain seemed to be lightening up but he declined stating that his feet were wet but not cold, his choice.

Within short order our meals showed up and we began to feast like ravenous beasts which might be why people kinda looked at us funny and sat as far away from us as possible. Of course it might have also been the sight of Lee with his burgeoning beard and wild mountain man look or the feral look of the wet and crazed Chinaman next to him. In either case, no one bothered us and we basked in the warmth of the restaurant and the warmth that a full belly brought.

Feeling a bit warmer and recharged from the food we got back on the bikes and hit the road again. My original route had us stopping at Brodie Castle but we bypassed it instead and we came into Elgin at which point my GPS seemed to send us on a rather odd route. What the hell is going on? Well there must be a reason so let’s just see where it takes us. Suddenly, a set of ruins appears in front of us; oh yeah, I saw this on the internet and programmed it in to the GPS! I had forgotten that I had spotted what looked like a cool photo opportunity at a set of gothic stone gates. It was the ruins of Elgin Abbey which was built in the 13th century but fell into disuse and ruins in the 15th and 16th century. Quite a fascinating place that I recommend you see if you’re in the area.









We got there a bit late and the place was closing for lunch so we just took pictures from the outside and walked around before mounting up and heading back out for Huntly. You remember my mentioning of Huntly earlier in the narrative? Well, we got to Huntly and the GPS began to take us on another rather odd route. I figured it had to do with my wanting to branch off of the A96 and head down the A97 instead. Well, it wasn’t until I looked more closely at the map today that I realized what happened.

As we got into Huntly we began going down a road that took us through a residential neighborhood and into what looked like a park area. The road went from pavement to gravel and potholes and my exhaust, according to Lee, did several dunks underwater when my tail hit the rather large and deep potholes. As we got to the waypoint on my TomTom we saw a sign that said, “Road Closed.” Guess we’re not going down THAT road! I had thought at the time that it was the secondary road, A97, that I had wanted to traverse. Nope turns out, it was actually a road leading towards a rather palatial residence and once we hit the waypoint, the TomTom rerouted us back along the A96. This was due in part to the fact that I chose the “fastest route” option when I loaded the route. Had I chosen the, “avoid highways” option it would have taken us down the A96 as I originally intended.

So off we went back down the gravel and pothole laden road with my street cruiser making my exhaust play submariner games. Lee on the other hand was having a grand ole time as this was exactly the type of roads the GS was made for. Back out onto the A96 and onward to Aberdeen eventually getting onto the A90 all the way into Forfar. It was our trip out of Elgin that gave me the most problems as my rear end broke loose twice on a couple of roundabouts. I think I hit a couple of patches of oil that the rain had brought up but it definitely ramps your pulse up a bit when your back end suddenly decides it wants to scoot out from under you!

As we came into Forfar we headed straight for our intended target, Glamis Castle. Glamis castle is actually about 3 to 4 miles southeast of Forfar along the A94 in the town of Glamis. As we pulled into Glamis and followed the signs to the castle we found a bed and breakfast about a 200 yards away from the castle gates called the Strathmore Arms Hotel. We decided to see how much they cost and figured we would bed down there for the evening rather than try to find a campsite. You can find them if you do a Yahoo or Google search but only as a reviewed hotel. The place was being remodeled and was affordable with a nice restaurant and pub on the property. We took a room that hadn’t been remodeled yet as it was cheaper.

The service was great and the management let us use their washer and dryer to do a load of laundry free of charge! Personally I would recommend them, if you read some of the reviews however, not everyone had as pleasant an experience as we did. After getting set up and dropping our load we walked on over to Glamis castle. Well, they were closed by this time so instead we muddled around the town, took some pictures then headed off to have dinner and a few beers. Our journey for today was done and tomorrow we would pack up an head out to the castle for a visit before heading off to Corbridge to meet Bongo, a fellow Vulcan Drifters Owners Group UK (VDOG UK) club member. I did give Bongo a call and made sure he was ready for us but the tale of our stay will have to wait until the next installment. To tide you over, here are some of the pictures that day before we got to see the castle proper.










Next up, we visit the Queen Mum’s birthplace and say a teary eyed goodbye to Scotland.

Day 8, 17 May 2009 – Hello your Majesty!

It’s been a long while since I updated our trip, I’ve been somewhat busy with other things to include a vacation back in the UK and Ireland and then having to work on the Teener to solve the oil leak problem. Nevertheless, here is the second to the last post for this journey.

So today would be an easy day for the most part but a lot longer than anticipated but, we’ll get to that. The morning found us up early with the soft patter of rain outside our window at the Strathmore Arms Hotel. First order of business was to pack up and then go and find a bite to eat. Didn’t take us long to load everything up and I took the time to see if I could find a place to eat not far from the castle with the TomTom.

Since Glamis is not far from Dundee and Dundee is a fairly decent size city I located a Little Chef about 12 miles from Glamis on the A90 on the outskirts of Dundee. As a bonus, we were able to take a back route to get to the restaurant and played the game of counting pheasants along the route. We literally stumbled across a passel of pheasants both on the road, on the side of the road and in the fields as they were doing their early morning meal seeking. I counted about 7 of the birds and they kinda made me hungry!

I would have stopped to get pictures but there was no real shoulder to pull over too and I am pretty sure they would have bolted before I could get a camera out. We also stumbled on a couple of rather sharp turns that caught us by surprise and were not well marked! It was one of those, ‘OH SHIT’ moments when you suddenly find yourself coming in a bit too hot and having to adjust so you don’t cross over into the other lane. We ran the same route back but we were ready for it the second time! To complicate things, the roads were still a bit damp and slick but thankfully, the rain had pretty much abated by the time we got to the Little Chef.

Breakfast was uneventful and we took our time as Glamis didn’t open until 1000 and we had pushed out at about 0730. Many coffees later we finally got back on the road and headed back to Glamis castle. This time the sharp turn was fun as we chose a good line and leaned hard into it slinging out quickly on the other end. Well, at least I thought it was fun, whether Lee did or not is debatable. We still arrived at the castle early and took the time to get some photos of the gates with us in it. As you will see, the sun had come out and it was getting quite warm!









After a bit of waiting the gates opened up and we motored on down to the castle, paid our tour price and got what I call Porn Star Parking right next to the castle. It’s not Star parking as that would put us at the door step but it is good enough to be Porn Star parking and here are the pictures to prove it!



Well, after walking around a bit we went on the tour and then came out and took pictures. Unfortunately, there is no photo taking allowed in the castle so you just get views of the outside. For those that don’t know, Glamis Castle is the home to the late Queen Elizabeth, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon or Queen Mother as she is affectionately called by the British. It was a great tour and a beautiful place; I highly recommend paying a visit if you’re in the area. Here is their website if you want more info; http://www.glamis-castle.co.uk/

Front side of Glamis


Backside of Glamis


Hello? Anyone wanna let us in???



After a thoroughly enjoyable time at Glamis it was time to be on our way to meet up with Bongo in Corbridge and say our tearful goodbyes to Scotland. Before we departed Scotland though, we intended to stop at Edinburgh for a visit then push on to Corbridge. I had adjusted our route to come straight down the A68 per Bongo’s suggestion as it would take us straight into Corbridge and would be a scenic route. Unfortunately, I don’t have a shot of our route this time around as I programmed it in segments on the GPS.

The ride down to Edinburgh was an easy ride with gentle turns and some pretty scenery and since the rain had dissipated the sun did a good job of drying the roads as we made our way down. Once we got into Edinburgh we ran into a bit of trouble as the road that normally goes up to the castle was closed for some work and there was no easy way to get to where we wanted. The other issue was finding a place to park our bikes in the middle of a very busy city where we could keep an eye on them and eat lunch! We lucked out on a parking spot for motorcycles that had a direct line of site into the Hard Rock Café, Edinburgh. So off we went for a bite to eat.

Before leaving we asked a waitress how to get to the castle. She said it was easy, just go here, turn left there, run up here and your there….yeah, right! Edinburgh traffic is horrendous if you’ve never been there and add to it the influx of tourist buses and the fact that it was lunch time and you have the making of anarchy at its best! We rode around the damn place pretending we were artillery rounds as we bracketed the castle but couldn’t quite hit it! I finally pulled over and talked to Lee and made the decision that we would bail on seeing Edinburgh as we were starting to run late and I had told Bongo that we would get there between 1500 and 1700. 1700 would be closer to the time we finally arrived.

Disappointedly, we began our navigation out of Edinburgh and surprisingly, neither one of us were killed as we tried to make sense of the different lanes of traffic and some rather interesting intersections. I think riding uphill in gravel, with large rocks would have been easier than trying to find our way out of Edinburgh! We eventually made it out and began our run out of beautiful Scotland. Although I was excited to meet up with a fellow Drifter rider I was saddened that we were departing what had truly been an amazing location to ride with the friendliest people we could ever hope to meet.

Evidently today was also a day for a local car club as we came across a line of Ferarris and Porsches that were also motoring down the A68. It was amusing as we got stuck behind a rather large truck with the Ferarri on the tail end of the group and in front of us. As a spot opened up, all the Porsches and other cars zipped around the truck but the poor Ferarri was left stuck behind him motoring along at about 40 mph and unable to pass. His buddies didn’t seem to care as they were long gone by the time we were able to get around the truck. The Ferarri hammered the pedal and left us in the dust shortly after getting clear road ahead but we were just happy take our time and move along at a good clip enjoying the ride.

Scotland had one last trick to throw at us as we made our way back into England, about 1 kilometer from the border of Scotland and England at a point called the Carter Bar along the A68, we hit an ‘S’ turn that kinda snuck up on us a bit. Not that there weren’t any warnings, no, we just didn’t expect it to be as sharp as it was nor did we expect it to be as steep as it was as we gained altitude fast! Still, it was a great little trick to throw at us right before we crossed back into England; just a bit of amusement for the Scots as we cross over back into England.

Hey who the F*** put that there??!!


Carter Bar


As you hit the border you come across a little rest area. This is where you get to say goodbye to Scotland and hello to England. Oh yeah, they got a cool rock and you can get pictures too!








As you can see, we had to stop! Photo op done, we once again mounted up and headed out. The A68 runs through the Northumberland National Park and is a beautiful little ride with little traffic and peaceful scenery. We passed through many small towns that had the old colonial feel to them once we got out of the park and had just a great time cruising down the road in no particular hurry enjoying the scenery.

We did find a peculiar sign as we began our final push past Bingfield towards Corbridge. A sign that said, ‘Blind summit.’ Hmm, so exactly what does this mean? Well, it means steep hill AND, you can’t see over to the other side! Think of it this way, take two playing cards, now, balance them to make a little mountain. Next, imagine that you are on one side going up it and have no friggin clue what the hell is on the other side! That my friend is a blind summit. You get to experience the stomach in the chest sensation as you top the summit and suddenly start flying down the hill. It is almost like being on a roller coaster and just as fun!

Soon enough we rode into Corbridge and it was now time to figure out where the heck Bongo lived. Well, we literally got to a point where we were in front of his house but my TomTom was telling me he was on the other side of the road. Bongo evidently heard us, or me, and came out of his house and flagged us down; we were there. Good thing too as the weather was turning a bit cold and rain clouds were moving in. I didn’t get any pictures of Bongo until the next day but here is a picture of our gracious host. It is unfortunate that I didn’t get any pictures of Bongo’s lovely wife Jay.

Bongo’s Officially Sanctioned Roman Motorcycle Helmet


First order of business, unload the bikes and put them in the garage! Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that Bongo was quite happy to see that my whitewall tires were no longer white! Malcolm had taken a picture of the bike when we met him in London and had posted it and Bongo was trying to figure out how the hell I had kept my whitewalls white for over 600 miles.

After getting things unloaded and changing out of our riding gear, it was time to start up the grill and start drinking beer! Our plan for the next day was NOT to get an early start as the only thing we had to do was be at the ferry to Amsterdam by 1400. Before then we would head over to visit Hadrian’s wall then let Bongo lead us around.

So the grill got started and beer got opened and somewhere around midnight, after a thoroughly enjoyable evening, we finally headed off to bed. Bongo and Jay were the most gracious and entertaining hosts that I have had in quite a long time and the camaraderie is sorely missed.

So ended our second to the last day in the UK as we would be boarding a ferry tomorrow for the Netherlands and debarking in Amsterdam. Before we were to leave however, we had just a bit more riding in the UK to do.

Ahh yes, ponder the might of the oh wall middle aged jedi for on the other side lies the vicious and savage Picts! And they make a damn fine Whisky too!

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!

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.


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)











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!


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!



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?



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!!!




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!




Bongo trying out my highway pegs.


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


On our Way



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



Lee gives the ADV Rider Salute!


Just Waitin to get off the damn boat!!



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


Finish (2,837miles)


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!