judge
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From Wikipedida said:
Its been several years since I camped on wasteground on an industrial estate in Hamme, Belgium with hundreds of others for the world record attempt to get the most number of GS'ers together in the dullest place in Europe and having seen pictures and reports from others over the intervening years it looked like I was again missing out and should return.
And so it was I chose to book for the Dutch event in Bladen this Easter weekend.
Wanting to cut loose from the chains of responsibility that have chastised my GS'ing for years I made certain I didn't get involved in any group nonsense so made only a private arrangement to travel with one other. Unbeknown to me he hadn't quite seen it that way and I started getting the odd PM or two...
The Inquisitive One said:
The Inquisitive One said:
The Inquisitive One said:
The Inquisitive One said:If it rains ...... will you still go
Forecast at the moment isn't great...
The Inquisitive One said:I'm in a cabin
The Inquisitive One said:No I'm not - too expensive
Yep looks like the group of two were to become three and Tom/Novice/Intermediate/Indecisive/Indeterminate was joining us (or not) for the experience.
And so it was that I arrived at Folkestone and met Darkhorse just before check-in - there was no sign of Tom anywhere
or so I thought - turns out this was one of only two times all weekend he didn't keep us waiting, he was already inside holding court with a large family for whom either we weren't that important enough to be introduced to or he didn't actually know who they were and they were just being grilled 
Once we'd brought an end to our fasting and I'd kindly loaned my iPod charger and socket adaptor to the inquisitive one we set off for security, alas the firecrackers I'd secreted on to Tom's bike weren't of sufficient quality and we were dabbed clean and set free.
On to the shuttle for the biker's club class experience, heightened for other passengers by the inquisitive one first blocking the toilet door with his bike then breaking the door and rendering it out of service.
Inspite of claims of poor weather we were blessed with glorious sunshine and just a tad too much breeze as we headed north up the A16 from Coquelles, destination Ghent for a terrace chill out in the main square.
Belgium is not the place to be if you're unsure about if you want a beer and then what beer to have and sheeze did he suffer with his dilemma, so 3 Jupiler 33cl were eventually ordered
Too early for lunch but not by the time someone had eventually found a cashpoint that wouldn't dispense him any money
Off we went and apparantly caught the Antwerpen Ring Road on a good day - what a relief as its a bolloxed road with apalling layout and nutters with lethal weapons called cars who are out to kill you.
With traffic eventually clearing we soon clear the last leg and lose Tom who was having some incident or another requiring us to sit at the roadside for 15 minutes for him to arrive and blast past us and arrive at the entrance to a very nicely presented entrance to a 5 star campsite... scrawled underneath on the side of a cardboard box was Dutch GS Treffen use next entrance, the entrance was a break in the trees about 100 metres on, Tom was out front and confronted with the Dutch GS clubs idea of the perfect entrance on to their 'treffen' very similar in fact to the Belgian's entrance in to the Hamme treffen some years back.
Dense trees, ruts, sand, mud stood between us and the camping ground fine for the dyed-in-the-wool off-roady types, less idea for tarmac lovers with heavily laden and ever so slightly tall for them 12ADV's - but thank feck it had been dry or I doubt I'd have keep my bike or sense of humour in tact.
And so to check-in, my co travellers went first and all seemed well until I registered and collected my t-shirt (albeit not in the ordered size), suddenly the mood of the party turned black, neither of my buddies had t-shirts and I did -
There were no T-shirts for either of them!!
Seems they hadn't ordered one, there were no spares and even though they'd paid the same as me - tough titties
(Turns out according to someone who was prepared to give a fuller explanation next morning, they both left their registration too late, t-shirt orders required two weeks notice and neither had booked in time. A small glimmer of hope lightened the mood when they were told to call back Saturday evening for any returns/spares).
Meantime we'd found the enclave of Brits we recognised and squeezed our tents in alongside - not for us leaving the safety of familiarity and seizing adventure amongst those we didn't know - how could their company possibly exceed our own
With tents pitched and rules of engagement understood (stear clear of the posh bit of the campsite) except to eat or drink at the far end of the site for which you had to go through the posh bit to arrive at
Or the shop, shower block, swimming pool, toilets....
We set off to the bar for a couple, then feasted on the Euro buffet laid on for us and yes there were meatballs in the soup, I know cos I had three (one for each of us)
More beers, some hellos with familiar faces (and a few unfamiliar ones), a wave from Zwerver across a crowded dining room. Then back to the campground to crack open the Balvenie Doublewood Single Malt
where we were joined by a familiar face in MiGSel, personally I was very pleased to see him, when he and fellow Eurotrash'er Gecko visit these shores they always ring me as soon as they arrive and I was keen to know they were around should I require a similar 'chat' 
Gecko hadn't made - I guess more important matters kept him closer to home but I had his number anyway and being at home would have given useful distance between them should it be necessary
I don't know whether it had been the long day, the distress of the t-shirt scandal or the electric storm overhead that sent us in to the warmth and safety of our tents but for the next 3.5 hours heavy rain, thunder and Tom's snoring kept me awake and wondering which tent would the tree fall on when it got struck by the lightning.
By the morning there was little evidence of what had fallen overnight and Tom was oblivious to any noise to break his sleep (maybe the snoring was a recording and he was tucked up in the €50 a night cabin after all
After breakfast (as per dinner without crokete or sausage), we decided to give the off-road a swerve and took the road ride option - I'm guessing most Dutch GS'ers are off roaders
and the one who planned this route either had a wicked sense of humour or has a white stick, sunglasses and a labrador dog No doubt this particular corner of Benelux isn't blessed with the scenery or landscape of a Scotland, a Peak District, a Wales or even an Ardennes or an Eifel but sheeze it must surely have had more to offer than industrial estates, speed bumps, cameras and 3 sides of every one of Farmer Ivan's freshly fertilised fields
The BMW dealer was a welcome break, Tom got interested in a pair of BMW jeans at €220 and Darkhorse was felled by a €20 headlight bulb (current exchange rate £1 = €1-ish), I wanted to spend a penny but they had no facility.
The ride was so bad it became the funniest part of the weekend but we couldn't stomach more than half of it - found somewhere with a lunch menu and tucked in fearing the evening BBQ might be lacking in substance. Slagroom was on the menu at the Party Central venue in which we dined, seems its whipped cream and dolloped on warm chocolate sauce on a vanilla ice cream and no naked women are involved in the making or consumption of it much to Dave and Tom's disappointment
so we settled on a Magnum back at the campsite.We had by now become renegades refusing the official treffen entrance via the woods (which had now had a night of heavy rain) in favour of the offical campground entrance nicely tarmac'd and lined with flora and fauna, it seems we weren't the only ones to shy away from the hardcore treffen entrance and we didn't feel we were shaming the essence of GS'ing that is mainland Europe's.
Tonight it seems we were to get 'on it' so we each loaded up in the shop with 6 x 33cl Heinekens and headed back to our tents, a single tinny later and we're all in our pits having a snooze - now that's HARDCORE!!
I don't sleep much my mind cannot swithch off from the incessant questioning of every aspect of my GS'ing life, the people, the kit, the ins, the outs the why's the wherefores - instead I opt for a couple of podcasts and when I feel rested I settle down only for an Airhead workshop to develop outside my tent - a classic Mr new but enthusiastic owner of an airhead meets Mr seen it all done it all know feck all airhead meister
.Who over the next 30 minutes set about knackering a battery in the pursuit of sorting a choke problem (the next morning Mr new but enthusiastic struggled to start his bike from cold and Mr
was nowhere to be seen On awakening Tom and Dave found the organisers had a fire sale on - T-shirts for €10!!
A quick coin-toss to determine which of the two should use all their diplomacy to re-visit the issue over no T-shirts - both decided to represent themselves fearing the failings of the other in delicate matters and both returned jubilant from their efforts replete with a skinny tee for Dave's manly physique and a baggy one for Tom's.
We called it wrong and the BBQ was in fact a feast of food and we had a right load up, maybe one or two of us overdid it
The 'bingo' followed, that's a raffle to you and me. The compare was hilarious, well most of those there seemed to think so, well OK all those who understood Dutch maybe - if your number got called you had to shout 'PRIZE' anything else and your winning ticket got trashed, about 6 tickets got trashed due to this rule
We won nothing but as we all now had t-shirts we were all winners that night, more beers though I managed to curb Tom's enthusiasm for it by buying him a Leffe, he joined me in coffee and cake after then rainfall saw us hit the hay for tomorrow was workshop day!
Having not signed up for any due to coming home on Sunday I awoke to break camp, well actually I awoke to the sound of airheads that wouldn't start! Mr
must've been busy the previous day as Sunday morning the campsite was a refuge of reluctant starters - not so much a problem for the locals who could always take them back to their trailers or vans for surgery or repatriation but the erstwhile Brits who had the audacity to actually ride them there this was a real problem.The sight of small clusters of people pushing airheads and the all to common "what fekkin gear are you in?" coming from knackered breathless volunteers and the feeling of elation and good chear when the old shitters fired on one and catch a second and roar (cough, splutter, wheeze) into life!
My fellow adventurers were ready for breakfast and so we set about proving we could do it better, Dave (who always makes porridge this way) poured the entire packet of oats into a pint of milk preceded to offer us his version of a sacrifice this Easter Day, luckily I had a croissant and turnover from yesterday snuck away and woofed those down, Dave had similar good fortune and Tom cleared off fast to the breakfast room before it closed.
With my packing almost complete it seems my pals had decided to abandon their own plans and obligations to the workshop programme and bugger off too, another hour soon passed and Tom was finally packed and ready for the off, we took in a visit to the Endurocircuit to see what we were missing and there were a good number doing a good number of things, my mind was set for home so I had no enthusiasm for it but people were enjoying what they were doing.
With sails set for home and the engine room set for full ahead we were gone and the 'A' Roads soon became 'E' Roads, then 'A' Roads again then 'M' roads; our journey home only punctuated by the frequent toilet stops for my travelling companions.
I saw my first and last Windmill just outside Ashford and I knew I was on the last leg home, even stopping at the Outlaws for tea wouldn't distract me or deter me.
And so my weekend would start as it would finish, my inquisitor from the weekend headed off down the M26 no doubt in search of another toilet stop and Darkhorse went North on the M25, finally I was alone in my thoughts and the questions had finally stopped - the waiting for people had finally stopped.
To the organisers who put on the weekend, I still believe you did well, the campsite themselves perhaps wasn't suited to bikers or tents, most resident campers had pitches and 'homes' bigger in size than my 3 bedroom house, tents were where you left bikes or pets.
For off-road types I'm sure you were well catered for - for tarmac dwellers lets hope the crack made up for it - to my travelling companions I honestly do think we made it better for the company we kept even though in Indecisive's case - they were right in what they said about him!
- just that its easy to whinge and hard to sort out these doo's what will the orgernisers think of us from your post/story/opinions ( It was funny though at times )
