The bike just a day or two before setting off
Spotted at the services - at least he's honest.
The journey started a couple of weeks before the weekend in question, with some much needed TLC to be adorned on my Airhead.
Llangollen, including my solo-in-the-absence-of-Tarka-leading-a-rideout-and-me-not-checking-the-site-for-latest-updates-rideout a few weeks previously, had been the furthest I had been on it and it had reinforced the fact that I should really sort a few jobs out I had been putting off. So, much late-night spannering ensued in order to go the extra mile (or 225).
It nearly all ended in tears as I thought I had fcuked up the bike and my sleeping mat into the bargain trying to replace the SHB's. But perseverence paid off in the end and I managed to get the bike to a fairly rideable state to go down to Devon.
I had suffered a drenching on the way down and did consider calling in at Alimey4u2's abode for some respite but pushed on regardless.
I finally arrived at about 9.30pm Friday night after being led a merry dance by the GPS (my own fault - I spent so much time getting the bike ready I never even looked at a map ) and wobbling the entire journey due to overtightened head bearings which wouldn't allow me to go over 65 mph. I had hardly taken my helmet off before Tarka had shoved a firkin of scrumpy in my hand. I had never met him in person before so I'll have to assume this is how he greets everyone who turns up without Hi-Viz or auxilliary lighting.
After throwing the tent up and chucking some bedding inside I then made my way down to what can only be described as a shed full of Tossers and Airheads including one particular individual who shall remain nameless, but was most insistant that he have my babies.
Anyway, no photo's from Friday night as I was busy playing catch-up.
Drinks and curries were thrust upon me as were questions as to what took me so long to get there, how were the head bearings and futher requests for babies.
Much merriment and imbibing ensued into the err, wee hours as we partook of the Piston Bitter which appeared to run out (but more of that later) and Proff's cider. There was Vodka as well, but I don't think anyone else got a sniff of that apart from a certain gentleman who had to be escorted to his bed. Three times. And ended up sleeping under it.
Anyway, Friday night became Saturday morning and with it came the rain which had been threatening to venture further south all evening.
TBC...
Spotted at the services - at least he's honest.
The journey started a couple of weeks before the weekend in question, with some much needed TLC to be adorned on my Airhead.
Llangollen, including my solo-in-the-absence-of-Tarka-leading-a-rideout-and-me-not-checking-the-site-for-latest-updates-rideout a few weeks previously, had been the furthest I had been on it and it had reinforced the fact that I should really sort a few jobs out I had been putting off. So, much late-night spannering ensued in order to go the extra mile (or 225).
It nearly all ended in tears as I thought I had fcuked up the bike and my sleeping mat into the bargain trying to replace the SHB's. But perseverence paid off in the end and I managed to get the bike to a fairly rideable state to go down to Devon.
I had suffered a drenching on the way down and did consider calling in at Alimey4u2's abode for some respite but pushed on regardless.
I finally arrived at about 9.30pm Friday night after being led a merry dance by the GPS (my own fault - I spent so much time getting the bike ready I never even looked at a map ) and wobbling the entire journey due to overtightened head bearings which wouldn't allow me to go over 65 mph. I had hardly taken my helmet off before Tarka had shoved a firkin of scrumpy in my hand. I had never met him in person before so I'll have to assume this is how he greets everyone who turns up without Hi-Viz or auxilliary lighting.
After throwing the tent up and chucking some bedding inside I then made my way down to what can only be described as a shed full of Tossers and Airheads including one particular individual who shall remain nameless, but was most insistant that he have my babies.
Anyway, no photo's from Friday night as I was busy playing catch-up.
Drinks and curries were thrust upon me as were questions as to what took me so long to get there, how were the head bearings and futher requests for babies.
Much merriment and imbibing ensued into the err, wee hours as we partook of the Piston Bitter which appeared to run out (but more of that later) and Proff's cider. There was Vodka as well, but I don't think anyone else got a sniff of that apart from a certain gentleman who had to be escorted to his bed. Three times. And ended up sleeping under it.
Anyway, Friday night became Saturday morning and with it came the rain which had been threatening to venture further south all evening.
TBC...