hawkati Posted July 1, 2019 Report Share Posted July 1, 2019 (edited) Fack! Arse!Tits! Double Feck! – the jisaw bike has me channelling father jack, not in a good way. Mechanically sound, it’s wiring loom is rotten. I’ve blown 23 main fuses trying to source the problem but the reality is it’s leaking steam from almost every wire and the ignitor box has shorted out. I don’t have time to get another. It’s Friday, 5 pm and I’ve finally called it quits. The first time ever I’ve failed to fix a bike. It looks the part but it won’t drive off the courtyard let alone the length of the country. I bite the bullet, fit tyres and chain to the 996 ( more on those items later) and for once relax and head out to meet mininomi’s workmates. This is a good thing. The jigsaw bike is a bad thing. 2019-06-15_02-15-26 by james serjeant, on Flickr 2019-06-19_09-24-39 by james serjeant, on Flickr The south west beckons and I set off on the 996, laden with tent and tankbag with 7kgs of tools – useful later. Skies darken as I zoop along the old A4 past Silbury hill, then turn onto the A350 and A303 later, effectively reverse of the route. I’m conserving wrists – the 996 is very very unforgiving over distance so it’s bypasses most of the way, round Exeter and onwards using the A30. So far so dull. Then cross country to Tintagel. I far far prefer the wiggly routes but I know it will take it’s toll later. Tintagel is closed, well, the beach and island are, since they’re building a suspension bridge. Very luvverly it will be once finished, but I had no idea and that’s wrecked the visit for me. Nonetheless, an evening walkabout and taking loads of pics of a glorious sunset. Supper in tent – chocolate and cheese, naturally, and then to bed……hang on…s;eeping bag? Ah yes – washed and left to dry on drumkit in living room. Muchos uncomfortable night. 2019-07-01_03-14-45 by james serjeant, on Flickr Morning and it’s miserable – rain galore for a while but I’ve gone walkabout anyway to stretch limbs and take pics by the cliffs. Beautiful place. 2019-07-01_03-15-17 by james serjeant, on Flickr It dries a bit, I pack & set off – aiming for Goonhavern where the most excellent @SWTH resides, welcoming me with tea and jaffa cakes. We check continuity & volts with auxillary lights on & off – all is good. Very useful things. Massive thanks! Onwards to Land’s End and the delightful twisty roads tight to the bitter end. I’m aware that the bike can be heard several counties away so I aurally showboat for the last couple of miles, hacking it out of bends despite the tyres. Ah yes, the tyres. A very gratefully accepted gift from the generous @simonb – I’ve only sporting scrubs that simply wouldn’t last half the distance, so these Michelin Road 2’s are absolutely essential….and disconcerting – they somehow act as if they’re 5psi down regardless of actual tyre pressure ( I’ve tried a few different settings) and constantly want to run wide, especially under braking. Genuinely hard work cornering for the first time in a dozen years. Very unnerving. Erk. Anyway, I arrive, made welcome by @johnnymack63 and Jo – great people. I chat for ages with them & others as all kinds of bikes from spangly shitters to almost brand new turn up. It’s clear that my concerns about ridicule for being on a decent bike are unfounded – there’s far better machines there. Stickerbomb sabotage takes place at random. 2019-07-01_03-15-49 by james serjeant, on Flickr 2019-07-01_03-16-44 by james serjeant, on Flickr We set off to the stopover – 20ish miles away and progress is slow. My shoulders and neck tighten into knots, a predictor of what is to come. Fuelled up, then supper and awards. Much ridicule & banter – everyone’s having a real laugh! I get the “Thank god I’m not riding that” award, rightly so. Bed, minimal sleep, up far too early and set off. My aux lights, beautifully behaved the day before, spark out seconds before setting off. I’d relied muchly on these adding an extra 50 yards of clarity and have my orange visor on. Not quite blind, but fack. I set off anyway – I know the road, it’s mainly bypass – what could go wrong? Edited July 1, 2019 by hawkati peoploids 19 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Thunderbolt Posted July 1, 2019 Report Share Posted July 1, 2019 What could go wrong? What did go wrong? Moar please. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 1, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 1, 2019 6 minutes ago, Thunderbolt said: What could go wrong? What did go wrong? Moar please. coming dear! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 1, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 1, 2019 (edited) (pics soon – wifi is notoriously shite here so I can’t upload photos from phone) Fuk Fack Feck Fukkityfack! – It’s happening again. Not out loud – I never ever speak when riding, not ever. There’s a swan like serene outlook with calm calm thinking – I genuinely never get mentally stressed whilst riding. So that’s the muscles speaking, not me. A throwback from despatching – my head would be clear and calm, my shoulder and neck muscles would tense up rigid under duress. I’m doing a gentle 87mph, my default setting on this bike so I can afford to get home again. I’m on a bypass, the A30, so why be stressed? Well, the aux lights have failed and I’ve got my orange visor on so I can see a pale space lit up by the paltry standard lights. About fifty feet of visibility so whatever I see I will hit before I even touch the brakes. Oh, and it’s pelting down with rain. So I carry on at 87mph. There’s a brief respite and a teasing hint of dawn and sun coming up before it rains heavily again, easing off a bit when we hit Exeter. There’s a few bikes in front, I think, and several behind which is why the common sense of easing off the throttle isn’t kicking in. Fuel stop – ooooh, it’s all a bit earnest. Last year the Rea’s piledrivered off the forecourt asap as I stopped, changed visors, ate a mars bar and necked redbull, and had a waz. This time about four riders hack off asap after filling so I do likewise for the the hell of it, despite knotted neck & shoulders. We ride through Exeter as a bunch, slightly strung out and group at the lights where the A30 begins again – and we’re off. I’m still riding gently to save fuel but it’s hacking down with rain so progress is careful anyway. At somepoint my riding companion and nemesis Simon Lee, photographer to the stars, joins me, and we carry on. Mainly bypass with a few single carriageway sections, it’s easy progress, simply carving through the traffic without hesitation – this is absolutely natural and normal for me – doing the 3 second rule all the time, saving time. Off onto the A350 and it’s a little twistier, allowing me to move around a bit on the bike – hang on, that’s a lot, not a bit – I have no confidence in these tyres whatsoever and I’m hanging off like a demented gibbon. I must look a fool to Simon, who’s used to far far betterer riding. But shifting around and enjoying the bends is distracting me from the savage pain that’s setting in – the 996 is ideal on track or a 50 mile hack around the shire, but I’m nearly 300 miles into a nasty nasty ride that’s going to fuck me up. Wierdly, being distracted by a challenging road can actually cancel the pain out for a while till it kicks in again as the roads straighten and my focus goes. This happens throughout the journey so I’m damn glad the route is a challenge. Cirencester! Pitstop#1 – huzzaugh! Familiar faces like @blow_away and @Thunderbolt are there, including @Versatile and @lexiden – luvverly people and I genuinely wish I had more time to chat. I get my nuts tightened... 2019-07-01_10-29-59 by james serjeant, on Flickr 2019-07-01_03-17-26 by james serjeant, on Flickr Simon has confessed that he doesn’t know the route at all and simply follows – I’ve memorised it, apart from the bits where I clearly haven’t but the zoop to Gloucester, then the sweet curvy A40 to Ross on Wye and beyond up the A49 are dead easy and familiar – progress is swift despite traffic increasing tenfold, too many lorries and an inexplicable number of tractors ( not Harleys) getting in the way. The roads are dry, all is good and we’re making progress so well that there has to be a catch. There is. Pitstop 2 – where the bloody hell is it? We get to near Chester before giving up looking and piling into a station to refuel. Simon phones @johnnymack63 to explain, we both feel damn awkward but somehow we’ve missed any signs completely. Damn shame - @CRM was there and I was looking forward to seeing him. I think Simon phones his better half, or someone who's stalking him in the nicest possible way - it's hard to tell but he's smiling... 2019-07-01_03-18-07 by james serjeant, on Flickr We crack on – I’m a bit befuddled by this bit and have stupidly missed a couple of pointers along the way – by this time the pain is a real significant distraction way beyond anything I’ve experienced on a bike before and it’s damn hard to think straight. This, in retrospect, is what gets me NIPs for the first time in years. Into Liverpool and the Mersey tunnel – I’m followed by a screaming cbr 400, revving like crazy two up at 30mph. The 996 is hell in town – grabby clutch and a riding position like a monkey fucking a football. Sheer deep joy eh? Onwards – it’s not too far to the next stop north of Preston. I can’t wait. Edited July 1, 2019 by hawkati pikkrs 9 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Thunderbolt Posted July 1, 2019 Report Share Posted July 1, 2019 Moar 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 1, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 1, 2019 1 hour ago, Thunderbolt said: Moar Oh alright then, but my fingers are fukkered still... Having negotiated the urban horror of Preston without actually snapping my wrists clean off ( you can see a pattern developing here can’t you? A pattern of pain) we (Simon is still with me – he’s my favourite stalker now) fang it up the A6 to…..Bilsborrow! Nope, never heard of it either, but that’ll be pitstop 3. It’s a goodun – there’s many lots of people there, from the usual suspects like @heds954 to some head honcho from Ducati. Don’t think he was expecting my bike, but after he visibly shudders in horror he does me proud by buning up info on the ducati uk fb page etc – cheers! @heds954 is snapping everything, compiling evidence. He is rather good at that. He somehow persuades me to make an utter arse of myself, doing some crab people thang. Erk. 2019-07-01_11-54-05 by james serjeant, on Flickr There is cake. Hell yeah! I live for cake, and have been known to lay waste to entire nations for a slice of battenburg so I are happy for a bit. That lasts only until I get back on the blasted bike. The 996 and I are developing a hate/hate relationship and it’s a question of time before one finishes the other off. The engine is wonderful – deep lazy surge of power – it’s a crying shame it’s so thirsty with lowered gearing, and I have to be a bit cautious with limits – it would be so much more comfortable at 97mph everywhere. Everywhere. I’m speeding in 30 limits now – not by much but it’s just too painful to ride slow. I feel like there’s a screwdriver driven between my shoulder blades. The tyres are the other factor – still acres of tread – my own scrubs would be canvass by now, they’re gripping but handling so slow and weird they’re a struggle to turn, tiring (sic) my arms, compounding (this comes naturally to me – sorry) the problem. Simon bears witness – on a downhill I hit the brakes hard and the bike simply sits up and drifts almost to the kerb. I’ve not had that with any tyres in the last dozen years. Horrible. I hate them more than the bike, but if I hadn’t been given them I’d be stranded by the roadside now. Through Lancaster and Kendal, I think briefly of mintcake whilst enduring built up areas, then the A6 becomes glorious as it rises and swoops over the edges of the lake district. There are long sweeping bends that I can’t do real justice to - I want 10% more throttle and lean angle but I’m fighting the bike back and it’s beating me. The bastard. Past Penrith – not that long ago a bunch of mates stayed in a castle nearby – wonderful luxury place in gorgeous surroundings. I so wished I was there as I rode past… We hit Carlisle. Carlisle hits us right back – busy busy busy, we lurch through and out beyond to Gretna Green, then pang sideways onto the A75 to Dumfires. I haven’t been this way since the 90’s, driving a converted bus back from the north west 200. It’s changed beyond measure, being mostly bypass now – I’m completely on autopilot now, daydreaming whilst my muscles have some kind of existential crisis wanting to go lie down for a very long time. They can’t -there’s work to do. The A75 turns into the A76 - that’s one louder isn’t it? Throttle gets twisted accordingly as I’m getting a bit beyond giving a damn now. A71 and A78 respectively quieter then much louder, finally provides respite? Why? Distraction in the form of sights and smells – there’s that seaside seaweed smell that’s so evocative of childhood beach days, and I can see…..mountains and the sea! I love it. This is why I’m here. This is why I do this. If we rode across the flat fens I’d die of boredom, so the worthy cause of Cancer Research has, fo me, got to be backed up by the sheer nirvana of the highlands. My spiritual home. All such evocative dreams burn down as we approach Gourock and meet other contenders. We all fuel up and we follow them, wasting precious moments as they sat nav to a pedestrian ferry. I kick myself for following since I know the route. Doh! Time is preciousssss – we don’t know when the next ferry is due and we’d hate to miss it, even though we need the rest. We hack into Gourock and hit Pitstop4 – yaaaaaay! The ferry isn’t due for a bit so a brief respite of food, drink and banter - @MadManMiles is there, relentlessly cheery. He knows all too well what this is like being the original owner of Albert, Simon’s bike. 2019-07-01_03-18-42 by james serjeant, on Flickr Dan is there, owner of the pink viffer monstrosity. It looks like landfill but is a fine capable bike in his hands. There are furry people too, and as we queue up for the ferry, resisting the temptation to headbutt the jobsworth ferryman, others join till be we have a veritable bike chain gang on board. 2019-07-01_03-19-04 by james serjeant, on Flickr Here be reasons to be cheerful, and here. 2019-07-01_03-19-21 by james serjeant, on Flickr That’s all folks, for a bit – work beckons and tbh, my hands are still in real pain and dysfunctionalism from the ride so I can’t type any more! 21 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
blow_away Posted July 2, 2019 Report Share Posted July 2, 2019 Simply epic. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
blow_away Posted July 2, 2019 Report Share Posted July 2, 2019 @moderators can we have some form of "megalike" for posts such as these? 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
blow_away Posted July 5, 2019 Report Share Posted July 5, 2019 @hawkati don't just leave us hanging like this 🍕 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 5, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 5, 2019 4 hours ago, blow_away said: @hawkati don't just leave us hanging like this 🍕 but...but...i can#t type any more! Working solo later on - uploaded pics to flicker, and i'll rattle off the remainder later, so there, ner. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
blow_away Posted July 5, 2019 Report Share Posted July 5, 2019 Well gerronwivit then 👍 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 5, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 5, 2019 1 hour ago, blow_away said: Well gerronwivit then 👍 you're not my real dad! Fuck you, i won't tidy my bedroom! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 5, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 5, 2019 Here y'are, yer demanding wotsit! Respite for a while – yay for the Gourock to Dunoon ferry! Just kicking back, talking shite with the other competitors/fellow travellers. Enjoying the sights of mountains and the sea – wonderful. The serenity of the moment doesn’t last – within a far too short time the ferry docks and we’re off again – there’s a civilised procession out of town then it’s game on. Up the A815 past Loch Eck and beyond to the appropriately named Loch Awe. Beautiful scenery, but I’m barely paying attention since the dastardly Simon is snapping at my heels. This is the beginning of the best part of the journey – excellent demanding roads winding through some of the finest scenery in the land. I’m still favouring the tyres – they really don’t like leaning in, especially the front so I’m hitting the brakes hard, turning in and sitting up using the surge of the 996 to drive to the next bend where I shall repeat the thruppenny bitting… By contrast I can See Simon is using wide sweeping lines, leaning more and enjoying a much smoother ride (phnarr!). This continues, with me barely ahead of Simon for miles – I’m really enjoying it, like a childish grown up illegally fast game of It. Great stuff. We hoon towards Tarbet next to Loch Lomand and that’s it – Simon’s off. He’d mentioned earlier that he knew the A82 really well, and that’s proven. Despite the very winding nature of the roads and standing water on the road, pouring off the nearby rocks, he’s just gone. Solid gone. I try to hang onto his coat tails for maybe ten minutes but after that he’s a dot in the distance and I settle for second place in this non race. Onwards and upwards to Glen Coe. This is magnificent, and the reason I was pleading with Johnnymac for us to head up the western side of the country. Seriously great landscapes – Skyrim being the bastard offspring of Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones. Just beautiful. 2019-07-01_03-25-30 by james serjeant, on Flickr I hack through this scenery, pausing for mere seconds to take a picture and then carry on – I’m aiming to travel back this way at a serene pace with no distractions so there will be plenty of time later to look around properly. I hatch a cunning plan for a future holiday with my mate mininomi – either her mini or my mx5, taking turns driving and taking photographs, taking our time at a leisurely pace taking it all in. I wake up and wind the throttle on harder – I need to be in Fort William in three seconds time and catch the evil Simon! I pass him as he’s fuelling up – but it’s a pyrrhic victory since I know I’ll have to stop for fuel soon and he will leapfrog me. Pain is setting in harshly now so when I do stop I have to take a bit of time out to restore sense to my limbs and consume a lethal combination of codeine and red bull! As I’m recovering a few others - I forget their names but they include a yellow sv650, a pristine new triumph explorer and a diversion ridden by a furry helmeted fellow. To hell with it – I need to have a proper break so I consume a ginsters slice and simply rest up watching the world go by, getting all philosophical about life and stuff. I think of my dad for a while… Onwards and up the lochs! Having rested I’m now on a mission – I think I’ve lost about 25 minutes so that’s all the excuse I need to zoop along the banks of Loch Lochy and Loch Ness asap – there’s a real need to hit Inverness quickly before tiredness and pain set in again. It’s taking lumps out of me now but it’s a great journey and I love these roads – I know the tyres are getting a bit chewed up here and I can feel them moving around, especially the front braking into bends. Horrible, but perversely funny. For any given bend I’d be significantly faster on my Dunlop D211’s, probably to the point that I’d be the architect of my own misfortune, hurhurhur… Inverness! Screaming pain sets in as I slow down and have no bends to focus on, but before long I’m at the the final pitstop, run by luvverly people. Minimal amounts of food & lucosade is consumed, a fair amount of chatting and I crack on – with company. Erk. 2019-07-01_03-19-41 by james serjeant, on Flickr This is the final leg – arguably the one that matters the most – the A9 and particularly the A99 can be quite fiendish, especially if drizzle sets in so there’s all to play for as I head out accompanied by a bunch other riders. I’ve had a warning – there’s a sharp jolt on accelerating. That will be a loose chain. Brand new it’s probably bedded in and stretched beyond its comfort zone. I should stop and adjust the chain but I’d get dumped by the following bayi8ng hyena pack of riders so I carry on, aiming for smooth gear changes and mild acceleration. This will not be good. 14 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Thunderbolt Posted July 6, 2019 Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 James, Great stuff. The last installment please. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
CRM Posted July 6, 2019 Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 Just read it after it landed on my doormat an hour ago - great stuff gents 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 6, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 3 minutes ago, CRM said: Just read it after it landed on my doormat an hour ago - great stuff gents oooh!* *don't remember posting it to you** **floppage, obviously - must hit newsagents... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 6, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 1 hour ago, Thunderbolt said: James, Great stuff. The last installment please. probably this evening - another 12 hour shift at knollege college dammit. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tony B Posted July 6, 2019 Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 22 hours ago, hawkati said: As I’m recovering a few others - I forget their names but they include a yellow sv650, a pristine new triumph explorer and a diversion ridden by a furry helmeted fellow. The guy on the SV was Philip Youles. He was behind you when your chaIn made a bid for freedom. https://www.youlesmotorcycles.com/youles-blog/the-ldu-write-up-and-pics.html 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
lorenzo Posted July 6, 2019 Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 (edited) Whose is the SV with the seagull indicator? Just refreshed the page and saw the above post. I've bought plenty of spares from that bloke, or at least one of his minions. Edited July 6, 2019 by lorenzo Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 6, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 28 minutes ago, Tony B said: The guy on the SV was Philip Youles. He was behind you when your chaIn made a bid for freedom. https://www.youlesmotorcycles.com/youles-blog/the-ldu-write-up-and-pics.html Nice write up - good old boy, polite, well spoken - he needs to join here and learn the dark side! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 6, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 Part the last. Until the next part. The east coast is bleak. Just a little too flat, mountains in the distance, and tending towards grimness with the weather. I’ve made two fundamental mistakes – leaving my orange visor on (since the aux lights have chimed in again and are working beautifully) and, crucially, I’ve neglected my chain. Brand new, it’s stretched way too much. To the point that I get a couple of vicious reminders as the chain jumps a tooth. I’m kicking myself for not sorting it at Inverness pitstop – it would have taken five minutes tops, yet here I am having to take it easy. In retrospect I could have done this so easily and made the time up, but I’ve somehow kidded myself that if I go easy on acceleration and smooth gearchanges all will be fine. Not quite. Despite the dusk and enforced calmer pace I really enjoy the riding – it’s giving me a chance to unwind, relax a bit and enjoy the scenery. Conversely the aching from the horrible riding position has ramped up it’s severity to the point that I’d be glad to just stop. Anywhere, anyhow, just stop. The views across Dornoch Firth are beautiful in the dusk but I’m cracking on - there’s bikes behind me and they’re not taking it easy even if I am! Particularly a yellow sv – ridden in a handy style, the rider is doing his absolute best – I’ve had to completely alter my own riding – I can’t accelerate much at all now since I’m so wary of the chain so I’m barely braking into bends, keeping a steady throttle to keep chain tension, and leaning more, trusting the tyres far more than they deserve. I’m well out of my comfort zone riding this way, but I’d be mortified if overtaken – I expect this every minute! There’s such fine roads though – it’s taken my mind off my shoulder & neck muscles that are crying out for respite. There’s one section where a sweeping left hander dips into a valley, Berridale – I can feel the front tyre tucking in on this negative camber – hardly life threatening but it’s certainly not keying to the road – the closest I can compare is to understeer on a shite hatchback. Anyway, down the valley, and a sharp hairpin right up and a similar lefty hairpin out the other side. Both these bends have delugrip and I trust it, leaning far more than ever. The tyres hate it. I hate the tyres – it’s a perfect synchronicity of loathing. The bleak dusk continues, darkened by my visor - beyond my lights I’m just picking out cottages and farmsteads in various states of disrepair. You’d guess they were occupied…but by what? Finally the A9 turns into the A99, and as I turn into a sharp right hander I wind the throttle on a tad too much – pang. The chain breaks – firing out of the back and narrowly missing the SV rider. A celebration of revs the engine is released of the load and I’m out. Clutch in I coast, pulling to the side of the road. The others kindly stop. Crack on says I – I mean, what could they do to help? I’m finished. 27 miles to go – just so damn close to the end. I’m gutted. Such a bloody annoying stupid decision trying to make it last the distance. I’m kicking myself as I push the bike up the hill and park up next to a war memorial. 2019-07-01_03-20-02 by james serjeant, on Flickr I message Johnnymac through the wattsapp thing and a flurry of messages fly back. I’m too hacked off to pay much attention, so I wander down the hill and find the chain. It’s unscathed apart from the soft (weakest) link. Back to the bike and it’s a good ten minutes of unwinding, staring out to sea and messaging my mate mininomi telling her about the journey and it’s bitter ending when I think about it…. …and remember that the chain came with not only a soft link, but a split link as well. In complete absent mindedness I’d thrown it into the tankbag a week or so earlier simply because the bag was on the bike and I didn’t want to open the stable again to put a useless bit away. Not having any way of compressing the link, on it goes with o rings only on one side, so it’s loose, but it’s on. Away I go again, but so so wary of panging the loose split link that I’m doing 40mph tops – for 27 miles. This is going to crucify my physically, and messes with my head as two other bikes crawl past at 50mph. I would have blitzed them, completely hacked past….but I just can’t risk it. This damn link needs to get me to the next bike shop, let alone to John O’Groats, so gently does it and let them go. It’s almost funny watching them creep away from me and my winding them back in just a little since I know these roads so well, just for them to edge away again on the straights. I am the (restricted) road warrior. I channel Father Jack for the next half hour. Finally I hit Wick. 16 miles to go. I think there are other bikes behind me, but I can’t turn my head and I’m beyond caring anyway – I’m in some altered state now, barely sub human with pain and in some existential plane of purgatory where if the chain and tyres had behaved I’d be there now, unwinding with a dram. I crawl on and finally arrive – it’s all I can do not to just fall off the bike in a heap. Another couple of bikes arrive behind me but I simply no longer care where I finished in the standings – it’s enough just to be here. Bike and stuff are dumped, stagger into the lodge and have a much needed bite to eat & drink. I’ve been running on empty for far too long. There is laughter, banter and ridicule, swapping of road tales – I’m barely taking it in though. Pop to the post for a pic with a couple of the other lads, and not long after I make my excuses and lurch off to die. 2019-07-01_03-20-21 by james serjeant, on Flickr There will be more –a bit of the aftermath and Western Highlands. I need to rest my fingers again! 8 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jaycee Posted July 6, 2019 Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 When word came through that your chain had snapped, we were all gutted for you. Then a message to say you had bodged it, I almost let out a cheer 😄 2 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 6, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 9 minutes ago, jaycee said: When word came through that your chain had snapped, we were all gutted for you. Then a message to say you had bodged it, I almost let out a cheer 😄 Thank you - genuinely appreciated! I didn't have a lump hammer with me, but i found a rock... 5 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tony B Posted July 6, 2019 Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 (edited) 2 hours ago, hawkati said: There will be more –a bit of the aftermath and Western Highlands. I need to rest my fingers again! Epic stuff James. Niall (P3) couldn't believe the efforts you've put into this over the years. He also mentioned you wanted a cheap service. 😀 Edited July 6, 2019 by Tony B Pictures 2 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 6, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 6, 2019 59 minutes ago, Tony B said: Epic stuff James. Niall (P3) couldn't believe the efforts you've put into this over the years. He also mentioned you wanted a cheap service. 😀 Yeah. Not the bike, me. I need a 20,000 mile service!😛 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 7, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 7, 2019 Aftermath Game over – I’m finished. So knacked I can’t actually sleep and I get up around 6.30am and wander around aimlessly – there’s a bit of a drizzle going on and it’s suitably listless outside to suit my mood. However, it and I brighten up a bit, I have a good old Chat with Winston and his nephew 2019-07-01_03-20-54 by james serjeant, on Flickr 2019-07-01_03-21-23 by james serjeant, on Flickr and a while later we all gather at the signpost for collective and individual pics. Some of us are interviewed for sportsbikeshop.co.uk – they do some journo stuff on their website, courtesy of Tony Hoare. Questions asked, semi conscious answers are given, evidence is snapped by Simon. I ought to add that I was genuinely impressed with his riding, especially on the soggy Loch Lomond road. Professional bike photographer is talented riding bastard. Who knew? JoG by james serjeant, on Flickr I’m still absolutely wiped out to the point that I feel I have to disappear, so without ( I hope) annoying anyone I slink off and ride very slowly indeed to Thurso about 20 miles away, fuel up, eat and simply sleep in the sun for a while till dehydrated. A bottle of water and another of Irn Bru and I’m good to go – the road gets more scenic, beautiful and twisty as I go, aiming for Durness. Another 50 miles, this is taking lumps out of me but I can’t build the energy to ride fast. I take in the scenery through half closed eyes – it’s great! I spy a cottage ruin I want to annex. Even if it meant living in a caravan for a while it would be worth restoring. 2019-07-01_03-21-44 by james serjeant, on Flickr I ride past Tongue – an evocative sliproad across the estuary with a bridge at the other end. Winston had something to do with building this, though my memory of the details are sketchy. A castle ruin overlooks me as I ride past, stopping to grab a picture. 2019-07-01_03-22-06 by james serjeant, on Flickr The combination of mountains, lochs, cliffs and sea is irresistible and I stop far too many times slowing the journey down and dragging out the remaining fifty miles t oa painful degree but I’m gawping in slack jawed wonder at this place. I love it here and want to retire here. Mininomi has her heart set on Snowdonia – I can see haggling ahead! 2019-07-01_03-22-28 by james serjeant, on Flickr The church I’ve stayed in for a couple of years and failed to buy has been snapped up and is being turned into a des chez – I wonder if I should find the new owners and send them video footage of the spooky chandeliers I took a few years ago, swaying indoors with no breeze… 2019-07-01_03-22-43 by james serjeant, on Flickr One wry aspect of this NW500 route is the number of high performance cars, failing to perform at all on this twisted route – there’s Porches and Lambourginis, and on one occasion three Nissan GTR’s with dustbin exhausts, crawling at 20 mph behind a couple of vans. I overtake the lot, stop top take pics, overtake them again, and repeat as necessary – I’m enjoying this game… Finally Durness and I park up at the Bunkhouse. £22 a night, I’m sharing with a bunch of GS riders who have travelled 186 miles and are yawning ostentatiously complaining of the struggle of their journey. I say nothing, but catch the rolling of eyes of the Swedish lasses who are walking the entire coastline… Food frenzy from the supermarket and off to the beach. It’s dry, warm, sunny and I’m midgeproof – it’s great here! There’s a beach with hulking rocks so I climb on top and take dozens of pics before descending to the beach and making sandcastles like the child I am. Did I say I love it here? Hell yeah. 2019-07-01_03-22-57 by james serjeant, on Flickr 2019-07-01_03-23-10 by james serjeant, on Flickr I didn’t know it but my plan of four days in the western highlands are ending – my mum is being taken to hospital for a possible emergency operation and I find out after staying at the hostel that I need to get back home south asap. This really is going to finish me right off but for the time being I’m unaware and I get the first decent night’s sleep for a long time. All, for now, is good. 12 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 7, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 7, 2019 The grim South I’m up at some reasonable time in Durness and I’m off – I’ve had the call up from my brother saying my mum has to go into hospital and likely to be operated on with a 30% chance of not making it. Not a mad rush, but it’s Sunday morning and this is happening on Monday. I bite the bullet, arrange to stop over with mates in Huddesfield to break the journey, and crack on. Not going mad – I don’t have the energy any more and my shoulders, neck & wrists are giving me so much grief I really really feel the need not to go anywhere at all. I take the A838 down the west coast – I’ll damn well enjoy the journey if it kills me! I’m not stopping much for photographs, but there’s a handful, just because… 2019-07-01_03-23-35 by james serjeant, on Flickr Over the curving Laxford bridge and on to Scourie. 2019-07-07_04-58-12 by james serjeant, on Flickr The friendly fuel station with goodies is now a machine so I carry on – I hook up with a couple of other riders on adventure bikes and a familiar pattern emerges – I tear past, a couple of miles later I see something scenic and stop, they pass and then I scream past again. …and repeat. 2019-07-01_03-24-04 by james serjeant, on Flickr 2019-07-07_04-57-43 by james serjeant, on Flickr One place I just have to stop and try to get a decent stream/mountain combo shot – I force myself to rest up for a while as well. It’s good just taking in the serenity. 2019-07-01_03-24-30 by james serjeant, on Flickr Yet again I find the ideal residence, nowt a fortune and a decade can’t fix. 2019-07-07_05-00-11 by james serjeant, on Flickr Ullapool. Proper stop – fuel, food, red bull…and a rest by the waters watching a family play on the beach and enjoying the atmosphere. It’s good here. Must return and travel at leisure. This sets me up for the mindless hack to Inverness – I need to get the miles in while I can. A835 it is and before long I’m overtaken by a cohort of decent sportsbikes on an absolute mission. I hang on as long as possible but they’re fitter and faster. Good taking my mind of the journey though and I really enjoyed that patch of riding. Into Inverness, fuel again at the pitstop ( where else eh?) and, hating the idea of the average cameras along the dull A9 I retrace my steps along the lochs and towards Glen Coe. Pausing at the bottom to take a picture from the bridge, and again near the top I resolve no to take any more pictures – time is passing. Erk. 2019-07-07_05-00-58 by james serjeant, on Flickr 2019-07-01_03-25-08 by james serjeant, on Flickr Naturally I break this promise – Glen Coe lures me in with it’s mystic scenes… 2019-07-01_03-25-30 by james serjeant, on Flickr But off I go again, returning via Loch Lomond, marginally more confident – I’ve run 32/36 in tyres for years and that’s suited me fine…the Michelins demand more so they’re 36/42 – I still don’t like them but at least the bike is turning in to bends now. Glasgow. Yuk. Great place normally – my dad came from here, but I want out asap. Motorway south as quick as I can. Optimum 97 whenever possible, silently cursing traffic when not, I hit a monsoon and it hits me right back – complete savage deluge that lasts all the way to Huddersfield. Grand welcome by mates – I’ve given a dram before I get off the bike and that sets out the evening – bed at 2am thoroughly drunk which probably helps a lot. Up early the next day and only 160 miles to go – the roads are dry and I can’t stand the thought of motorways so I set off for Holmfirth and up Holme Moss. Big mistake. It rains and a real nasty fog descends. I hit complete rock bottom – the absolute worst I’ve ever felt on a bike ever. I’m in a whiteout, unable to see the road edges or markings, stuck behind a caravan crawling up this pass with hairpin bends doing 10mph. I just can’t see to pass, and I’m now crying with pain. It’s hell. I get past and crawl up to the top of the pass – still foggy on the way down, I hit the junction with the A628 and can barely pull out since visibility is so bad. Swift decision – follow that road to Manchester and motorway it. This takes time but finally I’m flying south again, optimum 97. This lasts till near Stoke and then the traffic is stationary. I’m doing 20mph until I can’t stand it any longer and get the hell off. Cross country till near Wolverhampton, then back on for a while, more roadworks compound my misery on the M5, then off at Worcester and hack through Evesham, Broadway, Stow and finally home. Completely beyond caring about speeding or, indeed, anything, I’ve just enough time to bung the bike in the stable and head off in car to hospital. Mum’s alright, even though they lost her for a couple of hours. The end. Finis. Kaput. I love doing this event – that was the sixth time so I’ve learned some sixth sense. I’ll not do this again, but will happily help out, either at a pitstop near home, or use it as an excuse for a leisurely ride to Scotland to maybe help at the finish or last pitstop. A fortnight later and I’m still a bit of a wreck – permanent pins, needles and pain in my right hand and shoulders & neck – I’ve ridden about 100 miles on the bike the other day and perversely that has helped, but I’m still resting up and knacked. Taking it easy for now then I’ll gleefully punish myself at Anglesey for a couple of days on track, since that’s an entirely different kind of fun! 16 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
blow_away Posted July 7, 2019 Report Share Posted July 7, 2019 Bloody well done James 👍 (You missed out the bit about mending your chain properly) 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hawkati Posted July 7, 2019 Author Report Share Posted July 7, 2019 14 minutes ago, blow_away said: Bloody well done James 👍 (You missed out the bit about mending your chain properly) that's because it's still got the split link on it! No, really - that must be about 800+ miles on that thing, so it's ready to pang over the horizon in the next twenty feet or so... 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SWTH Posted July 7, 2019 Report Share Posted July 7, 2019 Brilliant write up, I have to go and do the north of Scotland sometime on the ZZR. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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