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it’s a lifestyle

Scottish Motorcyclists — it’s Showtime!

Yes – second week in March at Ingliston Highland Showground on the outskirts of Edinburgh — Scotland has it’s major bike show of the year.

Show 2Just like the Agricultural Highland Show itself which travelled the country setting up on a different site every year – the bike show moved around the central belt before becoming an annual event at Ingliston.

I can remember attending the final travelling Highland Show with my father in the early to mid-fifties which was held at Kelso and no doubt qualifies me as an ‘Old Fart’.

It was around that time I rode a motorbike for the first time. A pre-war 200cc Ariel Colt with three speed gear change mounted on the right hand side of the tank – lever controls for the throttle and ignition and inverted handlebar mounted levers for the front brake and clutch.

I well remember the buzz I got from riding my grandfather’s Ariel on a farm track in the Scottish Borders and even now – sixty years later – I still get that self-same buzz when I ride a bike today.

Just looking at them doesn’t do a lot for me and I’m not an avid show goer but I have to admit this year’s event touched places previous shows had missed completely.

We had clocked this guy gunning his Indian out of a service station on the M8 which put us in the mood —

show 8

Then – having run the guantlet of the Carole Nash girls by the entrance we found a whole tribe of Indians just inside the front door.

This chap with the mullet and plaid jaickit showed us how it was done when he swung his leg over the Big White Chief —

Show 1

H likes these big cruisers because – despite their massive cubes – even the ‘vertically challenged’ can get their feet down on the deck at a standstill —

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But I know just how heavy these big muttha’s are to push about – so – I steered her round the corner to suss out the latest lightweight Scrambler from Ducati powered by a brand new 400cc version of their air-cooled twin —

show 9

Not sure if that expression means she likes it or not. The bike certainly fits her well enough — and — there is even a bigger 800cc version pour moi —

Showtime 19

if she can pull me off this nifty if expensive 530cc T-Max scooter to go see it. The wee lad is looking for his mum to come help her drag me off. He reckons it’s his turn on the T-max anyhow —

show 7

Must admit I felt at home on this well kitted out Triumph Tiger 800 Adventure as it tugged at my heartstrings —

Showtime 2

But – I’ve been there and done that with my Tenere so I went off to look at what was on show in t’other halls.

Shinier than a shiny thing – even my Samsung camera struggles with it’s reflection in the bright light —

Showtime 16

A biking conundrum amongst some of the brightest stars in the biking universe which I remember all too well from my time as an off-road trials rider.

Spend the whole week cleaning – fettling and polishing —

Showtime 17

then ruin the effect by going out to dig dirt and bogs with your pride n joy on the Sunday —

Showtime 18

The classics were a safer bet. They brought back black and gold memories of my grandfather’s Ariel – my brother’s Douglas Dragonfly and my first road bike – the beautiful Velocette 350 Mac – on which I passed my Test to get a full bike licence on the quiet streets of Dunblane in 1959 —

Showtime 5

Hard to believe but I rode these old girder forked bikes back in the day —

Showtime 3

solid rearends too —

Showtime 6

but I’ve got to admit – I have never ridden anything like this –

Showtime 7

Nor this style where many of the bikes have ‘ride by wire’ throttles and carry a multitude of switchgear to save the rider from grief when he loses traction. Most biker’s including myself seldom remember to switch the indicators off so god only knows how we are going to programme all the multi-function switches while on the move to adjust power modes for changing conditions. ABS braking and cornering degree sensors – plus a myriad of other widgets that were designed for today’s Moto-GP riders to help shave a milli-second off their lap times —

Showtime 8

Truth be told — most road-riders would be better following H’s lead and lusting after a bobber –  or a Gunner as in this case —

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They can be affordable —

Showtime 1

generally don’t have messy chains like ‘proper’ bikes do – and – ride so close to the ground it looks as if it would be nigh on impossible to fall off them ——

Showtime 12

 

Well that was Saturday sorted and apart from H’s decision to buy a membership at the friendly ‘Curvy Lady’s Rider’s Club’ where we were loaded with tea and home made cakes – we escaped from the show with our walletspractically unscathed.

Made it so much easier to justify taking a nice B&B for a night in the Trossachs. Next day while I re-traced old biker habits by lighting a fire on a roadside beach by Loch Earn before bemoaning the fact I hadn’t packed the neccessary tinny and teabags to boil up a smokey brew —

Showtime 14

the ‘H’ for ‘Hyperactive’ amongst us —

Showtime 15

went off to climb a tree 🙂

 

 
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Posted by on March 15, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Tenere to the Rhinns

Brilliant weather. I fancy a ride over to the Rhinns of Galloway and lunch at the Mull itself. They do a mean macaroni and chips at the cafe down there – when it’s open. Turns out that this year they will have an extra long xmas break and hibernate till April – so I went hungry but I’m ahead of mesel.

Rhinns 13

First photo op was at Sandend looking onto Luce Bay — but I can’t find my pics from there so we will have to settle for these of the Ten playing hide and seek in the pampas grass at Drumore —

Rhinns 12

Those first two pics were both taken looking back into Luce Bay so you get my drift so-to-speak.

And there’s a lighthouse in this next one. I must be at the Mull of Galloway itself —

Rhinns 11

and I’ve never seen the Isle of Man appear so close —

Rhins 15

Despite the maelstorm of turning tides off the point below – all was quiet up top and I could park the Ten on the helipad without fear of disturbance —

Rhinns 7

and point the camera all around – magic —

Rhinns 9

But I’m hungry — nothing else for it but to head for the nearest pie shop. That would be up at Stranraer —

Rhinns 6

Now Stranraer isn’t famous for it’s haute cuisine – just good honest tucker at a town centre pavement table in the sun with a view of an ancient castle across a paved street.

Can’t ask for much more than that a three o’clock in the afternoon of a small country town in the Scottish boondocks —

Rhinns 5

and I’ve no doubt there’s been a seagull playing King of the Castle up there for nigh on six hundred years —

Rhinns 4

Well that’s what it said on the plaque on the wall down below where I had tethered my trusty steed —

Rhinns 3

See —

Rhinns 2

A lovely ride – and back in time to catch the sun go down over Kirkcudbright Harnour —

Rhinns 1

Well – almost – I missed it by about five minutes 🙂

A quick Edit – just for Rod who jogged my memory with his comment.

I found my Sandgreen pic after all —

Rhinns 17

Bet your caravan isn’t too far from this spot Rod – with the snow capped Galloway hills just visible in the distance. Get yourself down there this weekend mate – it’s too good to miss 🙂

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on March 10, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Snow Over the Devil’s Beeftub

Brilliant morning sunshine fooled me into thinking it might be a good day to be out on the bike. When the bike in question is the Tenere there isn’t much protection from the elements – especially when I don’t have the heated grips connected —

Beefy 9

Was mobile by midday and pointed her in the general direction of Moffat for coffee by the Rumblin Tum before taking a ride up to the Devil’s Beeftub.

Beautiful – well worth the ride —

Beefy 7

Snow glistening on the tops above the Beeftub and more serious snow capped mountains hiding in the clouds over the Lake District far to the south —

Beefy 10

Must have spent too long over coffee and admiring the views for it was bl””dy freezing as I made my way home the long way round – over the still icy roads by Leadhills and Wanlockhead where our very own ‘Gold Rush’ took place many years ago.

One of those fine days I’m going to pack my ‘hot wok’ and go pan for gold up there. I havn’t been watching all those ‘Alaska Gold’ programmes on Discovery Channel for nuthin you know.

But not today – it was even too cold to stop for photos. I had my hands full dodging the icy patches on the road and still hadn’t learned anything by the time I reached Thornhill where instead of taking the quick way home by Dumfries and Castle Douglas I turned by Moniave and Dalry.

Thankfully I found a patch of sunshine in Wigwam Country and was only too pleased to stop and chat to a bunch of horses gathered by the roadside —

Beefy 3

This fine fella came complete with dreadlocks —

Beefy 6

While his bossy mate didn’t take long to shoo him away — and pose for pics herself —

Beefy 4

If I had forgotten just how cold it can be on a bike at this time of year —

Beefy 14

I got a rude awakening this afternoon and was pleased to see my local Galloway Hills silhouetted in the distance as the sun went down in the west 🙂

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Tenere trounces V-Strom

20160227_105742_resizedIn my previous post ‘ chasin the booty’ I had been looking at the latest Triumph Bonneville Speed Twin in the hope that I could find one motorcycle that would take the place of the mixture of bikes that I have in the shed at the moment.

Not that I’m particularly bothered about having more than one bike – if I had taken notice everytime the un-anointed said to me over the years – ‘ you can only ride one bike at a time’ – I might have retired rich if unfulfilled.

MCN testers like the new 900cc Bonneville but it doesn’t cut the mustard with me. The hard seat for the rider is a non-starter with my poor posterior and the pillion perch must be a joke. No doubt there is a proper seat somewhere in the long list of extras. Minimalistic fittings on bikes are ok in some areas but not where my ‘contact patch’ is concerned.

Suzuki V-Strom 650XT

Suzuki V-Strom 650XT

I did like the look of the XT version of the new 650 Suzuki V-Strom at the other end of the showroom and thought the broad but firm dual seat with decent provision for a pillion might be an improvement over the Speed Twin where comfort is concerned.

The central flanged – spoked DID rims allowing fitment of tubeless tyres was another step in the right direction in my book .

I already like that sweet 650 v-twin motor so it’s a no-brainer – clear everything out and go for the all-singing – all-dancing baby Strom — until I read the reviews on those lil suckers.

The seat may look the biz on the new V-Strom but the tester slates it for giving him a numb bum after a hundred miles. What chance have I got if these hard-assed Test Riders can’t even hack it?

No worries – bought new in 2009 the 660 Tenere XTZ is still in my stable. She spent a few years with me being hammered round Europe and looked just as good on the white sands of Tiree four years back as the V-Stroms did on a Lanzarote volcanic mud patch at the Press launch recently —

Tiree 174

and – after the best part of a twelve month rest in the shed and a little fettling she performed better than her rider on today’s gallop – bringing him home safe – if not sound.

She will do —

Ten21

I guess the throbbing single in the Tall Ten will be with me for a while yet. She does most things well enough – doesn’t owe me anything after six years in my tender care – and –

Ten 2

it’s a poor workman wot blames his tools for his own shortcomings 🙂

 

 
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Posted by on March 3, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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2016 Starts Here with the 660 Tenere

We have waited a long time for the sun to shine —  far too long — but shine it did today and Portpatrick beckoned —

Shen1

With temperatures just above freezing it was time for the first ride of the season – out came the Tenere and we took off for the coast —

shen2

Car parks by the harbour were full – of motor cars – the Tall Ten was the only bike out there.

Perhaps the electronic signs by the roadside giving dire warnings of ‘Snow on the Way’ have been taken seriously by t’other bikers but a coffee while I warmed by the fire in the busy pub on the corner was all I needed to get back on the road home with a song in my heart.

I have a thing for rivers and bridges and when I spotted a couple of fine arches off to my left it was time to find a way over there and pull out the camera —

Shen

Grazing sheep were making the most of the early grass on the sunny side of the old Shennanton Bridge over the River Bladnoch —

sheep 2

with an ancient arch to nowhere on the other —

Shen3

while a picturesque white cottage in it’s lovely gardens reaps the benefit of the missing arch to the east —

She

The Ten and I had great day out – hopefully the first of many in 2016 🙂

 

 

 
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Posted by on February 13, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Christmas comes Early

Salt all goneChristmas can come early when you have a Tenere in the shed.

She has been on Sorn since August while I tried to love my Pan Euro ST1100.

I failed muchly in that respect.

The proof is in the pudding .. and what a pudding!

Even manouevering the bikes in the workshop the Tall Tenere feels like a lightweight compared with the solid Pan Euro …Honda ST 1100

 

Built in 1994 at a time when Mr Honda had transformed the 1000cc sportsbike world with a pocket-sized  lightweight ‘Blade – their Pan Euro was still an overweight behemoth.

I was riding the first incarnation of the BMW1100GS back then – good bike though she was – an indicated 100mph aboard her on a dried up river bed in southern Spain will remain one of the biking ‘highs’ in my life – she was still a heavy ‘ol mutha when the wheels stopped turning … Four Seasons

I should have stuck to ‘dried up’ riverbeds for a few days later — high in the nountains — I realised just how heavy that big BM was when I went backwards off a high riverbank landing flat on my back in the rushing waters with the hot Beemer still throbbing away on my lap!

To quote Billy Connelly during his brief foray into wrestling when his Turkish opponent had poor Billy tied in a reef knot and all he could see were a big pair of nuts dangling in front of his nose —

‘It’s amazing how much power a man can find when he bites his own pretzels!’ shock

Something similar must have happened to me on that river bed!

Without a soul in sight for miles I somehow wrestled mesel and that big GS onto what passed as terra firma and back to civilisation.

A few years later BMW realised the error of their ways and transformed the overweight 1100GS into what is now the much lighter – state of the art – top selling 1200GS.

Honda are made of more stubborn stuff and present day Pan Europeans aren’t any lighter than my ol’ 1994 version .. which is why she will remain under wraps till Spring has sprung and I will celebrate an early Christmas present to mesel …

Tiree 168

Yup!  I have just put Road Tax on my Tenere from 1st Dec for her 7th year out there in my hands 🙂

 

 
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Posted by on November 30, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Yamaha FJ1100 Stalled

My FJ1100 hasn’t seen much action since May — I took these pics in June —

middling 001

and I’m pretty sure if I peeked under the covers that nothing much has changed —

middling 002

unless there are mice nesting in there —

FJ 001

No worries – it will soon be October and with fewer distractions I should be able to get my head into gear and possibly finish the rebuild before Christmas 🙂

 
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Posted by on August 21, 2015 in Yamaha FJ1100

 

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Timber!!!

It hasn’t all been plain sailing this summer —

Mulberry Harbour 002

Nope! For one thing the Tall Tenere blotted it’s copy book and fell over!

For reason’s best known to mesel I decided to check out this logpile at the bottom of a steep and rough dirt track in a very remote part of the sou-west. I stepped off the bike – parked her on the side stand – turned my back on her —- then heard an almighty CRASH!

screwed up 002

The suspension had sagged with the weight of the luggage I was carrying and my poor Tenere overbalanced and fell away from the sidestand! Doh!

With nary a soul for miles around there was only one thing for it unless I wanted to spend a night in the forest – get her shiny side up again.

My first attempt to lift her ruptured the tendons in my left heel which were almost recovered from a previous calamity. Nothing else for it – helmet came off – jacket came off and so did the panniers and tailpack. Then with first gear engaged to lock the rear and a good grip on the bars plus gritted teeth and every sinew straining – up she came. She carries her five gallons of fuel high so the almost full tank didn’t help matters much.

No worries – she was back on her wheels – better still – the only visible damage was a slight scratch to a lever guard and a small ding in one of the boxes. It will be a few weeks before my heel recovers though and my insufferable pride took a bigger dent than the pannier box 🙂

 
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Posted by on August 20, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Riding a Norton at the TT

Norton RotaryRiding a Norton at the TT?

Oh yes I did – and it wasn’t just any old Norton. It was the first of the new – for the road – rotary Norton F1’s.

I’m pretty sure the year was 1991 and it was just a case of being in the right place at the right time.

I was trundling around on my 600 Honda Revere on ‘open’ roads during practise week at the TT when I found myself behind this black bike being put through it’s paces over the mountain.

The rider followed by a portly gent on a ZZR1100 turned down a side road somewhere up top and parked on a quiet stretch.

You can imagine my surprise when I found that the rider was Chris Dabbs – chief test rider for the MCN and his ‘well built’ partner was James Noble – photograher.

Introductions over – I was dispatched to stop any traffic coming round the next corner while James lay prone on his belly in the middle of the road as Chris rode full bore towards him – swerving to clear this human traffic island at the last minute. Hairy – barely covers it.

Norton Rotary 3

There was another surprise in store for me when Chris told me my reward for helping was to take the F1 for a ride. I didn’t need two tellings! I had seen the disapproving ‘NO’ forming on the photographer’s lips and in two shakes of the lambs tail I was off over the mountain course like a noisy whippet!

Norton Rotary 2

Must admit I wasn’t too impressed with the Norton. Firmly suspended on her bespoke Ohlins she felt light as a 250cc two stroke and revved out to 10500 rpm with no apparent power band – just smooth linear power all the way.

Nowt much wrong with that – but – there was a downside.

I was heading past the Bungalow – over the tram lines and asking for everything she’s got in my best imitation of works rider Trevor Nation as I raced towards that blind fast left at the top when the two plastic screws used by Arai at the time to fix the righthand side of my visor went awol!

I was about blinded by the thing flapping about in the turbulence!

1991-norton-f1sportw

It was the wake up call I needed and I quietly turned her round – ripped off the damaged visor and took the F1 back to Chris where I found that the fixing screws had sheared.

My helmet had been serviced by the Arai team in the paddock the day before so I doubt if the screws sheared due to over-tightning. At the time I put it down to the very intrusive high-frequency vibration from the bike as it went through 9000 rpm – not something that I enjoyed as it rattled my eyeballs. I was beginning to understand why Chris was so pleased to get off the rotary Norton for a few minutes.

Many thanks to Chris and James for a memory to treasure and to Top Speed and Classics for the use of their pics 🙂

 

 
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Posted by on May 12, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Green Spain on the BMW 1100GS

Twenty years ago I toured Green Spain with my partner on a BMW 1100GS – her first tour on a motorcycle. The plan was to ride anti-clockwise all round the Iberian Peninsula. This is the story of our trip – it turned out to be a much better experience than it reads.

I made the mistake initially of trying to cover big mileages most days. Difficult back then when the main roads wound around every cove and headland along that northern coast. Ok for the rider but not fair on the inexperienced pillion.

Strathcarron – Wester Ross – more deer than people and don’t mention the midgies —

a deer place

The month long trip started in Srathcarron in the north-west of Scotland and our route took us south to Portsmouth to catch a ferry over to Le Havre on the north coast of France – possibly Normandy. I don’t do main toll roads on a bike if I can help it and found some ‘interesting’ roads from Le Havre down to La Rochelle and it’s beautiful sand dunes on the Bay of Biscay.

Atlantic Coast – copyright Fred Mawer —

French Atlantic Coast by Fred Mawer

We didn’t hang around in busy but expensive La Rochelle and found a small, off-the-beaten track town further south for our first night in France. We had to travel a few miles out of town for our evening meal – it proved ‘interesting’. Some unfortunate animal’s intestines stuffed with unmentionables in a sort of watery gravy with a couple of veg. Last time I had something similar was in a Mexican restaurant in Kuala Lumpur and I didn’t enjoy it then either! I thought perhaps they had forgotten to cook the meal as most of it was pretty raw! Is that what they mean by ‘al dente’

St Jean de Luc harbour —

St Jean de Luz

No worries! I knew of a beautiful town on the coast a few kilometres south of Biarritz and was sure that a relaxed lunch the following day at a pavement table by the harbour would soon have my partner smiling again. Unfortunately my response to an unforseen incident involving a favourite crash helmet that had it bouncing along the hard ground at a service stop en-route didn’t go down well and even the beautiful charms of St Jean de Luc were wasted.

Nothing else for it – get back on the bike and open the throttle. Soon we were across the border into Spain past Donostia-San Sebastian – past Bilbao to overnight at a roadside guesthouse near Laredo. Food was basic and our room was – – – just a room.

Laredo – the bay is so-o beautiful — but we didn’t stop there —

Time to make the trip more interesting. Being a ‘World Traveller’ I ‘knew’ that there was more fun to be had on the back roads away from the tourist areas on the coast. Perhaps for me – but not for my partner. She was still happy to regard herself as a tourist.

Picos de EuropaAnother downside of cutting away from the coast were the mountains. The Picos de Europa really are mountains and mountains inevitably mean rain in late September – and rain it did.

My decision to have a small brandy with my after lunch coffee to keep in step with the truckers in that roadside cafe didn’t go down well either.

If the passenger is in a bit of a mood when he or particularly she puts her helmet on then that mood is likely to be much worse when the helmet is removed a couple of hours later!

If I’d known there was an airport near Santander I would have been pleased to go there and buy her a ticket – to – anywhere!

We discussed the trip when we got round to talking – much – much later – only to discover we had both been of the same mind.

Night saw us back on the coast in the picturesqe San Vincente de la Barquera. Not very big but nice. Spanish seaside landladies don’t mess about and have voices that could strip varnish at fifty paces. We stopped in the town centre. Within minutes we were involved in a tug-of-war between two drama queens fighting over who would have the bikers to stay!

While this was going on a little Spanish guy whispered to me ‘try there’ – or words to that effect – pointing at the town centre church like building right beside us.

Santuari de Lluc Monastry – Mallorca —

Santuari de Lluc

It reminded me of a mini version of Lluc Monastry in the mountains of north-west Mallorca where I had enjoyed a stay while on a walking holiday and I thought a few quiet monks for company might be preferable to the saw-toothed landladies who were still giving it verbals.

The room proved to be clean if basic and best of all we were allowed to wrestle the big GS through the heavy oak doors and park her safely at the bottom of the stairs. I will say that all this was conducted using hand signals and grunts as my knowledge of Spanish hasn’t gone any further than a very poor ‘dos cafe con leche’.

I could see that my reputation as a seasoned World Traveller was going downhill in my partner’s estimation. The monks had obviously had enough of the competition too as they appeared to have moved on.

Onwards meant westwards and we lost a bit of time in Gijon while I found a BMW motorcycle dealer who replaced my speedo cable under warranty on the GS. The tyre fitter in Dundee hadn’t located the drive properly when I bought the pimply new tyres prior to our trip.  The result was that the inadvertent wheelie off the rough unloading ramp from the ferry in Le Havre stretched and broke the cable. Great service in Gijon BMW and all for free!

Cudillero was the next town along the coast followed by Luarca about forty kilometres later. We were to stop for a few nights in Luarca. The first night in a room with no windows. I think it was a converted garage but we found somewhere more suitable next day.

We visited nearby Cudillero. It was Fiesta time —

We like to think the Scots invented the bagpipes – so-o wrong!

A Coruna was the next major city followed about one hundred kilometres later by Cape Fisterro – the most westerly point of Spain.

Next stop New York!

The ijit pose – ‘I see no Americas!’ —

I put my shirt back on and we headed for Santiago de Compostela – the end of the Pilgrims Trail that people walk every year from somewhere in France – probably Lourdes. The Spanish beds were taking their toll on my back by this time and we found a small town on the coast to rest up for a couple of days.

Two more nights in a bed with a big dip in the middle only made my back worse so it was back on the road into the teeth of a howling gale coming off the Atlantic! The bike had to be leant into the wind at what felt like forty-five degrees! If a truck acted as a windbreak while we were overtaking we would shoot sideways in the sudden lull!

‘Sudden lull’? Can you have a sudden lull? Well we did! Lots of ’em! There’s a whole lot of trucks on that road!

After struggling with the gale force wind for many miles we turned and ran east with it at our backs all the way to Verin near the border with Portugal. First night there coincided with another fiesta. There were lots of free activities and attractions in the town square so we found a pavement table outside a bar and settled down

It was all too easy! No sooner were we finished one San Miguel than another cold one was handed out the window which was in-line with our table and the bar inside! At the end of the night when we tried to settle up no one would accept any money. It took the ‘fair one’ three days to recover from alcohol poisoning! She barely left her bed in all that time!

One fine day we mounted up and headed south into Portugal —

I was loving Portugal! Roads winding round, up and over hills covered with chestnut trees. Small farms. My kinda country. We found ourselves in Braganca – a busy small town about as far north and east as you can get in Portugal without being back in Spain.

The ‘fair one’ didn’t seem too impressed with Portugal. Perhaps it was when I gave the dog in a roadhouse a slice of ham from my sandwich and the brute spat it back onto the floor!

Time for a conflab! Things weren’t going too well! It was decided that we would head back to Luarca on the Spanish north coast and chill out for a week. No problemo. I set my mental compass for north and headed that way. It turned out there were beautiful lakes – roasting hot desert like areas where the locals lived underground in the summer and fierce mountains with ski-lifts for the winter visitors. I loved it but I wasn’t allowed to do it twice.

An overnight stop by the lakes of Sanabria had us ready for the tough stuff and it was hard going up over the mountains and through that desert. There was even coal being mined on one drab hillside and we were soon black with the slime off the wet roads at that stage making Luarca a welcome sight when we reached there after spending a night in a university town on the way. Whatever mileage you think you can do in a day it is better to half it over the winding roads of Green Spain. Especially two up with luggage!

We stayed in Luarca for a week before heading home to Scotland —

I’m pleased to say our fledgling relationship survived the trip – plus a few more adventures over the next thirteen years before life eventually had it’s way and we bid ‘adios’

 

Don 🙂

 
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Posted by on March 1, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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