We left Roker at 08.30 on Sunday morning, 13th July, with 302 miles on the odometer (zeroed at Hopeman) and a packed lunch from Mam that strained even the Blackbird's luggage capacity! The run down to Whitby was pretty routine, though I was surprised at the amount of traffic on the A19 so early on a Sunday morning. That's England for you! On a bike weekend last year to the north of Ullapool, if we saw a car every 20 minutes it felt like the rush hour!
We parked up opposite Whitby tourist information office in a free car park that, unbeknown to us, housed a real live "Biker Cafe". The combination of the superb weather, the day of the week and the fact a local motorcycle meet was in progress, led to a steady stream of our two wheeled colleagues entering and leaving the venue on everything imaginable, from Harleys and classic British machines to scary Japanese "Crotch Rockets". We got friendly waves and knowing looks from at least two other Blackbird riders, the look said " CBR1100xx's rule okay? "
Up to the Abbey, which, though undeniably impressive, was not worth a fiver to park beside! Whilst I lounged beside the bike in the official car park, the nav/ photographer did her stuff perched half way up and leaning over the large stone wall surrounding the ruin. Although I looked relaxed, I was like a coiled spring, ready to leap aboard and exit the area if approached by a fee demanding monk.
" You may take our lives, but you'll never take our Fee Dom(inican)! (Apologies to Braveheart...........the well known Australian).
Robin Hoods Bay was the next stop, a very popular place indeed if the total lack of parking places was anything to go by! I halted the bike half way round a mini island while SWMBO took the camera down the steepest path I have encountered since the Ben Nevis tourist route! I sat on the bike, warily watching for irate monks who may have taken up the pursuit, and chatted to a dismounted biker who was visiting the village by car (traitor). He warned of some pretty severe bends on the road towards our next destination, that pearl of the North - Scarborough!
The nav/photographer returned up the hill. The combination of hot weather, motorcycle protective clothing and ridiculously steep ascent had transformed her usual pale and interesting complexion into an impressive beetroot-like hue. My greeting of " Come Squaw we ride metal horse to Scarborough" did not have the desired comic effect and, with a look that would have stunned a monk with a ticket machine, we were off.
The bends were quite impressive in a buttock clenching sort of way, but forewarned is etc and we arrived safe and sound at a hot and crowded seaside. Some of the sights were.......well..... sights. Two that leap to mind are a grossly obese bald man, stripped to the waist, covered in tattoos, an ice cream in one hand and a can of "Super lager" in the other, striding across the zebra crossing as if he were God's gift to women! (Through the intercom I could hear faint retching noises). The other was a middle aged couple sunbathing, only just on the sand, surrounded by dog ends, her in a bra sort of top, him in Y-fronts, they couldn't have been 10 feet from the fish and chip kiosk, people were almost having to queue around them! It was also the first time we had seen donkeys on the beach in decades and it was interesting to see that even donkeys have Rights these days - no adults allowed to ride and children restricted to 7 stones......which effectively left out 70% of the large rug rats spotted on the beach that day! They even get a lunch hour.
The town of Beverley in Yorkshire is apparently famous for one thing. Not selling petrol! There were plenty of cars about so where did they refuel? We spent 20 minutes searching, even the local TESCO didn't have a garage!
We finally got filled up at a services just before the Humber Bridge. There was a bit of a tense moment as the forecourt was full of classic scooter riders, complete with parkas and union jack flags. I was glowered at by several 70 year old "Mods" who must have decided I was too young to have taken part in the big Brighton battle of 64 and left me unscathed.
The Blackbird is not a small motorcycle, especially in full touring trim however we felt VERY tiny as we crossed over the Humber (on the bridge)................. (£1.20p for a bike)
The day was getting on and we had promised to be at my sisters for 6pm so, using some fast roads and a bit of motorway, we did exactly that!
Arrived Thurlstone 556 miles on the clock, 254 completed that Sunday.
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