Tarts and Ducks.

A small tart

A bridge on the river Wye ( Apologies to Alec Guiness )

A duckling on a rock on the Wye

I was hoping a passer by would ask me if I knew the name of the river so I could say:

Why aye!, Wye, why?

Over night at Appelby Magna.

We arrived at David and Gill's, expecting to find him still trapped on a train somewhere, commuting back from the "Smoke". Happily though, he was home and, as is his wont, was deep in home maintenance. On this occasion he was repairing one of the many lavatories, using a BBQ lighting device..... ?? (Don't ask !)

The great thing about visiting my brother and sister in law is that no matter how long the interval since our last meeting, (Sue tends to see them more often due to her annual pilgrimage to Crufts at the NEC, which is only 30 mins down the road) we can pick up almost instantly where we left off months or, sometimes in my case, years before. David and I do communicate quite regularly via e mail which helps I suppose.

As our arrival time had been a bit on the vague side we had elected for a take away from the excellent Chinese restaurant they sometimes frequent. This also gave David the chance to show off his new green mode of transport, a Toyota hybrid electric/petrol car. I left Sue doing things on the computer and went along with Dave and Gill for an environment-saving trip to the restaurant.

The charming young Asian lady who was serving recognised David but did not believe his claim that I was his grandfather! The meal was going to take about 25 minutes but by purest chance (my bot!) there was a pub next door!

It was the strangest of sensations when we set off on the return journey - to pull away in almost total silence! The 15 minute trip to the take away had charged the Prius's battery packs and the petrol engine was not required for a while. David said that he had to be a lot more aware of dozy pedestrians with this car, especially when parking and pulling away on electric motor power!

Many hours later we prepared for bed in the conservatory, happily replete, food had been consumed along with a modest amount of beer and wine. Although tomorrow was a relatively short hop up the road to Yorkshire and an early start not essential, I didn't want a thick head to contend with.

We were awakened by the sound of torrential rain on the conservatory roof in the early hours, "Probably sounds worse than it is" I muttered to my sleepy navigator. We looked out a few hours later.............. it didn't ................Arggg!

To be continued.....

The Grays visit the Grays

We arrive at "Lil bros"

Elvis and adoring Hons Graduate try to nick bike !

Frome to Appleby Magna via Wells, Weston, Stratford.

Le Clock Anglais

We fueled on the outskirts of Frome then headed off to Wells. The "Nav" had done her homework and, following her directions, given at intervals through my headphones, we arrived and got parked, after a bit of a tour through the slightly confusing streets, just adjacent to the market square, which was in full swing. Lots of fellow tourists and interesting smells greeted us as we made our way to the Abbey.

Sue had done some research and wanted to see the famous clock tower perform its hourly display. Apparently George Lucas had based many of the Star Wars battle scenes on the spectacular antics of this ancient masterpiece! I was excited and waited impatiently with Sue under the tower, elbowing French school kids out of the way as they turned up en masse and stood in front of us at a minute to the hour, whilst we had been waiting since a quarter to !

At precisely 2 minutes past 12 ( ??? ) a whirring was heard, the clock went "Bing" once, the bloke with the spear jiggled it half heartedly and the one with the sword did nothing! We retreated to the market to the sounds of youthful French sniggers "Le clock Anglais, c'est merde n'est pas?" (excuse my Franglais). Silently agreeing, we found an impressive burger stall, Sue had a cheese burger the size of a small hat, whilst I bought an authentic Cornish pasty.

We found a picnic spot near a church gate where swans ring a bell rope when they want to be fed. Didn't see any swans but were soon besieged by pigeons, with whom we shared our lunch. It wasn't until afterwards we found the notice prohibiting such actions.............. oops!


Fleeing the wrath of the Pigeon Police, we left Wells behind and set off to Weston Super Mare, where Sue had spent some of her schooldays . The journey was uneventful and we arrived at the seaside and discovered a parking area just for motorcycles right on the prom and it was free! It was still warm but with a strong wind coming off the sea and a lot of the substantial beach seemed to be airborne and was sandblasting the holiday makers and us as we made our way along the prom for the obligatory 'pirate and fat lady in a bathing costume' photos on the doomed pier.

The day was whizzing by so, after using the public toilets and chuckling at the notice prohibiting child and foot washing in the sinks, we returned to the Blackbird crunching our (nutless) ice cream cones! Sand is probably good for the digestion.

A couple of hours later saw us entering the town of the famous playwright. One of the great things about motorcycles is you can always get parked approximately where you want. We did so, took some photos, then found a roadside cafe and ordered two lattes to sustain us on the last leg of our journey to my brother's house. I fumbled in my pocket for change, then hastily sought out my thinning wallet when asked for £6.00 !!!!!!! I thought I must have been misunderstood by the exchange student who served me and had booked bed and breakfast!

Time was against us so we were soon back on the road. Guided expertly by my pillion passenger, we arrived in Derby just in time for tea.

To be continued.....

Stratford upon Avon ( The town of Willie Waggledagger )

Me in front of the Avon
Statue of Bill Rattle-Javelin contemplating price of coffee

One week later!

Nothing to do with us honest!

That was the Pier that was!

Macam on the pier
The Pier one week to "Live" !
Sue ( Not to scale ) on the doomed pier!

Illegal feeding but I won't be doing "Bird"

All's Wells that ends Wells.

Me in front of a big Church thing in Wells.
Me again , illegally feeding pigeons

We arrived at Lizbeths ahead of schedule so whilst tea was cooking David took the Blackbird, devoid of luggage for a blast. I turned down the offer of a ride on his "Pan" not because I was "Wuss" but because my ancient body was crying out for a stretch and a seat on something that didn't have to be steered! The accrued mileage was starting to tell! Sue and I tried the Pan for size on the driveway and we both decided it would be an acceptable replacement for the Blackbird, when the time came.

By the time he returned we were on good terms with the chickens and my cramped extremities were just about back to normal. A nice , very welcome meal followed then David set off for home, his pathfinder duties complete. Thanks mate.

Cousin Graham stopped by having spent the day burning cows and a couple of hours at a gypsy funeral! ( I kid you not! ) By the time he was fed and watered we were all thinking of sleep, which for me actually occurred just before my head hit the pillow.

Morning found another biking cousin, Greg , just finished night shift, awaiting us in the sitting room . He had swapped his large capacity sports bikes for more economical transport , ( see photos ) but still had the approval and sticker to prove it , of the Hells Angels MC ..... respect!

We were on the road in continuing good weather just after 10am , the historic town of Wells and the soon to be no more, Pier , at Weston Super mare ahead of us. Then on to Shakespeare country hopefully arriving at my baby bro's house around tea time. ( Appelby Magna Derby )

To be continued:

Aunt Lizbeth, cousins and chickens.

Mistress of all she surveys

Corby Glen to Frome

On the way to Frome

Our first obstacle after leaving the Nav's sister's house was negotiating a roundabout on the "Great North Road" (A1) before heading vaguely South West to pick up the Foss Way en route to Somerset. We seemed to sit in a queue for ages "giving way" as nose to tail lorries ( mostly ) trundled over the junction going North and South.
"Some people have to endure this every day of their lives" Sue commented.
The empty highland roads North of Inverness could have been on a different planet, it must have been the earliness of the hour that was making me wax Phil O'soffical, because before long we were off over the roundabout and making progress along some of the excellent English "B" roads that at times put the Scottish "A" roads to shame. Everyone down here seems to prefer the speed and convenience of dual carriage and motorway leaving these excellent routesrelatively traffic free.

As we proceeded some of the town names began stirring old memories of my early motorcycling days as a young airman, newly out of training, exploring the countryside around Brize Norton on my then "cutting edge" machine, a Honda CB 175 for which I was paying the enormous monthly hire purchase sum of £11.00 ! No test needed in those halcyon days, just a provisional licence and a set of L plates. Jeans, Levi jacket and helmet were the dress code of the day!

We received a call from Sue's cousin David to tell us he had got the afternoon off work and was heading for the RV on his Pan European, we set the Tesco car park in Stow to meet and he was to lead us to his mum's new house in Frome as neither Sue or I had visited her in the chez noueveau.

Coming to the end of the old Roman Foss way we entered the outskirts of Stow and admittedly I was dithering a bit as we came upon the superstore quicker than expected and missed the car park turn off. It was at this point the car driver felt justified in his TANGO WHISKEY ALPHA TANGO comment. After dragging him from his car and giving him a damn good thrashing ( in my mind ) we did a u turn and stopped in the car park of the store where "every little helps"

We chatted to a friendly local trolley collector who was also a member of the biking brother/sisterhood until David arrived scant minutes later, perfect timing!

We rode into the market place where parking on anything but two wheels would have been impossible and smugly reversed the bikes into a perfectly sized slot just outside a quaint "Olde Worlde" hostelery. After a quick look round we found a table out the back and refreshed ourselves with food and drink, the interior dining room being filled to capacity with a coach load of diners, dining as only OAPs can dine. ( Refer to Desmond Morris's " Life on Earth, Chapter 2, African veld, feeding frenzy ." )

Back on the road the weather was still hot, sunny and breezy. David rode with skill on roads familiar to him and I more or less kept up, well kept him in sight anyway. One fond memory is of a glorious overtake of at least ten vehicles stuck behind a tractor on a winding country road. Now who were the TWITS? ( Spelling changed to protect the innocent!)

We arrived at Aunt Lizbeths at 5.30pm, about 30 minutes ahead of our eta.

To be continued:

The Road to Frome via Stow on the Wold.

Who would have thought that anyone lucky enough to live in a nice place like this would call me a T**T? Must have been a foreign tourist in a British hire car, practising his English in a West country accent. Perhaps the word in his language means: " Nice Bike" ?

We stopped with David for cream tea, garlic bread and a pint of grapefruit and tonic in a quaint pub full of OAPs on a coach tour. We were just about the only ones dressed in leather!

The Road to Frome.

Heading South with company.

Cousin Greg dropped by looking for a race!

We try Greg's Honda for size

Aunt Lizbeth and niece.

David, our escort, and his "Pan"

An interesting grammar school we spotted.

(No comment required)

The road to Corby Glen.

My main recollection of the trip from my sister's to Sue's sister's, was almost succumbing to heat stroke in Nottingham city centre. Moving between traffic lights only 50 metres apart, the weather was hot, the bike's engine temperature was well into the red, the electric fan working over time and sending waves of superheated air up the fairing almost immolating my lower half. Arghh!

Needless to say we shouldn't have been there! One wrong turn at a busy bypass roundabout had plunged us into the heaving city centre traffic, all of which knew exactly where it was going and which lane to be in!

This in stark contrast to the wilderness we had recently encountered, whilst performing possibly the slowest motorcycle crossing of the "Snake Pass" in the Peak district. The mandatory 50 mph limit, warnings of previously killed and injured bikers and my continued crap cornering technique kept us slow and safe!

We saw the bent steeple at Chesterfield, a sign for a pie shop in Melton Mowbray, got some good directions to my uncle's house from my cousin, who is an IAM observer for both bikes and cars, and spent an hour or so with them before cracking on and arriving at Corby Glen around 5pm.

Thurlstone to Corby Glen 151 Miles

The Nav's sister's house, Corby Glen. Weather still excellent!

Stopped off in Nottingham for tea and bickies with my Uncle/Godfather and Aunt.

Baby Sis, Hubby and red faced Macam

Enjoying a pint of "Real Ale" after 254 miles !

Remember to click on images to view full size.

Mam's to sister's. The scenic route. ( Long way round)

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.

Roker to Thurlstone ( the longest day, mileage wise )

The Humber Bridge

Robin Hoods Bay. Very steep, you just ask the "Nav".

I stayed behind to guard the Honda.

Whitby harbour in glorious sunshine

Navigator with Ice cream

Whitby Abbey. (£5.00 to park....... My RSE)

Some onboard footage of prom at Scarborough.

Kinross to Sunderland. ( Land of the Macam )

Tyne Bridge Newcastle

Seaburn Prom Sunderland

Roker pier Sunderland. Just at the bottom of my Mam's street


Jedburgh Abbey



Me on a bridge in Jedburgh. Slightly pensive as I consider the journey to come.

The Border, weather a bit "iffy" but spirits high.

Just about ready to go. Kinross to Sunderland. 0915 12 July 2008

With the first 148 miles of our journey completed we set off "Dahn Sarf ", the first major obstacle being a circumnavigation of the somewhat bewildering roads around Edinburgh.

We avoided the dreaded ring road as one of the major roundabouts was under repair and the traffic news had warned of disruption. Not minor disruption, which usually means a long queue of disgruntled car drivers, but disruption which means nobody over 55 should attempt to use the road if they wanted to be home in time to draw their state pension!

My navigator of 27 years was up to the task and only one u turn was required ( no mean feat with a fully loaded Blackbird and legs as short as mine!) in a relatively quiet part of the capital. So soon we were past the City and pressed on to Jedburgh stopping for a leg stretch, a drink and some more photos.

We paused briefly at the Scottish/English border, took some photos and waved our adopted country goodbye.

There was a big biking meet on at Kelso over the weekend, so much waving and headlight flashing was the order of the day as a steady stream of every motorcycle imaginable was spotted en route to N E England.

The famous Tyne bridge at Newcastle was a first on two wheels for us both, we had crossed it many times in various cars over the years and I, in younger, fitter days had even run over it at the start of the 1992 "Great North Run" ( a PB of 2 hrs 4 mins for a half marathon! ). Newcastle was successfully negotiated following a prod in the back from the "Nav" when I almost went wrong at a flyover, exit/entry ramp "thingy" just before Gateshead.

We fueled at Seaburn in Sunderland then proceeded to my mam's in Roker, just a couple of miles down the coast. I'm sorry there's no photographic evidence of the City of my birth this is because we both spent the entire visit eating at the insistence of my Mater. This is normal!

302 miles on the clock, two tank fulls of gas used so far............... and a week to go!

To be continued...........

First Stop - Kinross, Fife, Scotland. ( Just south of Perth )

SWMBO breezed into the house at 18.45 hrs, totally oblivious to the red faced, leather clad "Hobbit" who was leaping from foot to foot in undisguised impatience, simultaneously handing her her riding kit and looking out the window at the vanishing daylight! (Did I mention my poor night vision?) The result , I think, of an incident with a very bright flare whilst on a military exercise in Germany many years ago! Eventually the house was secured, the bike warmed up and we departed Hopeman at approx 19.15 hrs.

Within six miles we were riding in the rain, I feared the worse! However, despite being a cool (ish) evening, we were soon out of the shower and heading for Aviemore over the Dava moor. The A9 route south was relatively quiet, going south anyway. We didn't get held up to any appreciable extent, the vehicles we encountered were swiftly dealt with courtesy of Mr Honda's excellent motorcycle, the addition of a pillion passenger, top box, throw over panniers and tank bag did nothing to adversely effect the incredible performance of the best bike I have ever owned! I was once again amazed at how easy it was to slip into very illegal speeds, especially during overtakes. A fact brought home when we witnessed an unfortunate Biker being interviewed by the boys in blue as we neared Perth!

We stopped to fuel at TESCO Perth, the first time in two and a half hours that my feet had been off the pegs! Arggh! Stiff, cramped 55 year old legs! Can I really manage a week of this? We got to our destination at approx 21.25, had a good sleep and were up early as son and daughter were off to a dog agility show. Euan, our first grandson, was on good form even at this unearthly hour. ( See Photo ) On the road for 0900hrs.

To be continued.....

A quick overview of the trip.

The date is 11Th July 2008. The time 18.30hrs. Our aging hero, aided by his faithful budgie Sheila, watches anxiously from the window for his missing team member and navigator SWMBO. The last he heard she was still tending to tarnished goldfish and hamsters with repetitive stress syndrome from too much wheel action, in her guise as Vet Nurse/Receptionist some six miles away at the local practice.

The motorcycle was prepared, the frugal luggage packed, the leathers ready to don and time was slipping away. An almost imperceptible frown creased our hero's classic Macam countenance, for a moment he almost looked his 55+ years.

WHERE IS SHE ?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The idea was to farm out all the dogs for a week to friends and relatives, arrange the feeding of cat and budgie and take off to tour England and Wales on our trusty 9 year old Blackbird. ( Honda CBR 1100 xx ). A cunning plan was hatched that on the surface appeared to be a duty visit to as many of our far flung relatives and friends as possible. This in fact was a sneaky way of getting free bed and breakfast the length and breadth of England!................ Pure genius!

Would we make the approx 150 miles to our son and daughter-in-laws before dark? Would the bike be up to the rigours of some 1.5 thousand miles in seven days? Would the weather be kind to us?

WOULD SHE NEVER GET HOME ?????

To be continued...

The Route

Just to whet your appetites "Macam fans". A day by day report, with photos will be forthcoming soon. Just as soon as SWMBO has fiddled with the images on her print programme.

Daily Mileages:

Friday 11th 148

Sat 12th 154

Sun 13th 254

Mon 14th 151

Tues 15th 182

Wed 16th 199

Thurs 17th 142

Fri 18th 213

Sat 19th 211

Appleby Magna, July 16th

Road Trip 2008 The Long(ish) Way Down ( and across)

Sorry for the inexcusable delay in adding to my blog. There's no excuse.

This evening myself and SWMBO are heading off on a weeks tour of three fourths of the UK. Only the Emerald Isle will escape our attention this time, this will be remedied in the future.

We shall be staying with Rellies ( scrounging B&B ) in the most part, but only for one night each, Wales will be the only time we have to search out a professional hostelry. We are keeping fingers crossed for the current weather of Biblical proportions to alter and be kind to us poor two wheeled travellers. Should be able to update whilst on route at a couple of locations and will post a complete travelogue on our return. Those of you who are getting a visit already know, those of you who don't................................... watch your street for two bedraggled bikers......... you never know!!!

N E Husband in roof top protest !!!

Dressed as an aging "Hobbit" This anonymous man shouted to passers by that " He was not coming down until his wife got rid of some Papillons" He was later shot off the roof by a Kennel club marksman and is thought to be in hiding near Perth.