Raining in all four compass points

[Slimie]

Hope the weather holds out for you, have a safe ride guys

Secondededed, I'm sure you'll have a good time even if the weather's inclement. Although I'm also sure you'd prefer it to be clement.
Whatever that is.

-Simon

[Whealie]

We always knew we’d need to push on today, but we never thought we would literally need to do it. It was a starter motor that nearly stopped us from starting. Pauls fired up with the rest of us but stalled at the end of the driveway and his starter motor would then only make a feeble clicking sound. That meant a bump start down the hill. The motor must have just got itself muddled because it started from then on. Paul wasn’t happy but I pointed out that it a was a 20-year-old bike and the original starter motor, so having a little pause for breath was hardly unfair of it.
We are now just 25 miles from Ardnemurchan but, at 7pm, have called it a day. We’re popping down there, luggage-free, in the morning and back to our B&B for breakie. I have now covered more than 1,100 miles since I left home on Friday.
We headed out of Windermere to Ambleside and cut back to hit the Whynose pass (can’t remember if that was what it was called) and the Hardknot pass. Dom on a 2.4m long and 270kg when dry Harley, plus luggage and the fat boy himself (Dom, that is) making to about 400Kg all told, rightly pointed afterwards that the roads were not built for Harleys. But he did it – and we met people during the day who had dropped their bikes trying to do the Hardknot – so it was some achievement. You can’t call it a great road (a glorified goat track, one biker called) but it is a great adventure. It is one of those roads where the trail bike is in its element.
Monday mornings will never be the same again. What a day we have had. And to think we could have been working.
Just look at these pics.






These two are just at the beginning of the Hardknot pass.





At one point the Sat Nav route I had programmed in told me to go on a track. There was no way the others would have made it but I soon discovered, after shingle and a railway line (could have done with the knobblies back on for that bit) that it rejoined the main road, so I rode back round to them and showed them the way.
We breakfasted in Gosforth and then rode some lovely roads to Cockermouth and hit the M74. Once past Glasgow we skirted Loch Lomond on the A82, with the other two nearly running out of fuel. A couple of bikers on a KTM and a BMW told us of a nearby garage and we refuelled before heading off again.
Scotland is beautiful. No matter how much you were enjoying riding, you simply had to stop to take in the views and chat to other bikers.

We ploughed on, hoping to make it to the most western point but a wait for the ferry delayed us (just look at the gorgeous weather – it was baking and that was just before 6pm.


We had one horrible bit where the road had been re-gritted and was just covered in gravel. That was like an ice rink. But the rest were just outstanding. The Lakes was exhilarating but slow going, so we’ve been in the saddle nearly 12 hours stopping to breakie, fuel and coffees only. Lunch is for wimps.
We eventually stopped at the Salen Hotel, where we were made very welcome by Jonathan who runs it. He even let me use his computer and dial-up connection to post to the site but after the ages it took to upload 3meg of pics the site suddenly asked me for my password again and the pics were lost.
It is so light here. As we went to bed about 11am I took this pic of the sky. It was what I’d call dusk, yet was only an hour away from midnight.


Ardnemurchan and Dunnet Head all in a day tomorrow, then some serious miles to cover to get to Lowestoft.

[Sharribee]

Whealie what fantastic views and riding roads, where next??????

[Whealie]

It’s raining again, not just water but midges. We’d had a run-in with midges in Dartmoor and I’d been bitten so this time I was covered in repellent. I didn’t get bitten but there are so many of the little buggers you breathe them in, spitting them out, blowing them out of your nose and wiping them out of your eyes. Once you pop your helmet on you have a visor full of the little thing whizzing about inside.
They are attracted to your breath apparently. And only the females bite and only after sex, or so our landlord told us. If that’s so, there had just been an orgy.
The road to Ardnemurchan point was a blast. It’s a single track road most of the way with passing places at regular intervals. A man from the EU has been along recently repairing most of it (see the nice new corner below), making it a very rideable road.


If the EU has a little man who reads this site, works out where I am going next and rushes out ahead of me to resurface all the roads, then hurrah for the EU. What an excellent use of taxpayers’ money. I feel a blast of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy (the EU’s anthem) coming on.
It was raining when we set off and Dom and Paul had already told me during previous bouts of rain that neither of them ride that much in the wet. The other advantage I had that we only worked out afterwards was height. The road undulated and there are several “blind summit” warnings. With Paul leaning forward on his sports bike and Dom in the reclining position of his Harley, plus the much lower seat heights, I probably have more than half a metre extra height, which enabled me to see over many of the humps for oncoming vehicles.
It just stopped raining by the time we got to the point. The little road in is controlled by traffic lights as there is only room for one car at a time.


The views were spectacular.


The shop was shut through and I so wanted a sticker. A chap from the lighthouse turned up and was really helpful, opening the shop and finding a sticker for me. It had no price so he suggested £1. I have him £1.50.
The ride back was much better. Dom and Paul enjoyed it more too.


There was a battle going on above our heads. The sun was trying to overcome the mighty cloud army. Whenever it broke through, a black cloud centurion would march a legion of smaller white clouds over and reinforce the evil cloud empire’s position. Then there’d be another breakthrough and the sun would shout “I’m Spartacus” and I’d bellow into my helmet, “I’m Spartacus”, too.
We were late for breakfast by now, but Jonathan still managed to rustle us up some cereal, bacon and egg sarnies and coffee, which, as a substitute for breakfast, ain’t bad. Then we headed off, avoiding the ferry this time round, to Fort William and on to the A82.
I want this road for myself. It was just so much fun, we could not stop ourselves grinning. I don’t actually need to own it because it was ours anyway. It was almost empty. There were two big sets of roadworks and at each, the workmen were operating a convoy system to get traffic past. This meant we turned up to a huge queue of traffic, rode past it to the front and were then led out to a clear, open road.
Spartacus had won the battle with the clouds and spent the rest of the day chasing that last remaining one across the sky. It was bright and warm and, well, perfect really.
I’m not sure there is a single bit of the A82 that is straight. It just bends and twists and curves and – the A82 can probably come up with 40 different ways of saying bends. Only two or three of the corners need you to slow down from the 60mph speed limit and many of the turns and twists are easy if you slightly, by mistake, nudge a little over that.
Paul and I were like the cat who got the cream. We just stuck to each other like glue and rode for something like 40 miles without stopping and without drawing breathe. We just had such a blast. I went round one corner and glanced in my mirror, which itself was at 45% to see Paul come round the corner with his saddlebags nearly on the ground. I wish I’d had a video. As it was, we had so much fun we didn’t even stop to take photos.
The A9 is a boring road by comparison but we then diverted along another single track to the north coast. Again my bike had all the advantages but there was so much traffic on this tiny little track, that I was beginning to regret taking it. The wind was also howling across use from right to left by then, too. But once we got out of range of the farms and little villages it was blast. The road levelled out, giving us long views to spot oncoming traffic. We hit some awesome speeds and saw some great sights.
Animals played a bit part. First we got stopped by sheep. The farmer was shepherding them along the road. He opened the gate but they turned back on us until Dom revved the Harley and they beat a hasty retreat.


Then, we were taking it easy on a windy bit when Dom spotted an eagle and pointed up. Paul and I both looked up when two deer, a mother and young ‘un, came flying out of nowhere. Dom had just gone past and the roar of his exhaust scared them. The little one stopped so suddenly its knees buckled. The mother was able to dance sideways. Neither of them came on the road in the end but it looked to me, following at the back, that Paul was going to have a deer on his lap. We’d only heard the day before of a biker hit by a deer, whose bike was written off and who then got a bill for £800 for killing the deer.
The final ride into Dunnet Head is the best approach of the three points we’ve done so far. It is glorious heath and lochs and cliffs and windy roads.





The views were spectacular, and this was 7pm, but the wind was slicing us in half so we turned on our heels and headed on the A9 back south for 50 miles before finding a B&B for the night.

[Whealie]

It is Wednesday night and I have only just managed to post the past couple of days' reports. We have got as far as Consett so well on target to make Lowestoft Ness tomorrow.
It rained for an hour in Scotland but was T-shirt weather by Edinburgh.
Off to bed, now...

[Whealie]

Missing that crucial penalty that sees England knocked out of the World Cup must be disappointing. Being the man in charge of restoring the Cutty Sark only to find it burning to the ground must be disappointing too. But surely nothing can be as disappointing as riding more than 2000 miles and getting to Lowestoft Ness?
It is a car park. And it's not even a nice car park. We rode right past it first time.
All the other compass points are beautiful coastal locations with stunning views and a little local touristy cafe or shop or a lighthouse. But this is concrete monstrosity.
I want to know the name of the man who worked for the council who gave planning permission to concrete over the whole thing. I want him taken out and shot.
Presumably this has been the most westerly point in Britain for some time? There wasn't a point a bit further round that stuck out beyond Lowestoft, that was stunning and green and pretty but which fell in to see in the early eighties or anything, suddenly making this godforsaken place the most westerly remaining industrial estate in Britain, was there?
There is a Birdseye fish processing plant, a gas works, a wind turbine, some cranes, a graffiti covered tower of some sort that stinks of urine, a gravel and puddle car park and lots and lots of concrete.
Don't take my word for it look:

OK so after a walk round and wiping the tears from our eyes, we found a little plaque nailed to the concrete and rode through the no entry signs and down to it (you cannot abide by rules set by the sorts of heathens who would defile an area like this).

Look at that. It's not even as if they are any good at laying concrete in Lowestoft.
This is the plaque:

So that was it, the four compass points of the UK ending on a downer. We had ridden for two days solid to get from the fantastic north of Scotland and this was our welcome.
We left pretty sharpish and decided to get away from Suffolk and Norfolk and all the other Strangefolk. Our original plan had been to get to Lowestoft late on Thursday or early Friday. I was the only one with a deadline - to get home in time to collect my daughter from school on Friday. But the other two then realised that their sons had a school show in the evening so they ought to get back to Weston for that. To achieve this we had cut out some planned nice roads and simply ridden the shortest route possible, so we were there for mid-afternoon.
Dom wanted to call in to the Starcom intercom people in St Ives, near Cambridge, as he couldn't get a bit of his newly purchased system to work, so we rode there, found a B&B and went out for a curry to cheer ourselves up. More than 400 miles done that day, on top of 360 or so the day before.
To end on a positive note, the Starcom people are ace. They came out in the rain and fiddled and twiddled, took bits in for testing and replaced anything that wasn't up to scratch (did a bit to my 18-month old system too). Really nice company that loves bikers. Highly recommended.
They are bringing out a new one soon that will enable the pillion to have their MP3 player and phone plugged in separate to the rider, plus loads of other extras. And they will do an upgrade price too.
On that cheery note Dom and Paul headed for Weston and I zipped down the M11 home to have lunch with my son who had the day off school. I'd done 2,287 miles when I got home. According to the GPS I'd spent more than 68 hours on the bike been moving for just over 48 of them and had a moving average of just over 47mph. That's an average of more than 9 hours on the bike and 6 hours moving every day for seven and a half days.
We rode some of the best roads in Britain as well as just munching the miles on occasion. I wouldn't do it again but only because Lowestoft is so unbelievingly bad. I'd do something similar again but take a little longer or not have to rush so that all the roads could be good ones and we'd never need to sit on the motorway or the boring, straight A roads.
And I'm going to get something done to my seat. That's the one thing about Dom's Harley that made me envious. My backside is complaining still and I'm on my nice comfy office seat typing this.
Better go - have to get Molly all kitted up to take her on the bike to gymnastics.
Special big thanks to Dom and Paul for making it such a great trip.