In April this year and after much planning, Kimberley and I spent ten fantastic days in Scotland, riding some of the most thrilling roads we have ever ridden in the UK. A motorbike trip to Scotland is no small undertaking for those of us based in the South of England, but the effort was well worth it.
Scotland. For Bikers. By Bikers.
You could say we ‘cheated’ in a way as, rather than ride the 400 plus mile journey to our destination near Crieff in Perthshire, we loaded our bikes onto our two-bike trailer, filled the car with all our suitcases, bike gear and our two Dachshunds and set off early to avoid as much of the Good Friday traffic as we could. The journey was almost all motorway and dual carriageway which we find are the best roads to use when towing. The fewer twists and turns the better when you are hauling a Ducati Multistrada and a BMW S1000R behind you.
For those considering towing, here is our first top piece of advice. The entries, exits and connecting roads at motorway services are often in terrible condition and you need to be extra vigilant for potholes, bumps and failed road surfaces here. We have towed the bikes for thousands of miles and the only two times we have had a ratchet strap bounce out of place is on the exits from services.
The journey took ten hours in total which is gruelling, but we arrived at our rented holiday home comfortable, tired but happy to be there and relaxed in the evening sun.
Our reason for choosing to stay near Crieff was so we could ride routes which make up the “Crieff Cloverleaf”. To explain, a group of bikers have devised a set of circular routes which start and finish in the lovely town of Crieff and have shared them on their website www.cloverleaf.scot. There are 4 main long routes named North, East, South and West ranging from 180 to 240 miles and 4 ‘little leaves’ which are all around the 100-mile mark. All the routes are available from their website in GPX and Waypoint formats and all start from the easy to find Crieff Visitor Centre.
We took it easy for the first couple of days as there is plenty to do in and around Crieff. The major landmarks of The Kelpies and the Falkirk Wheel are less than an hour away and Dundee, with its recently regenerated waterfront and historic railway bridge is also within easy reach.
On our third day there, we decided to take our first ride and chose the ‘Little Leaf Northwest’ as our first taste of Scotland’s roads by bike. Well, all I can say really is that from the moment we left the outskirts of Crieff, the roads opened up into rolling moorland full of twisty, well maintained, largely traffic free roads. The scenery was truly spectacular with dramatic mountains, tranquil lochs, and managed woodlands all around. Our first day took us through the confusingly Welsh sounding Aberfeldy, through the village of Dull (twinned with Boring in Oregon) and on to lunch at Killin.
The Kelpies
This first ride out had given us a flavour of what was to come, so our next full ride was the 240 mile ‘North Leaf’. This route included what we now think of as our new favourite road; a section of the A924 between Comrie and Kirkmichael. It really is stunning, with far too many twists and turns to count, it was a technical, spirited ride of long sweeping curves, rapid elevation changes and tight, almost chicane like dips and turns. I described parts of it as like doing Look, Lean, Roll in 3D. We arrived in the tiny village of Kirkmichael elated and ready for coffee and cake which was plentiful at the charming Community Village Shop. The shop is next door to a vintage car specialist and we spent a while chatting to the owner and admiring a Lagonda which dated back to long before it joined with Aston Martin.
Glencoe view
We were only about a quarter of the way round this loop at this point and the route continued North to Braemar, Tomintoul (for lunch) and Aviemore. Again, the roads were largely empty and utterly breath taking. We’d frequently ride over a crest and just say “Wow” over the helmet comms at yet another spectacular view.
Here’s another tip. There are a lot of elevation changes and hidden dips on these moorland roads so remember the advice that you “must be able to stop in the distance you can see on your side of the road”. Remember that the obstacle you might encounter is just as likely to be a sheep as a Range Rover in these parts. Also, for large sections of this route there are Snow Poles on either side of the road which are very useful for those crests where it takes a moment to resolve if the road goes straight on, left or right after the hump. The top of the snow poles will be your first clue and help you set up for the next bend.
Next, we rode the ‘West Leaf’, which takes in the southern part of the Highlands and passes through Glencoe, Oban and Inveraray and includes more beautiful Lochs than you can count. It also includes Gleaner Gas Station near the Bridge of Awe. I only mention this as it was nearby to where Kimberley got a puncture in her rear tyre. Fortunately, we had a repair kit with us and plugged the hole sufficiently to get back to the gas station for air. Our repair kit was lacking a blade for cutting the excess repair string off and we think it stuck to the road and was ripped out on the short journey. With a second string inserted, I popped in to see if I could borrow a blade, only to find they had them for sale in the hardware section of the general store. Can you imagine finding a petrol station that also sells 3 inch blades in Berkshire?
Kim & Dee
Kimberley’s tyre was close to the wear bars anyway by this point, so we called a tyre fitter back in Crieff who not only could fit her in the next day, but also had the specific tyres she wanted in stock and ready to go.
Top tip number three. The roads up in this part of the world are mostly the course gravel embedded in tar type that you may have encountered in Wales or the leafier parts of TVAM territory. These roads are really abrasive so make sure you have plenty of tread and take into account you’ll get less mileage than you think out of the rubber you have on.
Our last two riding days took in the full ‘Little Leaf Northeast’ route and on our last riding day, a hybrid route where we combined the start of the North loop with the Northeast loop in reverse specifically so that we could enjoy the A924 to Kirkmichael again. We stopped at the same Community shop again for more cake and coffee and a most delicious individual venison meat pie.
In our 10 days there, we were blessed with the most wonderful weather. Mostly sunny, not too hot, not too cold, though mornings were on the fresh side. We also scheduled our trip to be outside midge season. From what I read, most of the areas we rode in were not particularly prone to midges, but we felt it best to be on the safe side by going in April.
All in all, the trip to Scotland was well worth the long drive. Knowing what I know now, I’d say it could quite comfortably be done by bike all the way too if we’d not had the trailer available. All sorts of accommodation is available in the area, from swanky hotels to glamping pods. The Crieff Cloverleaf website includes plenty of advice on accommodation, places to eat and general information on making the best of your trip.
So, if you want to spread your wings further than the Thames Valley but don’t want to get on a ferry or Eurotunnel, Scotland might be just the place for you.
Jez leaves the house (in Woking) trying not to wake his wife. He does not succeed. He gets on his heavily-laden bike and pootles down the road, heading for the petrol station next to St Crispins to meet with David for the journey to Golgellau (pronounce as best you can – heard three separate versions so far!).
We meet up, Jez fills up and we head off. Jez created a route – first stop Oxford Services (not on the M40) and we made good time to get our first cup of coffee. David had advised Jez that he’d be on a sportsbike and so could the route be less…gnarly…than his usual preference? Jez (surprisingly!) acted and had planned the route with no roads with green in the middle!
Next stop is at Chipping Camden and the Bantam Tea Rooms – excellent place for a cuppa and some tea-cake. Proposed lunch was at the Cob House Countryside Park, where we met some other TVAMers en route to Llandriddod Wells. We were still full from mid-morning and so we had a cup of tea and continued. We next stopped at Aardvark Books in Brampton Bryan for lunch. Here we first heard the alternative to ‘Dolgellau’. Caused much hilarity!
We continued west, taking the B4355 out of Knighton, following the A489 and then the A470 back on to the A489 and over the pass between Mallwyd and Dolgellau. In the process we encountered the slowest car-transporter I have ever seen – the traffic behind was fun on the bike! We arrived at the farm in Dolgellau that was to be our base for the next couple of days around 5pm
We arrived at the farm in Dolgellau that was to be our base for the next couple of days around 5pm – the last to arrive! We were shown our rooms and bathrooms and then where the beer and tea were kept – important items!
We got to know each other: Jez Brown, David Naylor, Danny Wozny, Jon Draper, Mark Ward, Mary Hatton, Jess Luscombe and Tony Turner. We were all relatively nervous about the following day apart from Jon – who had been away from this aspect of motorcycling for a while and wanted to get back to it.
We are introduced to the term ‘Dick of the Day’ and encouraged the following day to keep an eye out for when people accidentally do something dumb. Falling off into a puddle etc. The equivalent of the Wooden Spoon but without the spoon – just the title.
Saturday 23rd April 09:00
Briefing. Jack is the trail leader. Steph is the sweeper. Pete and Darren are the folk keeping the newbies going where necessary. Jack gives a demo of how to stand on a bike when on a trail – and all encourage us to learn this skill as a part of the weekend. Mention is made of the protocols surrounding trail riding – leave enough room between yourself and those in front / be courteous to others / offer assistance where you can / don’t be a Dick.
We are told that the bike can move of its own accord beneath you – for those of you that have been green-laning or trail riding you’ll know about this. We didn’t – and the thought of it made us nervous. We were told how to stay loose on the bike – a tense rider will not enjoy the ride. When standing, don’t grip the bars as if they are the only thing between you and a grisly demise – stand as if you are going to poo into a toilet bowl from 2 feet above the seat – that sort of thing.
We get going. Jez is on a Himalayan and it feels steady on the road, although the knobbly tyres make it feel slightly bumpy – lol – as if I needed them to make it MORE bumpy! We follow a short route and find ourselves on a rock-strewn path. We stop and get our first practical lesson. “Keep the bike moving – sudden throttle will make the back wheel skid and make steering difficult – and look where you want to go. The bike will do the rest. Power and momentum.” Danny goes first. He gets to a lovely slow cruising speed then looks left – unfortunately he is a good five metres short of the 90 degree corner we are meant to be taking. Danny has the first fall – a contender for the DOTD! The guys get Danny and bike prepped again and he makes it around the corner, keeping the revs steady and looking where he wants to go. We all follow and make it to the top of the hill, where we are able to get a stunning view over Barmouth.
The day continues – more rock-strewn paths and then we stop for a while to let some 4×4 cars crawl away from us. This is also a superb area for us to tackle our first ruts. “The bike will go where it wants – BUT you can encourage it to go in the direction you want it to” we are told. “When you are in a rut, keep your feet close in OR lift them above the rut and paddle your way along if you don’t have the confidence” – this is excellent advice, but doesn’t really get into the brain until you’ve tried it…we give it a go. There are some offs and Mark decides to try and throw himself across the way. Jez tries to help but is in no position to a) stop without dropping the bike b) help him get the bike back up! Jez makes certain that Mark is moving and then shouts excuses as he rides past…Jez still feel bad about this, Mark.
Jez’ first gate comes up – we’ve been on relatively flat surfaces, but this is at the bottom of a slope and continues down. Jack pushes the gate back with his front wheel and leaves Jez to it…Jez tries to put the stand down on a patch of grass out of the way. Nope. Not happening. The angle of the slope is too steep and the bike will fall…Jez tries to turn the bike around and manages that, but now he’s in the way of everyone so hastily moves back to the left hand side and dig the stand into the soft soil. Jez jumps off the bike just in time to see Steph glide past me as I scramble back up the slope and shut the gate. Success! Now to get back on the bike and follow the others…
Next adventure is a downhill gravel (rock) trail. Whoever named this ‘green-laning’ seriously needs to update their naming conventions is all that can be said. The incline is a gentle slope but strewn – yes – with rocks. Again the advice is “Let the bike go where it wants – try not to fight it too much” Jez sets out on his turn – Jez is doing well. About half way down Jez experiences a sort of trans-dimensional twist as somehow Jez is immediately pointing left, whereas he’d been pointing straight down the slope literally a second ago. Jez manages to keep the bike upright and slowly potter (best word I can use here!) to the end where the others were parked. Jack flies down the incline and skids to a halt, nearly running into Darren’s bike and earning the potential DOTD award.
We stop for lunch – LUNCH? – we’ve surely been on the go for days, we feel, but no. Around four hours with plenty of water stops to keep us hydrated – feels like a lifetime!
We head to a petrol station to fill up the bikes – and as Jez puts the stand on the Himalayan down and gets off I hear a shout as it topples over. Jez is hugely embarrassed about this. The handle-bar is bent but nothing else appears to be damaged. Jez looks at the bike once more on its stand in disbelief. Jez has no explanation for this. Jack later advises that some Himalayans had been recalled since the swing arm gets stuck, not letting the suspension rise properly. As a consequence when I thought that the stand was down and all was well, the bike was literally balancing on its tyres. Jez felt better about this, but is still a contender for DOTD.
We continue for a few more miles then we start heading back to the farm and the thought of a shower and food warms us. A couple of the team decide that they will forgo the excitement and ask if there is a tarmac way back. Steph takes them back via tarmac – but we head back more or less the way we’d come cross country. Where we’d seen the 4x4s earlier we were advised to ‘stay right on the trail’ by Darren. Immediately three of the team decided that they knew better and started on the left! The way back was up rock ‘steps’ that we’d descended in the morning – they seemed bigger in the afternoon when heading upwards. These three all had difficulties and so we had some fun getting their bikes back upright and moving again, but we all made it to the top! Back down the other side and then to ‘Danny’s corner’ – this time heading downhill the skills we’d practised throughout the day made us feel good and we swept around the bend with nary a thought. Back into Dolgellau – more petrol for the bikes then back to the farm. Jack started repairing the bikes (those that needed it!). A hefty boot (apparently) adjusted my handlebars.
We all congratulated each other over an excellent days riding and had some first-rate conversation into the night, looking forward to the following day.
Jack was voted the DOTD as he was the most experienced rider to nearly crash into Darren’s bike! Phew! Jez escaped!
Note: Please be advised that you WILL fall off at some point as a beginner – this is all slow-speed stuff and the course is designed to help you get over the fear of dropping the bike – although preferably not onto concrete. It does not hurt! Pride may be damaged but in this learning environment with people explaining how things work and helping you back up this is one of the safest times I’ve felt on a bike!
Sunday 24th April 09:00
Briefing. Yesterday we’d gone south – today we were heading north. Jack again led the way and after 10 minutes we were heading down a fabulous single-lane – well, track – with over-hanging branches and animal tracks criss-crossing. Looking over the wall to the right we could see what appeared to be the trail we should have been on. We turned the bikes around (no mean feat!) and headed back to the last gap in the wall to join the correct route. Jack immediately gains nomination as DOTD. We continue through beautiful countryside and scorching weather (for Wales 15 degrees) plus of course picking up the occasional bike here and there and jumping on and off bikes to play the part of gate keeper. Fabulous!
The trails seemed a little harder this day – whether because we’d got used to the trails from the previous day or because we were tired from the day before or these were more advanced trails we don’t know! Travelling up a slight incline with large rocks in the middle Jez decided to try and make it over one of them (not intentional – bike decision) and ended up on his back on the right-hand side of the trail, laughing like a loon. Darren looked concerned until he heard me then helped me get back up and get the bike back upright. Confidence and skill improved for the whole group and we made (we thought) good progress. We came to a lovely trail sloping down to a bridge and on the other side of it we dismounted at the bottom of a 180 degree turn followed immediately by a 90 degree turn. Covered in small rocks and gravel, of course.
Darren and Jack made us walk the turns to get an idea of the way that we should go and then one by one we try to get up. “Stick to the inside of the hairpin then look for your route to go around the next bend” we were told. “Keep it smooth and steady”. Jess ‘You’re not the boss of me’ ignored all advice and revved around the corner, only requiring a small amount of push from Darren to make it through. Mary was similar. Jez was lucky and did not need help! Jez’ bike went where he wanted it to! Danny – well. The hairpin was good. Then the revs stopped as did the bike. As he toppled off the bike back down the hill we could see that the bike was good but he had rolled back down to where he’d started. Jez was videoing him at this point if you’d like to see it – but had to stop videoing because he was laughing too much. Danny looked to have the DOTD spot firmly in his grasp. We all made it to the top of the slope and rested for a moment. We’d been promised that a decision would be made as to whether we’d be going up ‘Tarmac Hill’ – a 200m stretch of gravelly/rocky/steppy incline that entices you to head for the only bit of tarmac at the top…but this hairpin/turn combination had been a test for us and we’d been found wanting. We had a chat and although disappointed that we wouldn’t do it this time, it would give us something to aim for next time we came trail riding in Wales. Safety first and a wise decision. Thank you Darren!
After this we trekked across some lovely ruts (not) and Mark tried to throw himself into a gate post. He seemed dazed but physically OK and we continued towards lunch. This was not a DOTD contender since there was genuine concern that Mark had damaged himself – however, he continued and so did we. Across the valley we were shown our next destination – a hill with winding paths – it looked awesome. We got to a very sharp left hand corner where immediately after I had gate duty. After the last rider was through Darren waited for me and we confidently set off along the trail. Beautiful scenery / side of a hill / slightly deeper ruts than I’d like but manageable. Puddle. Appeared to be about 20 feet of water in the left rut – no visibility of what was below the surface. 5 feet of water in the right rut with clearly visible tyre tracks from some of the other group. I tried to get onto the right rut – failed. “Ah well” I thought as I plunged into the puddle, giving the bike a bit more oomph to keep momentum. As the front wheel dipped into what appeared was a hidden dip, I went over the handlebars and landed on my back, luckily on a very soft piece of ground. Since I landed in a pile of weeds my new nickname was born – “Tumbleweed”. Definitely DOTD material if anyone was watching, that is. Unfortunately, Darren was keeping a very close eye on me! We struggled to get the bike out of the muddy rut – well, Darren struggled – I helped where I could. We re-joined the group and since my Himalayan had the engine light on we went through a few ‘resets’ to get the light off. Nothing worked, so Jack asked for all of the strong folk in the team to tip the bike upwards to drain any water from the exhaust. This done the engine light went off and the bike started and continued to run – hardy beasts, these bikes!
Without further ado we meandered to lunch.
Steph re-joined us for lunch and then left making her way back to the farm to sort out the running of business as usual. Jack and Darren finished off the day by taking us across a farmland area, then down what appeared to be a walking trail (!), then back along the road to Barmouth where we got the toll bridge across to Dolgellau and back to the petrol station before heading back to the farm.
Much singing and dancing was had in the evening celebrating our successes and commiserating any falls. Jez was indeed given the new name Tumbleweed and did get the DOTD award! I’ll say nothing of the entertainments for the evenings we were there, since to describe them will not do them any justice at all.
A few questions to myself…Did I enjoy it? Yes. Did I enjoy the way the course is presented to us? Yes.
Did I fall off more than once? Yes! Will I go again? Damn right!
A HUGE thank you to Steph, Pete, Darren and Jack – we definitely would not have had that best weekend without you.
So here I am at stupid o’clock in the morning – couldn’t sleep in following my return from the Isle of Wight Mini Tour yesterday. There are all sort of thoughts and memories buzzing around in my head so, in true Julie Andrews – Sound of Music style (never saw the film and that’s the truth), “Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start”.
I passed my test (IAM, or the big “I, am” as my wife calls it) more years ago than I like to admit, and spent many years on the committee of MAM (Middlesex AM) as Social Sec and Rides Co-ordinator. MAM and I parted company when I moved to Bracknell. I joined TVAM and the local RoSPA group and, following an old cliché “You get out what you put in”, I was keen to get to know people in TVAM and make a contribution. I also do the odd RoSPA ride sometimes.
It started when a certain antipodean young lady, and arguable the most conscientious Back Marker I’ve ever had the pleasure to ride with, came back from a TVAM day trip to the Isle of Wight last year. “We have to do that again and maybe have an overnight”, and that was it, with the “monkey on back” I decided to Go For It.
I managed to get 9 single rooms dirt cheap on Booking.com, advertised the idea on WOBMOB groups.io and all of sudden, and almost overnight, I had 20 names on the database. I received an email from Chris Brownlee warning me not to get into the realms of “Package Tour” so took his advice and contacted the TVAM Travel Agent (https://tvam.notjusttravel.com). I then contacted the hotel and the manager was more than helpful. He told me to cancel with Booking.com, gave me a better room rate and offered to get discount off the ferry crossing (£15 saving per ticket). I avoided the Package Tour by asking everyone to pay their own ferry ticket and hotel room. We ended up with a total of 19 on the trip.
After several sessions on the PC, pinching roads from a number of TVAM ride-outs, the breakfast stop from a RoSPA ride, and Google searching for interesting stuff, I cobbled together a cunning plan. Spreadsheet time (I’m famous for them with the Chilton Motorcycle Club – another part of my biking history not mentioned in the boring paragraph).
Riders, bikes, emails and ICE contacts captured, rooms allocated and breakfast/dinner orders accounted for, (Red and Green Yes/No conditional formatted check columns – I mention this for the spreadsheet nerds) I proceeded to inundate the unfortunate attendees with emails, email revisions, requests for menu selections, MRA invitations, Basecamp .gpx files and, and – Stop! Too much!
We had a great mix of NObs, LObs, TObs, Full Members, Associates and three who hadn’t been on a group ride before and one old friend and member of the Solent Group. It all went well.
The light rain and 2,000 cyclists on Sunday didn’t spoil anything. I could have done without the double decker bus on one of the nicest progressive roads across the island. I could have overtaken on a couple of occasions but you have to consider the 18 others behind and the likelihood of a “cluster-f…” (as my son used to say) at the next junction whilst waiting for the rest of the group to catch up.
We had a couple of interesting moments, nothing dangerous, but I can’t go into detail – What happens on tour, stays on tour.
I’ve always maintained that motorcycling is a solitary experience (unless you are grouped-up with state-of-the-art intercoms). You have to concentrate on what you’re doing and don’t have time for much else. It’s stopping that makes it all come to life.
120 colourful cyclists riding off the Chain Bridge at East Cowes was a sight to behold. I was a little bit disappointed they didn’t knock each other over and fall into a big heap; it came close.
The chat on the petrol station forecourt when you realise that there are two others in the group that have worked in the same environment as you for years and know many of your old work colleagues (it’s like LinkedIn for real).
Then the Australian Scotsman who has similar tastes in music and whose wife attends the same art class as your wife.
The comment from a NOb “that wasn’t an A ride, that was MotoGP,” as we stopped with big smiles after the TT – Military Road circuit. Riding is only 50% at most. I was very happy with the outcome and asked everyone to send me their memory in a few words.
I won’t bore you with all the comments but here’s a few to make you smile:
By the time we got to a fab and much-wanted full breakfast the group was running really smoothly.
Why not call this 3Ws? Wight, tour of the island Wisteria, we saw a lot of this on our way round Wild garlic, we could smell this as we rode through the IoW countryside
Around the proposed TT course three times which got better each time we did the circuit, fantastic!!
So let’s talk about fuel! Most bikes are OK with E10 but we had to find another station that had E5 for the 750 Honda, but one BMW owner thought his bike would run smoother on diesel. It was sorted and he made it to the ferry on time.
A great ride back home which included a tour of Basingstoke and the Town Centre (sorry, my mistake) and all the roundabouts. Thanks, Neil, for holding us all together and for our Back Marker, Allie, who rounded us all up.
Planning, preparation and execution couldn’t be faulted!
It was a great fun ride and a great opportunity for me to meet more TVAM riders.
Had a few learning moments.
Great routes, great pit stops and great company!
We had an absolute blast and are now sat enjoying a beer digesting just how much we enjoyed it.
Many thanks for letting me join the trip. I enjoyed it immensely.
Your organisation made everything very easy, the whole group commented how good it had been (I’ll take that!)
There aren’t enough words to describe the absolute and utter delight H is – and the IoW was just as charming, views are just as stunning, the roads are truly sweet.
My lessons learnt? – how to ride a motorcycle… by riding a motorcycle – LOTS!!
Here’s to the next time. Get your names down early I think there’s another monkey about to jump on my back. Isle of Wight, Minehead, Sidmouth, Bude – not sure which but watch this space.
It occurred to me that I had never been to Wales in all these years without “working” in some way; having to organise informal observed rides; observing in the runs; sorting out itineraries etc. Ian, Ness, Andy and I decided to create a brand new trip to Wales that was purely a social ride. After Ian came up with the name and our lovely mate Salli designed us the beautiful dragon logo, the Welsh Wanders was born.
The four of us took thirty-four hardy souls on the first trip in late April. All arrived safely at the Commodore Hotel, albeit contending farm vehicle blocked tracks, much leaning of bikes, folding of mirrors and avoidance of extreme uphill slopes!
The Commodore, as usual was home from home. Andrea and her team made us all so very welcome; fed us and watered us well and let us have the run of the place. It was lovely to be back.
Three runs set off the next day in gorgeous sunshine. And all I did all day was ride my bike with a big smile from the sheer joy of it all. Ian D took the run up to Lake Vyrnwy over the Hellfire Pass and then to Lake Bala for lunch. From there, we rode over to Tywyn, past Lake Mwyngil which is so beautiful and arrived on the seafront. We parked up the bikes and walked over to the ice-cream kiosk. Nick, being a mindful biker, did up his helmet; hooked it over his arm and walked across the road with it. “Mr Whippy with a flake please,” he requested. Unfortunately, he suffered a catastrophic cone failure with the contents finally ending up deposited in his helmet!
After a lovely run back on Sunday, I can only say what a huge joy the whole weekend was for all four of us. No pressure, great company, and brilliant days of riding. So happy were we with the weekend that we’ve already booked September and trips for next year, So check your Slipstream and groups.io calendars and come and join us, all badges welcome.
3Rs – a pared down version of 7Ws in name only. I can’t actually remember what any of the ‘R’s are but I’m calling all of them awesome. The format was conceived by the Training Team for Full Members to have observed rides in a two-to-one group, just so we don’t forget that we should never stop learning. Things that I learned: 1) Avoid tractors – even if you can’t see them: they lurk behind hedges, awaiting unsuspecting bikers. 2) Welsh squirrels are madder than English squirrels: they will run down the middle of the road for at least half a mile before casually diving for the hedge (thanks John). 3) Don’t drop your electronic airbag jacket on a crowded cafe floor or it will go off with a loud “BANG!”, startling the natives (thanks again, John).
I’ve been a full member for three years or so and whilst I will always jump at the chance to spend time on the awesomely swoopy, pothole-free roads of Wales surrounded by majestic scenery, the added benefit of spending time with like-minded bike-mad people, and learning from them, makes it into just about the most perfect way to spend a weekend I can think of (special thanks to Phil Jones, our Observer for the day – legend!)
As I sat in the Metropole Hotel dining room on Saturday night surrounded by 28 members, TObs, LObs, NObs (and possibly other acronyms that my tiny mind has difficulty retaining), I had cause to reflect on the wealth of knowledge and experience surrounding me – all at our disposal, freely and willingly given for the benefit and safety of our biking community. And those 28 people are just a fraction of the expertise contained within the club. And I feel humble and blessed to be part of it.
Xanthe Scott
KEEP ON LEARNING
My previous attendance at weekends like the 7Ws and the 3Rs falls before the events of the last couple of years. More importantly though whilst attending them I was an Associate. It has not passed me by that when making that journey from Associate to Full Member my priority for such weekends would be lowered. As someone who loves to learn this was definitely a downside to passing my test last October. Therefore, when I learned that the 3Rs would be a training weekend for Full Members, I had to get my name down.
I have just arrived home after a weekend of lovely weather and fantastic riding. It has been invaluable in so many ways; the wealth of knowledge and experience on hand; the like-minded social interaction and humorous stories; the fantastic roads and, of course, the cake, coffee, and ice cream. It is however the combination of all of these things that makes it such a wonderful experience. The environment that all of these create is perfect for enjoyable learning and self-development. Being able to immerse yourself in advanced riding in a fun and supportive way makes things so much easier and with everyone else doing the same it is such an enjoyable shared experience.
I would highly recommend it to anyone in the club and I will be keeping a keen eye out for the date of the next one!
The BMW S1000XR was a bit of a Marmite machine when it was first launched back in 2014. The first generation machine had the looks of an Adventure bike but an engine derived from the out-and-out S1000RR sports bike. Many GS riders tried them only to be put off by the four cylinder engine buzzing away and the fear of losing their license due to the way it so easily gobbles up the road. Sports bikers though loved the space the machine gave them with the more relaxed upright riding position yet retained performance very close on the road (and track) to that of their existing bikes. No more tummy-on-the-tank issues or aching elbows and the ability to pack luggage for those trips away. A winner!
I came to my XR in 2016 from my second K1300S sports tourer which was a model then being discontinued. For me the K Series ticked the boxes of lots of easy performance with touring capability. I was persuaded to test ride an XR as an alternative and within 200 meters of leaving the dealer’s I was hooked. It actually steered when you turned the bars rather than the K where you sent a postcard to the front wheel when a corner was coming up. So how does it stack up after nearly 6 years of ownership and 40,000 miles? And why didn’t I swap it for a newer machine after a couple of years as I normally did?
Let’s firstly run through the ‘improvements’ I’ve made and why.
The most obvious concern to someone of my stature was the seat height. With a 840mm high seat this is a tall bike. I can’t get both feet on the ground at the same time. The lower seat option only dropped it by 20mm and was rather lacking some creature comfort where it mattered so I instead braved the height and went for the posh HP seat with the letters ‘XR” embossed in red on the back – vain or what, but it still looks good. What I had to perfect though was planning every stop and getting the correct foot down. My slow riding also improved!
As this was possibly not a 100% guaranteed solution crash bungs were ordered from new, and yes, each side has been tested once during the past 6 years. The first when my foot went down a drain hole when being dropped as a marker on a grass verge and the second when paddling the bike backwards in a lay-by. Lessons learnt – look where you’re putting your feet when stopping on grass and don’t paddle the bike backwards but get off and wheel it as recommended in Roadcraft. But the crash bungs work at zero mph, only that rock in the lay-by did dent the very expensive Akrapovic exhaust.
The next care related extras were the radiator grills and front mudguard extender. I’d never seen a bike with so much expensive radiator exposed with so little protection. The R&G grills and carbon fibre mudguard extender have done their job as far as I can tell. No stone dents or water leaks so far. I also found some plastic bungs on eBay to tidy up the frame drillings (see photo left).
Then we come to the headlight. The XR came with an LED daytime riding light. A single vertical bar just 120mm long – 5 inches – which most would agree is not a lot. On a sunny day it’s easily lost amongst other bright reflections and if you think most car drivers are already not looking for a bike let alone a small, vertical LED strip at junctions, my thoughts were this was not a good solution. Out came the standard H7 dip beam bulb to be replaced with a H7 HID unit made in Germany. Is it legal? Is my life worth it? Since fitting it I’ve not had any issues with other road users not seeing me and I’d argue it’s only as bright as the daytime driving lights you see on many modern SUVs. At night it’s a bit bright but the main beam is brighter still – and I’m not being flashed by other road users which is my usability test.
Still on the subject of not being seen, the horn on most motorcycles are, I think we’d agree, a bit weeny. Cloistered in their Audis, Mercs, and BMWs whilst probably on the hands-free ‘phone they hardly penetrate the unsuspecting drivers’ consciousness. Given most drivers also relate sound to vehicle size this doesn’t help even if they do hear you. The answer – a Denali SoundBOMB air horn. At £35 it’s a winner for me. Seeing drivers jump out of the way when they think something the size of an HGV blasts them is most satisfying!
Moving rearwards the next change was the windscreen. Out-of-the-box the 1st generation XR was not a quiet ride with lots of wind buffering. It sounds like a big flag constantly flapping just above your head. Ear defenders help but on long motorway trips the noise is not good. The solution I came to (much too late after five years) was to replace the standard screen with an MRA screen, again made in Germany. For a little over £100 this has transformed the ride and I can now actually hear the engine above 50mph and even leave my visor open above 30mph. A must-do change for anyone planning a ride over a couple of hours on one of these 1st gen machines. I don’t know about wind noise on the 2nd gen, as the screen is different, but some owners have complained of the same issue in conversations.
Luggage was one of the attractions of the XR so I specified panniers from new. And yes they’ve been in the garage loft ever since I rode it home. Why? ‘Cause they are huge, make the bike look like a pregnant bumble bee and filtering is almost impossible. The solution – I bought the BMW semi-rigid top bag which hooks onto the rear rack. It’s large enough to stow gear for a 10 day trip around France, as long as you leave the hair dryer at home and are prepared to rinse through a couple of tee shirts and pants along the way. We’re planning to do Scotland NW500 this Spring so with the variable weather (wet, cold, hot, who knows) I might get the panniers out for the first time in nearly 6 years to stow the range of gear I’ll need.
What’s life been like with the XR?
Well, it does everything I want it to do and does it very well, to a level beyond my riding skills. From touring, track days, coaching on Skills Days at Thruxton, observing for TVAM and social rides out, it keeps up with everything else (even RR’s). Under the seat I stow two (different) types of puncture repair kits, gas cylinders, spare headlight bulb, tool kit and a set of waterproofs. A small rear box holds the paperwork for observing, spare gloves, shades, cap, drink, etc. which is replaced by the BMW bag when on longer trips.
Importantly it hasn’t let me down. It’s been around France and the Pyrenees at least 3 times, Nurburgring trips with TVAM twice, and Wales probably 20 times. It does 5 or 6 IAM Track Skills Days around Thruxton each summer and a few thousand miles observing each year, these though at a much slower pace.
It’s been serviced regularly every 6,000 miles with the two big (expensive) services at 18 and 36,000 miles. Otherwise it’s been consumables like tyres (regularly), a new battery at 3 years, chain and sprockets after 29,000 miles, and new front discs and pads at 32,000 miles.
I stripped the rear suspension and re-greased the bearings at 26,000 miles and replaced the side stand brass bearing insert after 5 years as the lean angle was getting worryingly high.
Age related work has been to change the cam chain adjuster cap, which cost £23, to stop the chain rattle, especially on start-up from cold. It’s a BMW part and recommended after 9,000 miles but they hardly ever fit them at a service. I fitted mine at 37,000 miles and the engine now runs much quieter and the rattle at cold start-up has largely gone. I’ve also just replaced the left footpeg mount around which the gear lever moves as this too was getting wobbly – a sure sign of middle age! At £35 it was cheap for a BMW part.
Lastly we come to the exhaust valve! Clearly made just to get the machine through type approval testing the exhaust valve flapper is an integral part of the 4 into 1 main exhaust system which goes from the cylinder head round to the slip-on muffler and includes the catalytic converter. The valve probably costs £25 to make but it’s welded into a part costing over £3,000.
Mine stopped working this last winter in a partly closed position. Hmmm I thought, this bike is getting smoother and quieter with age – only to discover the valve wasn’t moving. Another TVAM member’s jammed fully open recently and boy was it loud when burbling through town. There’s nothing on the dash to show the fault and only when connected to a diagnostic analyser do the error codes come up. Mine had three going from; “valve operating range incorrect”, through; “valve not operating” to finally; “lost communication with valve actuator”. Yes, the electronic actuator was bust, possibly as a result of the mechanical valve becoming very stiff or seizing. Replacement actuator from BMW £170! – eBay £60 from a bike being broken by a dealer. No contest and 30mins to fit with the help of a bit of string and a 10mm spanner. The flap took a lot longer to get moving freely with a lot of YouTube videos on how to get access to the bearing and which high temperature lubricant to use. Fingers crossed it’ll now work for another 36,000 miles.
But why have I kept the bike this long?
Firstly, because I just love it. Luckily mine doesn’t suffer from the vibrations some riders complained of, but having ridden 4 cylinder bikes most of my riding career maybe I’m a bit immune.
Secondly, because the XR dropped in value from new like a stone in a muddy pond. Add in the mileage I was doing and the depreciation on a 2 year old XR with over 15,000 miles on it was enough to make a grown man cry. It does mean that they make great buys if you’re in the market for a second hand one though. And if I changed it what would I get but the same with a smaller number on the odometer and many thousands of pounds less in my bank account. At 6 years old with 40,000 miles on the clock annual depreciation is now almost zero as it’s not worth very much anyway.
Lastly, because I think it still looks good, possibly better than the 2nd gen bikes (my personal view) which come in a limited range of colours. Why would I pay BMW extra money to have one in their team colours?
But do I miss the upgrades on the 2nd Gen? Certainly the large TFT screen looks good but as a consolation I treated myself to a Garmin XT satnav which also has a TFT screen. It doesn’t integrate with the BMW thumb wheel but do I need to know my lean angle or average throttle opening? (Usually only around 9% by all accounts).
I was hoping the shift cam engine would have trickled down from the RR but that wasn’t to be – but why would you need more than 160bhp in an adventure bike anyway? I’ve only ridden a 2nd gen machine a short distance so it’s difficult for me to compare new with old. I arranged a test ride when they first came out but a red engine fault light came up after a couple of miles so had to take it back. In that short distance it didn’t feel that different and the reviews I read around the time of the launch said it possibly wasn’t worth changing if you already had a series 1. What I do hear is the engine is more refined and has lost the ‘manic teenager’ mode above 8,000 rpm when the front goes light and it is possible to literally rip up the tarmac (yes, I did that apparently in France on a hot day – unintentionally obviously).
So there we have it. I’m trapped by depreciation and by having invested £s in keeping the bike running in good mechanical condition. I love what it does as a bike and haven’t yet found the motivation or had a compelling desire to buy anything else. As it’s reached ‘middle age’ it’s become more of a project as well as my ride. I was recently offered an XR engine with just 4,100 miles on it for £1,500. But what would I do with it? Do these engines fail? I haven’t seen anything to say they do, so fingers crossed….
It’s Friday 8th April and the 8am breakfast rendezvous point is The Wandering Kitchen Cafe near Berinsfield. My Observer for the day is Hev, who discusses with me the areas I want to improve on over the weekend and introduces me to my co Associate Ilhan. I was expecting a larger group, so delighted with the 2 to 1 ratio.
As I hadn’t ridden with Hev before she asked me to lead off as all the groups dispersed on multiple routes to Llandrindod Wells.
All communication is done via the mirrors, supplemented by arm signals, so all very clear and timely. I especially enjoyed the frequent stops to discuss aspects to work on and also how Hev would demonstrate techniques and elements of the system I was struggling with.
Ludlow Farm Shop, Bromfield was our lunch stop and the rendezvous point for the social ride to our destination, via some awesome roads led by Barrie. This really helped me to practice and reinforce the techniques I was shown by my Observer Hev.
An awesome day was rounded off by a swim in the hotel pool and a great dinner. I must also mention the after-dinner presentation from Sean Westlake which seriously awakened me to many facets of riding I was hitherto blissfully unaware of, and his colourful Welsh banter!
On Saturday I was paired up with my Observer Barrie and trainee Observer Aaron. I especially liked this format as from my perspective I had the benefit of two instructors! And what a day, just awesome on every level. I loved the challenging routes and the way both parties instructed, as well as the feedback given.
After a leisurely Sunday breakfast, I had to make a difficult choice on which Observer led run home to take with a choice of three no less.
A big shout out to Barrie, Hev and fellow Associates who got me back to Oxfordshire via some stunning roads.
I am now a much-improved rider, but importantly understand my journey is just beginning. Get yourself booked on this awesome learning curve that is the 7Ws. Thank you all so much.
The Full Member – by JB Staunton
Having recently passed my motorbike test and bought my first bike (a Honda CBR650F), I joined TVAM in October 2019, and although I didn’t get much riding in before the first lockdown, I had oft heard members tell me in hushed tones that the 7Ws trip as something “you had to do”.
I’d swear, that without exception, everyone who uttered the phrase “7Ws” said it with a wistful smile and glazed eyes – you could tell they were thinking back to some awesome riding on the twisty and windy roads of Wales. I knew from the get-go that I wanted a piece of the action too!
Although I knew the trip is focused on Associates, I applied for a place on the trip in January, knowing I’d just passed my advanced test in December ‘21 – I didn’t know if I’d get a place, but as my wife says “What do 100% of winners have in common? They try!” In this case I tried and succeeded.
This would be my first trip away on the bike and honestly, I was a little anxious of what to expect. I googled a few articles on “what to pack on a motorbike trip”, and, oh yeah, I also had to google “how to attach soft panniers to your motorbike”; luckily, I picked up a set at the St Crispin’s moto-jumble in January 2020 (they were a bargain!).
Despite Alan’s Sat Nav being a bit temperamental, and Rhona nearly running out of fuel, we had a great run down on the backroads of England and Wales. However, has anyone mentioned the rain, hail and snow, yes snow! Well, it wouldn’t be a good trip without a story or two, would it?
On the final leg to Llandrindod Wells, we had to climb over some hills and I wasn’t worried when it started to rain – it’s Wales in April right and what do you expect? However, I’d never ridden in hail before and was a tad nervous of this when it started, but it really wasn’t an issue as the hail just bounced off our helmets and clothing. The snow was a different story as it was that claggy and wet kind of snow that sticks to you, resulting in having to wipe your visor every 30 seconds or so (which was reminiscent of my advanced test). In all, the bad weather only lasted for a maximum of an hour, over the course of the weekend I hasten to add, but I was glad to get to the hotel in the end and I have some good stories to tell!
If you’ve not been on one of these trips before I would highly recommend it and I’d like to commend the organisers on how well things ran. It was an early start on day one, but along with a filling breakfast bap at our breakfast rendezvous point, I met the rest of my group for the trip to Wales – there were only half a dozen of us in total: Run leader Alan Heighway, back marker Marianne Myburgh as well as fellow TVAM members Konrad Marciniak, Neville Till and Rhona Ferry.
Saturday was a great day of riding too and our group was lucky enough to be paired up with ex-motorbike police officer, tour guide and 7Ws event guest speaker, Sean Westlake. Unfortunately for me the day started slightly embarrassingly insofar as my battery had died overnight due to the previous owner of my bike wiring the heated grips directly to the battery, and me forgetting to turn them off after our “Arctic” experience the afternoon before. I appreciate a number of fellow riders help in trying to bump start me (Konrad you star) as well as Neville letting me use his jump start battery (birthday/Christmas gift idea anyone?) and an unnamed member lending us his mini-jump leads!
In the end we got going 15 minutes late and not only did Sean bring us on a very scenic 150-mile route, he was able to give us the history of the places we visited too!
By the way the hotel worked very well for the group, with ample parking, a private dining room for us for both evening meals, decent food and a large bar, which was unsurprisingly frequented by TVAM members.
In summary it was a well-run event, which was great fun and certainly one I’d endorse. I’ll be aiming to attend another TVAM group trip as well as make it over to Wales again…oh those roads…..
The Observer – by Andy Hunter
Having completed my pre-ride checks in the afternoon, I packed and loaded my bike the evening before we set out.
So, Friday morning I was up and out early for my 45-minute ride to the meet point, arriving 10 minutes early to find the place already open and serving food. The coffee and bacon sandwich were spot on, perfect, just what I needed.
Top marks to the management and staff at The Wandering Cafe, they did a superb job of looking after us. Well done and thank you.
We had been previously allocated two Associates for the ride up, so having met both Sam and Ondrez, I started to understand what each was looking for on their observed ride into Wales. One had passed his crosscheck, the other of a very similar standard. From the Observer’s viewpoint it is very much easier if the Associates are of a similar standard, as it makes the route planning easier.
So shortly after 9am we headed out towards Abingdon, then on towards Burford to find the first planned coffee and chat stop, allowing a chance to swap the Associates over. A power cut derailed those plans and meant they were unable to serve anything as it had rendered their till out of action. We decided to continue towards Stow-on-the-Wold, then stopped for a slightly belated coffee as we entered Tewkesbury.
We discussed a few minor points for both Associates before getting back on our way, heading towards Leominster and picking up the A44.
As we were running well for time, we continued towards Hereford and found a golf club for lunch – ideal for the snack that we needed.
The weather was a mix of cloud with the sun breaking through, but as we approached Crossgates we experienced a 5-minute sleet storm. In fairness this was the only rain that I saw all weekend, so I still don’t know if my new waterproof gloves are any good or not!
We refuelled at Crossgates and, as we had arrived with time to spare, rode from Crossgates to Newtown and back. That rounded off an excellent day’s riding and we headed to the Metropole hotel, our accommodation for the two nights. Having used the Metropole many times, over the years, I knew that we were in for great hospitality and we were not disappointed.
Saturday morning, we were again allocated two Associates who were different from the Friday allocation. Again, I was blessed that both rode to a similar standard and they agreed that they wanted to work on riding bends. We headed south and west giving both Associates the chance to lead for a time before stopping for coffee at the West End Cafe in Llandovery. A true bikers’ cafe.
After coffee and a chat, we headed out towards Aberystwyth where we found the ‘Diner on the Prom’ to be very busy. We continued to find somewhere a little quieter for a slightly later lunch.
Returning to the hotel, from Newtown to Crossgates, we refuelled ready for the Sunday ride home.
Sunday was entirely a social ride. Having offered to lead a ride towards Henley, and getting a little banter from Mr Brownlee, it was agreed that anybody that wanted to take my route would meet at 9.30am for a briefing in the car park before heading out.
The run back was pretty much a re-run of my outward route, with myself, two Full Members, one other Observer and one Associate. It was all very relaxed, giving the Associate a chance to practice what he had learnt during Saturday’s session.
More top-quality riding skills were on display, stopping for a sandwich and drink at the filling station at Stow-on-the-Wold. We had agreed at the briefing that people would simply give us a wave and peel off at a point close to where they lived. Checking on my phone messages, it was good to see that everybody returned home happy.
Overall, this was a great weekend. It was a chance to meet and chat with old friends, introduce some Associates to the roads in Wales and reacquaint myself with a couple of great roads I have not used for some time.
Firstly, the Tewkesbury road out of Stow-on-the-Wold and then the A44 heading west into Crossgates.
I have no doubt that all of the Associates returned home with new or improved riding skills. We must not forget the importance of the team building benefits of these events.
Thanks to the Training Team and all that were involved in planning and running this event.
You might have seen the post in groups.io back in late August “For sale Kawasaki 650 Versys one careful owner.” I needed to put my glasses on to read the bit about breaking for spares or winter project. As they say every picture tells a story and this was one of the immovable force meeting the immovable object. Winter project was the bit that caught my eye. I had been looking for something old like a 1980s Yamaha two-stroke 250-350 but prices are a bit silly at the moment – unless anyone knows of one going cheap?
I am not mad keen on Adventure bikes, they are very big and very heavy and covered head to foot in plastic, I just don’t trust a bike whose handlebars are the same height as my nipples and I am not vertically challenged. This market seems to be taken over by BMW who have built a tank and then added a super tanker, they are as high as a 3-storey house and weigh as much as a cubic metre of bricks, and that is before you add the optional extras catalogue and fitted 3 kitchen sinks on the back. I take my hat off to Ewan and Charlie who must have wrestled these bikes across tough terrain in the “Long Way Round”. They are so popular that a TVAM run could be re-classified as a GS run, there is even a technique for climbing aboard these large creatures, just like a horse, one foot in the stirrup, swing the leg over, sit in the saddle, grab the reigns and ride off into the sunset. I have many a time stopped behind one at a junction while riders who are vertically challenged rock from side to side on tip toe trying to control their beast. By comparison, the Versys is about 60-80kg lighter, even though the handlebars are still at nipple height, but power to weight ratio is still king in the horse power world and 69bhp will still march you down the road at a fair rate.
Back to the bike in question, I almost bit off Simon’s hand to purchase this project (sorry Simon) and once agreed on a price, we met his mechanic to collect the pieces. On arrival, we were confronted by half a basket case, not my ideal project as I like to see what it looks like before it‘s in pieces. The mechanic had decided to do an engine removal to find the problem. It would have been easier to put a small endoscope connected to a smart phone down the plug hole to tell that this was terminal. Simon trailed the bike back to my workshop with all the bits in my car. With the bike on the work bench and the parts in boxes it stayed there for a few weeks while a plan was hatched.
The engine in question had a few problems….one such issue being the top end was past repair. It looked like one of the exhaust valves had a hairline crack, which over time cracked and punched a hole in the piston and disappeared into the depths of the engine. The other valve became bent in sympathy, broke off and buried itself into the top of the piston. With all this going up and down at 10,000rpm destroyed the valve guild and seats, end of story!
First thought was to fit another engine and get rid of it. I started to read some test reports on the bike to find that this was a good mid-range bike with many plus points, but on closer inspection things were not well with this particular bike, so the best course of action was a complete nut and bolt restoration. Let’s face it, it was halfway there already. An afternoon was spent disassembling the bike down to the last washer and putting it into piles, along with some pictures along the way to give me half a chance of putting it back correctly.
Painted parts to powder coating, special expensive looking bolts etc. to platers and small screws, bolts, washers etc. replaced with stainless steel items. Modern machinery design is full of small metal and plastic fittings held together with small substandard fasteners that rust very easily and plastic clips that are not very robust and end up being destroyed on removal. They also cover the frame in holes to hold these fittings, which can produce a stress point or the opportunity to let in water – not good. Needless to say, some of these fittings didn’t come quietly.
Engine next – even though this bike has been around since the early 2000s, there were not many Versys parts and, if available, they were very expensive. Any chance of finding a new top end was little to none, so next choice was a complete lump. The bike industry is very clever in their model line-up, the Versys and Ninja are almost the same bike with a change in riding position, different plastic, a change in suspension and of course the name on the side. The new Kawasaki Z650 which is meant to be a new retro model of the 1980s Z650 is also a Ninja with a different tank and plastic, but nothing like the old Z650 which we all know was a baby Z900. Based on this, I found a 2019 Ninja engine with 3000 miles that had bitten the dust early in its life, going very cheap. On checking the spec between the 2 bikes, it was on its way.
Like all good projects, work got in the way for a month, which gave time for the parts to arrive – postman not too happy with the heavy boxes. First job was to make sure the same parts had been returned (always take plenty of pictures first), clean and grease all threads, then bring out the pictures and manuals. Simon had put me on to a free online manual and along with the online parts catalogue from Cradley Heath Kawasaki, this was my reference library. First on was the wiring harness which had been the last off. This bike had 5 previous owners who had all added their personal touch to the harness. I wanted this bike to be standard and some of the connections were, should we say, ‘not good’. The parts I removed filled a carrier bag. All connections checked. Next on were the back and front suspension. Rear swinging arm was cleaned and checked ok, front was a different story, head bearings replaced, forks taken apart and filled with new oil. I had taken apart many right way up forks in the past, but never upside down forks. Afraid that the spring might pop out and go through the garage roof, I enlisted a mechanic friend to do the job while I watched. Point to note, it is easier to crack the top nut while clamped in the bike, if not use a rattle gun very carefully. Fork oil I think should be changed about every 4 years along with the brake fluid, but listening to members who are paying well over £1,000 for service with valve clearance check, I can see why it is not usually done. I can check my 6-cylinder 24 valve CBX in a morning, but there again I don’t have a lot of plastic to remove first.
I wanted to replace the after-market exhaust for a standard unit. I found one online close to me, but it was expensive, also it was not for the year of this bike, so I was unsure if it would fit. The bike at this stage was still sitting on the frame which would not allow me to check if it would fit correctly. As the item had been advertised a while there was no rush, but just at the point I was ready, it had gone. Never mind, 2 weeks later a new silencer came up for sale, cheaper than the other unit and the correct year. The owner had taken it off his own bike when new, fitted another unit and parked this in the corner of the garage – result!
Next in was the engine. This was easy as it was only a twin cylinder and light (compared to a Honda CBX), and having been used as a stress member, had no bottom tubes. Once in, bolts tightened, the bike was then strapped to the roof beams and the work bench lowered, this allowed me to fit the wheels and brakes. Wheel bearings and seals needed replacing. I had the wheel spacers machined out of stainless steel as the factory ones are of poor quality and become corroded very easily.
The brakes were another story, all discs worn below service limit, this was due to seized calliper pistons. A lot of money later, new discs, stainless pistons and seals and, whilst I was at it, new brake liners. Never mind, I did say things were not well with this bike. This all might sound very easy, but much midnight oil was burnt dry fitting parts many times until I was happy that was the best possible fit or correct to pictures manual etc. I am also a bit OCD about standardisations of parts and of the belief that if it looks right then it is right. This is left over from both my engineering days and career as a sparky. I could never understand electricians that would fix a socket with one screw 70mm long and the other 25mm, that is just sheer laziness.
The tank needed painting and removal of dents, the plastic also required repairing and polishing to look like new. Whilst this was happening, I started to fit the auxiliary parts to the engine. This is where we discover the 2 engines are not the same. The neutral switch was not the same – this was an easy swap of the cover and connection on the end of the selector drum. Next was the alternator which had a different plug on the end, this was also a swap of the internal components with same outside cover. The clutch was another story, the Versys and Ninja engines both have 2 different cable mounts, but the clutch operation mechanism was different. I could have once again switched them over but chose to take the best parts from a Versys and Ninja clutch cable and have a new one made. Yes, I have a non-standard clutch cable, but “Vinhill” cables are very good and last forever.
With the bike almost together and before fitting all the plastic, I needed to test the electrical system. I was still unable to start the bike as once more, some parts I had forgotten, needed powder coating and it was Xmas. On the bar humbug front, this is always a difficult time for my bike builds as everything closes down for 3 weeks and I am useless at planning ahead. No real issues with the electrics, apart from a few lamps (bulbs are what you put in the garden) a fuse and a bit of head scratching for an hour as the headlight did not work, until I discovered the engine needed to run. Xmas over and all parts back and fitted, fluids topped up remembering to fit the coolant drain plug, too late, button pressed, and it all works, or did it? The fault light (FL) came on and not sure why. Google is a wonderful tool for information. If I grounded out a certain wire in morse code, the FL would tell me what was wrong. It appeared that the air pressure switch was faulty and, on inspection, I had forgotten to fit the pipe to the inlet manifold. Don’t forget, this is part of the bike that I did not dismantle. Once gone through a few heat cycles, on with the plastic. At this point I found out the garage was only just high enough to fit the screen in between the rafters with the work bench extended.
Maybe it is me just getting old, but bikes designed and built in the late 20th century looked sexier with flowing lines from head to toe, this was maybe because everything was conceived on a drawing board with paper and pencil, designers were not allowed to use rulers but just their imagination and a sweeping pencil. Nowadays everything is Cad Cam and the computer just joins the dots and kicks it down the to the factory floor without seeing a human. This is probably why the more the build continued, the more I started to remember why I am not over the moon about adventure bikes (just my opinion!).
Was it worth it? Financially not. This will never be a collector’s item thank goodness and adventure bikes will go as quickly as they came. It was never my intention to do a nut and bolt restoration on a bike like this, but it kept me out of trouble for a few months. What am I going to do with it? Not sure, if a TVAM member offers me a very good price, I might just sell it. If not, I will use it during the summer to see what all the hype is about and then sell it as it doesn’t fit into my collection, or it might change my mind on adventure bikes altogether. It would have been nice if Kawasaki fitted it with a few luxuries, cruise control, quick shift or ABS, the sort of electronics you find on today’s machinery.
One more thing that was letting the side down was the standard rear shock, which was old and rusty and could be seen from every angle. So once more hand in pocket and, £330 later I fitted a YSS shock, very pretty. JOB DONE!
The “perfect” motorcycle does not exist. This is largely because every rider is different, as is every ride. Break things down to a sufficiently-granular level and we’d each be switching to a different custom-made motorcycle for every stretch of road. At the other end of the spectrum we have a selection of choices in showrooms across the country, all of them heavily compromised to try and be ‘good enough’ for the ‘average rider’. I’ve never met this ‘average rider’, but they’re clearly nothing like me.
That being said, I never expected to be writing an article like this about my 2017 Yamaha T-Max 530 DX. The whole point of buying the most tricked-out version of a relatively high-spec bike is to avoid the need to immediately replace half the parts with better ones. My Suzuki V-Strom was poorly-equipped from the factory but I was able to improve both its performance and my enjoyment through aftermarket upgrades. So why was this necessary on my considerably more expensive T-Max?
The T-Max’s forks are quality items, but thicker oil and re-valved shims provide dramatic improvements.
The pressed steel shock housing was already beginning to rust; the milled aluminium replacement won’t.
Let’s start with the suspension. I mentioned in my 4,000 mile review that it seemed fine, if a little soft in the rear for two-up riding, the centre stand scraping at relatively modest lean angles. Turns out that was only half the story. Since writing that article, Yamaha recalled all of that generation T-Max to replace the centre stand and springs with newly-designed ones. The original design allowed the stand to swing down under the momentum of heavy hits to the suspension instead of keeping it neatly pinned up out of the way, resulting in it scraping when it shouldn’t have. So far, no more scraping.
That being said, a trip to my favourite expert at MCT Suspension confirmed that the rear shock was no good and delivered the bad news that it was not re-buildable, with aftermarket options thin on the ground. I eventually saved up for the only good choice – a custom-made Öhlins unit – but the verdict on the front forks was even more of a surprise. It turned out that the lack of perceived weight transfer was caused by said forks fully compressing almost immediately under any kind of braking inputs, never mind downhill two-up into an Alpine hairpin. The good news was that these were fully re-buildable, being basically R1 cartridge forks, something MCT have a considerable degree of experience with.
The results were, as I should have expected, transformative. Harsh impacts are smoothed out gracefully, with the scooter now feeling lighter on its tyres than ever. There’s more confidence when cornering, more usable feedback from the road surface in all conditions, and less wallowing in high-speed corners. Furthermore, a rear shock is an incredibly easy component to install at home and a great opportunity to clean and grease the linkage bearings. I’ve said it before, but coupled with a good set of tyres a suspension upgrade is some of the best money you will ever spend on your motorcycle.
The special 5-pointed adaptor is cheap to buy, but necessary to service the one-piece front brakes.Mid-winter salt can’t touch the powder-coated brackets or stainless brake fittings.Many brackets on the T-Max are made of the cheapest metal imaginable, corroding quickly.
With the front forks now behaving themselves under braking, the true weakness of the front brakes was exposed. Outright stopping power was there if you hauled on the levers hard, but it was clear that the single-piston rear was having more of an impact than all eight of the R1-spec pistons up front, which made no sense. Braking power was also very difficult to modulate, a typical characteristic trait of squishy rubber brake lines expanding slightly under pressure and creating a less-than-linear hydraulic force delivery.
A new set of braided-steel aftermarket lines would solve this, although in the case of the T-Max that meant disassembling half the motorcycle to extract the five different hoses and shipping them to HEL Performance so that the originals could be measured. This ‘upgrade’, at least, would not be entirely frivolous as Yamaha themselves suggest that the original hoses should be replaced at the four-year mark. Given the unbelievable amount of work this involved, I suspect few other people ever bother.
Next, the brake pads fit as standard to many motorcycles – even performance-oriented models – are a little on the hard side. This means that they last longer, which many owners would appreciate and means that they have a much softer initial bite, and manufacturers claim newbies appreciate. Given that an inexperienced rider’s reaction to poor initial deceleration is usually to panic and grab a whole handful of extra brake, I’m not sure I buy that argument. In any case, I wanted the maximum bite and the maximum braking performance I could get and that meant a new set of high-friction pads. I opted for EBC’s HH formulation, having had good results with them in the past.
The final piece of any brake upgrade is simply a good service. Fresh fluid would happen as part of the hose upgrade – the whole system had to be drained during disassembly. But I also took the opportunity to dismantle the callipers themselves, pulling out and cleaning the internals in the process. The one-piece design means that a special tool is required to unscrew the five-pointed caps from the outside, but once done makes rebuilding the callipers far easier than most. The seals were in good condition and could be reused, but the pistons were filthy and already showing signs of corrosion. Word is that the ones used in R1s are titanium rather than stainless steel and do not suffer the same fate, something I intend to investigate for a future upgrade. But for now, I was able to salvage what was already on hand.
These three jobs done, the T-Max now has the honour of being the best-stopping bike in my garage. Feel, modulation, and power are all first-class, the big scooter now boasting better brakes than even my Kawasaki Ninja 1000 SX. It should come as no surprise that a similar new set of hoses and pads for the Kawasaki are already in the garage and awaiting a quiet weekend…
While I had the T-Max in pieces, I also took the opportunity to remove all the bracketry for the brake lines and have them professionally powder-coated. As you can see from the photograph, both they and the thinly-plated metal parts of the brake lines looked like they had been dredged up from a lake after just a few winter rides and, with the stainless steel HEL hoses holding their own, I didn’t want the badly-corroded brackets to ruin the show. Powder coating is cheap and as you can see, effective.
Electrical upgrades included a 12v charging socket mounted in the battery compartment door, along with a single-led charge-state indicator. I installed the former so that I could have a high-current connection to the battery for my heated jacket and compressor, and to make it easier to plug in a battery maintenance charger. Lockdown effectively killed the (surprisingly expensive) high-capacity lead-acid battery Yamaha shipped the T-Max with and, with a high-tech lithium-iron replacement actually available for less money, I jumped at the chance to shed over 2.5kg from the front of the bike.
A special charger is needed to keep the new battery topped up without blowing it up and I’m advised that I cannot safely jump-start a vehicle with a Li-Fe battery installed, but so far those haven’t been problems. Less successful is the Gammatronix state-of-charge indicator. It technically works perfectly, and I’ve installed them on many other bikes with great success. The idea is that it’s small and unobtrusive, communicating a lot of information with minimum fuss. Solid green means you’re charging the battery at the correct voltage, flashing green means you’re a bit low, flashing orange means you’re properly draining the battery, and solid red means that your rectifier has failed and you should pull over before you fry your bike’s entire electrical system. The problem is that I installed it next to the 12v socket – useful when running a compressor to warn you that you’re flattening the battery, but not exactly in your sight line while riding the bike.
The modern LiFe replacement battery weighs less than 30% of the lead-acid original.
The 12V SAE plug doubles up as a quick-release battery charge connector
It goes without saying that I switched to better tyres as soon as the original Dunlop Sportmax’s were getting low (around 9,000 miles) and have been much-preferring the Michelin Pilot Road 4 Scooter replacements. They’re fantastic in wet and dry, warm or cold, with neutral turn-in and will hold any line you choose. I suspect they may not last quite as long, and at just under 5k on them I’m not sure I’d attempt a full lap of Scotland as they are now. Frustratingly, Michelin still don’t make a version of their newer Road 5 tyres in the 15″ wheel sizes the T-Max uses, which are pretty unique. I shall have to hope that Michelin keeps making the current versions for a very long time…
The Michelin Pilot Road 4 SC tyres are great, but nothing newer fits the T-Max…
Titanium doesn’t rust, and it’ll hopefully either sound good or at least be quiet…
The last upgrade I want to mention has been a little bit of a rollercoaster. I like to be able to hear my internal-combustion-engined motorcycles, and given that the T-Max’s 360-degree parallel twin shares the same firing order as my Dad’s Triumph Bonneville, I hoped that a slightly louder exhaust would also deliver its excellent aural component. With the homologated Akrapovic titanium system retailing at over £1,200, I understandably sought out a less official option.
I soon struck gold with a lightly-used IXIL system at a low enough price that it was worth a punt, and sure enough – everything was in the box. What’s more, IXIL are one of the few aftermarket exhaust manufacturers who still equip their full systems with catalytic converters. Seeing as we all have to breathe the same air I prefer to pollute it no more than strictly necessary. Installation was easy, and it sounded pretty good at idle – a nice, purposeful burble. But a few test rides exposed an unexpected problem – it sounded terrible.
You see, the aural interest from an internal combustion exhaust note comes from the variation, specifically how the tone changes as the load on the engine is varied through throttle inputs and engine revs. But the T-Max’s engine load is kept constant at all times through the constantly-variable transmission, and twisting the throttle open further merely increases the engine speed. The result is like the engine note from a racing videogame a couple of decades ago – the same sound effect, looped, and then pitched up and down with no further changes. The ‘upgrade’ hadn’t made the T-Max sound better – it had just made it louder. Less than two days later I refit the original exhaust and put the IXIL system up for sale.
That should have been the end of the exhaust issue, my regular joke now being that I’d actually prefer the T-Max to be quieter, and that I was looking forward to the inevitable hybrid and electric versions. But given my now-apparent intent to keep the bike long-term, I was facing a quandary. You see, for reasons known only to themselves, Yamaha had apparently made the original exhaust system out of poorly-painted mild steel and it was already starting to rust. And so, I returned to my search, this time focusing on trying to find a quiet-as-stock aftermarket system that was made out of something more durable.
Annoyingly, there’s only really one option out there: the aforementioned Akrapovic system. Homologated to be exactly as quiet as the OEM system and made from titanium and carbon fibre, rust would not be an issue. It took more than a year of waiting until a new-in-box example popped up on eBay, courtesy of a Yamaha dealer clearing out old stock in preparation for Christmas. I guess they were sick of it taking up space in their warehouse, and you can tell from a glance at the classifieds that almost no one was willing to pay the recommended retail price when new. So the exhaust was listed at less than half-price, and I was happy to oblige. The original mild-steel system is going to see out one more salty winter, with my shiny new Slovenian exhaust waiting in its box for a quiet weekend in the spring.
A brand new T-Max costs £12,000, yet still comes fitted with a cheap, mild steel exhaust system.
The replacement centre stand isn’t any better protected from the elements; powder coating is in the future.
But what of the parts of the bike I haven’t touched? Are they already ‘good enough’ for me, or do I still have further improvements planned? In most cases, it’s that I’ve tried and failed, having found the limits of what I can do with off-the-shelf parts. The fuel range is frustratingly low, and a change in traffic or weather can be the difference between needing to fuel up every time I make the 90-mile round-trip to the office or being able to squeeze in a second day before coasting to the pumps on the way home. The T-Max is so great for long-distance trips that having to start looking for fuel as soon as you hit 140 miles is maddening. Predictably, there are zero manufacturers offering bolt-on aftermarket long-range fuel tanks for such a relatively-niche maxi scooter.
I’d love to move the handlebars further towards the rider, as I’ve done on my V-Strom 650, but closer investigation has revealed this to be prohibitively difficult. Under all that plastic it’s just a standard handlebar in a clamp, so risers would work – but there’s almost zero slack in the myriad cables, wires, and hoses routed to the controls and buttons with which the ‘bars are festooned. Brake hoses and throttle cables are one thing, but splicing and extending dozens of wires to the various multi-function control clusters is a recipe for electrical gremlins. I have decided, for now, to leave matters as they are.
Every bike should have a manual hand brake; it’s honestly really useful.
Other issues? Well, I wish that the headlights were brighter, and being LED units already makes further upgrades impossible. Spotlights could be an option, though the lack of anywhere to mount them makes that difficult. More power would always be nice, and in East Asia the popular solution is to fit a tiny little turbocharger directly under the fairing. The results look hilarious, but I’m not sure that I’m quite ready to take such a dramatic step just yet. Yamaha already rebuilt the transmission for me under a recall (belt slippage at high speeds) and I don’t feel like pushing my luck on that score.
Headlights look cool and cast a clean white light, just not enough of it for dark winter commutes.
Of course, there’s lots that I’ve really come to appreciate about the T-Max. The handlebar-operated handbrake is fantastic for holding the scooter at traffic lights, allowing you to relax both hands and feet while you wait for the light to go green. I wish all my bikes had something similar. I really appreciate the keyless ignition, especially when it means not having to take my gloves off in the rain to fish around for a key. The small wheels and (relatively) short forks mean that the T-Max steers with precision, and you can really place it anywhere you like on the road. You can focus on absolutely nailing your lines through the corners, and with the upgrades to the running gear I never find myself arriving at a curve faster than I or the bike are prepared to deal with.
And what about the recently-updated versions? A couple of years ago Yamaha bumped the engine capacity and somehow the fuel economy, finally switching the remaining front indicator bulbs out for LEDs. This year the bodywork has been thoroughly refined, resulting in a more leant-forward riding position and narrower stand-over. They’ve also retired the two-gauge dashboard in favour of an all-new colour screen, with the option to subscribe for on-screen GPS directions. Of course, I’d have to do pretty much all my upgrades all over again, and the price tags the top-flight versions are commanding at dealers are truly eye-watering. So no – as nice as some of those features would be, I’ll stick with what I’ve got. When Yamaha finally bring out a hybrid version that gets 80mpg and can manage 300 miles to a tank, then we’ll talk.
As the world focuses on COP26, we now have two member-led initiatives to help Club members offset the carbon footprint associated with their motorcycle riding.
The first is an update from Nigel Winstanley, following the proposal he outlined in Slipstream a little while ago. It’s taken a bit longer than we would have liked to get up and running but Nigel gives an update.
The second is a scheme developed by Andreas Gneist called “Motorcyle Offsetters” and Andreas explains all opposite.
So, if you want to offset your carbon, check out both and see if one works for you – it’s your choice. We will post any updates from both projects for your information.
Following the initial work done at the beginning of this year, you may recall that a page for collecting voluntary donations was set up on the TVAM web shop. The aim of this was that individual members were able to make donations which offset a proportion of their annual motorcycle mileage. In return the proposal was to plant trees in our local Thames Vale catchment area. This would have the secondary benefit of improving the local environment and amenity for residents in that local area.
The solution adopted was to search for a local charity with the expertise and experience to successfully oversee this type of project. The Club has recently agreed a plan and signed off on a Memorandum of Understanding, covering how we will work together on this initiative with a local sustainability charity, Trust for Oxfordshire’s Environment, or (TOE for short).
To this end the monies previously donated have now been transferred over to TOE so that they can use these funds to kick off our first pilot tree planting. Members who choose to make further donations will be able to directly to TOE. Work is now underway to identify a suitable site in South Oxfordshire or Berkshire, we will then update TVAM members.
The saplings will take around 5 years to establish, members will be able to ride out to see the trees (forest!) resulting from their efforts. TOE works with local landowners to ensure that the tree types planted are suitable for local conditions and to ensure a long-term sustainable biodiversity is created. These are not just trees planted for commercial forestry later.
An “average large motorcycle” will emit approximately one tonne of carbon in 5,000 miles of riding*. A tree will lock up about one tonne of carbon. Planting a tree costs £10. So, a £10 donation to TOE will offset 5,000 miles of riding and directly result in a new tree being planted.
05:40, Sunday 26th September 2021. Not exactly the best time for an alarm to go off. But it did and it did its job, tearing me away from the warm embrace of what should be a Sunday lie in.
This is the start of my first “big ride” with TVAM after getting my Green Badge only a week before. The weather report actually looks pretty good, rain that’s been promised all week might not show, fingers crossed.
Coffee, dress, pack and load up the bike. It’s still bloody dark, what am I doing?
Nice crisp ride to Chieveley Services, Keith’s already there with a few other bikes. There are a few cars starting to queue for petrol, is this the best time to go on a ride whilst the country has been told not to panic buy petrol? Well, my tanks currently full so let’s just wing it.
Keith’s told us individually (and collectively) that he’s easily got enough fuel. The GSA has hundreds of miles of range. That leaves the rest of us thinking about how good the anti-siphon mechanisms are on the GSA, maybe time will tell.
There’s a couple of drop outs, one (sensibly) stating concerns over fuel the other unfortunately not feeling too well. That leaves 12 of us to set off with one to pick up on the way.
Allie Gane steps up as (trainee) back marker as it should be good practice. Let’s see just how inept/unruly we are and just how much practice we give her.
Ferry is booked for 10:00 from Southampton giving us plenty of time to enjoy a scenic route to Romsey. Sun is coming up, although it’s pretty foggy but the first leg of the ride takes us through some cracking roads and quaint villages, Hurstbourne Priors and KinGSA Somborne and down into Romsey.
Andy Storey joins us on the way, increasing us to (an ominous?) 13 riders. We stop at the Shell garage in Romsey and amazingly there’s not a throng waiting to fuel! We all (apart from those with massive tanks) top up, breathing a sigh of relief that we’ve at least got a decent amount of riding left to do before the juddering splutters hit.
Keith struts around again regaling all of us about his rather copious quantities of remaining fuel. Fuel’s topped off so we head off to Southampton and the Red Funnel ferry. We pull up to the ferry terminal, book in and line up in the loading bay just in time to see the 09:00 ferry depart. With a decent run up I was sure I could jump the gap. But that’s not behaviour becoming of a new Green Badge holder.
We had a decent bit of time to grab a brew and have a chat with the other riders and have a poke about each other’s bikes. This is my first time taking a bike on a ferry and I’m pleasantly surprised. We got preferential loading, straight in first and right up to the front ready for a quick unload. So up to the lounge for another brew and a comfy seat whilst we wait for the breakfast service.
Ferry pulls in just before 11:00. We all mount up and the ferry loaders let us off first onto nearly foreign shores! The weather has really brightened up now, the sun’s out and there’s a decent amount of blue sky. Entirely pleasant riding conditions.
This is my first time on the Isle of Wight and I must admit I’m fairly blown away. It’s stunning, green and verdant, lots of little villages. Roads are billiard table smooth. Scenery is a mix of rolling hills, farmland, cliffs and sandy beaches. Truly stunning. So much going on in such a small package.
We had a quick stop to admire the scenery overlooking Sandown Airport (but I’m sure it was just an excuse for those on adventure bikes to feel superior on a stony car park) and a quick reminder from Keith that he’s got a massive tank and loads of fuel left.
So far the group has been nice and tight, the marker system working a charm and Allie still stoically shoring us up seamlessly. It’s off to Sandown Airport (the long way) for lunch.
Keith’s a regular there as he often flies into the airfield. Lunch is cracking, they’ve got a load of covered outdoor seating and offer a decent selection of burgers, wood fired pizzas and a Sunday roast. My pizza was excellent.
To blow out the after lunch fug, Keith had lined up a treat. We rode the proposed Isle of Wight TT route. First leg was the narrow twisty bit parallel to the Military road. It’s tight, high verged and seemingly way too scary for a full on TT blast through it. It then opens up onto the Military Road.
Just. Wow.
Perfect tarmac, stunning views of hills, cliffs and beaches. Very open so visibility is amazing and properly, stupidly fast. I definitely used all the 60 mph I was allowed.
This road is so good we did it twice, first heading southeast towards Blackgang, then a turn around and a wicked blast all the way from the southern tip of the island directly to the Needles on the western point.
This is where we had a slight wobble. In an unfortunate turn of events a random rider had done a U-turn in front of the tail end of our group and stopped at the side of the road opposite a junction we’d previously turned down. One of us saw this as a marker so turned off, causing a slight confusion among the rest of us at the tail end. It’s rather odd to see the chaps you’ve just turned around ride past you again in the opposite direction! By the time I got there the ‘phantom marker’ had gone so I blasted back down the Military Road again, with that niggling thought that I’d possibly gone wrong. Eventually I caught up another rider and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a marker on the next junction. Bear in mind that this was a 13 mile leg with no marked junctions!
Once at the Needles we parked up (well, most of us anyway). Keith and Allie did a great job in scooping up the stragglers. We headed into the shops to grab an ice cream. Abject failure! The ice cream (and pretty much all other shops) were closed due to staff shortages. Another brew it was then!
So, once we were all back together again and suitably caffeinated we got ready to set off. At this point Keith’s massive tank was still mostly full, but the rest of us were past the point of no return, we needed fuel. In Paul’s case his GSAXR-750 can barely make it into triple figures of range, this coupled with no fuel gauge meant he was squeaky bum on fuel so motion lotion was now a very high priority.
We’d seen numerous petrol stations on our travels, all of which were frequented by nothing but traffic cones. Finding fuel was going to be a bit exciting. We reckoned Paul had about 30 miles of fuel left. Keith’s plan had us hitting Newport to find fuel, 25 miles away. So off we went with Paul short shifting to 6th in about 50 meters.
In Newport we found the last remaining open petrol station, with a nicely established queue already formed and only 4 pumps left open. We all (apart from Keith) filled up again with a huge sigh of relief again. It turns out this station only had 30 minutes of fuel stocks left so we were rather lucky. All fuelled up, we headed back to East Cowes as the ferry home beckoned. Again we got preferential treatment, first on and straight to the front. Nice!
Dinner was being served so many pasties were consumed, mainly by a single individual! No names, what goes on on Red Funnel ferries stays on Red Funnel ferries. It’s now dark by the time we dock at Southampton. It’s been a long day. The plan is to have a marked ride out of the city to the motorway then everyone for themselves. A sound plan but marked rides on busy city roads at night is definitely tricky. One wrong turn from Keith saw us take the long way out of Southampton. We somehow managed to keep it together (nice one Allie!) despite me seeing Keith as a marker near the end and sailing past him! Luckily I stopped and let him through and we all got out.
A cracking day’s riding was topped off by a dark blast up the M3/A34 and home. I still can hear Keith regaling people of his massive tank. I don’t think he’s filled up yet. My first day with a TVAM long ride was a roaring success, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Everyone was great, Keith and Allie did a fantastic job of managing the ride. My first trip to the Isle of Wight will certainly not be my last, the Military Road is just plain epic.
Those in attendance: Keith Miller – Run leader & Massive Tanker, Allie Gane – (Trainee) Back Marker, Andy Storey (that psychedelic top is truly awful Andy), Bob Griffin, David Naylor, Jackie Parker, Jon Wiles, Mark Ward, Paul Gilmore, Paul Tsarion, Phil Donovan, Stephen Cudd and me, Matt Poole.
Matt Poole
Note: Total run was 207 miles, TT Circuit was 11.7 miles. Keith wrote that his fuel tank holds 293 miles, but by the way he was talking it I think he’s dropped a digit somewhere.
The run was initially planned with Chris as the solo Observer, but we had the bonus of an extra Observer, the one and only Si Rawlins, so the Associate at the back of the trio (who usually gets a bit of a break from being observed) was still observed during the day… eeek… no pressure!
We headed east away from Llandrindod Wells in the direction of Llanfihangel-nant-Melan, then south towards Llanelwedd and on to Bronllys, through the town of Brecon (no Beacons, unfortunately), we then headed north through Llandefaelog Fach, Capel Dyffryn Honddu to a view-point over the valley. The view would have been lovely, but we were pretty high up and partly in the clouds. We then had a little coffee stop in Llanwrtyd Wells and a chat about the positioning and Safety, Stability & View. Back on the bikes and headed south west towards Llanwrda, north west towards Cwmann and then north east via Llanddewi-Brefi (made famous in Little Britain as it was the home of Daffyd Thomas – the only gay in the village), through Pontrhydfendigaid towards Devils Bridge, followed by a lunch stop at The Red Kite Cafe. After lunch, we headed back along the A44 through Eisteddfa Gurig, Tyn-y-cwm and picked up the A470 in Llangurig and headed north towards the Clywedog Reservoir and beyond along the B4518 with a couple of really steep hills to a viewpoint looking at Snowdonia (a bit cloudy in the distance, but still breathtaking). A coffee shop stop in Llanidloes for a bit of a rest before heading back to the hotel.
So what did I get from this ride?
Invaluable feedback from Chris & Si throughout the day. Thank you guys, it really was a fantastic day
The Welsh roads were glorious, smooth and had very little traffic
Wales uses far too many consonants and too few vowels (great for Scrabble)
I’m glad we didn’t go to Anglesey as Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch would be a sod to put in the sat nav
If you see the next 7Ws trip advertised…
GET YOUR NAME ON THE LIST. You will NOT regret it.
Brian Walmsley
“My cornering has improved. Met some lovely new people, and managed to find enough fuel to get home.”
Steve Gilmour
“I wanted to start by thanking everyone who was involved in the planning and execution of the 7Ws for making it such a success. I had a great time, learned a lot, and judging by the number of smiles on display, so did everyone else. I didn’t get a chance to thank Sean for his excellent talk on safety and gear usage on Friday, but it left me with a Welsh baritone inner monologue for the rest of the weekend which I’m convinced made me a smoother rider!”
Tom Peck
“Big thanks to everybody for a magical weekend.”
Graham Boret
“HUGE thanks to Ness, Andy and the team for organising another fantastic 7Ws. We are so grateful for all the long hours that you put into making the weekend go so smoothly. Also thanks to the Observers, TObs, Run Leaders and Back Markers who gave their time to make it even more enjoyable. Can’t wait for the next one!”
Rhona & Danny Ferry
“The 7Ws was enjoyable in so many ways, but made all the more special by sharing a Starburst with Ilhan Oner (Associate) & Dave Parsons (Observer). We had a fantastic ride and seeing Ilhan improve and gain confidence as the day progressed was so satisfying for all of us. He then went on to win the wooden spoon for the most improved rider!”
Jeremy Davies (TOb)
Thanks to all the photographers who sent in pics. We would need a few issues to show them all but I have tried to include at least one or two from each of them. Thank you especially to Tom Peck, appointed official 7Ws photographer for capturing so much over the weekend.
Robin Crane, Dave Parsons, Graham Boret, Tom Peck, Kathy Wright, Jo Gunton, Gaz, Andy Smith, Carl Flint, Simon Mack, Louise Dickinson
This was the first of two TVAM exclusive trail riding weekends in mid-Wales with Steph Jeavon’s off-road school “Moto Junkies” and organised by Phil Donovan. When I saw this event on Groups.io all the places were already taken – disappointing as I was keen to try out Moto Junkies new Honda CRF300L bikes; Dave Thorpe of Dave Thorpe Honda had recommended the bike as capable of dealing with most trails along the tarmac ride to the trail head. A call to Phil put me on the reserve list and happily for me, a place came available.
The selected starting point was only a few miles from the Welsh border. Five of us set off from Moto Severn Services near the M48 bridge at 9am Friday for a full day’s ride with Phil leading and selecting the best roads from memory, with a bit of help from an actual paper map. Eventually, after a good day’s riding exploring some great Welsh roads, we found a line of parked bikes outside the hotel near Welshpool and joined the other five TVAM’ers in our group who were already drinking beer in the evening sun.
After a lovely meal and good evening, Steph and her team joined us for a drink and briefing! By 10am Saturday morning we were all splendidly kitted out in new full body armour and dirt bike clothing and were introduced to the bikes: Honda CFR300Ls and Royal Enfield Himalayans. So we set off for a morning in the training field. Our tutor explained the necessary principles and techniques of loose-surface riding which naturally we quickly mastered and were soon sure-footedly speeding around the wet grass in the hilly field. Following an early lunch we confidently headed out to conquer the trails.
Our confidence grew as we flew along in advanced style – but then the road width dwindled to a track and the tarmac turned to wet mud, progress slackened to walking pace and then to no pace at all. The cause of the stoppage was a slight left-hand bend with a muddy puddle on the exit; we had slipped up (and over) at the first turn.
After quite an extended delay and lots of help from our training team to keep the sliding bikes upright, we reached the end of the rather short off-road section. Our group expressed concern that we seemed to have been dropped in at the deep end!
Tony our instructor looked slightly perplexed; not so – this was the easiest track in the area! We agreed to head for less-challenging routes and the day unfolded into an excellent ride, partly on narrow tarmac lanes and partly on loose surfaces.
With the sun shining and now welcoming the novel challenges, this became a fresh adventure and a new skill set, from which we could all benefit and to some degree integrate into our road riding. Sunday saw our confidence and competence grow with all manner of off-camber, steep and loose surfaces conquered.
As with all TVAM trips, a good part of the fun was created by the group, meeting new faces and turning old acquaintances into friendships. Steph and the Moto Junkies team made the experience great fun, provided a good structured learning environment and tailored the weekend to suit our talents. All of us agreed we had a great time and would be back again next year for round two!
Part Seven – Close and I’m having the cigar anyway!
I can’t believe that 3 months have gone by. Apologies for the lack of an article in the last 2 editions. Firstly, I was waiting for the tinware to come back, and then, I was ill with the plague – or a ‘viral infection’ as the doctor told me (the run-to condition when doctors haven’t got a clue what’s wrong with you – apologies to the doctors out there). It wasn’t Covid, but it was definitely some form of absolutely debilitating man-flu/plague/wrath of the Gods that had me flopped on the sofa for 2 weeks. This didn’t give me enough to write about in July and then the August edition was already full.
So, let’s catch up. The engine was back in the frame and I was waiting for the tinware to come back from Mike at Triple C. I had bits I could do whilst waiting for the tinware, but not much. Assuming there weren’t too many tasks that I had to take apart and re-do, that is.
The engine was nearly complete. I needed to do the valve clearances, the piston rods, the distributor and the carburettor. On the assumption that the valve clearances are correct, they were remarkably easy to do. The piston rods? I have heard of people buying an endoscope to do these before, and I can understand why. I don’t have one and it took about three hours of loosening the rockerbox, swearing, moving things around, swearing, resetting the rockerbox and trying again before it was eventually correct. People reading these articles must think my language is terrible. I can assure you it isn’t. Working on a classic bike just makes you swear! The two go together like Kirk and Spock.
The end can and the battery were ordered. Thinking of the electrics made me look closely at the point where the three wires from the stator connect to the loom. I was not convinced I had connected the three of them correctly. Research and advice soon yielded the information that these needed to be connected in a very specific and complicated (for me) way. And, yes, you’ve guessed it. The only way to check this was to take the primary chaincase cover off and remove the stator. I refer you to the penultimate sentence of the previous paragraph!
Exhaust downpipe
Anyway, it was a good job I had thought of this as upon removing the primary chaincase I discovered that I had it wired incorrectly. I proceeded to wire things up correctly, and a much better job was made of the soldering I’m pleased to report.
On to the distributor. Something else that I knew absolutely nothing about. I had no idea what it was even for. Research and advice from Mr. R time. I stripped the distributor and decided that the only thing that was needed was new advance springs which reduced costs significantly. They were bought and the distributor assembled. I’ll find out if I was correct when I try and start the bike.
On to setting the timing. I played around, getting a feel for it and the science behind this. I understand the basics of it now and got it to a place where I thought it was correct. Again, we’d find out when the engine was started.
I tightened up the Allen bolt to hold the distributor in the selected position……and the thread on the distributor clamp gave way! Nooooooo. This clamp is buried in the depths of the engine. The thread on it had been fine when I put it in place two or three months ago. This was panic inducing – potentially a major setback on up to three months’ worth of work. I hit the internet and my advice gurus to find out if there was a way around this. Unfortunately not, I needed to buy a new distributor clamp and replace the existing one in the middle of the engine. That was enough for that day. I’d had enough. I packed up, and went and sulked inside!
I had discovered another of the wonders of BSA design. The clamp that holds the distributor in position is in the depths of the engine next to the gears (an early part of the assembly), yet the retaining screw goes in through the outer timing cover – one of the last pieces to go in place. This makes distributor adjustments easy but causes problems if the clamp fails. As I said, I’d even checked the clamp before putting it in place, but obviously not thoroughly enough. So, to replace it I had to take off the newly-installed exhaust system, the pegs, the gear shift and kickstart pedals, remove the outer cover, dismantle the kickstart and gear change mechanisms, and remove the inner cover. Removing the inner cover obviously meant that one of my nemeses – the gearbox – came apart as well. I even had to loosen the engine in its frame mounts. There were very nearly tears at this point. To do all that assembly work on the engine had taken me weeks and weeks. I had to take apart 1/3 of the engine to get at that one part. Surely this could have been designed better?
On the positive side of things though, what had previously taken me weeks took me an afternoon this time. It brought home to me how much I’ve learned and what a difference it makes when you actually know something about what you are doing.
Of course, things couldn’t go completely smoothly though. That would be too easy. Upon re-re-re-re-re-assembly another thread went on the bottom engine mount and the kickstart cotter pin broke. Both fortunately external parts. I got the relevant parts from Dave (Mr. R) and quickly had the bike back to where it had been, but with an installed (and hopefully correctly adjusted) distributor.
Restored oil tank
Restored tinware
Finally, a long-anticipated day arrived – I got the tinware back from Mike at Triple C, and, to put it bluntly, it looked stunning. What an amazing job he did. The parts look absolutely gorgeous without even being attached to the rest of the bike. I was going to have to be really, really careful putting these on the bike. The last thing I wanted was a scratch.
I could now start putting these parts on, but before I did I wanted to dismantle and inspect the carburettor. To that end I took half a day to read about and carefully examine all the individual components. I’m glad I took the time to do the reading as I needed some new parts that I wouldn’t have got without the research, like a float bowl cover. A previous owner had over tightened this cover and distorted it. This would have most likely have led to a fuel leak in the future, not something you want really! Carburettor parts were ordered as well as numberplates. I also ordered something that would probably be very useful in the future, something that we couldn’t find when collecting the bike – keys!
While waiting for these parts I assembled the petrol tank and the rear lighting / numberplate holder on the rear mudguard. And, again, marvelled at how fantastic the tinware looked.
The numberplates arrived and were put on to their relevant mudguards (being an old fart I refuse to call them fenders!). I then quickly had the centre panel and the rear mudguard on the bike. The carburettor parts arrived, and the carb was assembled and attached to the bike in its initial setup. This will need to be altered later as modern fuels are different to the ones used at the time the instructions were written.
The next parts were the final ones and I was starting to get excited as the end of the restoration was in sight. Or was it fear at the thought of trying to start the bike after all this time, effort and learning (and swearing).
That was by-the-by though, as at this point I came down with a severe case of the plague, and lay moaning and groaning on the sofa for 10 days without the slightest bit of sympathy. What a heartless family I have! All I got were quips about man-flu and being a wimp.
Restored oil tank in situ
Seat on
Once recovered swift progress was made. The oil tank was fitted and connected, the remaining decal was done, and the front mudguard went on.
At this point I decided to wire up the battery and check all the electrics. This could be interesting! But overall I was pleased with my electrical efforts. I needed a new bulb for the rear light as the existing one was a 12V bulb and the bike is 6V. I also discovered that the ignition coil was dead. Like the distributor clamp I had checked this when it came off the bike and I thought it was okay, but it obviously wasn’t. Two other bulbs did not work, but I realised that this was because they weren’t earthed – I told you I knew nothing about wiring! That was soon sorted and once the new bulb and ignition coil arrived all the electrics worked correctly.
Only two things were left to go on the bike – the petrol tank and the seat (which I had resprayed underneath for protection).
They went on and that was it. The restoration part was complete.
Now it was time to get it running and roadworthy, so some oil went into the bike and I waited to see how much came straight back out. Three parts of the bike have oil, so I did this over three nights. This would allow me to trace any leaks. First in was the chaincase – no leaks. Next was the gearbox and, again, there were no leaks.
Finally, I needed to get oil into the oil tank and use the kickstart to move this oil all around the engine. 400 kicks or so later no oil was coming back into the oil tank. Some slight disassembly showed that oil was going all round the engine but simply not managing that final bit back to the tank and the scavenger to the rockerbox. There were no blockages. I finally decided that this was because the insides of these pipes were both very clean and very narrow. Due to the viscosity of the oil I thought that liquid to surface friction might be causing this. I removed the necessary pipes and forced oil through them. Once reattached this initial friction had been overcome and the oil came through nicely. Again, I left this overnight and there were no leaks.
Finally, fuel. I put a small amount of petrol into the tank and it came straight out again at the bottom! Some quick action with a cup collected most of this and then I had to do some cleaning up and let things evaporate. Investigation led me to something I had heard about but hadn’t twigged was applicable to my bike. I discovered a cork in the petrol tap under the tank which had dried out and shrunk over the years. Boiling it in a pan of water for half an hour and then leaving it to soak overnight in petrol and it was back to its proper dimensions. Petrol went back into the tank and the tap worked nicely. And the petrol came straight back out via the carb! This leaking from the carb was my first encounter with something that would become a recurring theme for me – I hadn’t tightened things up enough. In my fear of damaging parts by overtightening them I had gone to the other extreme. Carb parts tightened and no leaks. That meant that the next stage was…….first start!
All was set. I had the bike nicely positioned. Sharon and my daughter Emily, were there to watch and film things. I gave the bike its first kickstart – nothing. Many kicks later we switched off the video as I wasn’t getting anything, not even a hint of the engine starting. It was disheartening. It was at this point I remembered to turn on the ignition! 10 kicks later and the bike burst into life. Glorious, fantastic, amazing. The bike lived.
Okay I had to have the throttle fully open and oil seemed to be coming from everywhere, but the bike ran. What a feeling. And what a lovely sound.
I had expected the bike not to run for long. That was because I was going to have to do all the necessary alterations to the timing and the carb to get a sweet running engine. But I wasn’t expecting oil to come out so much, especially after it not leaking earlier. The pressure of the engine running was obviously forcing the oil out. Repeatedly starting the engine led me to three leaks – the primary chaincase cover, the sump plate and most worryingly the outer timing cover. This was worrying because there shouldn’t be sufficient oil in that area for a leak to occur.
New sump plate parts sorted that leak. I’d tried to get away with not replacing them and it hadn’t worked. The Primary Chaincase needed a new gasket due to the number of times it had been taken off and put back on.
The outer timing cover leak was traced to the camshaft breather. Initial thoughts and advice led me to the oil pump which might need lapping. So, I did this (for a first ever time) and managed to completely overdo it and killed the oil pump (I might have sworn at this point). A new oil pump was bought from Mr. R and all was reassembled, but still the leak was there. I also noticed that oil was coming out of a drain hole in the wrong direction. The pressure is too high in the engine. Investigations into this are continuing, it appears to have people stumped at the moment.
So, we’re at a kind of a weird place now. I just need to get this leak sorted then do the carb settings. Then the bike is on the road. But I’ve also just got Covid. Fortunately, I’m not too ill (mainly fatigue and breathlessness) as I’ve had both jabs but work on the bike has stopped. Realistically I need someone in the know to come and look at this leak for me before I can progress. And help me with the carb. I’ve reached the end of what I can learn by myself and need someone to teach me.
The restoration has been a journey. So many things – I’ve learned a stunning amount and done something I never thought I would be capable of, spent more on the bike than it’s actually worth (without having to even buy it), found great craftspeople who I would highly recommend, received great advice and even written articles about it. But the two most important things? I’ve made new friends (especially Dave and Lisa Smith, to whom I owe a big thank you) and I’ve had fun.
Getting supplies has been interesting. In our emails something Dave said brought home the dangers of buying modern pattern parts. To quote: “The original thread on the kickstart cotter is 9/32″ 26tpi cycle thread. Modern replacements are often 1/4″ or even 6mm!! Horrors. As producing that size is easier and cheaper.” So, you really need to be careful and buy from somewhere with a good reputation for supplying quality parts that are fit for purpose. At least a couple of hundred pounds has been spent on parts that didn’t fit. Again, to quote Dave: “the old boys in the past actually knew what they were doing and made decisions based on good engineering principles.” I would agree – except when it comes to chainguards and distributor clamps that is!
The bike isn’t roadworthy, but it runs, and I can keep the engine going. I could take it out tomorrow, but I wouldn’t get far at all, it would probably cause damage to the engine and it wouldn’t be safe – so that’s a no. I won’t have enough to write another article. All another article would say is that the leak is fixed, the carb is sorted and it’s on the road. There will always be other problems that need sorting as well, after all it’s a vintage motorbike! So, I’ll leave it here with a promise that I’ll send Salli a picture of me on the bike on the road as soon as I can. Thank you all for reading my ramblings, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Stay shiny side up.
Part two of the tale of my trip around the renowned North Coast 500 on a Burgman with a mate who, although he has been riding for 50 years, has never taken his test – so we continue from last month’s riveting episode of our adventure…
Day four found us at the dealership and I had made a discovery. I was fiddling with my waterproof covers to my panniers when my lost gloves fell out. They had obviously got tangled up and lived there for two days. So at least I could save myself the £80 I was due to spend on new ones. Happy days.
Sadly, not so good on the screw front. I saw a guy in the showroom and explained my issue. He was a salesman and pointed to service reception, this being populated by a tall and young brunette girl apparently called Bella who oversaw that department. “Ask her for a screw,” was his suggestion. Frankly, I thought my chances would be incredibly low indeed, but I have never been one to shirk good advice – but I opted to perhaps re-phrase the question.
I pointed to the offending Frankenstein-Monster-looking bolt attached to the side of my crash helmet – explained my dilemma and asked if she had anything to cure my ills. Sadly not. Oh well, at least I had found my gloves.
La Mirage Restaurant, Helmdale
Whilst getting ready to leave in the car park we got talking to a couple of foreign guys who had just been with the lovely Bella getting a radio fitted to one of their helmets. “What part of Germany are you from?” I asked – detecting the accent – I am particularly good at accents, it’s years of practice. “Holland!” he said. I suspected he did not understand the question and therefore decided to leave it.
We were free to go and find our next stop which was Wick. This was to be a reasonable ride of about 110 miles up the East Coast. We were without breakfast and so we decided to have lunch on the way, stopped at a place called Helmsdale and found a little takeaway Fish & Chip shop called La Mirage. Another one to add to your list of places to visit – especially if you are at all hungry. We simply asked for 2 x Fish and Chip meals and proceeded to wait. We waited a little longer – and then we waited. After waiting some more, we finally got our meals. The meal consisted of about a week’s worth of chips and these were hidden underneath the remains of two porpoises.
Did I say “each”. The meals were huge – and tasted wonderful. There was no way we could finish them, but boy – what a feast. We were now at a point where it was difficult to move, but despite this we bravely managed to climb aboard and find the rest of our way to Wick.
I was due to stay at the house of someone called Elenna at the Rose Cottage in the Harbour. Despite eating the outpourings of a small country at lunchtime we were early. I sent Elenna a message asking if I could check in and she was very accommodating. We found the house so that we both knew where I was in case of emergency and told Elenna we were off to find Ian’s overnight stay.
Symptom was staying with Calum in the High Street. I emailed Calum and asked if Ian could check in early. “By all means,” replied Calum, “just come to check in at the Camps Bar in the High Street.”
Camps Bar?
The Camps bar was a little tired, and when we met Calum, (who seemed like a nice chap), we guessed where the name of the bar came from. There was nowhere for Ian to park his bike (again – insert joke here) so he padlocked it firmly to the metal fence on the harbour wall. I helped Ian carry his bags round the back of the pub up some very questionable steps and left him to settle in. At this juncture I legged it and set off to find Elenna again.
The Camps Bar
As previously described, Elenna was lovely. She was truly short in stature (a long way under 5 foot) – but boldly built, I think that is a polite way of putting it, and you should remember that I am also short and boldly built – albeit 5’6”. Elenna was shorter – struggling to make the lofty heights of 5 feet even on short steps.
“Would you like help with your bags?” she offered, at which point I pulled myself up to my full height and sucked in one of my stomachs. “I’m fine,” I said. “The stairs are rather steep,” she said, but I ignored this sage advice and suggested that I would do my luggage in two short journeys.
I shouldered arms and followed Elenna to the foot of the stairs. “I’ll lead the way,” she uttered as we approached the aforementioned obstacle. Let me say immediately they were *not* steep. I have seen steep, and these were not it. Steep was not a word that was invented to describe these stairs. They were just like the ones I had at home.
We attained the first floor without issues and started up the second flight. I was on top form, and wishing she would hurry up, but Elenna was not to be rushed. We turned the corner and made it to the landing.
“This is a 200-year-old cottage,” she told me, “therefore some of it will catch you out if you are not careful.: With this, she opened a door. I peered inside expecting to find a period, (and very tastefully decorated) room, perhaps with a nice little fireplace and sit-down windowsill.
Nope. “One more flight,” she offered.
Dear reader, what I saw is best described as a ladder. The stairway was certainly not much wider than a ladder – but it was about as steep. Elenna set off, and I followed, struggling to fit inside the space and carry two panniers. As I ascended, the age of the house appeared to try to prove itself, because someone kept turning the lights out.
It ended well I am pleased to say, after finding the room, opening the window, and taking a few lungs-full of sea-air-scented oxygen, I recovered.
“I’ll get my son to bring the rest of your luggage up,” said Elenna, and I did not have the chance – nor the breath in my body, to argue. The day was not improved by me stubbing my very black big toe on the bed three times that evening!!
To be fair – apart from the altitude the room was lovely and was bettered by a wonderful breakfast the following day. Elenna was also lovely.
Ian was not so happy; his rather tired digs were not as impressive and he was incredibly happy to move on from a sleepless night in Camps Bar.
Lairg was next on the itinerary – via John O’Groats, Dunnet Head and the most northerly part of the North coast. We rode into John O’Groats in the rain, took the obligatory picture and headed out of town without delay. Dunnet Head – 11 miles away was the actual most northern point and a lot more picturesque.
Dounreay was very military and reminded us of nasty things, we hurried past. The A836, apart from this – was lovely. We covered 137 miles – much of it on the coastline and loved every yard of it.
Nothing funny happened – sorry. Although there were some interesting place names. Brawl, Swordly, Farr, BettyHill (she went to our school), Coldbackie, Tongue, Tongue Burn. You could put any one of those into your own sentence, I’ll wait until you are done.
OK – ready – here we go again.
We arrived in Lairg and decided that it was a noticeably quiet town. Both of us were due to dwell overnight in farms, me at the top of a valley – and overlooking Ian’s domicile at the bottom of the hill. We opted to go to the chip shop for tea – arriving at 7.05pm only to find they closed at 7.00! Well why would you want a chip shop open in the evening anyway?
The Falls of Shin followed in the morning, along with a wonderful trip to Ullapool – which proved to be a reasonable stay – this even though Ian was staying in a house that backed onto Tesco, whereas I was staying in a house that looked like it came out of a showroom – it was a dream.
Dingwall, next stop – was not so dreamy. It is a dead town with one huge supermarket – the ever-popular Tesco. All the shops which sold items that were also sold in Tesco were shut and boarded up. What a crying shame.
Dingwall was to be the town which signalled the end of the Highlands for us for several reasons. Firstly – we were still a bit damp. Secondly – we were old and had covered more than 1,600 miles in 9 days. Thirdly – and this was important – each day when we woke up, we wanted clean clothes to wear. I was fine – I still had enough of everything for another 4 days. Symptom Ian on the other hand had taken a small stock-check the previous day. Clean clothes amounted to the following: 11 spare pairs of socks, enough underwear for 2 days, 4 clean pyjama tops and no clean shirts – this man cannot count!
So where were we to stay in Dingwall? Ian was with Margaret. Margaret lived on the side of a mountain. I however was due to spend the evening with stars.
One or two of you may be old enough to remember – in black and white days – a Sunday lunchtime radio program called Round the Horne. Nowadays you wonder how they got away with it on a Sunday lunchtime radio programme?
Each week Kenneth Williams and Hugh Paddick played two ex-performing “luvvies” who get little or no work and spend their lives trying to make ends meet. Their famous catchphrase was “Ooh Ello Mr Orne – My Name’s Julian and this is my friend Sandy.” Go onto You Tube and search for “Julian & Sandy – Keep Britain Bona” – you will catch my drift.
On our final leg eve – I was due to stay with two guys who shared their lives together – fair enough I have absolutely no issue with that and why should I – but how do I expect to keep a straight face when I find out what their names are – when I am of a certain age and remember Round the Horne. One was called Julian – and the other was called Sandy – their bungalow was called “Sand Jools”.
I had a pleasant night in their rather uniquely decorated pied a terre, (the bed was the absolute best I had slept in all week!!) and slipped out in the morning before they stirred – I needed to meet Ian for breakfast.
Ian’s evening was interesting. As well as parking on a 1-in-3 slope in the driveway (if you stood on the pavement, you looked down over the roof of the house) – it was a tiny drive which proved a challenge when he came to turn his bike around. More interesting than that was what Ian described as the tiniest bathroom he has ever seen. He had to close the door of his en-suite before he could sit on the loo and there were so many doors and cupboards he wasn’t sure what was what.
Ian was sharing the B&B with another couple who were also due to stay overnight. He heard them arrive and chat to the owner – apparently the walls were paper-thin.
Ian heard every word as he sat quietly in his luxury en-suite on the “throne” trying to be as quiet as possible as he “took his ease” – (refer to comment about paper thin walls and how sound carried). Actually – it was not the paper-thin walls and sound carrying that turned out to be the problem, the issue was the door which suddenly opened from the other couple’s bedroom directly into the bathroom where Ian was concentrating on the job in hand.
Double takes were duly taken – they looked at each other in surprise – Ian covered up and drew his legs close together – the woman went bright red, and as they say in the best circles, made her excuses and left. Ian did say it put him off the job he was half-way through!
Homeward Bound
And so, it ended. We rode back in two days – stopping in Erskine Bridge at a hotel that had a lift that was slower than coastal erosion and invaded by a Japanese coach party – perhaps I will detail this another time.
We rode home from there in one day – a mistake as it happens – but we did it anyway and reached home at 3.15am after almost 19 hours in the saddle and a blown headlamp bulb as we rode through the night. Like I said – perhaps another time.
Equally – I could expand on two bald guys in an Austin 7 who popped up several times on our tour, Billy Donelly (yes – that is really what he called himself) – an author we discovered at a roadside stop on the way down Loch Lomond, Billy then started to follow us.
Outside of that though – two old gits – one with L-plates – did the Highland 500 and made it home afterwards. 2,332 miles.
As a new member from end of last year, I’m in my fourth life on two wheels after some fairly lengthy gaps. So in all, my motorcycling has stretched across 1970-72, 1984-6, 1989-90 and from 2016 to date.
My TVAM journey started when I met what I presume was a bunch of WAGs, while on a trip out to Wantage, 2 years ago. Having arrived in the Market Square to stop for a coffee I found myself in the midst of about 25 bikers and joined their ride through Oxfordshire, and was made to feel very welcome. So, it was natural to later consider joining and the offer of a Taster Ride with Paul Wells as my Observer came up, thanks Paul! I described it afterwards as ‘Epic’!
FREEDOM: SIGN HERE
To go back to my first motorcycling days, I had to get to school and back. We were living in Lower Basildon and my school was in Sonning. I bought my first bike, a Suzuki 50 M15 (2 stroke, not a moped), from the proceeds of working in my school holidays. I loved the freedom it gave me and it got me on the road at the weekends, to my best school friend Steve’s house in Wargrave. He was on a chopped Triumph Tiger Cub with the registration plate, 4761 D, but it looked the part. You’ve got to remember this was the era of Peter Fonda and Captain America.
This freedom was to be dramatically cut short when I got back to school from a Saturday away football match. The bike was AWOL (Hell’s teeth!). Not a sign, but 6 weeks later, my beautiful little Suzuki was spotted sticking out of the weir at Sonning. Joy-ridden and heavily baptised in Father Thames, by a pair of (I think the term was: greeboes), who lived on the school site. Worst of all, no fingerprints left. If your name is Thompson and you’ve got a twin brother, I’m after my 28 quid!
The school insurance payout helped me move up-scale slightly to a Honda 90 C200. Okay, small beer in biking terms, especially as in those days, a 250 could be ridden on L-Plates. The next machine was a Triumph Tiger Cub with clip-ons and a very decently done cafe racer set up. White fibreglass tank and metallic green stove enamelled frame. Seized on me at 60mph on the A4!
1970s JAPANESE MIND INVASION
I can clearly remember the 6 page Honda fold-out of those years, picturing the full range from SS125 twin up to the classic super bike, the CB750. My head was turned. Superb machines and marketing, no question. BSA and Triumph were still putting out half decent bikes, like the Starfire and the Trophy, there was the Norton Commando, but the momentum had shifted to the East!
BIKER DOWN (ME) & A CHANCE REUNION 10 YEARS ON
One day on my Honda, while leaving a T-junction in Wargrave, I came to blows at low speed with a yellow Audi in broad daylight, yes, a serious lack of active scanning. I was down but alright and the gent in the Audi was very understanding. His name was Bob Noble and by some incredible chance 10 years on, we crossed paths again when I got a job with an advertising agency in London, where he was the main Partner. I think we both knew… but staying schtum seemed to work best.
MID 80s
It was to be nearly 15 years before my 2nd biker rebirth. Why such a big gap? Something to do with Minis and Capris. They also come off better at T-junctions!
My friend Steve (a constant lead in my biking life) was on a Honda Nighthawk. Trips to Thailand in 1981, where large machines could be readily hired and without full license and test, rekindled something. The scene was set for me taking my test on a Honda 125, around the streets of Tilehurst. This led to the Honda CB650Z becoming my first “serious” machine. I put myself through the Star Rider Course for some degree of mastery over this first 4 cylinder machine. Such a mighty power revelation after a 200cc single Tiger Cub, although I’d experienced Honda fours in Pattaya.
EARLY 90s. MID-LIFE CRISIS? MID-LIFE CHRISTMAS MORE LIKE
In the early 90s after my next biking interval, I went out and bought a Yamaha XV750 (imported from US). Lovely machine, semi-cruiser style. Then came the next and last gap in riding, until 2016.
PRESENT DAY: EWAN AND CHARLEY SHOW US THE ONLY WAY IS UP!
Watching those guys, I just kept smiling and Ewan’s post trip reflections resonated strongly. I think it’s fascinating how we’ve all come to being bikers, with our many varied life paths. In a club like TVAM, I can see that a membership of over 1,000 spans a broad swathe of motorbike history and is a microcosm of our favourite industry, over many decades.
My own relatively lightly trodden path has encompassed Suzuki, two Hondas, two Yamahas and two Triumphs. Perhaps the most important is Triumph, themselves reborn and unrecognisable from my early days. Thank you, Mr Bloor. My own tastes have never entered sports or adventure bike territory, so I must be stuck in retro/classic mode! I’m now on Triumph Bonneville America (2014) and Yamaha XSR 900 (2017) and I love the contrast, ranging from relaxed cruising to just pure exhilaration!
I’ve yet to be seduced by Harley, BMW, Ducati, Moto Guzzi and Kawasaki, please forgive me, I’m working on it! I am equally fascinated by certain other brands and machines like Indian and even Benelli for the future, what a great time to be a biker! Aahh, if only the garage was bigger.
What does biking represent to me? It’s the freedom, the shared culture and the semi-spiritual experience of banking round bends, akin to flying. Coming back home, still alive, but actually more ALIVE! Now I just need to learn to do it properly!
It all started when I bought a KTM RC8R a few weeks ago. I’d owned one years ago and always regretted letting it go. Long story short, the mirrors give a great view of your shoulders and not much else.
In search of some neat bar-end mirrors I decided to use a quality British supplier and gave Oberon Performance (https://www.oberon-performance.co.uk/) a ring. I’d fitted one of their clutch slave cylinders to a KTM Super Adventure in the past.
I spoke with their Customer Services guy, David Goodyear, and he helpfully deciphered the multitude of fitting options (actually 9) shown on the Oberon website before I placed the order.
During our conversation I asked if he could arrange a visit to their workshop and so, some weeks later, a hardy bunch of TVAM riders arrive like drowned rats (the rain was biblical) at the Oberon workshop in Havant; one arrived in a waterproof tin box on wheels (lightweight!!).
Steve Street, the owner, entertained us (I use the words deliberately) for over 3 hours. He should write a book. He took us through his early years as an apprentice and subsequent years of successes and failures. His interactions with manufacturers, suppliers and big-name motorcycle manufacturers were an eye opener. He has overcome struggles to obtain British components; who would have guessed it would be so difficult to source 60mm diameter convex mirror glass.
Finally he bought up an anodising plant because his supplier became so overwhelmed with orders that quality and delivery just failed dramatically.
Steve is a true entrepreneur; biker, engineer, shrewd businessman and innovative problem solver who isn’t fazed by challenges. It’s a story of biker becoming accessory manufacturer with real ambition to make a difference. The ethos of Steve’s company is simple, to offer parts which improve the performance where OEM parts may have failed or just to enhance a bike’s look and feel. Examples include clutch slave cylinders, mirrors, footpegs and clutch/brake levers.
Steve explained that OEM parts are often poorly designed; an example being the metal to metal contact of sliding surfaces in a hydraulic component and seals which fail prematurely. He has skilfully re-designed these with more appropriate tolerances and better seal design to give smoother operation and longer life. He originally designed and made his own seals (EPDM, frozen for machining – for those that are interested) although these have recently been outsourced.
His interest and expertise in mechanical engineering, materials science and chemistry has led him to be the owner and driving force behind a successful and unique enterprise.
We had to tactfully refuse his offer of more tea when we learned he’d overrun and missed an appointment with his grandson.
Some of the longer in the tooth members may remember me, probably most of you have no idea of who I am, that being said I thought some of you would be interested in my upcoming solo on and off road adventure through North, Central and South America in 2022.
In 2018 I decided that it was time to get really serious about travelling again after the Brexit referendum result forced me out of my European IT career. So I started to think about a really long overland trip. At first the enormity of what I would need to plan for, test and complete before even stepping on a bike was a bit overwhelming. So I broke it down into smaller chunks that could be simply achieved. Where to go in the world, solo or a tour group, what bike, how will I navigate, how will I stay healthy, accommodation, carnet de passage, first aid, search and rescue, the list was almost endless? This is why I initially allocated two years to planning and slowly over time I have now got a tick in 90% of the boxes on the list. I have managed this mostly on my own and with the help of the internet I have completed, or know what I need to do to complete all the tasks required for such a trip.
My initial intended start date was March 2021, now revised to February 2022. I had always has a hankering to see more of North America so adding Central and South America was an easy decision. Next up, with a tour group or solo, this was not too hard to decide as almost every tour I looked into was passing through each country far too quickly and I wanted lots of time to explore, stop and start as I wanted to, so going solo was the answer for me. However, going into these countries solo added at least one additional complication if/when I got into difficulty or worse, how will I communicate to get myself out of difficulty. So the first task was to learn Spanish which I am still doing with my now friend Eric all the way from Mexico City; got to love Zoom.
The next big decision was what bike?
As I am short, the “off the shelf” adventure bikes were just not going to work without lowering the suspension at both ends and I felt compromising the handling of the bike. Not to mention these after market rear suspension linkages breaking somewhere stranding me in the middle of nowhere with no passing traffic to assist. I also felt that the “off the shelf” bikes are built to a price and not so much built to do a job. As the bike was going to be my home, office, entire world for a long time I wanted a machine that would not let me down.
Having followed Lyndon Poskitt on his races to places and through his Dakar racing a bike like Basil tailored to my short stature seemed to be the right idea. Knowing he built the kind of bike I wanted I contacted him asking him if he would build me a similar bike. This is how Goliath became part of my life and a ruthlessly money-sucking machine.
I first presented my thoughts to the TVAM committee at the end of 2020 on how we as motorcyclists could mitigate our carbon footprint and adopt a more socially and environmentally responsible position. The thinking centred around protecting and preserving our freedoms as a bunch of enthusiastic motorcycle riders who could be seen by the public as generating unwanted carbon emissions in the pursuit of our skills training and social riding. The proposal debated, centred around both offsetting our carbon footprint whilst also improving the local environment and amenity levels by planting trees across the region where we all live and take our outdoor recreation.
One of the key things we agreed early on was that we would not go to the full membership with any form of mandatory levy. Given that the club membership fee should be spent on existing activities, we settled on a way that members could make separate voluntary donations to ‘offset’ their own personal motorcycle miles.
Three key activities quickly followed:
The publication of an article in Slipstream (to introduce the idea and raise awareness) – see January 2021 article.
The January 2021 AGM highlighted the initiative and gave a brief summary to members.
A TVAM web shop page was created with the opportunity for members to make voluntary donations to offset their own choice of annual mileage.*
The Slipstream article was generally positively reviewed with lots of messages of support gratefully received. Within a few short months we had donations covering approximately a third of what we expected to need as our annual budget. It still remains my personal long-term vison to find a way to ‘plant a tree on behalf of every member each year’, with initial estimates suggesting this would move us towards achieving carbon neutrality within 5 years, however this is not club policy and is running as purely a member driven voluntary initiative.
We have had a number of challenges to deal with in the last few months
Validating the realistic range of modern motorcycle emissions
Quantifying the clubs ‘Carbon Footprint’ into a justifiable estimate
Navigating the various restrictions, imposed on charities, regarding fund raising for none-core activity and how to spend or pass on the donations raised to a targeted charitable trust.
Searching and selecting a suitable partner organisation with the correct charitable aims and expertise to ensure that we deliver successful and sustainable results on behalf of our donors.
Where are we today and what are the next steps ?
After a search of suitable organisations to partner with we were now looking to engage with ‘TOE’ (Trust for Oxfordshire’s Environment). They meet all of our key criteria:-
Operational across TVAM’s catchment/activity area
Expertise and track record of delivering similar woodland projects throughout the Thames Valley region
Willingness to partner with TVAM and work in collaboration
Able to correctly handle & track any funds donated by TVAM members
Following the ‘Woodland Carbon Code’ and as such able to track & report verifiable performance metrics on any carbon offset achieved
The immediate activity underway is to draw up a ‘Memorandum of Understanding’ (MoU) to outline roles and expectations on both side. Then we will move into a more detailed planning phase.
Short Term Objectives
It is our aim to carry out a pilot phase of tree planting as a demonstration to TVAM members how their donations, for carbon offset, will be used and to develop the most appropriate approach to achieving a successful, sustainable outcome. It is clear without expertise on choosing sites, correct bio-diversity species choice and management experience that many such projects can fail with many saplings never reaching maturity.
Tree planting is seasonal and best done, as in nature, during Q4-Q1, we aim to have a suitable site identified and a detailed plan in place by the end of Q3-2021.
Once we have our MoU in place, I would like to pull together a small team to help drive this forwards, I will get back in touch with those that have already kindly put their names forward to help. If you feel motivated to support the initiative in any way (big or small) please drop me a line by email winstnig@outlook.com with your contact details so that I can get in touch.
I may have retired, but I refuse to lay down and expire. It seems I am also lucky enough to be attractive to the opposite sex. A young lady recently called me a bit of a looker – well voyeur was the actual word she used – but close enough for me. I do coffee most days with a long-standing mate of mine – we both use it as an excuse to get on the bikes every day.
“Let’s do the Highland 500,” says Symptom Ian. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It’s so easy to say yes when you are quite relaxed and halfway down a medium-skinny-wet-latte (two sugars) with sod-all else to do.
Symptom Ian (large cappuccino, no chocolate sprinkles but also two sugars) seemed to have it all worked out in his mind, so I went along with it as you do, thinking it would be one of those things discussed but never actioned, but bugger me – we did it.
Ian is rarely without symptoms of some sort – he boasts 17 ailments, several of which appear to make him grumpy on any given day. So, picture June of 2019 (before the current unpleasantness), Ian’s ailments were either on holiday, slightly better, not aching, not leaking, not running, not as bruised – or he had a pill for it. It is in the light of this sudden rush of normal health that he decided he was almost well enough to spend a couple of weeks away with me to experience the “Scottish 500” www.northcoast500.com
For those who don’t know it, here is the sort of official route (not necessarily the one we used) Image: Thincat, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Following the success of our tour of the middle-United States, Symptom Ian and myself set off again, for further adventure to the Scottish Highlands.
This is Scotland’s version of Route-66 and arguably one of the world’s best coastal routes. As I write this memoir the Scottish first minister (Jimmy Cranky) has still not managed to spoil it with drive-in self-vaccination clinics, so we decided to jump in and get a good view of it before she nationalises it and charges Sassenachs for going to look.
We were going to use A-roads to get there – avoiding any use of Motorways, thus allowing us to enjoy the route up there, sights such as the Wye Valley, Herefordshire, Derby Dales, Morecambe Bay, the Lake District, an overnight stop with a booking for a couple of rooms in Penrith.
Next day we planned to go through Gretna Green, Lockerbie, shadow part of the M6 where there are wonderful sights as we approach Glasgow and then on to circumnavigate Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park. At this point we enter the Highlands over the Bridge of Orchy, down to sea-level at Glencoe and on to Fort William for night two.
Sticking to just A-roads proved to be two long days, but the route was spectacular – and frankly we had plenty of time. We were both retired and did not have to rush back (in fact my wife insisted on us not rushing back – odd that?). I have driven to Fort William previously in the car, door-to-door, in 9 hours – we had 2 days.
Accommodation is interesting. We checked out hotels and guest houses on the route – and prices were spectacular. A Bed and Breakfast in some of these places was upwards of £150 per night each. It is for this reason that I introduced Symptom Ian to AirBnB. I only discovered it myself last year when I went to Harrogate. It is a sort of B&B for chavs. Pretty much just a spare room in someone’s family home, often with no breakfast – but it was cheaper than other places. The disadvantage was that often only one room was available, which meant Ian and I would normally stay at separate houses.
We thought we would probably spend about 7 days doing the “500” and enjoy the road, mountains, views, and food.
Following the success of our tour of the middle-United States, Symptom Ian and myself set off again, for further adventure to the Scottish Highlands.
This is Scotland’s version of Route-66 and arguably one of the world’s best coastal routes. As I write this memoir the Scottish first minister (Jimmy Cranky) has still not managed to spoil it with drive-in self-vaccination clinics, so we decided to jump in and get a good view of it before she nationalises it and charges Sassenachs for going to look.
We were going to use A-roads to get there – avoiding any use of Motorways, thus allowing us to enjoy the route up there, sights such as the Wye Valley, Herefordshire, Derby Dales, Morecambe Bay, the Lake District, an overnight stop with a booking for a couple of rooms in Penrith.
Next day we planned to go through Gretna Green, Lockerbie, shadow part of the M6 where there are wonderful sights as we approach Glasgow and then on to circumnavigate Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park. At this point we enter the Highlands over the Bridge of Orchy, down to sea-level at Glencoe and on to Fort William for night two.
Sticking to just A-roads proved to be two long days, but the route was spectacular – and frankly we had plenty of time. We were both retired and did not have to rush back (in fact my wife insisted on us not rushing back – odd that?). I have driven to Fort William previously in the car, door-to-door, in 9 hours – we had 2 days.
Accommodation is interesting. We checked out hotels and guest houses on the route – and prices were spectacular. A Bed and Breakfast in some of these places was upwards of £150 per night each. It is for this reason that I introduced Symptom Ian to AirBnB. I only discovered it myself last year when I went to Harrogate. It is a sort of B&B for chavs. Pretty much just a spare room in someone’s family home, often with no breakfast – but it was cheaper than other places. The disadvantage was that often only one room was available, which meant Ian and I would normally stay at separate houses.
We thought we would probably spend about 7 days doing the “500” and enjoy the road, mountains, views, and food.
When I was but a wee lad, I spent 7 days in the Brecon Beacons with the cubs. We slept in a tent and wore pretty much the same thing for 7 days. If maturity teaches you nothing else it is to wear clean underwear every day, especially if you are going to be on a motorcycle all day. Apparently nurses frown on dirty underpinnings and nobody wants to upset a nurse.
I now had to spend about a week working out how little I need for about 13 days away and how I am going to fit this on to the back of my bike. I did take a few hours looking for disposable underwear on the worldly-wise interspace and had to delete my browsing history pretty darn quickly.
I also decided to make a few notes by way of diarising the vacation to provide an old farts guide to the Scottish 500 with all its wrinkles and joys. Most of these notes got damp and were not readable by the time I got home, so my memory has had to suffice in most cases.
I assembled various valuable travel aids and clothes and started to strap it to my trusty steed using the power of bungee straps in a manner handed down from father to son. A man of few words my old dad, but he knew one end of a bungee from another – I remember, he told me so. (I was 25 before I realised both ends are the same!!)
Suzuki Bergman 650
I suppose I should tell you what I was riding. Looking back on it, not my greatest moment, but at the time I was happy. It was a Suzuki 650 – so far so good – what’s the problem I hear you cry. It was a Burgman. Pretty much the biggest, heaviest and most powerful motor scooter you could buy.
Having bought it I never was sure if I liked it from a “chaps” perspective. “Easy rider” it is not. In its favour however, it was like riding on an armchair, was bloody fast, had very low fuel consumption (75mpg) and lots of electric toys. Space under the seat for a passenger or lots of luggage for a long trip to, round, and back from Scotland – it was the most comfortable thing on two wheels I could have chosen at the time. It would sit at 80mph all day long and not make you feel like you were cramped up or uncomfortable. It had little cubbyholes for as many cubbys as anyone could possibly own, everything was electric, heated seats and grips and if I got bored I used to move the screen up or down using the little “are you bored yet?” electric button. (Yes – I am easily pleased!)
As I say, from an image point of view, perhaps not the best, but I do miss it sometimes!
I digress. I do that. Where was I?
“Let’s do the Highland 500,” says Symptom Ian.
Ian, as the ‘vintage’ rider (he has been riding on 2 wheels for about 50 years) has surprisingly omitted one thing – he has never bothered to pass his driving test. He has single-handedly kept a small, family-run business in South Wales (the one that makes L-plates) in business all that time. The trip to and from the Highlands was destined therefore to be sans-motorway, A roads and B roads all the way. I have decided though not to complain about that because it turned out to be a particularly good shout in the end – the scenery is so much better when you get off the M6.
We were much closer to a lot of the scenery. Being this close however does beg the question, why are farmers so smelly? Also – they all smell the same – do they buy the same aftershave. As you ride past the farms the smell is awful and made worse by tractors spreading their unused aftershave all over the grass out of huge tanks. I wonder if farmers wives have a sense of smell, or is it bred out of them?
Another small catch. 500 miles does not sound that far – but in the end it was 600 to the start point – 700 miles back from the end point (we got lost coming home) and about 900 in-between messing about around the extreme northern coast of Scotland.
Also, there is the weather. We did not expect sunshine and golden sands, but it’s wet. Very wet. Billy Connolly once said there is no such thing as bad weather – simply wrong clothes.
I am on a roll, there is something else. Quite important too. After two days up there talking to people and I still had no bloody idea what they are saying to me. I kept nodding – it seemed polite. I would offer the occasional “Yes I know” or “OK then” but it’s all double Dutch.
Again – I digress.
Day one – Symptom Ian and I discussed the plans during the June 2019 nice weather. We departed for Scotland on 13th June – in the rain. I had splashed out (Excuse the pun) on a new top-box, as well as new panniers. As previously mentioned, I had no clue what to pack and neither did Symptom Ian, but we managed to start the ride with well-loaded bikes, a cheerful demeanour, too many clothes and quite poor maps.
It was not long before things went a little pear-shaped. At Birdlip in Gloucestershire, we met the end of a 7-mile traffic jam queuing to get to the Air-Balloon pub. This was going to cramp our style more than somewhat so I suggested to Ian that Google maps find a way round for us – which it did without delay.
Hindsight being what it is, perhaps I should have been a tad more specific and told Messrs Google that we were on loaded bikes and wanted to avoid open fields, farmland, and cow pats. We ended up on a very muddy single-track road between farms. There was absolutely no room to turn around and our only option was to go forwards. At one stage I nearly dropped the bike. Luckily, this was prevented by catching the bottom of the bike between the ground and my foot (my big toe on my left foot if you are looking for medical specifics). The bike was fine, but my toe was black for a week and my big toenail fell off 6 months later. Next time I will wait at the end of the traffic jam.
It would be a lie to say it rained all the way on the first day because that would be silly. It did not! It stopped for half an hour just before Preston and again about half an hour before Penrith where we were due to stay the night. Wet and bedraggled we were greeted by a hotel receptionist who wondered why it was sunny outside and we were wet. I don’t know why but she seemed to be in the wrong job. I do not expect laughter when I check in, but the odd customer-facing ‘corporate’ smile does not go amiss. This lady was not blessed with a good demeanour. Let’s be fair – she may have been treated badly by the boss, she may be feeling unwell, perhaps not having the best of times operating the computer system and feeling a tad overcome with feelings of inadequacy. Perhaps she was having nightmares about Brexit? None of these were my fault – but no smile was forthcoming.
It took 10 minutes to un-hitch, un-tie, un-hook, undo and unload all the panniers etc from the bikes as well as remove the waterproof covers. Was this an early indication that we had brought too much luggage? I say bikes – they were in fact both scooters, mine being the aforementioned 650 Burgman, Symptom meanwhile had his trusty Yamaha 125cc scooter, something that, let us face it, is not built with international touring in mind.
Not being too sure about the native Penrithianists we padlocked our rides to each other, set proximity mines and even chained them to the pillars by the reception door. Ian wandered off to his room in the annexe while I luxuriated in my room just behind reception. We were knackered but impressed with our initial day.
Day two dawned dry but threatening. It took over an hour to load the bikes, mainly because I could not find my gloves. Non-riders will not know that gloves are an important part of the uniform Village People YMCA video is surely proof enough) – but also safety, as the first thing you put down to save yourself when – sorry, if – you fall off a bike is your hands. They will become messed up and well sandpapered (a-la Australian seam bowlers) unless you have them safely ensconced in a reasonably tough pair of leather gloves. Despite looking everywhere, mine were not to be seen and so I had to resort to my spare pair (I bought two pairs in case one pair got wet and could not be dried in time to be worn comfortably again). Planning, that is planning!
290 miles to go to Fort William, our first stop in the Highlands and the real start of our adventure.
We wanted to leave promptly and aimed to be there for about 2:45pm. Glove delays did not help of course and the time had already slipped to nearer a 3:15 ETA. To those non-naval people out there, ETA means “Early Timing Attempt”. It is rarely correct and ends up meaning “Eventual Tardy Appearance”.
The B7076 also had bother plans for us. It runs parallel to the M6 and M74 and it is simply wonderful. You pick it up at Gretna Green and stay on it until a place called Elvanfoot and then it takes you to Strathclyde Country Park on the edge of Glasgow. It shadows the M6 and the M74 all the way. On no account use the motorway as this road is unmissable!!!
Image: David Hamilton / The B7076 by Harthope
However, on this occasion, it stopped being wonderful after a long straight 5-mile climb when we were 17 miles from the previous junction, where we found the road was closed for re-surfacing. We tried to get around the closed bit for 10 miles of back roads and failed. We had no choice but to go back 17 miles to go a different way. This cost an awful lot of time, our ETA (Extremely Tired Arses) complained but there was nothing that could be done.On the way back to the last junction we saw an elderly guy (who looked at least 60 years old) on a bicycle just starting the 5-mile climb – he looked very tired indeed. Obviously, we needed to tell him not to bother because of the road closure. He already looked pretty peed off and so we decided not to add to his troubles with worse news. Poor chap.
We got back to the junction and headed to Edinburgh instead of Glasgow – ETA (Edinburgh Trip Also) was now 6pm. Shops would be shut, so no chance of buying new gloves then!
Those that have ever done the run to Fort William (officially the wettest place in Great Britain – and it did not disappoint) know that we go past Loch Lomond (stunning – you really should try the Trossachs). Ultimately this leads to the absolute best part of the A82 with views that are joyful and almost life-changing for a person on 2 wheels. The road improves even more once you have gone past the famous Green Welly Stop at Tyndrum. The end of a valley at a place called “the Meeting of Three Waters” is probably the most spectacular part of this road, and without doubt, the reason that you should include the A82 as part of your return route to experience it in both directions. Even if you don’t actually go there, have a peek on Google street view.
I am quite relieved to say that we arrived at Fort William just in time before I ran out of any more superlatives. I was left wondering if any roads could beat this one in the next few days. They did.
Fort William, (apart from being the wettest place in Great Britain as I mentioned) was also the home of William Lord, the Archbishop of the Western Highlands from 1633. He was born in Broad Street, Fort William, (where W.H. Smith stands), which is evidenced by the Lord family crest of crossed pen and pencil set ardent, topped by readers’ wives rampant.
Modern Fort William is famously home to the Kenwood Mixer, named after its inventor…Ken Wood.
Our accommodation for much of this trip was our first serious venture into the use of AirBnB. Scottish hotels are expensive, traditional B&B’s are also costly, so we decided to dip our toes into this hosted accommodation experience. Ian’s Airbnb in Fort William and my own were about a mile north of town and were hard to find, but we managed. My one had a garage in which to put the bike to bed, Ian’s bike however was out on the street in what can only be described as an “iffy” housing estate. Ian was a bit concerned, but as I pointed out, it was not all bad news, after all, mine was in a garage.
Ian was staying with some Polish people who had Scottish as a second language and not a lot of English. My choice was entirely devoted to staying guests and the owner lived next door, so I was in blissful peace.
Day three dawned, it was wet, a condition which was becoming the norm. We had planned to go to Skye and then on to a place called Plockton to see a very dear friend of mine.
However, Carol Kirkwood explained that the weather on the West coast was going to be crap and that central and eastern Highlands were the place to be.
So we changed our plans and, for the day at least, we headed east to drive up the northern shores of Loch Ness and then head on to Aviemore for lunch before deciding to traverse the southern side of Loch Ness from Inverness to Fort Augustus. It was on the side of this world-famous Loch that I tried to turn the bike around on a very, very steep and very, very narrow road and nearly put it down. This time it was the third finger of my right hand that saved the bike (my toe was still black and refused to join in on this occasion) – and it bloody hurt. Resplendent with throbbing finger we retired to Fort William for the second night after visiting Morrisons for petrol and a sandwich.
Loch Ness. Image: Stefan.goette, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
All of this was before I had discovered the wonders of TVAM, so handling a bike was not yet second nature and, on reflection, I had a mountain to climb to improve just about everything to do with safe and rewarding bike ownership.
If I could change anything about the trip, it would be to have learnt about cornering, limit points and safe bike control from Mick Goodall before going in the first place. It would have doubled the pleasure I got from those wonderful roads.
Important point! When in the Highlands of Scotland, top up your tanks at every occasion, it can be a long way between garages despite what your satnav tells you! Remember that they need to be ones that are actually open!
Where was I? Oh yes, returning to Fort William from Loch Ness with a sore finger.
I removed my helmet in the car park of Morrisons at Fort William only to discover that the visor was hanging off on the right-hand side. My helmet had a flip-top visor, and the arrangement required a secure screw (or bolt, depending on your preference) on each side upon which the visor will hinge. I had two sides and only one screw, which proved to be an unfortunate, but vital, deficit. Remembering a suitable screw before I left home was not on my holiday list (insert joke here). One had obviously worked loose and dropped out. This had happened once before and I was left cursing because I had not checked it before leaving home.
Toe. Finger. Helmet. I was not happy. I told Ian we had to get back to our respective digs before it rained and I was not going to lose time putting wet weather gear on, so off we went. Naturally, within 90 seconds of joining the main road there was a biblical downpour and 5 minutes later, when we arrived back at our digs, we had adopted the appearance of drowned rats. Note to self: if you have wet-weather gear, use it!
It took an hour to calm down. I rung out my spare gloves over the sink. My jacket was too heavy to ring out, I removed the lining and attacked it with the hair dryer while trying to dream up new swear words.
Having said we should not put wet weather gear on I felt somewhat responsible and told Ian to come and find my digs and I would dry his gear with the hair dryer. It took hours but it worked. I was still miffed and wondering if my finger was broken, even now I am not sure if it was.
So, next job was new gloves and a repair to the helmet. I hit the worldly-wide interbook and tried to locate the nearest motorbike dealer. There was one, and believe it or not, it was in Inverness, the next stop on our tour with a hotel already booked for the following night. A slight hitch was that the next day was Sunday, so they would be closed, but they appeared to open on Monday morning at 8.00am. This was “the” Motorbike dealer in the Highlands – it was this or nothing else.
The plan for Sunday was to drive the tourist route up Loch Ness to Inverness. We would stop at Fort Augustus (they had no Fort?) and Drumnadrochit (they had no Drum). It was on the way into Fort Augustus that I noticed a bicycle repair shop, and it was open. I knew I needed an M5 screw for my helmet, and so I went in and showed them the problem and asked if they had something suitably sized to help repair my visor.
The owner mumbled something that sounded vaguely Celtic and sloped off into a back room. I knew nothing at this point – he could be on the way to get his gun or something, but no, he returned with a Tupperware container full of bits which he offered me, waving at it, then at my crash helmet and wandered off to the back of the shop. I proceeded to rifle through his odds and ends and came up with a screw that was too long, which had an Allen-key head, and to which I had to attach four washers to get it to be functional.
It worked! Genius, that’s me – pure genius. Guy Martin is a beginner!
Girvan’s bicycle shop Fort Augustas
Where was I? Oh yes, in the bicycle repair shop. I returned the box with thanks and a couple of quid and continued to Inverness, resplendent in my functioning crash helmet. It was now 3pm and we realised something odd. It had not rained yet today – who had told God to turn the taps off we wondered. The roads were clear, but coffee caught up with Ian and we needed a rest break. I have to say that I was fed up with hearing “Can you hold my helmet while I have a pee?”
I shall spare the more delicate reader some of the details at this point, but suffice it to say the look on Ian’s face as he relieved his bladder at the side of the road was one which probably only his dear late wife Anne would have ever seen. You see – dear reader – Ian had proceeded to wee onto an electric fence. I am told you only do this once.
Just as we decided that the holiday had begun, hotel life came at us from the blind-side. We had booked two rooms at the Travelodge in Inverness. We got there early – after all Fort William to Inverness is only about 66 miles and no amount of staring out into the water hoping to see Nessie was going to make it a long day in the saddle. Even at a slow bimble, we ended up arriving at the hotel at 2pm.
I say bimble. Some say pootle. That is always a bit of a challenge – what is the difference between bimbling about on the bike and pootling about on the bike?
I checked with a dictionary…
…what of tootle I know you are saying?
I find these on-line dictionaries somewhat lacking. It is, or it should be, well known that the difference between a bimble and a tootle is directly relative to the amount of faff and dither that is introduced to the equation.
Faff comes first. Faff needs to be delivered gently and with good intention, without any sort of embarrassment and well before the addition of a reasonably generous amount of dither. I believe this is well known by all, but if you are in any sort of doubt, I hope you are paying attention.
Any road up, I wanted something that looks less scooter-ish and more motorbike-ish.
Where was I? Oh yes, the Travelodge in Inverness – and we were early.
“It’s a hotel,” I said. “They have trained ninja-style housekeepers who blitz the rooms in no time at all, so we should be OK to check in.”
In we went, and we buzzed the buzzer that said buzz the buzzer if reception was empty – which it was – and a rather “nice” looking blonde, nicely-primped man (if you catch my drift) came out from a back office looking very distressed at being buzzed with the buzzer that said buzz the buzzer.
He put a false smile on his face which shouted that this was the epitome of false smiles and said, “How may I be of service?” and proceeded to stare pointedly at the buzzer – seeming to be working out how to disconnect it.
“Can we check in please?” I enquired, pleasantly.
His smile changed from being a false smile which was there to cover his annoyance, to a proper smile which was there to indicate real and very honest pleasure. “Sorry no sir,” he responded with obvious delight, now in full and certain knowledge that he was in a position of power. “Check-in is from 4pm and not a moment sooner. I am so sorry sir.” No, he was not the little bugger – he was about as sorry as a person living in Not Sorry Mansions, Not-at-all Sorry Street, Not Sorry Ville, Scotland. He was loving it. How dare you buzz my buzzer when I am sleeping on duty.
Bastard!
We sloped off and decided to waste the start of our 2 hours wait in the garden centre next door. Poor choice! £3.30 for a soft drink and surrounded by pensioners with walking frames, little yapping dogs the size of rats and an air of waiting for God to say “Next!”.
To stop ourselves slitting our wrists in despair we opted instead to go and find the motorcycle dealership we were due to visit first thing tomorrow morning so at least we knew where it was. We did, we found it, and using only our eyes by peering through the windows we determined that they had a building full of crash helmets, motorcycle gloves and motorcycles. It looked promising for the following morning. Feeling better, we returned to the hotel at about ten minutes to four and saw Mr Buzzer checking in a very leggy blonde, so we knew we had him. We’ll give him “not a second before”.
Bastard!
We waited patiently while the leggy blonde completed the formalities, signed, picked up his bags and went off to find his room and then we booked in. Our rooms were not close together, not even in the same postcode area. Ian was just behind reception on the ground floor – I was close to Glasgow on the third floor.
Bastard!
And there I must leave you until next month for the remainder of our little adventure.
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