An eclectic collection of Slipstream contributors’ motorcycling adventures: new-bike road tests, technical articles, opinion pieces, humourous travel anecdotes and more.
Wales, with its rugged landscapes, dramatic coastlines, and winding roads, is a paradise for motorcyclists seeking an adventure of a lifetime. But what makes a motorcycle trip to Wales even more thrilling is combining it with advanced training to sharpen your skills and enhance your riding experience. On this trip, we enjoyed a journey through the heart of Wales, exploring its picturesque landscapes and the advanced motorcycle training opportunities it offers.
Wales, one of the countries that make up the United Kingdom, is a hidden gem for motorcycle enthusiasts. Its diverse topography provides an incredible backdrop for riders, with rolling hills, dense forests, and breath-taking mountains serving as the perfect canvas for a memorable journey. The coastal roads, offer some of the most scenic routes, while the mountainous terrain provides challenges that can test the skills of even the most experienced riders.
Advanced Motorcycle Training
I feel that it’s crucial to invest in advanced motorcycle training to improve both your enjoyment and the safety for you and other road users. TVAM Advanced training can enhance your riding skills, making you a safer and more confident rider. Taking your riding skills to the next level.
Enhanced Safety: Advanced training hones your hazard perception, braking, and cornering skills, which can significantly reduce the risk of accidents on unfamiliar roads.
Improved Confidence: Gaining expertise in advanced riding techniques increases your confidence when navigating challenging terrains.
Better Control: Advanced training focuses on fine-tuning your control over the motorcycle, making you a more capable rider in various conditions.
Fuel Efficiency: Advanced riding techniques often result in improved fuel efficiency, allowing you to go further on your journey.
Quickness: It’s not always about the speed, but your line, what you see and the information taken in and used. IPSGA – this system will change biking for you!
Now that you’ve sharpened your skills through advanced training as an Associate, it’s time to hit the open road in Wales. Here are some must- visit destinations for motorcyclists:
Brecon Beacons: The Brecon Beacons National park offers some of the most thrilling riding experiences in Wales. Its winding mountain roads, steep ascents, and breathtaking vistas make it a mecca for motorcycle enthusiasts.
Snowdonia and Bala: This stunning part of North Wales provides a mix of challenging mountain roads and serene coastal routes. The journey through Snowdonia is an unforgettable experience.
Elan Valley: A hidden gem in Wales, the Elan Valley is an oasis of tranquillity with pristine lakes and peaceful roads surrounded by rolling hills.
So did I benefit from the trip? Oh hell yes!
My experience was one of self-discovery, learning about my limits and stretching them by enhancing my skills, humbling myself before some of the most gorgeous winding roads I have ever experienced. I not only had a great time, but I managed to make a lot of new like-minded friends with similar hobbies and interests, we had some great laughs and learned a whole lot at the same time!
I need to make a few special mentions.. firstly Simon, thank you for organising and making sure that none of us got too hopelessly lost by partnering us up with TObs and Observers. To the people I had the pleasure of riding with, Tom, Andrew and Conrad, with a wealth of knowledge and skills I definitely came home a more competent and more confident rider. With my test booked, I am certain that I am ready to become one of TVAMs next advanced riders!
In conclusion, this trip to Wales offers the perfect blend of skill enhancement and adventure. With TVAM advanced training under your belt, you can confidently explore the picturesque landscapes and challenging terrains that Wales has to offer. Whether you’re navigating mountain passes, winding coastal roads, or off-road trails, this experience promises to be a memorable chapter in your motorcycling journey. So, rev up your engines, gear up, and embark on a thrilling adventure in the heart of Wales.
I am ready for next year! My advice.. book early, it’s well worth it!
Troy Rahme, TVAM Associate
A few messages from other members who attended…
Jim…
I broke down at Crossgates. The bike wouldn’t start and looked like the battery just died. Anyway, my colleagues Martin Cragg and Malcom stayed with me, and Chris Brownlee came along to assist, we got the bike running on jump leads but it wouldn’t run off the leads.
There was a snag on the breakdown recovery meaning I couldn’t arrange anything at 6pm that night, and so after trying to use Chris’ battery (yes, he took the battery off his bike to try on mine), he then knocked on a random local’s door who kindly allowed us to hide my bike in their back garden overnight. Chris then pillioned me to the hotel.
I got recovered the next day, but would like to thank everyone who was incredibly supportive and patient with me in my predicament. It’s another one of the many great reasons to ride with this club, and I can’t thank them enough.
Sidenote: If you have a “6 Wheel” or multiple vehicle breakdown policy, check that they’re all on record for the breakdown operators to see.
Moon…
I renewed my TVAM membership after it had lapsed in 2017 because I believed I had hit a skill level plateau and was eager to enhance my riding abilities further. After spending the weekend riding with Sid, Gary (GSZ), and Sigurður, I received invaluable constructive feedback. Each of the three rides was distinctive and enjoyable, and I learned a great deal from each experience. I even proactively sought more critical feedback, which was delivered in a highly professional manner, and I found it extremely beneficial. I firmly believe that it’s the critical feedback that sets you apart and helps you shine above the rest.
The 7Ws event was not just a fun weekend away; it also provided me with a substantial amount of homework to work on, which I am genuinely excited about. I’m eagerly looking forward to future training sessions and social ride outs, with the hope that they will help me enhance my skills to the level where I can be considered a Trainee Observer.
Danny…
Overall an superb trip where I got to meet some fantastic like-minded people riding through some amazing roads.
As an Associate I can definitely see the point of IPSGA because around Reading I can’t experience the same type of bends and open roads.
Andy…
The Elan Valley dam was much higher than last year with a huge volume of overflow. We were fortunate with no major breakdowns and our Observers did a good job of making use of lots of rest stops to keep the fatigue levels down.
Andrew…
Yes. The standard of riding was good and improved over the weekend as Associates and Green Badge holders took on board advice from the Observers. From an Observer’s point of view it’s always good to see such a step up in progress and I would recommend it to all.
Salli Griffith
First published in Slipstream November / December 2023
A friend of mine got in touch last year…….”Do you fancy joining me and some friends on a pre 1980 motorcycle rally based in Santander?”
The answer was yes, what are the details? Well the details, other than send hundreds of euros to sign up, were sparse. Whatever, we sent off the money and booked a Brittany Ferry to Santander.
Choice of bike was simple, my 10 plate GS was too young so a Sunbeam S7 or Suzuki GT750. Easy decision other than I had never done more than 40 miles in one go since buying the GT three years ago, and Portsmouth is 75 miles away from home. However, all went well on the trip south, indeed the bike ran trouble free for the whole trip.
On arrival at the Hotel Santemar all change, everything was so organised.
“Here is your goody bag, what size polo shirt would you like? Here are all the tulip guides for the rides, and here is a book of vouchers for the dinners and pitstop meals on the ride-outs. Oh, and the bikers’ bar is out there in the sunshine.” The hotel was to a very good standard and beer was about £3.50 a pint, result!
In simple terms approximately 200 bikers from all over Europe had ferried, ridden or trailered their bikes to Santander for a week of riding, with an option to sign up for a 2 or 3 night trip into the Picos mountains.
Each day there was a route of about 100 miles organised and the culmination of the rally was a 320 mile day of ‘5000 curves’, er, that is a long ride on any bike.
Bike-wise all makes were represented, I spotted and chatted to 2 other Suzuki GT750 owners as well as a 500 and 380, there were lots of Spaniards on 2-stroke Bultacos and Ossa bikes, and scores of British 4-strokes.
The organisers back-up capability was tested when a Norton Commando in our group blew out a spark plug which hit the following rider! The head thread was all but gone, some aluminium foil was used to get some purchase on the worn thread. The bike was ridden back to the hotel and once there the organisers arranged for a mechanic to take it away. It was brought back in the morning suitably helicoiled and ready for the long ride. Happy days.
The 5000 Curves ride was a great day out in the mountains and indeed there were thousands of curves, with pit stops including a wholesome lunch.
During the late afternoon the forecast rain arrived and one of our group dropped his bike on a roundabout covered in diesel, just 2 miles from the hotel. Sadly he broke
a shoulder and 6 ribs and that was only doing about 5mph!
We finally arrived back at the hotel in the early evening to have our course cards checked and stamped, and were then presented with a large tankard that was quickly filled with a much-needed beer.
In conclusion bookmark and keep an eye on the MC Piston website and consider making plans for next year. You will have a great time riding, make lots of new friends – oh, as long as you have an old bike!
Having read Nick Tasker’s review of the triumph Tiger 900 GTPro I thought it might be useful to respond from an owner’s perspective.
I purchased my 2020 Tiger, at 6 months old and with 600 miles on the clock, from Bulldog Triumph.
Two points before proceeding: Firstly, I do not have a particular allegiance to Bulldog Triumph, nor indeed to any other dealer or manufacturer. Secondly, I fully appreciate that we live in a society where people are free to express their thoughts openly.
I’ve been riding on the roads for around 46 years, have had far too many bikes to remember from 50cc two strokes to 1100 cc sports tourers. The Tiger being my first experience of an adventure bike and previously riding sports tourers, it did take a bit of getting used to, mostly that was me rather than the bike.
My Tiger is now very nearly 3 years old and has 17,000 miles on the clock. I am very pleased to report that I have suffered none of the issues raised in last month’s article. Shortly after purchase I did have a small problem with the quickshifter, which was resolved rapidly and effectively, and the bike has given me no further issues.
I would very happily buy another one, should I have the need to.
For many years I rode a variety of Japanese machines, mostly the ones with the wings on. In 2018, when looking to replace my Observing bike the Street Triple 765R fitted the need very nicely and still performs admirably. So, 2 years later, when looking to replace my touring bike, I had no hesitation in returning to Triumph. Indeed I am now the very proud owner of three Triumphs, having just purchased a 20 year old Speed Four, and no regrets.
I would actively encourage members, if you are looking for that style of bike, pop into Bulldog Triumph and ask for Jason. Have a look, sort a test ride and decide for yourself.
I could not help overhearing a conversation at a recent St Crispins, between a group of long serving Observers about the forthcoming 7Ws. One mentioned that the fun had left the club with all the emphasis on training and less on social rides and asked what is the point of having a training session so far away in Wales? I thought that sounds bonkers, we all know that Wales has wonderful roads, perfect for training and it is great fun.
Take an Associate called Phil for example. Phil aka Barnes Wallace, because Phil had his top box come off on several occasions on his way over to Llandrindod! How it missed the other bikers in the group and how they managed to find it each time, remains a bit of a mystery! Anyway, on Saturday I was assessing Dave Brooks, Trainee Observer and Dave was observing Phil. We were both delighted that Phil was not bringing his top box! Dave asked Phil what he would like to focus on during the day and Phil said positioning and bends. Dave mentioned he had some very good roads in mind that would give Phil plenty of opportunity to develop his skills. So, did I see Phil have fun during his training? You bet he did, with Dave’s very good demonstration of lines to take and the roads with long sweeping bends, it was perfect for Phil and the improvement we saw in the consistency of his riding during the afternoon was a big step forward.
On the way to Llandrindod on Friday, I was observing Graham Emerson and I bumped into him at the bar on Saturday evening after he had been out doing his ride. He had a grin on him as wide as the Cheshire Cat. I asked him how his day was, knowing full well he had really enjoyed himself and had lots of fun.
The notion that the Starburst system (a trio of an Observer with two Associates or Trainee Observer and Associate) excludes fun for the Associate is just bonkers. It is harder work for the Observer or Trainee Observer. They need to have routes that allow the Associate to work on the areas that were raised in the opening discussion. But that is soon forgotten when we all get out there and have the privilege and fun of riding the wonderful roads in mid Wales.
Where did you say they’d got to? (Photo Syvester de Koster)
A Trainee Observer – Mark Powell
When I last attended 7Ws in September 2022, I was a PTOb, a provisional Trainee Observer. By this 7Ws I had progressed to being a TOb. This meant I could take a much more active role in the weekend on my journey to becoming a fully qualified Observer. For the trip to Wales I was allocated Kevin Dunwell as my Observer. He shared his route up to Wales with me in advance and I loaded it into both my BMW connect and my Garmin XT. Kevin also loaded it into his Garmin XT. At the start point I gave the run briefing to Sylvester, our Associate for the day and off we went. It became clear within the first 30 miles that the three sat navs were not in complete agreement and I added a loop that Kevin was not expecting! But all rides are a voyage of discovery and despite some rain on the way we had a good ride up. Kevin provided me with some valuable feedback on my observing skills.
Friday night, a few beers, a good meal and introductions to riding partners for the Saturday. Andy McWalter was my Observer coach for the day and we discussed different approaches to route planning. That is code for I was supposed to have prepared a route for the Saturday but had not realised that, so Andy and I worked out a circular route with options. We also spoke with Ed, our Associate for Saturday to find out what he wanted to work on and planned accordingly.
Saturday morning, thick fog! After a hearty breakfast I went through the ride brief with Ed and off we went. Mid-morning coffee and snacks, the sun came out, some great roads, stopped for lunch. In the car park over lunch, Andy’s back tyre decided to let all the air escape and it was as flat as a flat tyre can be! I knew the theory but had never had to fix a puncture before. The three of us worked together to find the leak (not so easy with a completely flat tyre), sticky string in the hole, pump tyre up and away we go. Learning point for me is that without putting air in the tyre we would never have found the leak. I carry 4 CO2 canisters. Would that be enough to put air in, find the leak, and then have enough to inflate a GS back tyre to a riding pressure? Andy carries a small compressor so not a problem there. We felt we needed a reward so rode to Aberystwyth for ice creams on the sea front. Then back to the hotel. Andy gave me some useful tips on observing during the day and a good debrief after. Gentle run back on Sunday.
A quick thank you from me to Simon and Si from the Training team who did all the on-site management and the rest of the training team that organised it. And to all the Observers who gave their time to help us TObs and Associates to develop our skills. Much appreciated.
A Provisional Trainee Observer – Richard Lawson
Getting ready for the off on a foggy Saturday morning (Photo Sylvester de Koster)Repairing the puncture (Photo Mark Powell)
I just wanted to offer my own feedback to the 7Ws weekend from 21st to 23rd April, which was, in short, a fantastic three days of motorcycling.
I attended as a pTOb, so my principal role was to shadow the Observers and the Associates I was grouped with for the Friday and Saturday rides. I always get a lot from shadowing and the combination of learning from highly skilled TVAM Observers, watching keen Associates develop and experience some of the very best roads in the UK, made it an excellent weekend for me.
The emphasis of enjoying the rides was constantly reinforced by everyone in the training team and the vibes I got from the weekend were really positive and relaxed. I enjoyed great company, made new friends, experienced awesome scenery and rode some really beautiful Welsh roads.
I’d like to thank Observers Dave Parker and Michael Hattey again for having me along on their Observer Rides, and for kindly asking for my own feedback with the Associates, as this made me feel valued and kept me on my toes.
I wish Associates; Dave & Danny, the very best with their cross-checks and tests – you guys are both very competent riders and, I’m certain, even more polished after this weekend. I’ll definitely go back and do another 7Ws, and maybe I’ll be an Observer myself by then!
An Associate – Graham Emerson
It was the first time I had attended the 7Ws and I was a little anxious on what would be expected and how limited the riding under training may have been. How my worries were so ridiculous goes like this. I met Carl and Dave on arrival at the wandering kitchen and into debrief/chat about what IPSGA and system means to us and a quick chat about our ride to the first heading. We geared up and headed off taking it in rotation for being observed then a coffee and chat with some useful pointers and off again to catch some very thick fog and a line of traffic as we got round some tree felling.
As we moved on, the roads became more engaging with some overtaking opportunities followed by lunch at a lovely garden centre that knocked out a very nice omelette and again debrief with pointers. Some weather caught us just as we stopped for tea, but I couldn’t believe another hour and a bit had passed – I was enjoying the roads so much as the rolling countryside passed by. Now Dave up front being observed by Carl on a fantastic road with a lovely combination of sweeping bends and tighter turns yielded more progressive riding and we had also left the drizzle behind. A fantastic ride capped the day as the rain caught us as we filled up just around the corner from the hotel. Day 1 was good. Dave grinned at me, “Just wait for tomorrow it gets even better…..”
So a couple of beers, dinner and met Paul and Tom for Saturday’s ride. A chat and a debrief and at 8.30am the fog was thicker than grandma’s vegetable soup, so a short bumble down the road to a coffee stop for an hour ‘talking bollocks’ a.k.a., bikes, sports, work, women, not all in that order. Now the skies had cleared and up the hill to some of the funnest roads one could wish for, with Tom who was training to be an Observer watching me, being watched by Paul, who saw everything we both did. Lots of pointers and feedback on better road positions led to better entry everywhere and overtaking became easier and the riding seemed very progressive and very quickly the fun factor was in full effect, which whilst learning is a hell of a thing to achieve. A fantastic spot at Aberporth for lunch, more riding, more great roads getting better and more progressive as we went down to Aberystwyth for ice cream and the piece de la resistance.
The ride back. Putting into practice what we had learned with the Observer now leading followed by Observer in training with me picking up a great demonstration of how it’s done. Progressive and now the ‘funometer’ in the red zone as we rode through Wales in an afternoon which I shall long remember. As we arrived back Carl caught me grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and asked me to pen my thoughts in a paragraph. So there we go, I’m afraid too much fun for just one paragraph.
While the big 1200cc Tiger is Triumph’s bike of the moment, the brand’s smaller 900cc adventure bike continues to get a great deal of attention. I loved the final iteration of its predecessor, specifically the Tiger 800 XRT, so much that I recommended it to my own father. It’s still a bike I would happily own, and having struck out on its big brother I felt it only fair to give the Tiger 900 GT Pro a fair shake
A quick summary, then. The Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro is the all-singing, all-dancing, and road-focused version of Triumph’s middleweight adventure bike. It seems ridiculous that something with an engine just shy of a full litre of displacement and over 220kg of metal and plastic is now considered a middleweight, but here we are. It’s smaller in every way than its big brother, including the price tag, but does lose a few of the toys (and more than 50 horsepower) along the way.
In the early 90’s, an engine this big would’ve meant you were top of the sportsbike food chain.
There’s a chain final drive rather than a shaft, the electronically-controlled rear shock still requires manual adjustment of preload, and the front forks have no electronic adjustment at all. You still get LED headlights, heated grips and seat, and even a digital TFT dashboard. It has to be said, however, that the user interface is truly, spectacularly awful, with several different view options, each worse than the next. It’s clear that the graphics and animations were designed in a studio by a graphic designer, rather than a motorcyclist or user interface designer; they look very cool, but they’re horrible to use on the road. Triumph know this, which is why the newer Tiger 1200 has a completely different visual and functional design.
TFT dashboards allow designers to create anything they can imagine… which isn’t always a good thing.
Keep your eyes on the road and actually ride the bike and there’s plenty to like, however. Triumph does seem to have figured out the formula for a good-handling, sweet-steering road bike, which mystifyingly still eludes some manufacturers. The weight drop versus its bigger brother shows the 900 in a favourable light, but look further and the cracks begin to show. Despite the front brake calipers being identical in specification to the heavier 1200, the 900 did not inspire the same confidence under braking. It features a more basic master cylinder at the lever which could be a contributing factor, but both bite and power were somewhat lacking. My local dealer suggested that perhaps it was to do with my example having been ridden on wet roads without being cleaned, but I don’t call that an acceptable excuse for a motorcycle on our wet and windy island.
Brakes were surprisingly underwhelming, belying their chunky size and branding.
As speeds picked up, the weaknesses in the cheaper suspension began to reveal themselves as well. Fidgety over bumpy surfaces, both the forks and shock failed to remain their composure and sapped confidence when pressing on. I tried using the electronic adjustment of the rear shock and honestly found that it made very little difference from one extreme to another. Once again, and in common with most sub-£20k motorcycles, I would want to have a suspension specialist modify or swap the hardware to suit my 75kg weight. And as with all integrated electronic suspension, such modification or replacement wouldn’t be cheap.
The up/down quickshifter on this GT Pro model works well at any speed and in any gear.
The longer I rode the bike, the more problems began to appear. Firstly, the engine. Triumph has, just as with their newer, larger 1200 Tiger, deliberately unbalanced the engine’s crankshaft to give it a lumpier twin-cylinder-like feel, with the predictable side-effect of extra vibration through the handlebars. Given that the rotating mass of the engine is so much less, the vibrations are similarly reduced, but they’re still there. I’d call them livable, but definitely not welcome, and still prefer the silky-smooth previous-generation triple. Unlike its bigger brother, the 900 doesn’t even share the same exciting noise and rush in the higher echelons of the rev range, so there’s no real loss in using the slick up/down quickshifter to keep the engine out of the buzzier heights.
Electronically adjustable damping on rear shock only, with manual preload and forks.
But despite all of this, the deal-breaker for me this time was the seat. After 30 minutes I was uncomfortable; after 45 I was in agony. I suspect that the marketing department is again to blame here; off-road bikes need narrow seats to facilitate a better standing position, and the on-road bike shares these components. Even if the road-focused GT models will never see anything dirtier than a muddy lane, it’s important to maintain the image. But the result is a hard-edged plank of a seat that in no way supports the real-life human anatomy of a seated rider. I’d need to replace that, immediately, and probably expensively. The same is true for the windshield, whose clever on-the-go one-handed adjustment is rendered moot by the fact that it has no discernible impact on buffeting or airflow. Another upgrade needed there, I fancy.
The narrow seat helps your feet reach the ground at a stop, but makes any real time in the saddle a painful experience.
Which rather sums up my feelings on the Tiger 900 GT Pro, I’m afraid. A good motorcycle, provided you’re willing to replace or upgrade the suspension, seat, windshield, and brakes, and assuming that you are willing to live with an irritating dashboard and unnecessarily buzzy engine. I might accept those issue on a cut-price budget bike, but not on a premium model costing almost £14,000. Add the obligatory panniers and top box necessary to make the bike usable for its intended purpose and you’re well over £15k for a motorcycle that needs several thousand pounds of changes and upgrades to essential hardware to meet my minimum acceptable standards.
I’ll never understand why road bikes don’t come with proper mudguards; look at the state of those exhaust headers…
Now of course, you could buy a lower-spec version of the Tiger 900 and save around £2,000, but you’d then need to add things like heated grips back onto your modification list. I think that Triumph knows it has a pricing problem here, which is why the heavily de-contented and detuned Tiger 850 Sport exists; the same engine, same chassis, but every possible corner cut to hit a £10k price point. But if price is all you care about, then a lightly-used Tiger 800 XRT will get you a lot more for a lot less. You’ll get better fuel economy and range, a more comfortable seat, and in my opinion, a much nicer engine.
Lots of toys, but I’ve not had great experiences with microswitch-based switchgear on motorcycles.
So, no; I sadly won’t be adding a Triumph adventure motorcycle to my garage any time soon. I like the brand, and the build quality and attention to detail often set an example to the rest of the industry, but I am clearly not their target customer this time. Your mileage may vary, of course; maybe you have buns of steel and won’t have a problem with the seat, and perhaps the buzzy engine and suspect brakes won’t bother you either. But when Triumph’s current range of Tigers seems objectively worse than their previous generation versions, the discounts that can be had from lightly-used low-mileage examples mean that you have to really want a brand-new bike to deliberately choose a Tiger 900.
Time to keep looking…
Great on paper, but with too many rough and unfinished edges, especially for the price.
I had the great pleasure of taking part in the Castle Combe track/road skills day in September 2022.
I was aware that road-skills based track training helps build machine and self-confidence immensely but most of the track based training providers were either quite far from where I lived or too expensive. When the TVAM Castle Combe track-based skills training was published for September, I turned into a keyboard warrior and booked a space within seconds. The training was not only closer to home but also lighter on the wallet.
I had quite a few questions in preparation for this event and I must say the organizing team answered all of them with patience and empathy.
I chose to stay the previous night at Chippenham which allowed me to be fairly fresh for the training. The day starts at 7.15am and I was at the track by 7.20am. Registration, indemnity declaration and collecting wrist band took about two minutes followed by noise test. My bike was fine and I got the coveted ‘all clear’ sticker. The noise test was followed by an introductory welcome from the organisers, discussing some cardinal rules for tracks like no turning around and no stopping etc., followed by guidance for intermediate and advanced riders. In the end, around 6 TVAM circuit guides spoke to the novice 1 and 2 groups about what to expect during the day, the track marker system etc.
There are 4 levels at the Castle Combe event: novice 1, novice 2, intermediate and advanced. Each level has a maximum of 12 riders, so in total 48 riders excluding the TVAM guides. Given that this was my first track experience, and what a wreck I am on corners and bends, I registered for the novice 1 level.
The novice groups 1 & 2 each were further split into 3 sub-groups. So 6 sub-groups in total. Each sub-group had 4 riders and was led by one TVAM guide. Each group from novice to advanced is allocated a quarter of the hour. And this remains consistent through the day. For example, our novice 1 group was allocated 45 minutes past the hour and that remained consistent. We had 7 turns in total starting at 9.45am, all the way to 4.45 pm. Each turn, we got about 4 to 5 laps of the circuit. Lunch break was from 12.30pm to 1.30pm and there is a nice café on site serving your regular pub-grub.
The first two turns were more about conditioning around the track. Our track guide would lead and we would try to emulate the positioning and apply the IPSGA system. I was so bad that after a couple of turns when our guide referred to the cones on the track, I was thinking, “what cones?”. It feels as if a lot is happening around you but the key is to be patient as things do start to fall in place. After a few laps with our track guide, I ventured on my own, at a speed comfortable to me but also consciously applying the IPSGA system. With each lap, I gained more confidence in turn increasing the speed but also getting smoother around the bends and corners. The feedback from our TVAM guide was quite positive after the 4th turn and the rest of the day, I just kept pushing myself a bit more to test the boundaries. You do have the choice of riding with the guide through the day if there are specific areas you want to concentrate and improve upon.
The day ended at roughly 5pm and I was really happy with all the time spent on the track. If I have to summarize the key learnings, they would be:
An opportunity to apply the IPSGA system in a controlled and safe environment
A better understanding of my machine’s capabilities and that I can push my machine further
I was able to challenge my mental boundaries like leaning in the direction of the bend, being comfortable at high speeds etc
Using the entire width of the available space to prepare for and execute manoeuvres
Forward planning when approaching bends and corners
It’s been a few months since I attended the track skills day and I can confidently say that my observer as well as I have seen a major difference in the way I position myself on the road and the confidence with which I deal with bends and corners at speed.
Definitely a day well spent with some really helpful and supportive TVAM guides and lots of other enthusiastic riders. If bends/corners are weak spots, I would strongly recommend attending the TVAM Castle Combe training.
I finally committed myself into taking up biking 10 years ago knowing that it was now or never. Some 30 years ago, during my Army service, an opportunity had arisen to attend a one week course in Aldershot so getting my licence at a time when I was in-between postings abroad. Fast forward almost 20 years before I would next ride a 125 of indeterminate origin in Wau, Western Barh el Ghazal, South Sudan. This was at the time of transition to independence and I hared around a circuit in the heat and dust with a couple of colleagues for some much needed recreation while puzzled Dinka tribesmen looked on as their children chased along, shouting ‘khawajat, khawajat!’ Thus my enthusiasm to get riding again was rekindled!
That was in 2010 and I had long since retired from active service. So I took the plunge and promptly bought an unseen BSA C15 that caught my eye on an online auction site and was delivered to my front door when I got home in 2012. I was, to all intents, a total newbie and I arranged a three hour session with a riding school based in Basingstoke who turned up on an adventure bike that dwarfed mine. I couldn’t start my C15 (the penny was beginning to drop) and the instructor suggested it was the type of bike which, way back when, I’d have asked a mate if his mum wouldn’t mind warming up the battery in the oven before we set out for a ride! Undeterred he suggested I follow him to the school in my car where he would fit me out with something more appropriate. The rest, as they say, is history and through a process of trial and error during the next three years I miraculously survived, changing bikes twice more but was struggling to understand what it was all about until one rainy Sunday in the spring of 2015 three bikers stopped outside my house for a break and I took the opportunity of walking across to join them. They looked wary at first, possibly suspecting that I was about to ask them to move on, but soon realised that I was simply curious. One of them produced a TVAM card et voilà! Dave Simmons came round a couple of weeks later to size me up and I then had the good fortune to be allocated Simon Hanlon as my Observer, who by dint of both his skill and encouragement, by night and day, through fair weather and foul coached me to pass my advanced test.
I had to take a break during this period when I found myself travelling again to work for 18 months in the British Embassy in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo. It wasn’t realistic to continue developing my riding skills in that environment where a ‘mondele’ in a vehicle, let alone on a motorcycle, can be vulnerable on roads when anything goes and things have a habit of unexpectedly kicking off! I brought back two AK-47 bullets as souvenirs that came uncomfortably close, both of which I was able to retrieve; one that impacted the wall outside my bedroom window one night with a loud bang and the other from the golf bunker I was in when all hell was let loose between two rival political factions in the middle of town one Saturday morning. On the plus side this led to a great opportunity to get to know other players in the competition during a lockdown of several hours in the clubhouse once we had managed to hard target our way back across the course for shelter!
A steep learning curve seems an understatement looking back and during the process, in support of Simon’s teaching, I also decided to throw myself into everything that TVAM could offer through the various training activities as well as Thruxton skills day, St. Crispin’s observed rides and 3Rs to Wales together with a multitude of group and T-runs where I would make new friends and be met, mostly, with supportive encouragement and wise advice which I would soak up.
As with any new venture you expect there to be bumps in the road and maybe I don’t fit the persona of a typical biker although I have found it in general to be an inclusive and broad church bonded by a common passion. It did come as a surprise, though, when one Observer I barely know made his prejudice clear by announcing in front of me ‘There are too many public school voices here’! Whilst I well know that this is not representative I believe that TVAM deserve better than this. I AM SAFE provides a comprehensive checklist on a rider’s fitness; you would hope that tolerance towards others was a given.
I think, after a further three bikes plus a wardrobe that has expanded exponentially, that I have now found my ‘comfort zone’ and although not to everyone’s taste (what bike is?) she does everything I need, providing fun, reliability, performance and range together with a belt drive! Not helped by the pandemic interregnum, combined with a couple of health issues, I realistically accept that bike time is no longer on my side so ambitious dreams of continental expeditions look more likely to be confined to Wales and the Isle of Wight. But that, together with some lovely rides in this part of the country, is fine by me; I am just grateful to be able to do it. I have also tried to give back something where possible supporting on occasion the toy run, ABC and as a GSR which is a win-win benefiting the role play ‘Associate’ as well as the TObs.
So I am indebted to TVAM/IAM RoadSmart for coming to the rescue and opening up a new world and community as an alternative to fishing or golf. It has also provided both physical and mental benefits as well as concentrating the mind with the occasional adrenaline rush reminiscent of looking into the dark void of night as the cargo ramp opens preparing to free fall parachute from a C-130 Hercules at 20,000 feet! And my driving has also received a long overdue wake up call to put it mildly! It may be a case of an old dog and new tricks but I have yet to get my head round mastering bike satnav; ironic from an airborne pathfinder in a past life. So, for the time being, I will count on trusty companions as well as a map and prismatic compass for backup!
Ever convince yourself that a bike is perfect, even before you’ve had a chance to ride it? I’ve done it before, but not usually with money in my pocket and a genuine need to replace a freshly-sold motorcycle at short notice. Watching every video, reading every article, poring over every photo. But you should always try before you buy.
Triumph’s new Tiger 1200 really is all-new. Forget the marketing; a close look is all that it takes to confirm that there are very few, if any, parts carried over from the old Tiger. I was actually a fan of the old ‘Explorer’, even if it wasn’t really the right bike for me. Big engine, comfy seat and cosseting fairing, ample luggage and pillion capacity, and you could even get it with creature comforts like an electric screen, heated grips, and cruise control. Shaft drive was just the icing on the cake – and I know from experience with my Yamaha T-Max that not having to oil or adjust a chain is really, really nice.
Redesigned shaft drive is a little snatchy, but means no more chain to lube while touring
The new Tiger has shed weight – a lot of it – and gained power, a neat trick in this era of multi-catalyst exhaust systems and sound-deadening engine casings. Depending on which spec sheet you read it goes toe-to-toe with BMW’s all-conquering R1250GS, and by the time the average owner has slathered either in accessories I doubt there’s really much in it. At around 250kg it’s still a big, heavy bike, and you do feel it at a standstill. But on the move, the big Tiger finally makes the case for factory-fit electronic suspension in a way no other bike has.
With damping adjustable in a dozen steps from the pretty (if slightly slow) dashboard it’s very easy to get the ride dialled in from the saddle. I daresay a specialist with a lot of tools could do better, but for once I can ride a showroom-fresh motorcycle and genuinely find a setup that works for my weight without spending thousands on a rebuild. And that’s just as well because the weight figure isn’t the only thing Triumph is apparently trying to copy from BMW. In top-trim GT Explorer form, it’s a hair over £18,000, and like its boxer-engined competitor, that doesn’t include luggage or any accessories like crash bars.
No fancy branding or flashy logos, but Triumph’s semi-automatic electronic suspension really works, really well
It has to be said though, up close the Tiger 1200 does a better job of justifying the price tag than the current German option. BMW’s have become increasingly plastic-y in recent years, with unpainted or matte surfaces undermining the luxurious reputation. In contrast, there’s almost nothing to fault about the Triumph’s presentation, with beautifully-finished components on display all over the bike. Look closely and you’ll even find details like stainless-steel fasteners and reusable rubber cable ties – it really seems like no expense has been spared.
I’m probably the only person who cares, but modern switchgear just doesn’t feel as nice to use; reportedly less reliable too
I don’t love the microswitch-based buttons, especially the indicators – everything feels a little sticky and is difficult to feel while wearing heavy gloves. And the TFT dashboard, while easy to read, seems to stutter, as though the onboard computer isn’t powerful enough to animate the graphics smoothly. But at least it’s got every option under the sun and can be configured to show you pretty much any information you want, even if it takes a while to figure it all out.
The real story, of course, is the engine. Triumph has done some very interesting things here, not least of which is the deliberate unbalancing of the three-cylinder crankshaft in order to create a lumpier, more twin-cylinder-like feel to the power delivery. They’ve also moved the radiators up and to the side, allowing the entire powerplant to be moved further forward without fouling the front wheel. There’s actually more space still on the road-biased GT model I rode, thanks to the smaller 19″ wheel. Those looking for more fashionable or off-road capable spoked wheels get a 21″ version in the Rally models, though they also suffer a weight penalty and an even taller seat.
And the GT Pro version isn’t exactly small. Everything about the bike seems to be built to 120% normal scale – the distance to and width of the bars, the seat height, and of course the sheer mass of the machine itself. At 170cm and 75kg geared up I once again feel like I’m a good few sizes smaller in every dimension than the intended target market. Even the bend of the handlebars seems to expect my shoulders to be a whole size wider, with bigger hands to reach the levers. Just as well modern clutches are so light and easy to pull, and at least the wide bars make the bike easy to steer.
It looks lithe until you realise that those are 18″/19″ wheels being made to look like 17s
And boy, does it steer nicely. I still think the BMW R1250GS still wins by a hair on front-end feel, but it’s astonishing how quickly and comfortably I can throw around this heavyweight adventure-touring monster. But unlike the BMW, the rumbling, growling engine snarls as you rev it out, the full 150bhp catapulting you forwards and the speedometer upwards at a truly exhilarating rate. The seamless up/down quick shifter works at any speed, any throttle opening, encouraging you to open ‘er up one more time and hear that intoxicating roar from the airbox.
It’s just as well that the massive Brembo brakes on the front wheel are up to the task, as you often find yourself arriving at corners far sooner – and far faster – than you’d expected. But with the latest lean-sensitive rider aids and sticky rubber, the Tiger 1200 genuinely feels unflappable, even on rough, pockmarked Northamptonshire roads. I challenge anyone to ride this bike hard and keep a grin off their face.
Really good brakes, on a really confidence-inspiring set of front forks
Unfortunately for me, this is where it all started to go wrong. I’m no stranger to wrestling oversized bikes around, nor to swapping out handlebars and levers to get a better post-showroom ergonomic fit. The windshield isn’t great, but that can be changed, and the drivetrain snatch is a small price to pay for never having to oil or adjust a chain ever again. But one thing that won’t ever be fixable is engine vibration – not when it’s as severe as this, and especially not when it’s a deliberate design decision driven by the marketing department.
You see, Triumph’s incredibly-smooth 120-degree even-firing triples have been criticised in the biking press for years as being unsuitable power plants for off-road machinery. The big, lumpy pulses and heavy cranks of twin-cylinder machines are easier to manage at low speeds, more difficult to stall, and bite harder into the dirt – or so the story goes. I’m still not convinced that anyone should really be trying to ride 250-270kg motorcycles anywhere you wouldn’t take a Vespa, and the vast majority of adventure bikes never see more muck than whatever the local farmers have left on the roads. But it’s the image – the fantasy – that sells.
For me, the buzzy engine ruins everything; at least it’d be easy to clean with no radiator blocking access…
Three-cylinder engines are Triumph’s unique selling point, the main way their bikes are different from everyone else’s, so the chosen solution was to deliberately unbalance the engine’s crankshaft and artificially create the sort of uneven power pulses that journalists apparently crave. I wish they’d thought to ask their own customers. I wish, just for once, that the marketing department hadn’t interfered in the engineering process. Because I’m afraid to say that, for me, this redesigned engine is a disaster.
Sure, it sounds great, and the extra vibration at lower engine speeds adds a bit of character when trundling around town. But as speeds climb into the second half of the rev range the vibration gets worse and worse, becoming a harsh buzz all through the handlebars. Keep the bike on the boil while carving up a series of fast bends and anyone with an ounce of mechanical sympathy would wince – it almost feels broken. But worst of all, it’s painful. I’ve never experienced this before in all my years of riding, but after 5-10 minutes of hard riding, my hands were genuinely going numb from the vibration. I had to back off, change up a few gears, and slow down to let the pins and needles subside as blood flow returned to my extremities. I can’t imagine what it would be like for someone who suffers from bad circulation.
The 30-litre tank option is wider and comes further back, necessitating this rubber insert on the smaller model
The solution, I suppose, would not be to ride that hard, but then why purchase a motorcycle with 150bhp? Why spend what would ultimately be £20,000 on a high-power adventure tourer if you’re going to be forced to trundle around with two-thirds of the power off-limits? It’s heartbreaking, honestly, as with the smooth firing order from their own closely-related Speed Triple Triumph might honestly have had a shot at convincing me to trade in every one of my bikes to scrape together a deposit. You can even choose to order the Tiger with a 30-litre tank, and the idea of being able to comfortably cover over 300 miles without stopping sounds brilliant.
Even without this fatal flaw, the Tiger 1200 isn’t perfect, of course. The peculiar choice to equip even the road-going GT models with an 18″ rear wheel limits tyre choice, with none of the top sport-touring tyres currently available in that size. If you don’t get the higher-spec models you do end up with buttons that don’t do anything, such as for the heated seat that isn’t there. The 10,000-mile service intervals are great, but very expensive, with lots of plastic to remove before mechanics can get to the oily bits. The side stand is too far forward for my stubby legs, and there’s no getting away from the fact that a bike this big and heavy could easily get away from you.
The seat is comfortable enough, with a wide surface for the rider, if less so for their passenger
It’s honestly a massive disappointment and one that means I’ll have to keep looking for my own next bike. Other riders may not be bothered by the vibration, and I encourage everyone who can stomach the eye-watering cost to give the Tiger 1200 a fair shake. It’s certainly a match for Bavaria’s best, and you might just find you’ve discovered the perfect high-spec do-it-all motorcycle.
A really good bike, ruined by Triumph’s own insecurity about their three-cylinder engine
Like many of us at TVAM, I stopped biking in my twenties as family and work commitments took over. Now, with my children safely into young adulthood, I wanted to return to biking, but wanted guidance and support on how to do it properly. I was rusty. A friend of mine, Allen, is an Advanced FIRST rider with TVAM and he convinced me that this was the right course of action. My father and step-father had both passed away during COVID on the same day in November 2020, which prompted me to decide to tackle my bucket list – Route 66 on a motorbike. In July 2021, I joined TVAM and was assigned Dave Parker as my Observer. Over the coming months my riding and confidence improved no end, thanks to Dave’s guidance and coaching. We were out in sunshine and torrential rain. In December 2021 I booked that trip – for autumn 2022.
Day 1
In late September I flew to Denver, Colorado and then down to Albuquerque in New Mexico to collect my “Steel Horse”, a new Harley Davidson Road Glide with 114 inches of Milwaukee Eight engine, equivalent to 1900 cc. This was a beast compared to my Honda CBR650f. A bigger bike; “wrong side” of the road; navigating using satnav; on my own – a real challenge for day 1. However, the riding experience gained with TVAM and especially the guidance from Dave and my friend Allen, gave me the confidence I needed at this point.
After navigating through Albuquerque, I eventually met up with some friends who were doing the Route 66 starting in Chicago a week earlier. 276 miles took us from Santa Fe to Gallup, New Mexico. Along the way we stopped at Madrid to pay homage to the ‘Wild Hogs’ film location and the rather shabby town of Grants where we had a truly dreadful lunch. The Turquoise Trail from Madrid was stunning with lots of twisty roads. Highway 14 saw mile long trains and crazy trucks overtaking on bends at 90mph. The majesty of the scenery today cannot be captured by my words. We clipped the edge of some simply biblical thunderstorms and arrived safely in Gallup, New Mexico. Tomorrow sees the clocks turn back another hour as we ride into Arizona.
Day 2
We covered just 197 miles (as planned) but it was by far the hardest day yet. We spent much of the day in torrential rain and crosswinds. The last 30-mile leg was nothing but a test of our determination and mettle. Our first stop was at the Petrified Forest national park for a hot drink. The admission to the park was $20 per bike but with visibility at less than 100 metres we gave it a miss. Along the way we stopped at a local museum in Holbrook which was really fascinating and out of the rain. Jack Rabbit trading post saw a flurry of souvenirs purchased. We were standing on a corner in Winslow Arizona at lunchtime. The meteor crater looked interesting but it was expensive and we could see the weather closing in so we pressed on to our hotel in Flagstaff.
Day 3
What an incredible day. We took Highway 89 north from Flagstaff up through the mountains that had received their first dusting of snow overnight. None of us knew of Arizona’s monsoon season, the last of which we rode through yesterday. Indeed, a tornado hit our destination of Williams. Our ride across the plains towards the Grand Canyon was breathtaking. As anyone who has visited the Grand Canyon will say, one can’t comprehend the vastness and elemental beauty of the place. A very relaxed day riding along the rim of the canyon. Our return blast to Williams saw our best formation riding so far and we arrived after 171 miles with a cold beer and smiles. Williams proved to be the liveliest town so far, with shops and bars open and lots of things purchased. Tomorrow sees Seligman the town that the Disney Pixar film “Cars” was based on and a quiet evening in Las Vegas.
Day 4
242 miles from Williams to Las Vegas. Another departure from Route 66 after an excellent lunch in Kingman as we headed to Nevada. It was a frosty 2°c when we started and a whopping 35°c at the end. The scenery was again incredible and looks like the backdrop to every western you’ve seen. We stopped at the Hackbury store, an icon of R66. Seligman is basically the town Radiator Springs from the Cars film. My friend’s bike had a gearbox fault and the Harley Davidson (HD) dealer in Kingman diagnosed the fault but didn’t have the part. It was caused by water ingestion following the torrential rain. On to Las Vegas and HD managed to fix the bike. We rode in formation up the strip, a bunch of middle-aged men behaving like juveniles. It was brilliant! We then checked into our hotel and headed into the night. I can’t say any more about Vegas!!
Day 5
Las Vegas to Laughlin. A very warm start to the day with another cruise down the Las Vegas strip. We then headed onto the Hoover dam for a bit of sightseeing before the 100 mile blast back down the highway to Kingman. We stopped by the same cafe as yesterday for another super lunch then headed out on the Oatman highway to see the unique little town. However, we didn’t get there. As we travelled along the bumpy highway we came across a swale where a river pops up in time of heavy rain as had happened a few days before. What we encountered was sand 8-12” deep across the road. At 30 mph our lead rider had a major wobble but held on; the second bike flicked violently from lock to lock but he got back upright. I was riding third, with my friend Richard behind me. We were offset to the right by a few inches and the sand was even deeper. My bike buried itself in the sand and threw me off to the right, landing on the road and sand. Despite the very hot weather in the desert, we were all wearing the correct armoured clothing and this saved a lot of injuries. Richard, behind me had fewer options trying to avoid me and he went down to his left. The bike landed on Richard’s left ankle and he went under the 400kg bike.
The guys were immediately at his side but the pain told me this wasn’t one he was going to get up from on his own. The team swung into action without hesitation, Jake called 911 and I started first aid. The others marshalled traffic. The first responders from the fire department soon arrived, as did traffic control and the sheriff. A medic truck and then an ambulance arrived and took Richard to the local hospital where X-ray confirmed his ankle was broken in two places and a torn ligament. Once Richard was released from hospital, we taxied him to the next destination, Laughlin, Nevada. It is in times of adversity and vulnerability that you really find out who’s on your side. Wearing the right kit, having confidence on the machine and working as a team were all important at this point.
Day 6
Having safely arranged for Richard to fly home and be met at the airport, we then set up as a smaller group from Laughlin to our next destination of Victorville, via Oatman, famous for the donkeys roaming the streets. The ride up was through twisting, decaying roads with loose gravel. We were all extra cautious following yesterday’s experience, but we all managed to ride at our own pace. My Honda would be up there in no time. We ended the day in Victorville, a place that is not on my “must see again” list.
Day 7
The final ride. So, the trip nears its end, as we head to Santa Monica Pier and the end of Route 66. Only a matter of around 100 miles, but this is through LA traffic and traffic lights. 6 hours. What a test of resilience and slow bike control.
In total, I rode 1,741 miles. Without the support, guidance and coaching from TVAM, from Dave Parker my Observer and friend Allen, this item on my Bucket List would have remained there forever. Safe group riding; the focus on correct protective kit; and advanced skills of bike control and observation made this an adventure that I enjoyed. TVAM helped me to achieve my Bucket List item, and I recommend TVAM to anyone thinking of a similar trip.
The BMW R1250GS. On paper, and according to sales figures, the ultimate do-it-all motorcycle. So loyal is its following that most of the people reading these words will simply be looking to validate their existing purchase decision. Others will be hoping that I give another one of my controversially scathing reviews, justifying their own decision to be different. But who knows, maybe – like me – you haven’t yet made up your mind and are looking for an objective opinion. Let’s give it a go, shall we?
Straight away, we encounter a problem. The first two sales staff I speak to at my local BMW Motorrad dealership support the story that a motorcycle this popular usually sells itself. They both seem puzzled by my basic questions about the machine, pointing me to a showroom example and instead simply talking about how many other people have already bought one. The idea that I should need convincing to buy their product is apparently entirely alien, and their sales patter quickly runs out of steam. It’s constantly up to me to restart the conversation by asking questions about engine size, horsepower, and features like heated grips and seats.
Controls are easy to use but the indicator switch is of the modern microswitch style and difficult to feel when you’ve pressed it.
Time and again the discussion keeps coming back to availability and lead times, as though my purchase is already a foregone conclusion. In the end, I give up and am handed off to a third staffer to arrange my own test ride. Careful, BMW; you would not be the first motorcycle brand that fell to hubris. But if despite worldwide supply chain constraints they’re still able to sell every unit they can build then perhaps their confidence is justified.
Let’s look at the facts. Aside from the occasional recent upset from Royal Enfield, BMW’s GS line dominates the sales charts year after year. The regular and big-tank Adventure model together are the biggest-selling motorcycles over 125cc in the UK, despite also being some of the most expensive. Owners are loyal, with surveys regularly showing that very few people would switch to another brand once they’ve joined the BMW club.
Paint options like this are around £1,000 extra; default is currently a cheap-looking white/grey combo
On paper, an R1250GS should be almost all things to almost all people. Big engine, plenty of performance, good tank range, comfortable seat, wind protection, heated grips, seat, luggage, pillion capacity, shaft drive, tyre pressure sensors, adaptive LED headlights, adjustable windshield, sophisticated automatic suspension, big brakes, cruise control, and probably the best dashboard in the business. It’s fast enough for people who want to go fast, practical enough for people who want to commute all year round, and the comfort and luggage capacity would satisfy the most ardent touring enthusiast. It’s supposedly capable enough off-road and I’ve even seen them scraping pegs at track days. The BMW GS is all things to all riders – assuming they can afford it.
The £18,500 I’m quoted is for a Touring Edition (TE) model, which basically means it has most of the bells and whistles that make a modern GS the bike you’ve read all those glowing reviews about. You can, in theory, factory-order a more basic model for around £14,000, but you’ll be getting a much more basic motorcycle. Worse, BMW won’t let you pick and mix options anymore – if you want heated grips you’ve got to get the entire Comfort Pack for £720. Want cruise control? That’ll be £885 for the complete Touring Pack. Without a doubt, you’ll end up paying for a lot of stuff you don’t need. Oh, and none of this includes panniers or a top box – basic stuff in this segment, which could easily push your total bill up to over £20,000.
Touring packs come with the bracket for BMW’s Navigator GPS system, but the unit itself is £700 extra.
But hey, maybe it’s worth it, even at that price. Riding away on a modern GS it’s hard not to be impressed; everything just…works. The handling is superlative, the telelever front suspension design giving you instant confidence to throw the big BMW into corners right away. Realise you’re going in too hot and the same clever suspension geometry ensures that you can drag the front brake through the bend without upsetting the chassis or running wide. Scrubbing off serious speed is equally easy, the braking performance entirely limited by your ability to brace yourself against the handlebars.
Getting to silly speeds is also effortless. 136bhp doesn’t sound like much in a world of 220bhp road-legal superbikes, but as the hot-rodder’s maxim goes, there’s no replacement for displacement. Combined with BMW’s clever ShiftCam system, this 249kg motorcycle can really hustle, the 1,254cc boxer remaining surprisingly smooth even when worked relatively hard. There isn’t the instant low-down shove you might expect, nor does the powerplant reward explorers who go hunting for upper limits of the rev range. But as road-focused power plants go, I’m not sure I’ve experienced better. It even sounds satisfyingly mechanical, and is honestly a lot of fun to use.
Cracking engine, though I think I’d pass on the expensive milled aluminium accessory valve covers.
BMW have done a lot of work to improve both the throttle response and the quickshifter since I last reviewed one in 2018. Neither are perfect, with the off-idle response a little fluffy (a classic symptom of modern fuel injection systems squeezing through the latest emissions regulations) and the quickshifter is still a little notchy, though nowhere near as bad as it once was. Similarly, the latest ESA semi-automatic suspension does a pretty good job of balancing feel and comfort in both of its Dr Jekyll (Comfort) and Mr Hyde (Dynamic) riding modes.
That being said, for me at least neither was perfect, with the bike never seeming to quite settle even on longer, smoother roads. It’s a classic symptom of too-stiff springs holding a lighter-than-intended rider too high in the suspension’s stroke. Comfort is too soft and wallowy, Dynamic too jittery, and there’s zero adjustment possible beyond these two electronic mode switches. In a mechanical system you might be able to dial some of this out, but in my case I suspect softer springs would also be required. This mismatch also means that it’s very easy to spin up the rear wheel even in the dry, with the traction control having to step in and compensate for an easily-overwhelmed rear shock over broken tarmac.
BMW’s wishbone-based front suspension proves its worth again; shame the springs are too stiff for my weight.
The seat suffers from the same problem; at 75kg and around 180cm in my riding gear I’m no featherweight, but I always felt like I was surfing on top of the foam rather than sinking into it as designed. The bars were a bit far away and a bit wide for my shorter arms and narrower shoulders, and the levers were a stretch even at maximum adjustment. These issues won’t affect everyone, of course, and are fixable with aftermarket parts. But it’s difficult to go into a £20,000 purchase knowing that you’ll need to spend thousands more making the bike actually fit your size, weight, and shape.
The tech is mostly great, and the bike is littered with clever touches, like the tyre valves built into the spokes for easy access. The dashboard is easy to read on the go, though even as an I.T. professional I still get lost in the menus. The keyless ignition deserves special mention, enabling you to start and stop the bike, lock the steering, and even open the fuel filler cap without having to fish around in your pocket for the key. Fuel economy isn’t too bad, with over 200 miles easily achievable in sensible riding, and the 30-litre tank of the bigger Adventure version boost that to well over 300.
Rear seat can be removed entirely to create a flat load area for luggage.
The rider’s seat can be adjusted for height without tools, the windshield adjustable with one hand while riding, the cruise control is easy to use and works well, and the preload on the rear shock automatically adjusts to set the bike at the correct height, regardless of how much weight you’ve added through luggage or passenger. The headlight even adjusts its beam as you ride around corners to maintain maximum visibility; it’s all genuinely very impressive.
In fact, the only other irritation I encountered in my time with the BMW R1250GS TE was that the sidestand is mounted unnaturally far forward, hidden from both view and my own boot by the left cylinder head. Hunting around to kick it out when trying to park the bike was surprisingly difficult, though I’m not sure how BMW could actually solve this. And, let’s face it, very few bikes are going to fit everyone, so at this point I’m somewhat resigned to having to budget £2,000-3,000 extra on top of every new bike I purchase to fix suspension and ergonomic issues.
Frivolous perhaps, but very handy; no chance of accidentally leaving your key in the ignition.
But when the bike itself – with the luggage I’d want – is more than £20,000, that’s just…too much. For that price, I do expect BMW to fit the right seat, suspension, handlebars, and levers for someone of my size and weight. I could live with it as-is, I suppose, and I’m sure many do – after all, one size doesn’t actually fit anybody. But for that kind of cash I feel like I shouldn’t have to, and the cost of the add-on packs makes the GS feel bad value for money in my eyes. As I said earlier, BMW apparently has no trouble selling every single one they make even at this price. But as inflation bites and the older, well-heeled bikers propping up record sales figures age out of motorcycling, I wonder how many people – like me – will decide that it’s a little too rich for their blood.
The BMW R1250GS could be the best motorcycle in the world, but not, I’m afraid, at any price.
A few tales from those that attended our Associate training weekend
I joined TVAM in November ‘21 and started working towards my IAM test. I heard about 7Ws but was unable to make the one in the spring. Everyone said it was a great experience so I was determined to make the next trip. As soon as the date was announced I put my name down and hoped to be selected. While I was waiting to hear I took and passed my IAM test. I also took the decision to start the journey to become an Observer. That means I currently have the status of a PTOB. A TOB is a Trainee Observer who wears a Yellow badge and is working towards full Observers qualification. A PTOB is what you are referred to until you have completed all of the qualification elements of the Trainee Observer Programme and have had your first assessment.
So, what is 7Ws? It is a weekend of riding through the wonderful roads of Wales in the company of like-minded souls. It is a training weekend, and the focus is on encouraging, supporting and coaching all the Associates that attend. It is also a chance to chat about all things bike, compare machines, gear and enjoy lots of friendly banter.
As it was my first 7Ws and I was neither Associate nor Observer, I was there to shadow the Observers and learn how they work with their Associates. Some Observers have been doing this for many years and others only recently, so I was able to see the different approaches they took with their Associates and learn from that. I assumed the coaching of the Associates would be structured a bit like a St Crispin’s run, however it is a lot more informal that that. I did not see one ride report form or copy of the Highway Code for the whole weekend. I did see a lot of discussions at the side of the road and in coffee shops about lines through bends, overtaking, bike machinery and a whole range of other topics. Associates were encouraged to ask questions at all times and I was involved in a great conversation on the way to Wales where the Associate had watched the Observer and myself execute overtakes in a certain way and wanted to know why we did what we did.
Waterproof clothing was also a topic of conversation as the run up was wet wet wet! There was also some discussion about touring on motorcycles and how to prepare for that. I clocked well over 500 miles over the three days with 220 on the Saturday. One Associate I spoke to had never ridden more than 40 miles in one ride, so the weekend provides a good taster of what it’s like to go touring on a motorcycle and that in itself is a learning experience.
Left: Chris will observe anyone willing to listen!
The Training Team who organise the weekend put a lot of effort into grouping Associates so that those with similar experience end up together on the various rides and their Observers are aware and can prepare their rides accordingly. There was an Observer meeting each evening to check in on how the Associates (and everyone else) were doing and discuss the next day.
I’d like to say a big thank you to all the Training Team, for putting this together and handling all the behind-the-scenes work, and to all the Observers who supported the Associates over the weekend, allowed me to shadow them and answered my questions about their Observer approach. For me personally the next step is to drop the “P” and work towards full Observer status in time for the next 7Ws in 2023.
Mark Powell – PTob
So this is a viewpoint of the Oct 22 7Ws weekend from an Associate and is written with new Associates in mind who have not yet had the chance to experience a 7Ws training weekend, may be unsure or thinking it would be too overwhelming.
Fundamentally 7Ws is a focused training weekend for Associates and that is exactly what it felt like. It comes with the added benefits of additional social aspects, such as food, wine, beer and the company of other members and of course riding what are the best roads I have ridden to date, considering my limited years of riding.
So why 7Ws? Well we’ve all done our observed rides which, more often than not, are usually limited to just a few hours and sometimes having to share an Observer with another Associate. Although this does allow time for Observers to pick up on your riding and give you things to go away and work on, you only get very limited time to put into practice the items discussed whilst being observed on that ride. 7Ws fixes that, from my perspective, as quite simply you can spend whole days in the seat, have the benefit of lovely winding Welsh roads and it gives you the time to really put the guidance into practice, whilst still under close observation. There is plenty of time for stops and lunch and being paired off with another Associate you can take time to discuss items in more detail, build on your skills throughout the day as well as having the chance to see your paired Associate develop theirs.
The format is well thought out in typical TVAM style and really puts the Associate at the heart of it all. A few days before the trip your allocated Observer for the Friday contacts you to discuss the weekend. Key items such as what you want to get out of the ride, what to expect, how far you can or have ridden in one day, etc. I have to say that at all times you really got a sense of this trip being for the Associate. I have no doubt the Observers do enjoy their weekend immensely, but the focus is the Associate under training.
It is an early start on the Friday to get to the Wandering Café for breakfast and coffee (well recommended) for the initial briefings. Riding with myself, and my Observer, to Wales was PTob (Prospective Trainee Observer) Tom. The journeys to Wales are all done as starburst rides, meaning that although some groups took similar routes you weren’t all riding the same roads as a group and this method worked really well for me and others I spoke to.
A certain TVAM Chairman was unfortunate enough to be lumbered with me for the ride to Wales, which really marked the start of the training. From the point you leave to the point of arriving in Wales you are either being observed or observing their riding. To be fair it’s quite a distance but having already been asked about my comfortable distances this wasn’t a problem, with plenty of stops and a nice lunch on route. Each stop gave us time to discuss the riding and most importantly plenty of time in between to practice. So, if you are concerned about distance on your bike please don’t be put off by this trip and make sure to let your Observer know what you are comfortable with.
When it comes to roads, Wales did not disappoint, with plenty of chance to practice those skills and often with very little traffic. One small stop was made about 23 miles from our final destination, primarily to inform me that I was about to ride on one of the best roads in the UK, this being the A483 Newtown to Crossgates in Llandrindod Wells. A dream of a road, it was flat, fast, wide, winding and really did give you the chance to put into practice what you had picked up during the day – it’s almost as if it was built just for the 7Ws! I can even confess to doing it in the dark on the Saturday night, though technically that wasn’t in the overall plan and the less said the better on that!
Come the Friday night I have never been so grateful for a warm room, shower and a beer, and the Metropole in Llandrindod Wells was a very welcome sight. With an area set aside for our bikes, which soon filled up, all was very smooth at check in.
Dinner was held in a private room for our group and it was a great chance to catch up with other members and share “war stories” of the days travel. The food was simple but tasty and I certainly had no complaints. More importantly beer seemed reasonably priced! Post dinner we had a talk from Shaun Westlake, an ex-Police rider and long-time friend of TVAM, who was both informative and exceedingly amusing at the same time, I’m sure he does the voices for Fireman Sam!
That evening we all received our Observer allocations for the Saturday and I was lucky enough to be paired with Andy Hunter, although he may have thought differently! The location of the bar seemed very convenient to speak with him and plan timings for the morning without any concerns or pressure, other than who gets the next round!
The Saturday started with a good breakfast, which I recommend making full use of during the stay. You certainly won’t go hungry on a 7Ws weekend. The benefit of the 2nd day allows you to be paired with another Observer and effectively start afresh but once again having a day on the roads allowing you to build on other items that still need some work. My fellow associate Taira needed a new headlight bulb so a swift stop at a garage and simple twist and fit (thank God it was a Honda) saw her back up and ready prior to our departure. This proved a good move as that light was needed much later in the day as our trip back was somewhat in the “dark”. I’ve mentioned that twice now, haven’t I? ‘Nuff said.
Once again, some stunning riding and fantastic scenery, the route Andy had planned was superb. A mix of roads which took in the stunning views across the Vale of Rheidol down towards Aberystwyth and then around to Barmouth for lunch which is such a picturesque stop. There was one small down hill “donkey track” which funnily enough did end up next to a field of donkeys. They all seemed to be named after Disney characters or fizzy drinks.
Dinner on the Saturday was once again in a private room and then, all too soon, it was time to think about the return trip on the Sunday and once again certain individuals had carefully planned and offered to lead social rides back to different return points. My chosen route returned to St. Crispin’s, so a big thanks to Simon Whatley and Iain Gaitley for leading and back marking a good ride home, though I have to say this was probably the wettest of all 3 days. Wales certainly has an allure with some of the nation’s most stunning scenery and roads. It was my first time riding there and I can see why it has such an appeal and, considering it isn’t that far from the Thames Valley, I’ll be back.
I have never been the best reporter or travel blogger, so apologies, but if you’ve got this far, well done. What I will say is that if you are working towards your green badge or are new to TVAM and have not had chance to go on 7Ws, in my humble opinion this training weekend is a must do. If not for the training and experience at least for the social.
A huge thanks really has to go to the organisers Andy Wedge and his team. Thanks to Barrie and Andy for observing and all the other Observers, TObs and PtObs who gave up their time to help us Associates become better riders. Yes Ian, I’ll work on those left hand bends more!
James Jarvis – Associate
The first thing to say is what a fantastic weekend spent with a very friendly group of people. I have never gone away for a weekend on a motorbike before, I was both excited and nervous. Many thanks to Gill for coming and talking to me at The Wandering Kitchen before we set off, I think I looked a wee bit worried.
Being teamed up with an Associate of similar ability to me on the ride up to Wales was perfect. Funnily enough we both have the same Observer. Unfortunately, Andy our Observer for that day got a puncture which was a pain for him but a great learning experience for both of us to watch him repair it.
The first evening after a delicious 3-course meal and an entertaining talk, we were introduced to our second Observer of the weekend. So early on Saturday morning we set off for another day’s ride and it stayed dry… until we headed back to the hotel then the heavens opened, but it didn’t dampen my enthusiasm. I was given some very good feedback to improve my riding during the day and the scenery was amazing; interspersed with some enjoyable cake stops.
We weren’t left to make our own way back home on the Sunday, although a few people chose to do that. There were groups heading home via different locations. I joined the group led by Si that headed straight back to The Wandering Kitchen.
Thank you very much to everyone for organising the weekend and to the Observers who gave up their time to impart their expert knowledge to us. I didn’t stop smiling for a long while after returning home, and will continue to grin every time I think about that weekend!
Story so far: Back in the far cry years of university days, Nigel Downing had just about got used to the bike of his dreams, a Norton Commando 750 Roadster Mk II. His friend, François was preparing to join him on a Continental Tour…
François had found a BSA A10 650cc twin needing some serious TLC. It even had gravel in oil tank, put there by some vandal. Being up for anything he decided to rebuild it himself, all the while being a petrol attendant at this local garage. Yes, way back in dinosaur time people filled up your car for you. So, with barely enough time to finally bolt on his newly painted fuel tank, we left for Dover and the ferry. The plan was to camp. I stuffed a rucksack and strapped it to the rear luggage rack. François did the same with his kit and we split the tent between us.
Having crossed to France we camped the first night in a field. Next day we took the Route nationale down towards Spain. The experience of my crash was still raw, and François was riding too fast. I told him so. He knew otherwise so I let him go. After a while, just outside Foix, I noticed ahead a pall of dust hanging in the air. A bend later I found him, picking himself and the bike off a large flat patch of dirt on the side of the road. He was OK. The bike was in a mess with bits hanging off, but rideable. The gendarmes arrived, tut-tutting as they do. They had soon forgotten François and were admiring my Norton. “Magnifique! Mais ça rend aux reins du marmalade!” I will let you translate.
As the trip ensued more and more bits fell off the BSA. We lost the headlight and the horn fairly early on. At one point the crank case gasket popped out. François removed the remaining parts and tightened down the bolts to slow the spray of oil (along with the miasma of unburned fuel from the exhaust, due to a broken piston ring) which was covering my visor as I followed. Eventually, we made it into and out of Andora, along the south coast of France, into Italy and thence to Switzerland – a safe haven. My Dad lived in a mountain village there and we had a few days’ rest, some decent food and nice beds to sleep in. The local garage also gave us workshop space and facilities to work on the bikes. François did the best he could, and we headed north once more.
The final day – we were making good progress (well, you know what I mean) across northern France when suddenly, with either a bang or a whimper, the BSA gave up the ghost. “Cylinder gasket,” pronounced François. “And there is nothing I can do about it. I need to remove the tank and don’t have the tool.” I remember sitting beside the road in the sunshine deliberating for a long time. Eventually, François suggested I tow him! Well, that was short-lived. Finally, we decided to abandon the BSA. We found a friendly farmer who took it into his barn and prepared to ride two up on the Norton. That meant piling all of François’ kit on top of mine, doing something with the rear suspension (I think!) and pumping up the tyres. Such was the load that we occasionally bottomed out when the road was rough.
We continued north, took the ferry and headed for home. I remember clearly riding hard through driving rain on the M20 at 80mph, desperate for the journey to end. I dropped François off and made my way back to university, first stopping off at a service station nearby to re-adjust the tyre pressures. As I crouched down by the left side of the rear wheel I saw, to my horror, a sidewall gash running the entire circumference of the wheel, down to the fabric of the tyre. Where did that come from? Closer inspection: the rear mudguard was offset to the right, such that at the limit of the suspension’s travel the mudguard’s sharp rear edge had been gouging into the sidewall of the tyre. Later it turned out that the crash had pushed the rear loom to the right, taking the mudguard with it. Norton Andover had missed that one when they had repaired the bike for me!
I decided to ride on (I mean, how totally daft can you get?) and thank God, bike and rider arrived back in one piece.
I leave the reader to compare the foolishness of youth way back then with the discipline of today’s advanced riding. François and I still laugh about the fun we had, the crazy decisions, and frankly at what we got away with, but deep down we know how lucky we were.
And the bikes? Two years later François took his Mini Van to France. He recovered the BSA. That faithful and generous farmer had died, but an employee handed it over. The bike was sold on to a friend, for yet another rebuild. I had soon to leave for a research project in West Africa and sold my beloved Norton to a friend. As soon as I returned to university, I visited him to buy it back. But, sadly, he had sold it on.
Some years later, I tried to track down my Norton, but no luck. Often, I wonder, KYO 192K, where are you? Rusting gently somewhere? Long gone for scrap? What I would give to have you back!
Nigel Downing
First published in Slipstream November / December 2022
All the Ukrainian names have been changed. I deliberated about keeping original names. The Ukrainians I met deserve to be recognised – but then I imagined a Russian hit squad driving around with this book, shooting everyone I’d mentioned in it. The truth is, almost everyone mentioned here is already visible on Social Media but – I decided not to take the risk. And so I changed all the names.
Part 1: Arriving in Ukraine in a van
Karl, our lady in Reading an the author (and Karl’s faithful van).
Polish road signs showing the country’s support and solidarity with Ukraine.
Seeing our number plate, a man asked us if we would carry the man sat on the Armco barrier across the Polish/Ukraine border (photo taken 12-Mar-22). “He’s a British soldier, came to fight” the man said. We had no space but this soldier almost certainly ended up at the Yavoriv military base. The next night that base was hit by 30 cruise missiles – over 60 Ukrainian soldiers and up to 180 foreign volunteers were killed. Three days earlier the BBC reported that a 19 year old Coldstream Guard had gone AWOL and was believed to be heading for Ukraine. This is possibly the last photo of him.
My name is Titus and recently I made 7 trips across the Ukrainian border carrying aid. The first two trips were with a mate, Karl, in his van. We didn’t know it at the time but, along with toiletries and rucksacks and medicines, we carried pre-programmed laptops for Special Forces based around Kyiv – and, of course, a myriad of things specific to women and children. I should mention that before we set off, I went on Facebook and asked if any of my Facebook chums fancied chipping-in for the petrol. I thought it would be cool if I got, say, a hundred quid… but, over the next couple of months or so they gave me £10,000. Initially, we drove from Reading (10/03/22) to the Ukrainian border in a fairly direct route. My Facebook money paid for the ferry and a couple of cheap hotels but what I remember most about this trip was as we came closer to the Ukrainian border all the ‘normal’ traffic had disappeared…
The number-plates of the vehicles around us started to tell a powerful story. Spanish, Polish, Swiss and German (etc, etc), vans (some with red crosses on their bodywork) full of boxes. Almost the Spirit of Dunkirk. Europeans heading out into the unknown to try and help. I still get a lump in my throat remembering it all.
But arrival at the (Krakovets) border (12/03/22) brought us back to reality with a thump. There was a fair queue on the Polish side which actually didn’t take as long as it looked like it might…
As we progressed, there were queues of people, quite orderly but – a lot of people – a lot of refugees. I didn’t think being caught taking photographs was probably a very good idea so I snapped a couple of surreptitious ones – but they don’t really capture the atmosphere. Both Karl and I were quite shocked. I can’t think of words to explain our emotions better. There were endless coaches queued up – full of people.
… but, in contrast, the Ukrainian side was a cacophony of border guards who seemed not to know what was going on – nor how to deal with it all (all the non-Ukrainian speakers, foreign vehicles, cargos packed beyond any reasonable efforts to examine them – and a building impatience). It all starts, the Ukrainian side, with us being issued with a little square of paper, then you dump your vehicle and fight through the throng to try and get seen by Passport Control – and then customs. Passport Control is fairly simple but the customs ladies didn’t seem to understand anything and kept directing us to other customs points in alternative lanes – identical customs points!
Then we met some young Germans (with a van full of bandages) who had already been misdirected back and forth around the border area for, unbelievably, some nine hours – but immediately after Karl and I had joined forces with these young Germans we were directed from one customs point to the one opposite – who directed us straight back to the first – and I promptly lost my temper – and I started shouting at the poor young customs girl. This could have gone one of two ways but a man suddenly appeared from the gloom of the back of the customs hut and in acceptable English explained that we had a form to fill in – and he even gave us the form! And then, quite quickly, we (and the Germans) were processed, our little squares of paper were correctly stamped – and we were out the other side. Back in the UK we’d been told that border personnel were expecting us – and a corridor had been generated to allow us straight through – ha ha. So what we’d faced was very different to what we’d been led to believe!
It then transpired that our Ukrainian contact details were completely irrelevant, our main contact (Olek) wasn’t in Lviv (as we’d been told) but some 120 miles south-east in Ivano-Frankivsk. However, we phoned him and he gave us a number in Lviv – so we now drove the 40 miles west. I think, as we set off, Karl and I sort of looked at each other. We were, for us, truly entering the unknown.
Queuing commences for the Polish side.
This is the Polish side… but within yards of the actual border…
Heartbreak through a coach window.
While hanging around a petrol station for hours on end, waiting for a phone call to hear if the Anglo/Dutch team had managed to cross the border, we welcomed the arrival of this beautiful Jawa 350 kind’ made it all worthwhile.
There’d been talk of Russian ‘hit squads’ crossing the western border and targeting aid carriers. We were now officially in a war zone, it was dark and I think we were both expecting Russian missiles to start crashing in around us at any moment! Was that car in front of us Ukrainian or Russian? But Karl is a big, strong lad and I’m stupid enough – if anything scary turned up – we’d have fought to the death! But it was all fine and, in short time, our new contact in Lviv, a chap called Vladislav, came out and found us at a junction – and we followed him home. Turned out Vladislav, also a member of the military reserve, had quite an aid organisation he’d set up and was part of an unusual group. The lady, Anastasia, in Reading, who had organised our original cargo was a scientist and we now learned that not only was Vladislav a world leading expert in LASERs but our contact in Ivano-Frankivsk was head of the physics department at the local university there!
Karl and I were given sofas to sleep on and Karl (who by day is a skilled builder) made me laugh when he pointed out that the one he’d chosen was under a beam which, if we got missiled, would probably be the last thing to collapse! Then, in the morning, after unloading our van, Vladislav asked if we could liaise with an Anglo-Dutch team who had a cargo for him but were having problems crossing the border. So, after half a day of hanging around an Okko petrol station – and general inaccurate information, we found ourselves crossing into Poland in the dark via Shehyni – and behind a German VW Caddy with an ‘Animal Rescue Unit’ sign in their rear window.
So Karl wandered over with €100 for them and came back saying the van was just stuffed with animal travel-cages full of dogs and cats. Clearing the border (which was operating more smoothly than the Krakovets one), we met up with a member of the Anglo-Dutch team and were taken a half hour drive to a large farm building (with a small Ursus tractor and other such stuff in it – and, nearer the big double doors, a mountain of aid items) where we loaded their cargo of toiletries and food and sugar and baby milk (and all sorts) into our van – but then we had to spend the night in Poland – and all the hotels near the border were full of refugees – thus we were taken about a sixty miles west (to Łańcut) to find lodgings. As for the Anglo-Dutch team not being able to cross the border; the deal is that crossing is quite simple (once you know about that form which must be filled in) – provided you have your vehicle papers and passport (and the owner of the vehicle is present). Strangely, a lot of people forgot their vehicle papers and the Anglo-Dutch team had hire vehicles – so the only proof they had that they might have any rights to the vehicles they were in – were Visa receipts! And, indeed, that night in Poland I met another team, British, who had come over in a convoy of about four big pick-up trucks full of relevant stuff – but no one had thought to bring the V5s – and so they had also been turned back. As time passed, I learned that Vladislav was quite an important guy and shortly after our first arrival he had been part of a team lobbying the border authorities to make it easier for aid carriers to get through and, on about my third or fourth entry, not only was that form discontinued but the whole entry procedure became much more relaxed.
I was chatting to one of the Anglo-Dutch team and he said he was staying in a Polish refugee camp somewhere – and he said to me, “We have people there who have no idea where they are going to go. And I mean NO idea…”
The day after this (14/03/22), Karl and I took a cargo down through stunning countryside to Ivano-Frankivsk where we met Olek and his beautiful family – and his students unloaded our van. Olek’s wife made us some lovely food and their two young daughters were a joy. But they (wife and children) are planning to flee to Portugal, obviously leaving poor Olek behind. “What’s the education like in Portugal?” Olek’s wife asked me and I was forced to admit that I knew absolutely nothing about the Portuguese educational system! But it made me laugh; an academic fleeing war, unwillingly abandoning her husband, maybe about to lose everything – but all she is worried about is the education of their children. Of course she is worried about more than that and ‘made me laugh’ is a figure of speech.
And then, when we got back to Lviv, Karl said he had to go home. I thought about this for a while – and then I said I’d stay. More money was coming in from my Facebook chums and I reckoned I could use it more wisely if I remained on scene. But I stood there with mixed emotions as I watched Karl drive away.
I assisted with local movements of aid around Lviv (as a sort of driver’s mate) but (18/03/22) a few days after Karl had gone, I was lying on my bed (ex-Karl’s sofa – under the beam!) looking at my watch, it was approx 0600, when there were three enormous explosions as (apparently) four cruise missiles hit a Mig repair plant at the airport, 1.13 miles from us. We were all quite shaken after this incident and from then on we started going down into the cellar during the numerous air raid warnings (we could hear the air-raid sirens but we also had apps on our phones). Here it is translated by my Google translation app…
As the explosions tore through the air I leapt from my bed and looked to the three other people in the house. Natasha emerged from her room in a stunning disarray of underwear and copper coloured hair while Vladislav woke up and said, “What was that?” like maybe someone had dropped something unimportant in the kitchen – while Estas went to headless chicken stations. There is a large table near the entrance which looks like, for the last hundred years, every time anyone has walked past this table – they’ve dumped something on it. And now Estas was hurling junk from the tabletop around the house like a madman. Turns out, there was a fire extinguisher under the table that he was after! The silence and, if you like, the immediate return to normality after such an experience is almost unnerving. Estas stood there with his fire extinguisher, Natasha and Vladislav still trying to catch up with what exactly had happened (Vladislav was probably thinking about LASERs). Initially, I just stood there wondering if another missile would suddenly plough into our house, vaporising us all – and then I went and put the kettle on. And then it dawned on me, we ought to go and have a look outside! Outside, everything was normal except over to our right was an incongruous plume of piebald smoke slowly rising above the thin strip of sunrise orange.
At the request of the group in Lviv, I bought them a €2,000 van (which Vladislav arranged Polish professors in Poland to purchase). Actually, he threw one arm in the air and shouted gloriously, “I shall get the Polish professors to buy it!” and when I said, “For goodness sake don’t allow an academic to buy a vehicle…” he simply laughed at me. Later the same day as the cruise-missile strike, 18/03/22, I travelled out of Ukraine, back through Krakovets…
Karl and I had witnessed some pretty upsetting sights at this border and my trip on foot wasn’t any better. You see groups of women and children (frequently with dogs) approaching the border dragging those granny type shopping trolleys… it is often obvious how the adults are working to keep the children’s spirits up. Sometimes cars pull up near the border; everyone gets out, there are hugs and then the man gets back into his car and drives away. Males between the age of 18 and 60 aren’t allowed to leave Ukraine.
News reports are a bit conflicting but Googling missiles for this date suggests that a number of missiles came in that Monday and as well as a number of seriously injured, up to about 7 people were killed in the Lviv area that day.
Down in the cellar during an air raid warning.
Natasha, Vladislav and Estas – whatever they are called, they are responsible for many tons of aid reaching people and places who were in desperate need. Real unsung heroes.
En route I passed around 25 pairs of crutches someone had hung on the fence.
Then I had to catch a refugee bus, which was quite an experience. You see, I’d been given a complex set of instructions as to which bus I was to catch and, I can safely say, I hadn’t understood a single word of it. Initially, it had been said that a Polish professor would pick me up at the border but, it makes sense, the border, with thousands of refugees flowing through it, isn’t really geared up for people dropping and collecting other people, willy-nilly. So, I had been told to walk through the Ukrainian side, into Poland – and catch a bus. Sounds simple but somewhere in the Polish to Ukrainian to English translation it had got some knots in it! Waving goodbye to Vladislav at the border, I set off – working on the theory that something would probably ping out of the ether and help me! I hadn’t bothered telling Vladislav that I had no idea what he was talking about because I was pretty certain any further explanations would make it all worse. The Ukrainian side was okay; I queued with everyone else, some people were clearly upset, some were laughing. Some had small dogs sticking out of rucksacks, children looked at each other (sometimes making friends), a lady ambled through this slowl-moving crowd giving out chocolates – and there were free drinks and simple food. I tried to give the food lady €20 but she seemed quite snotty and refused it. I didn’t really understand this but I tried the same thing on the Polish side and she refused the money too, but she was quite friendly and simply said they weren’t allowed to accept donations.
Refugees on the bus.
Our beautiful, if slightly knackered, Peugeot Boxer van.
Having cleared the Ukrainian side one enters Poland and groups of firemen were there to help those that needed help. They carried luggage and talked to the children and did all those things that bring a lump to your throat. And then we all filed into a huge red tent which would protect as many people as possible if it rained. But I remembered this section from when Karl and I first came through. It had been absolutely packed with refugees and we’d been quite shocked. Funny to think that I was now a part of it. Still, all for a good cause. The Polish side is straight-forward so, in short time, I now needed to work out what an earth they’d been talking about re the bus… But, fortunately, and quite quickly, I spotted a Polish military officer. “Do you speak English?” I asked him, hopefully. And he did – so I phoned my Polish professor contact and, Hurrah!, the Polish officer understood exactly what I was supposed to do – and, literally one minute later, I was on the correct bus. The Polish officer understood that I wasn’t the brightest star in the firmament so he simply said, “Sit there until the bus stops again – and then get off…” I thanked him profusely and did exactly that.
This bus wasn’t too bad (by this I mean than on a future occasion, when I was again on this bus, there were some heart-rendering emotional breakdowns which I will never forget – for the rest of my life) and it dropped me about four miles west of the border at a tremendous refugee reception centre (which might have previously been the ‘trade and storage centre’ called Hala Kijowska in Mlyny).
However, I didn’t get to see this refugee centre this visit because, waiting for me as I stepped down, was a man whose name I thought I had embarrassingly forgotten (but now I’m sure it is Wojciech S – and he is a lecturer of electrochemistry!) – and we immediately drove a hundred and fifty miles to an industrial area of Kraków where my new van awaited. En route we chatted. Turned out his wife had cats and he had a Moto Guzzi! Then he stuffed me in my 2002 Peugeot Boxer 2.8 diesel van (which I hadn’t paid for yet!). I put over €100 of Diesel in it and then, having synchronised satnavs, I drove it another sixty-five miles to the Silesian University of Technology in Gliwice. Here, while his students filled the van, I went on-line and paid for it (well, really that was my Facebook chums!).
The first 48 items (of 167) I carried from the university. Gives you an idea of the sort of stuff that aid people are bringing in.
Heading back toward Lviv, the van had certainly lived and the ignition key (the only key) only operated the driver’s door and I also discovered that the fuel tank leaked if you filled it over half full. But anyway, I pulled in at Tarnów, just over a hundred miles from the border, looking for a hotel… Now I’ve had a number of rows with hotels and campsites over the last (Ukrainian) period. To start with, most of them want and arm and a leg in exchange for bed and then everything in them shuts early. So, at the place I found in Tarnów, Hotel Kardamon, which was advertising itself as a hotel/restaurant, the restaurant shut at 2100 – which was exactly when I arrived. “Can’t you make me a sandwich?” I asked hopefully (and politely) but from their response you’d think I’d attempted to have unnatural sex with their statue of the Madonna. And then they pulled the ‘can’t speak English’ trick. Now, I’ve stayed at that hotel a number of times since this first visit (and I quite like the place now) – and they speak English fine! So… returning to this first visit en route from Gliwice to Lviv, I asked where I might get something to eat – anything to eat – and they (in their not-English) recommended a pizza place in town, which said it delivered. So the girl behind the bar/reception-desk phoned the pizza place for me – and discovered they now no longer deliver. Just great, isn’t it! Anyway, the pizza place said they closed at 2200 so I jumped back into the van and, it was hard to find, but I found the place before 2130 – and in I went. And, after denying they spoke any English either, they told me they were shut. I had a slight sense of humour failure (you could probably hear the explosion back in the UK) but I showed them their time table that clearly stated 2200, I pointed out quite loudly that we’d phoned them only a few minutes earlier and then, working on the theory that if they couldn’t speak English, they might be able to read it – I wrote them the following note!
This note, in the light of day, might seem rather childish but, hey, it worked! And I had had a long day…
The three ladies behind the counter each, obviously unable to understand a single word, read my note. Discussed between themselves – and then they made me a pizza and, if I remember correctly, they wouldn’t take any money. Back at the hotel, I sat down in my room and opened a package the Polish scientist had given me. It contained six tins of Okocim beer and, as they say, all’s well that ends well! But, going back to my row with the hotel; aren’t these organisations supposed to help a traveller. Isn’t that what hotelling is all about – surely it’s not just about money?
Arriving back in Lviv the next afternoon (19/03/22), a member of the Koyot Special Forces, who had driven across from Kyiv to collect their laptops (and all the other gear we could stuff into his car), turned up. I’ve intermingled with Special Forces all over the place and I’ve been involved more than once but I felt, under the circumstances, meeting this particular Koyot was a special privilege. And the day after this I made a second run to Ivano-Frankivsk where I was once again fed wonderful food and I was fascinated by the apparently ancient lift in Olek’s building. I believe it originated from the Republic of Belarus but it has always (for years) spoken in Russian. However, shortly after the Russian invasion, engineers arrived and changed all its messages to Ukrainian!
For the next couple of days I helped loading and unloading vehicles. I met all sorts of people who were fearlessly making exceedingly risky runs into scary parts of Ukraine. Vladislav and I visited relevant stores trying to buy warm military-equipment but everything was of poor quality and I was quite disgusted that none of the shops would offer me any discount. Vladislav and I bought some limited kit from a sort of paintballers shop called Scout Tactical but I wasn’t very impressed with much of the kit – and they were out of most stuff anyway.
What did shock me slightly there were the couples wandering about with the girls seeming to be saying things like, “Ooh, that’s a nice knife; you should get one of those…” and looking admiringly at their boyfriends who were buying cheap Chinese compasses and torches and all sorts of stuff that was just emptying their wallets. But I suppose they were all entitled to these moments; feeling the thrill of patriotism and of love and of togetherness… So Vladislav and I went home; I bought €1,000 worth of food for the city of Mariupol – but now besieged by Russian forces it was impossible to get the food in. Then, out of the blue, the mayor of the city of Poltava phoned Vladislav saying they were desperate for food, so it was quickly dispatched to Poltava. Vladislav has no idea how the Mayor of Poltava knew to phone him, let alone got his number. I filled up everyone’s cars with fuel, bought them (the aid team) a pile of food and on the 22nd of March I got Vladislav to drop me back at Krakovets. I’d done good justice to the money from my Facebook chums but more was still trickling in – and I was developing a plan. But I had to get back to England first.
I was now an expert at getting through the borders and they’d also seemed to have relaxed a bit but my second trip on the refugee bus was considerably more distressing than the first because there was a child who just screamed and screamed. His mother was in a similar state and completely unable to do anything for the boy and she also had a second, younger, child to tend to. Everyone wanted to help but neither the child nor his mother were consolable and, bearing in mind that most of the other people on the bus were also fairly traumatised… what can I say. I wanted to hug them, tell them it was all going to be okay… but you can’t. It doesn’t work like that. I think I’m crying writing this…
We bought €1,000 worth of food – doesn’t look like much! It ended up going to Poltava.
Previously, I hadn’t entered the refugee reception centre but now I went in. There were countless food stalls (everything free) operated by countries from around the globe, even Japan, but, I noticed, no representation from the UK. I was offered food a number of times but, even though I was hungry, I felt it would be terrible of me to take any – so I didn’t. There was a map of Poland taped to a pillar and showing the main Polish towns and cities. Below, in a number of languages, it said, ‘Pick a town and get on a bus – when you arrive there, people will help you’. I took a photo of the poster and immediately two armed security guards leapt on me – furious. They grabbed my camera and made me delete the photo… and, to be honest, left me a bit mystified.
Numerous camp-beds, many almost randomly scattered around the place, many occupied by really exhausted people. People who, surrounded by excited children and frightened adults – surrounded by authority issuing instructions and announcing bus departures. Surrounded by people spotting friends, crying – a jabbering cacophony. These people slept through it all. I managed to identify a bus running to a nearby railway station, called Radymno, and I noted that the poor mother and children so distressed on the previous bus were also getting on this one. So I tried to stick with them. At the railway station, I carried their luggage from the main building to the platform. I confirmed train times and got water for the children. But there were quite a few other mothers and children and they were working together now – and this, I think, helped. There were also Polish firemen around the station who were carrying luggage and children – and getting train times – and generally making their brigades proud. I didn’t mention (actually I added it later!) but many of the meeters and greeters the Polish side of the border were also firemen. On the train itself, travel was free for those with Ukrainian IDs (so I had to pay!) and opposite me were a quite young Ukrainian couple. Turns out the guy had been abroad, on holiday, when the Russians invaded – and he’d had the sense not to go back. He’d come today to the refugee reception centre to meet his girlfriend but now, of course, he was reaping the benefits Europe was offering those of his nation. In a way, I feel a bit ashamed, but something of his attitude stuck in my craw…
Overall, everything I saw in Poland, re the refugees, was absolutely awe inspiring. Well done Poland.
I spent that evening in Kraków drinking beer, mostly in a brilliant pub recommended by my Belgian policeman friend, Jörg Molleman, called Pub Propaganda, which had great atmosphere and even better beer. And then just like that, I was at Heathrow – and home.
So, that’s the background. Now we reach the part you are all waiting for. Aid runs to Ukraine on a motorcycle!
Titus Drummond
First published in Slipstream November / December 2022
One morning in the summer of 1970 I was head-down at my university’s Air Squadron, boning up on the DeHavilland Chipmunk (the RAF’s basic trainer), preparing for an exam on airframes or some other mission critical subject. A fellow student pilot burst into the room. “You’ve got to come outside and look at this!” I soon joined a small throng of young men ogling a Norton Dominator (650cc), its owner beaming proudly. Obsessed with motorcycles since a teenager, I asked for a ride. “Sure,” replied the owner. “Hop on”. And hop on I did, to be treated to the ride of my life. He kicked the machine into a roar and blasted down the cul-de-sac that was Chaucer Road. He slammed on the brakes, turned, and raced back.
I was smitten. Never had I accelerated or braked so fast. As a thrill, it came very close to beating the eight turn spins we were practising in the Chipmunk. This was a must-have! I faced a couple of problems. I had just failed my motorcycle test on a friend’s Bantam 125. The clutch seized as I arrived at the test location. Explaining this to my examiner, he gave the bike a cursory once over, deemed it fit to go and went on to fail me for improper control of the machine.
My mother lived in Mauritius at that time. So, over the holidays, undeterred, I borrowed my brother’s Velocette 350cc Viper. On a Mauritian provisional licence, I thumped and thudded around the island’s roads for a bit before turning up for the test. A police inspector arrived, admired the bike, told me to do a tour of the car park and gave me my licence. I traded that in for an International Driver’s Licence and was good to go.
Norton Commando 750 MkII. KYO 192K in all its glory. Photo: Cambridge Backs, Autumn 1973.
The day I picked it up from the south London dealership remains clear in my mind, even though it was some 50 years ago. I was told how to start it, engage gear etc. and thus prepared, set off in trepidation. It was terrifying. I was totally incompetent and out of my depth. Within a couple of miles, the bike stuttered to a halt. I managed to park up on a traffic island in the middle of the road and discovered it had run out of fuel. (Let a dealer try that one on a customer today!). Luckily, I remembered there was a reserve, so I turned the tap and mercifully it thundered into life after a few vigorous kicks (on the kick starter, for those of you who don’t know of these things).
I headed out to Hertfordshire where my good friend François lived. We hatched a plan to go touring the following summer, and he set about finding a bike of his own. Back at university I decided to do a 200 mile ride to help run in the machine. The engine was amazingly tight. I came back from that ride with my kidneys turned to marmalade, so hard was the seat. It clearly needed running in as well.
Gradually my confidence grew, and the panic attacks subsided. The university did not allow students to have motor vehicles, but I needed to get out to the airfield to fly and was given a special permit. I would rock up for my flight (we called them sorties), park outside the hangar, check out my Chipmunk, pole around the sky, before belting back to my college on my yellow machine – Maverick style. I used my cream calf-leather flying gloves for riding, as well as my flying boots. I even managed to find a small space to park the Norton in the Fellows’ garage in the forecourt. My beautiful girlfriend, later my wife, happily perched on the back. My mum even knitted me a lovely yellow scarf to match! I bought a Bell Star full face helmet (quite avant-garde at the time) and had painted on the front: “In the event of accident, do not remove”. I mean, how daft can you get? But I really felt I was living the part. I loved that bike.
A few weeks before François and I set out on our Continental Tour, I decided to show off the Norton at my old school. I passed by a dealership on the way, somewhere like Northampton, I think. The dealer chatted about the Norton’s superior handling. “If ever you’re in trouble round a bend, just crank it over,” he said. “The bike will take it.” Heard that one before? Sure enough, a little while later I was hammering too fast into a right-hander. The wise words ringing in my ear, I leaned the bike harder and hit gravel. The bike went one way. I followed. My flight time was probably quite short, but I had only the one thought while airborne: “What-on-earth-am-I-going-to-say-to-my-Dad?” Bang! I hit the deck, dislodging an enormous paving stone with my left shoulder, thumping my head and scraping my flying glove to within a thousandth of an inch from my skin.
I phoned François with the news. Brilliant friend that he is, he soon arrived with his mini van into which we heaved the sorry bike. Sometime later I got it to Norton at Andover. It might have been the factory. Given the urgency they rebuilt what they could, and François and I were good to go for the trip…sort of.
Next time: François and I head for France, and more gravel…
I thoroughly enjoyed meeting and chatting to members from TVAM in one place that was not just for the morning as we do at St. Crispins. The ride to and from Wales with Alan and Ray leading the pack and with Brian and Sid as the back markers was an incredible experience. To top it off, the ride on the Saturday organised and run by Ian and Louise with Cheryl as back marker was something I will never forget, the route and the views were in equal measure, absolutely stunning! I am very much looking forward to the next event.
Following trips to the Sahara and through the countries at the side of the Adriatic to Athens, where could we go? Back in 2019 we cooked up a plan to go to the Himalayas in 2020. This would be a bit different, in that an organised tour seemed wise after self-organised trips elsewhere.
We settled on a company called Ride Expeditions. They were fantastic, with four members of staff and a support vehicle on the trip and great communication in the COVID years. It seems wimpy in some ways but was great. Bags taken to rooms (or tents), water and snacks provided at breaks, meals and tea stops laid on, bikes mysteriously filled with fuel overnight; and no luggage to carry on the bikes except the day’s water and waterproofs. In emergency you could ride in the support vehicle, all very re-assuring. Really nice people too.
The bikes were Royal Enfields, pretty well compulsory in India for all but urban journeys. This trip was to be on 35% unpaved/65% paved roads, 1410 km. The trip is only possible from mid-July to mid-September between the monsoon season and snow. Leh, a city of 180,000 at the north end of the trip is cut off from the world except by air for six months each year. This is epic stuff.
The group met in Delhi, 11 intrepid adventurers, all riders, no pillions: four from a family, two sisters, three individual travellers (one aged 72) my mate Nigel (Dorset IAM) and me. Broadly half the group had off-road experience and half not. We, from the on-road only contingent, were told we should do some off-road training, be confident to stand for significant distances and know how to instinctively avoid two lorries coming round a blind corner side-by-side. We had one day’s training in Dorset four months before the trip…not enough! Two days seemed to work for other mainly road riders.
After a night amongst the chaos enjoyed by the 29 million Delhi residents, taxis took us to Shimla, the old Empire summer seat of government, where we picked up the Royal Enfield Scramblers, then headed north over eight days or so not far from the Chinese and Pakistan borders.
The Himalayas are immense. Wikipedia runs out of “highest mountains in the world” at number 108 and they are all in the Himalayas and associated ranges, like the Hindu Kush and Karakoram. They feel it too. There really are no words or photos that can do it justice. You just drive along in a state of constant breath-taking amazement.
India is a shock to the system. The people are great and welcoming and talk to strangers and try to help. On the other hand the country has great contrasts of wealth with families sleeping on the streets of Delhi alongside swanky western- style hotels. The driving is extraordinary. It’s very rare to see indicators being used, only horns. The use of horns is not an act of aggression, just a reasonable request to move over to allow overtaking. The outcome is an accident rate six times the world average measured against vehicle ownership. We saw loads of accidents and vehicles at the bottom of ravines, despite frequent road safety signs.
Driving advice on the back of a lorry.
It is a scruffy country needing lots of painting and rubbish collection, clearing dumped rubbish from the edges of towns. The dump in Delhi is like a vision of Hell. Whether you like this earthiness and humanity is your choice!
The bikes were great. Didn’t miss a beat and no complaints about the 25hp, less at altitude. Quite easy to pick up when dropped too. It was great riding along with 13 others, including Ride Expeditions run leader and back markers. The enthusiasm was infectious and fantastically supportive.
There are cows in the road, even settled in the fast lane of new dual carriageways, with cars and bikes going the wrong way down dual carriageways if it suits them. Apparently, like in the UK, you are supposed to use the left hand lane on a dual carriageway, but no-one much does.
The IAM emphasis on early anticipation of hazards is vital here, though nothing else we’ve learnt is! One thing the IAM does better is the Marker system. Not much marking to do because of the deep valleys but we had a couple of people going the wrong way, including me doing a private trip up a mountain to an Indian Army base. In one case because one of the group marked more for artistic impact than clarity, we had a dark evening trip down an unmade 15km diversion on day 2. Fairly scary, but we all made it.
In the Himalayas, nature is in charge. Landslips take away significant sections of road. The solution; bulldoze a temporary route through sand, streams, rocks and cross-country. Road building and improvement is carried out in the same way.
We went over four passes at a height of over 5,000m. The top of Ben Nevis is 1,345m. For over a week we were above the altitude sickness risk height of 3,000m. You do have to move about quite carefully but no-one really suffered worse side effects.
The first part of the ride is through heavily vegetated mountains within reach of annual monsoons, the northern part is through stark, unvegetated dramatic scenery with rapidly flowing huge rivers including the Indus flowing to Pakistan and doing immense damage.
The northern part is mainly Buddhist with lots of stupa (prayer towers) temples and monasteries adding to the atmosphere.
The area is highly militarised with threats from China and Pakistan. There are lots of barracks and massive 50-lorry military vehicle convoys slowly grinding over single track, sometimes unmade, passes.
Aclosed road meant a diversion down a track for about 15km in the dark.
As always, some of the pleasures were social, eating and drinking beer. The whole disparate group got on great and one or two are talking about doing the same trip next year. We stayed in a range of hotels, from basic (but fine) to quite smart and four nights under canvas: one rudimentary (and freezing), one pretty good yurt and the other luxurious Scandi style tents in magical hotel grounds. Lots of curry of course until you become an expert at avoiding three curries a day by about day 8!
Khardung La, often quoted as the highest motorable pass in the world at 5,359m.
So the best bits: the extraordinary scenery, the challenge of riding through streams, sand, mud and rocky tracks, whilst not hitting other road users, and the camaraderie. The weather helped too; no rain and a nice riding temperature.
We all got back safely except for one broken toe and sprained ankle, hitting a protruding rock. We are now all trying to come down from this amazing two weeks.
If you’ve any inkling to do this trip, just book now, whether in a group or by yourself. Its only weakness is, what do you do next?
Well anyone under 5’6” will probably recognise this – you sit on a prospective new bike and it feels great but you can only get the ball of one foot on the ground or not at all. Made worse when your height is in your upper body with legs that are proportionately shorter, making riding a motorcycle just a little challenging. I prefer bikes with a fairing which also tends to make them higher. Taller riders have probably no clue what I am talking about.
Not that riding the motorcycle is the problem. In fact, riding the motorcycle, any motorcycle, is great fun and usually easy when on the move. No – it’s more when you are stopping or doing under 2mph coming to a halt or moving the bike around that it becomes a problem. When coming to a standstill one is looking for a flat piece of tarmac with no indentations, no slope of any description, no gravel, as that is not great either and don’t complicate things with uphill traffic lights, slight slopes and cars cutting in front of you – especially in London, or Tours or mad Italians in Florence.
Yes – been there done that, and it causes issues, but that’s not where you drop the bike – no it tends to be just moving it around outside your bike shop, in a gravel car park, parking up in a grass field or just manoeuvering backwards and the ball of your foot slips away whilst pushing back. Then there are those clever little indentations in the tarmac that hide themselves and become all too apparent when you place your already stretched foot into them.
Dropping bikes has always been a bit of a habit. I have owned a couple of Honda VFR 750’s and a series of VFR 800fi’s. They were almost perfect, a little high but I rarely had an issue even when fully laden plus pillion. Now of course, there were exceptions to my perfect stopping or even starting – like when I jumped back onto my VFR outside the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The name should have given me a clue, but fired up into gear with a big throttle, off we go and bang, yep you guessed it, front disc lock was not going anywhere and because I was on a mission and lent over, the bike went straight down! Of course certain members of the group, namely Andy Wedge and Richard Tickner were on the floor crying with laughter. I was fuming and because this was so hilarious no-one came to help me get the bike up. That was 20 years ago but I still get reminded of this on a frequent basis even now.
From the VFR800’s I moved onto BMW K1200S’s and K1300S’s each with a lowered seat and just about got away with it most of the time, but they were heavy so when stopping, the bike needs to be fairly vertical and if it starts to go you won’t stop it.
Moving on I chose 2 x BMW S1000XR’s, which are basically an upright sports bike and probably the easiest motorcycle I have ever ridden, with great power delivery and precise handling. However even with factory lowered suspension and lowered seats, they were still a challenge every time I came to a stop. And do not press the electronic suspension button for the pillion load under any circumstances, as it automatically raises the bike by 25mm which is an extremely bad idea when already at full stretch!
In fact, the only bike I have never dropped, and that’s sure to change now I mention it, is my current little Yamaha XJ6 Diversion which I bought so I could easily commute into London for work without the worry of trains and tube with Covid 19. This is low with an 800mm seat height, and I am able to stamp a foot on the ground when some idiot decides to pull out in front in a white van or 4×4. With 75bhp it is only just about enough (and a lot less than the 160bhp of the XR), so on the open road it tends to live in the 10-12,000rpm range to get the best from it.
Motorcycle design is generally going in the wrong direction for me, they are getting bigger, higher, heavier – sadly not what I require at all. Ideally something lighter, less tall, more manageable and generally fun would fit the bill. So that’s most of KTM’s out, then all the Honda range have gone higher, so have most Suzuki, Yamaha and Kawasaki’s. All due to the ever-increasing demand for the adventure/upright market for old buggers that get aches/pains and can no longer fit on a proper Sports bike.
Even the new version of my beloved old VFR800 now has a greater seat height and at 260kg carries a further 30kg. “Why?” I asked the Honda salesman? ”Ah well, it’s due to the technology,” he replied. Well apply that technology in a practical way to achieve a lighter machine! I do understand cleaner emissions equals weight gain, but 30kg?
Now of course there have been many suggestions by my friends (micky take) as to how I should overcome this shortness of leg problem: The sensible one being to ride a Custom bike – Harley’s – Cruisers, Retro’s – sorry but just not my thing; others tell me to go back to a 125cc, keep practicing at slow speed /or attach 2 x 6” pieces of timber to my boots; then of course there are the automatic outriggers that come down when stopping; plus – the real classic – to carry two kerb stones around with me and chuck them either side of the bike when stopping to put my feet on! Yes – I have heard them all and they are very amusing but they don’t solve the problem.
So – what am I to ride now Covid has ended, and I want a few more horses? Well, I have never owned a Ducati because they used to break down all the time, so maybe a modern, hopefully reliable, SuperSport 950 with suspension lowering kit may be an idea?
Then there is the new Aprilia 660 with side fairings but needs a decent screen so that’s a possible, but what about spares? If not, I may have to keep my eye out for a pristine Yr 2000 VFR800fi, though it does not have ABS which is one extra I have become used to.
Being short really does limit your options to very few indeed, especially if you want a fairing which I do. There are a number of smaller bikes on the market but they are usually lacking in power. The rise of the adventure style bike has made bikes taller, however it does seem that a few companies are wising up to the problem and certainly Triumph have a couple of options with their lowered Tiger 900 GT Low and the new Tiger Sport 660! The BMW F900XR with lowered suspension is also a possibility as is the Kawasaki ZZR 1400 although that is very old school and rather heavy.
There are also more customising companies advertising to lower bikes by quite a margin. So I think I will next try the MV Agusta Turismo Veloce – a beautiful machine which is relatively light, but unfortunately has an 875mm seat height which means lowering by 75mm, or 3 inches in old money. So here is the dilemma – spend £17k on a new bike and then another £2k having it lowered before you can even sit on and ride it. And I may not even like it!
Yes, riding a motorcycle and being shorter, is a challenge but what’s life without a challenge. Good hunting and if you know of other good options with about 110bhp please let me know.
The Training Team recently placed an article in Slipstream offering TVAM members the opportunity to have an Advanced Plus Ride with Nigel Taylor, a long-standing member and National Observer, in his backyard – Yorkshire, now his home once more.
As soon as I read this, I fired off a quick email to register my interest, and it wasn’t long before we were working out a date. Nigel was more than happy to accommodate one or two riders so Nina and I were booked in for late July. We decided that going all that way for just one day would be such a shame. Nigel kindly made one or two suggestions for hotels and we managed to secure a room at The Fleece Inn (through Bookings.com). He offered to plan 2 days riding – the 1st day in the Yorkshire Moors and the 2nd day in the Yorkshire Dales, he even shared a route for getting up there.
Slowly but surely the days were ticked off our calendar and before we knew it the weekend had arrived, and it was time to leave. We had a good ride up, avoiding motorways, and enjoying some nice stops along the way. Arriving at The Fleece Inn was easy, it’s the only pub in the village! Our room was on the ground floor in an adjacent building with tarmac parking outside for our bikes – perfect. The owners were very friendly and accommodating, offering breakfast when it suits. The food was excellent and the pub got busy but not bustling.
Nigel kindly met us at our accommodation the following morning, we then had a chat about expectations, riding concerns, areas for development etc. Nigel gave us a few do’s and don’ts and outlined what he expected from us, speed limits, IAM standards, ride for yourself etc. Then we headed out towards the moors.
Some of the things I can remember from our 2 days were as follows:
Day 1 – North Yorkshire Moors
The Helmsley TT – B1257 – 19 miles of pure motorbike heaven
The Heartbeat village at Goathland
Whitby, including a look across at Dracula’s Castle
Scarborough, including a loop of the public road/racetrack oliversmount.com
Day 2 – Yorkshire Dales
Buttertups Pass
A ride through Swale Dale – made famous on “Our Yorkshire Farm”
Grassington village – now used for “All Creatures Great and Small”
There were many, many more, but I shall leave Nigel to show you. He clearly put some considerable time and effort into making the weekend tailor-made for us. The riding was excellent fun, the routes were a great mix of twisty and open roads, back lanes and beautiful sweepers. The stops were well spaced and the cafés offered very tasty food and the views were spectacular! His knowledge of the area is astonishing, and this just added to the experience. We wouldn’t have changed a thing, except maybe the rain on Sunday morning – but as he said, if it’s not raining, it’s not training.
If you’re looking to brush up on your riding skills and have a few days holiday spare then I strongly recommend a trip to Yorkshire. Get in touch with the Training Team and request a ride with Nigel – you won’t be disappointed. Our total distance travelled, door to door, was 927 miles – not too bad for a 4-day weekend.
A return to Yorkshire is now firmly on our holiday destination list.
24 bikes and riders, (should have been 25 but one illness on the day) + 4 pillions. 205 miles from start to finish.
Below are the thoughts of some of those who attended what was a great day’s riding.
6.06am – yes, A.M. Too bloody early really. On the bike and heading from Woking to Chieveley to meet up with the Isle of Wight (IoW) run led by Keith Miller and back-marked by Allie Gane. I arrived at the services for about 6.50am – I was expecting to be there earlier than most, but it turned out that everyone had the idea of getting there early! Good idea, really.
We emptied bladders and filled up (bikes with petrol, bellies with tea) and set off at pace down the A34 to escape the dual-carriageway nastiness. Turning off after three junctions we wended our way south via Kingsclere then skirted Whitchurch and Stockbridge to meet up with others at Romsey. We again filled up with petrol and carried on towards Southampton and Red Funnel ferries.
Advice from those who’ve been on a ferry before – leave your bike in gear, and turn off any tracking devices that require the key in the ignition. Turn off alarms. I did. Good advice on all counts.
The weather was not sunny (at this point) but it was not raining either, so I felt fairly comfortable riding over the metal gangplank onto the ferry. We parked up and surrounded a Co-Op lorry – I think that the guys working the ferry must have had to put up with noisy bikers before and so like to get them off the ferry first.
The ferry crossing was smooth, and we disembarked after the Co-Op lorry – riding through Cowes we kept to the speed limits and climbed a shallow incline for about a mile, eventually giving us fabulous views off to the right. While enjoying traffic and beautifully maintained roads with lovely curves. After a filtery half a mile we turned left at the bottom of a hill towards St Helens and the east coast, cruising the coastal roads and enjoying the views. The sun was now out, making us feel like we were abroad. We reach Sandown airport for about 12:15 where Keith had lunch pre-booked.
We stayed there for a good 90 mins, enjoying the surroundings, and not having to hurry lunch at all – something that a lot of bike days could do with, I think.
After lunch we had a briefing advising us that we would be riding the purported Isle of Wight TT course. We would be riding half of Military Road one way, taking in the route and the sights, then turning straight back around and heading for the Needles. “I’ll see you there” quipped Keith.
I stayed at the back since to be honest I don’t enjoy the faster speeds that my (new) bike can do. As soon as Allie and I set off there was a siren, and we could see flashing lights behind us…uh oh – the local police were clearly on the lookout for a biker gang making a nuisance of themselves! The police car didn’t even slow down for us and sped along Military Road, making light of any traffic. “Ah well, I thought – they are REALLY in a hurry!” At which point I saw a second police car chasing the first. I (more or less) stayed to the national for that road!
On reaching the Needles Keith had booked a coach space in which we fitted all of the bikes. Brilliant idea! The normal car park is like a pitted wreck, and you need a GS to manoeuvre through it (we were told). Tom (Gray) and I found ourselves a cup of tea inside one of the cafes, then made our way to the best viewing point for the Needles – without actually walking there.
Back on the road we headed towards Newport, but then – to my mind – had the best roads of the day travelling back towards the west coast, then through some excellent minor roads, back around Brighstone, Chale Green then starting North again through Godshill. Back to the ferry at Cowes Keith had again showed planning (he had a list of all of us, our bike registrations and booking refs) so in effect all the staff had to do was ask our name and tick us off the list. We made it into the ferry queue with a good 25 mins before being loaded.
On the way back Keith had advised that once we hit the M3 he’d not be placing any more markers and that folk could peel off as required. A brilliant day’s riding – for me approximately 250 miles in all. I made it home to Woking for 20:38.
Thank you to Keith and Allie – Keith for organising so well, Allie for back marking the whole way. Awesome!
Wow – what a stand-out ride we had to the Isle of Wight. Impeccable precision organising by Keith, who was more ‘Mein Host’ than run leader, superb back marking by Allie and brilliant camaraderie among the entire group. The bar has been set incredibly high and it’s going to take a hell of a good run to beat this one.
Thanks very much for a great day out. As ever the TVAM company was good. It certainly adds something to catch a ferry, even if the IOW does look a lot like the Dorset and Hampshire coast. Maybe more of us should have gone to look at the Needles instead of enjoying an ice cream and chat! Whoever had a puncture, it was well sorted, I didn’t know anyone had one.
I wondered if anyone saw my very near miss leaving Southampton on the dual carriageway. A cyclist shot out onto the road without looking through a gap in the fencing. He saw me (unsurprising since he was only about two yards away), slowed down slightly and I missed him….just. He carried on and I was aware of car and bikes stopping behind me as his suicide mission continued. I could only think that it was drink/drugs or that he was being pursued. Presumably no-one else actually hit him. Anyhow, a great day out, assisted by the god of weather and ensured by Keith’s mapping and marking.
Thanks for a great day and well done on the organization which went like clockwork. That was the best run I have had in while and just goes to show what good planning can do. The company was very pleasant and riding standards adhered too, which just leaves the tarmac which was smooth and a joy to ride on.
An early start, 200+ miles, 2 x ferries, an island, lunch outside with live music and an ice cream in the sunshine. Home before dark – what more can you ask for? Not to mention the usual, great roads in great company – thanks Keith for a cracking day out – felt like a mini-break all in one day.
… and view from the REAR END
Forward planning – seems to be the thing that makes any ride brilliant, or not. Take Keith’s 53 points and a prayer at the briefing… no one could say he hadn’t thought of everything! Except sharing our phone numbers! Next year…
… and “lessons learnt” from last year’s run – pay £1 for parking in the coach park at the Needles so no contortions trying to park on the slopped gravel pit that is the car park! Such fun.. NOT!
On last year’s run with Keith, I was a “trainee” back marker, – madness learning to back mark on a new bike, somewhere new and home via several circuits of Southampton IN THE DARK. Now I had 10,000 miles on the wheels, a “certified” BM plus circa 20 back marker runs. I was SO looking forward to it again, and 25 bikes? Well, I was only seeing one at a time from the rear. And it so helps that everyone was of the same riding standard, and very well behaved! Made my job REALLY easy! Thanks guys!!
The run to the ferry was good fun, so many lovely familiar back roads, but maybe not the humongous tractor that decided to come out at a corner onto a narrow road, straight into the bike ahead of me, well done avoiding that young man. Then there was the road savvy horses with cart, the driver seemed so chuffed with us all slowing down to let him trot by…
The Queen Vic was parked at Southampton, that’s one boat! And of course, Keith being the font of all knowledge, new what the big orange boat was ahead of us on the water – some eco thingy. Very unusual.
Once on the Isle, I so enjoy chatting with the locals, or as was the moment, stopped whilst filtering down a hill with a parent as they were stuck in their cars, (halve your wheels, have twice the fun). Just so friendly, makes being on the IoW such a joy!
There is one problem with riding on the Isle of Wight – do I watch the road or look at the stunning scenery – every bend, rise, corner has a different vista, and with the clear blue sky, just glorious! It’s tough call. And I had to, on my third visit here, (2nd trip here with WOBMOB couple months ago) stop and take a photo at the top of the Blackgang hill (pages 12/13), and looking across the bay to the Needles… stunning (pages 14/15).
Once we left the Needles I just thought we were heading back to the boat for home… oh no… Had Keith left the best til last? So hard to quantify as it’s all just fab! But maybe it was the string of roads he put together, one set after another and just as you think “there can’t possibly be any more”, another set of fab roads!
I remembered some roads from my previous trips, others, different direction, and then there’s the scenery, have I mentioned how fab it is? Reminds me of the “Long White Cloud” aka New Zealand and maybe why I feel so at home riding on the Isle of Wight.
Can’t wait till next year… forever your back marker!
Allie Gane & Hugo
First published in Slipstream September 2022
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