England to Scotland

Saturday 1^st May 2010

So I’m off on this journey. I’m going to ride from where I’ve been living in Somerset for the last four months, up north to Scotland to stay with my brother Simon for a week or so. After chilling with ma bro and doing some final prep stuff with the bike, I’ll be riding it back down through England to Dover, where I’ll be getting the ferry across to Calais in France. Then I’m riding it further again into Switzerland and Italy and down as far as Rome itself. I’ll be coming back up along the Mediterranean coast and the Riviera’s, then winding my way up the centre of France into Paris, were I’ll be drinking and eating with a friend from Melbourne for a week who’s taken an apartment there. After Paris I’ll be visiting the Normandy beaches on my way to Cherbourg, where I’ll get the ferry back to England to work out what comes next. All told, it’s about a 4000 mile bike ride.

But the journey hasn’t actually started yet, there’s still tomorrow to get the last of myself sorted out. It’s really just my clothes, electronics and assorted bits to get packed now. I’ve decided what I’m taking and what I’m not, and I’ve pretty much done all that needs doing. But there’s always one more thing isn’t there; like Insurance that needs to get paid, and a new mobile phone to get bought and fumbled around with. See, there’s two things already without even trying.

The bike is ready enough though. Aside from a new MOT that’ll get done in Scotland, and a bit of a service that’ll get done at the same time, it’s all good to go. I’ve replaced both ignition coils, the front and rear sprockets and the chain, and the sprocket carrier bearing. I’ve scrubbed it, cleaned it, de-greased it, washed it, polished it, and sprayed it different colours. Not different from the original colours mind you, just different from each other. Black where black was needed, silver where silver was needed and yellow etc, etc. Oh, and it’s also got a new exhaust system too. Say Oo-rah gentlemen!

Sunday 2^nd May 2010

Rain, rain, rain. In typical british style the day started out cold, wet and miserable. I had a breakfast of heart-attack on toast, along with two cups of coffee and the obligatory cigarette, then it was back to packing mode. 24 hours from right then I would be hitting the road; I needed to get it on.

Before I knew, it was afternoon and I wanted to start practise-loading the bike. I’ve done this before so I knew how it went, and it don’t really take too long to do right. But after loading it all on, and then taking it all off, I emptied all the stuff out of the bags that I was taking, and went through it all again. I ditched a jumper and two T-shirts and some other bits I really didn’t need. Then I packed it all back together again and loaded it onto the bike.

I sent Lyndal a text saying in 24 hours I’d be en-route to Edinburgh, and in 28 days we’d be saying Bonjour vous on the Champs elysee. She sent me a reply reminding me that we’d be watching a pink sunset over the Seine, and sipping vin rouge and eating frommage.

That night Lee came over and we went up the Ilchester Arms for a drink. Not too sure what happened after that.

Monday 3^rd May 2010

Woke up early with a kind of apprehension…oh dear, here we go again. Made coffee, ate toast, smoked cigarettes. Went outside and looked at the bike, started bringing the luggage down.

More coffee, more cigarettes, feeling kinda anxious, kinda champin’ at the bit. Before too long I started the bike, took it out on the road, and dumped the luggage beside it.

Lee and Diane came down. Lee picked up my camera and took some shots, Diane grabbed the video and did exactly the same. Stuart the chef got home just before I was leaving. Then with handshakes and hugs all around, I jumped on the bike and rode out of town. I did find it kinda hard leaving though I gotta admit, the place has been my home for the last five months after-all. I guess I just made myself homeless.

*

Homeless is as homeless does, life’s a box of chocolates. Run Freelance, run. The first hour took me from Ilchester through Street and Glastonbury, to Bridgewater where I joined the M5 motorway that’d take me north toward Scotland. The bike felt really solid beneath me. Not cumbersome and stodgy I don’t mean, but rather, very stable and very well connected to the road. Once I hit the motorway I opened it up to cruise at about 80mph. Bristol came and went with just the slightest of glances, before I knew it I was just outside of Birmingham, and stopping for a services break. I’d done about 120 miles.

It was bleak outside in the carpark ; and the rain that came down started freezing and turning to hail. I got talking to this biker who had this black Honda Fury US import. He’d just come from a rally in Weston-super-mare where he’d won the best production bike. Mine was parked right next to it. The guy looked at my bike like it was someone’s luckless cousin. I reckon he was just jealous.

*

The road went on, and the road went on. Manchester, Liverpool, the Lakes, Carlisle, Abbington, over the source of the Clyde. Near Biggar I took a wrong turn, rode out through the Moorfoots, down into Peebles, along by the Tweed then back out through Innerliethen. I’d taken a twenty-mile Long Way Round, but it really didn’t matter. Soon I was blasting back along the A7 just five minutes from Simon’s place. All I wanted to do now was get there. I was up to 445 miles for the day, and my arse was totally numb.

*

By the time I got to Simons place the cold has frozen my thumbs into weird pointy-out things. I thawed them out with hot coffee and toast, and warm-hearted banter, and exaggerated tales of my trip thus far. Then I stepped outside with my nephew Matty, and smoked a big, fat joint.

The hour was late, the day too long, and my head was fuzzy and fizzing. I hit the sack about quarter to one, and dreamed of the road to come.