Where's Harry? Potter, I mean - he must be around somewhere. It was such a very quiet, well-behaved, tame dragon - someone must have bewitched it. You see...
Maybe I'd better start at the beginning.
The 2002 Dragon Rally took place on February 9th - 10th, at a "completely new site" which was "within walking distance of an aircraft museum" and "close to last year's". It didn't take genius to work out, then, that it would be at or close to Caernarfon Airfield, not at the site I have been to most at Capel Curig.
The preceding week was wet and blustrous, but not cold. I was taking a friend, Rachel, for the first time - in several respects: the first time I went to the Dragon not alone, and her first rally. We were promised better facilities for food than previously, so we took nothing with us, bar tent, sleeping bags and the clothes we stood up in.
On the Friday evening I went to check the bike over - it hadn't been run for a while. It was stone dead - not even enough in the battery to make the dashboard lights glimmer. Even after a two hour charge, it couldn't start without a jump from the car battery. Worse, I went to pick Rachel up from Stafford, to spend the night chez moi so that we could get a good start in the morning; and although I was only at her place ten minutes or so, when we came out it still wouldn't start - I had to bump it. So I got back a tad concerned, and decided to leave later than usual in the morning in the hope of being able to buy a battery en route if necessary.
On Saturday morning it nearly started - but nearly isn't quite. However, once warmed up a little, it did restart OK at the petrol station; so we decided to go for it and hope for the best. So we left at about 9:15, by the usual route - the B-road to Shrewsbury, then A5, riding without the headlight contrary to my usual custom. We breakfasted at the cafe at Froncysyllte, where I learned that Rachel had got wet below the waist in the very heavy shower we had passed through. After breakfast, the bike restarted perfectly, and we had a lovely ride through North Wales; and dropped down Nant Peris to the Control near Bethel. Control sent us forward to Caernarfon Airport, as expected.
The weather forecast was for wind, heavy showers and sunny intervals. Wind there was a-plenty - the poor Diverson 600 (seen here later at Criccieth), two-up with camping gear, had to fight it head-on over the hills, and every time it got round the side of us it tried to blow the tank bag off. But we only had the one heavy shower, before breakfast, until late on in the evening, when it rained again. We were safely in the marquee by then, though. However, putting up the tent in the wind proved awkward - indeed, initially impossible. I'm used to doing it alone, so I got Rachel to put her feet on anything that might blow away and started. It's a Khayam quick-erect affair, and I hold it up by the central hub and clip the poles out, then plant it and peg it.
Not this time. I held it up by the central hub, and it blew out horizontally where I couldn't reach it. Rachel couldn't help - there was nothing within her reach to put on the stuff she was holding down with her feet. But a couple of kind gents came to our aid, and we got the poles fixed and the corners pegged. After that it was easy.
We had a hot drink and signed ourselves in, then went for a ride round the Lleyn Peninsula: over the top to Pwllheli, where the sea view was calmer, along to Criccieth and back, very pleasant in the weak sunshine in spite of the wind.
A couple of pints in the bar and tea in the cafe followed. "What? A bar at the Dragon? And a cafe? Not just a burgher van?" Yes indeed! And if you know about the dragon, you'll have noticed other things about this report - no mention of mud or water on the site. That's right - the ground firm, and almost dry, and ideal in texture for tent pegs, in contrast to the usual choice between soft-and-soggy or (literally) granite. We were camped in a long line (see photo) along the taxiway, with the bikes on the concrete and the tents on the edge of the grass. No mud, and the water - a whole Irish Sea of it - splashed, crashed and roared in the wind the other side of the sea wall, and stayed there. I heard mixed views of this - one opinion being that "it wasn't much like the Dragon", too easy, too much like a holiday and not enough like an endurance event; the opposite view being (as I overheard) that "it was much better, and they'd get more people coming again if they keep it like this". I'm glad I'm not the Committee of the Conwy Club with the decision to make.
All the same, being out of doors for hours in the wind is tiring. I was at the end of a stressful half term; Rachel had spent Thursday night talking instead of sleeping (she told me); so after tea we retreated from the wind into the tent, and went to sleep.
About half past eight we returned to the marquee to hear the band - an Irish folk band who have been to the Dragon before, who are pretty good. But it was too loud for conversation, and the PA was brash to the point of harshness, so we went and sat on the steps outside, listening from there (much better) and watching the world go by, and the fireworks go up, for a pleasant hour or so, when the rain came back and drove us in again just as the band took its break.
As at the BMF, the lack of a bonfire was a shame - to me, the fire is the social focus of the rally, and without it you don't seem to meet people in the same way. I quite see why we couldn't have one on an airfield, though.
We'd been exchanging text messages and phone calls all day with Robert, whom I'd met first on line, and in physical reality at the 2000 Dragon. This time, instead of his partner Alex, he had his sister Fiona with him. Alex, apparently, was "all rallied out" after going to the Elefant last week. We adjourned to the cafe when the band started up again, and put the world to rights.
The wind continued to blow, and woke me up in the night by hitting me on the head with a tent pole. One of the joints had come unclipped, and I had to go out and fix it. It stayed up after that, so maybe it had never been fully home in the first place. Rachel didn't notice a thing and slept through the incident - and so did the guy in the Khayam tent next door, whose tent was folded round him in the morning, all the poles collapsed.
We followed the usual custom in the morning of packing up and going, and having breakfast on the way home. The bike started without incident, and for the first time, the tent was (almost) dry to put away. All over until next year.
12th February 2002
From time to time people contact me for information about the Dragon. See the Unofficial Dragon Rally Site