Thursday, 16th August 2001, dawned wet. Like being in a shower.
The plan was to ride to Bath to join a party of the VX800 Rider's Club. (I don't have a VX any more, but they let me in because I once did.) The rest of the party had started from the south and visited Stonehenge the previous day, and were in Bed and Breakfast in Bath. I was to meet them about eleven, after they had seen the Roman Baths, and we would tour Mid Wales for two days then join an rally on the Saturday in North Wales. We would begin by riding to Builth Wells.
Undeterred by the rain which was to be a prominent feature of the tour, at an early hour I loaded the bike and set off to Bath. By the time I got to Worcester the rain had got through my new gear, and I stayed wet inside all day, even though it cleared up and became warm and sunny for the afternoon.
The plan misfired. For various reasons, when we met at eleven, they were still on their way to the Baths, so I went along too. Fascinating.
By the time we had been round, it was lunch time. The others were parked outside a cafe, so we agreed to eat there, and I went to get my bike and bring it round to join them. Easier said than done: Bath is one of those towns where they don't let you across the middle, only in and out on the same side; and I got thoroughly lost trying to find my way round the edge and pick the right way in. Looking left at a road junction, with no clue where I was or where to go, I saw a stack of parked VXs. Aha! My luck's in! Somehow, in spite of all, I still arrived at the cafe first.
After lunch we set off to Builth Wells. The full tally for the tour: Brian, leading, on his VX; Doron from the US on Brian's Bandit 1200; Alain from Normandy on his VX; Andre and Veerle from Belgium on their VX; Joppe from Belgium on a GSX750; and me on a Diversion 600S. It was a nice sunny ride, along the motorway and over the Severn Bridge, then up to Monmouth to look at the castle. We were so far behind time that the military museum there was just closing, but they let us in for a look round anyway. There was a brief history of the castle on its wall in English and Welsh, which led to a discussion about Welsh. I do not speak Welsh, but I have some vague idea of how it is pronounced, so I found myself asked to attempt to read it out. I most sincerely hope there were no Welsh speakers within earshot!
The next section, to Brecon on the A4 and then via the beautiful road through Upper Chapel to Builth Wells, was wonderful - no traffic, nice roads, great views, a gorgeous summer evening.
Just short of Builth Wells we stopped at a pre-booked Bed and Breakfast. Finding I was the only one planning to camp, I asked if they had room for me too, and shared the twin room that was booked to Joppe - thanks, Joppe. Hope I didn't snore.
Joppe hadn't been happy with the handling of his bike for some miles - sure enough, a check showed loss of pressure in the rear tyre. A good deal of discussion followed about the best course of action. Conclusion: check it again in the morning and see how much it was losing, then decide what to do. So we went in to supper.
Magnificent! Soup, roast Welsh lamb, all the vegetables fresh out of the garden, a bottle of wine, home-made apple pie with apples from the orchard. We went to bed, slept well, and rose to cereal, excellent bacon and eggs and toast. Undoubtedly a place to remember.
Joppe checked his tyre. Down some more. The one other guest at the B&B had a compressor, and blew it up for him, and we decided it would get to Aberystwyth, with care, where (a Yellow Pages informed us) there was an ATS tyre depot which (we established by phone) would plug the tyre. So off we went. I led this section, because I'd prospected it previously (living nearest by a long way). We went up to Rhayader, then over the mountain road to Cwmystwyth. We stopped on the top for Doron to take photos - a wild, windswept place, lonely and remote. Even on a nice summer morning, it was possible to imagine how hostile it would feel in a winter storm.
First call in Aberystwyth was for fuel. The everyone else went for coffee whilst Joppe and I went to get his tyre seen to. We took the wheel off with their tools, they took the case off and plugged it - no trouble - case back on - "Let's just check." Into the tank. Bubbles! Imprecations uttered in three languages (Welsh, Flemish and English). Case off again. Clearly nothing wrong with the repair. Case on again, inflate, test again. Bubbles, but fewer. We decided to carry on, and keep an eye on it: it was probably just air trapped between the patch and the tyre finding its way out. (And in fact, in the course of the day the leak stopped, and the tyre held its pressure.)
By the time Joppe and I had had a coffee and we'd all moved from the retail park on the outskirts into the town centre, we were too late to follow the plan to take the train up the Vale of Rheidol. Disappointing, but never mind - we were all safe and could still ride.
We set off round the coast through Macynlleth to Brian's birthplace, Tywyn, in heavy traffic, moving slowly because overtaking opportunities were limited and we wanted to keep the pack together; and anyway, it was worth taking time to see the sea views along this coast. But once we turned up the B-road to Talyllyn and the Cross Foxes, the traffic vanished, the road was dry, smoot and deliciously curving, visibility was excellent, and I set a fast pace up the valley, knowing there was no chance for anyone to get lost - no turnings. Those who wanted a blast followed me, those who didn't took their time, and we all met at the top.
We were a little concerned about time, but decided we could follow the plan to visit Lake Vyrnwy en passant, so we dropped down the steep A485 to Dinas Mawddwy and turned up the very challenging, steep, narrow road to Bwlch-y-Groes and down to Lake Vyrnwy - steeper still and requiring extreme care, but an incredibly lovely ride. I took it very slowly, not wanting any accidents.
I made the right turn at the head of the lake, glanced in my mirror to see the others following - round the next bend, no-one there! I pulled over; Andre, alone, came up behind. "Doron went down".
Isn't it always the way? Arriving safely at the bottom of the mountain, with the dangerous bit over, Doron let his concentration slip just a smidgeon, ran wide on a corner, got a wheel on the mud and dropped the bike at walking pace. Very lucky to be uninjured - his leg was under it. The bike had some cosmetic damage but was functionally unimpaired. And so, carefully, because Doron was somewhat shaken, to Chirk to meet another group of riders, Ian on a VX, John (what was he riding?), Bryan on a VX and Steve and his son on a Triumph. John and Ian had proposed a Welsh rally and organised it for the Saturday; the earlier tour was suggested by (I think) Andre and organised by Brian with some local input from me.
Andre, Veerle and Alain were to stay with me overnight. I had difficulty getting accomodation for Brian, Joppe and Doron because of a major music festival near Telford, and had been obliged to choose one in Shrewsbury: so at the end of the evening we took them there, with Steve as a late addition, and then the last four came to Telford to sleep.
After breakfast in the morning the Telford party collected the Shrewbury party, who had not had too good a night - apparently there was confusion over the bookings, and a lot of noise in the road outside. Sorry, guys. The we went to Oswestry to rendezvous for the rally which was the main event of the holiday. It was a damp morning, with promise of worse to come, and in fact we rode in the rain for much of the day.
John let the way to Bala via the back roads in the rain, for what tour operators call a "comfort stop". (Motorcyclists call it a "loo break", "coffee break" or "fag break" according to choice.) Then on to Bala via the back roads in the rain. Then to Portmeirion - the Italian Village on the coast of Wales where they filmed The Prisoner, arriving very wet. Some people went round the village - I went to sleep in the nice, warm, dry cafe. Then to the Royal Goat at Beddgelert for lunch, which was excellent - and for once, it wasn't raining.
Next to Llanbedr, but via a strange route, via Caernarfon rather than up the Nant Gwynant and down the Llanberis Pass. Doron stopped along the road because his helmet fastening had come undone. Brian and I stopped to see why Doron had stopped, and all the people who knew where we were going disappeared into the distance. We didn't catch up, but fortunately a couple who had stopped to make a phone call and did know the destination caught US up. They took us a short cut, and we arrived before the main party, who had stopped to wait for us. Mobile phones don't work too well in Snowdonia!
We were supposed to go round the Electric Mountain, but the timetable was yet again astray, and a tour had just gone in - the next would be too late for us to wait.
By now it was raining steadily, as we set off for the long run to a meal at the Shroppie Fly at Audlem. Audlem is thirty miles past Oswestry in a different direction to Telford and Shrewsbury. At Ellesmere it was raining like stink and getting dark, so a couple of bikes peeled off and went their own way; Sadly, then, the party was no longer complete when we arrived wet and very tired for a fairly average pub meal at Audlem.
Then we had to come back again - and Andre, riding two up with his wife, had his headlamp fail. We had a spare bulb (well done Alain), but with the tools available couldn't get into the headlight. Can you imagine forty miles in the dark, in an absolute downpour, in convoy, with one bike having no light? I can't guess what Andre was saying - he would be saying it in Flemish - but he was not a happy bunny. Moral: I must ALWAYS carry my multi-tool knife. We'd have got in with that.
On the Sunday morning we made our farewells on Tesco's car park in Telford and I took them all to the M54 and left them to find their way to the coast with Brian, who lives in Kent. In due course, I heard by email that everyone was safely home, and that the rain and the unfortunate ending to Saturday had not spoiled their pleasure in the holiday.
Indeed, there is already the beginnings of a plan for the next Welsh rally.
28th August 2001