Arran '97
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Arran '97 - 28th to 31st April

These are bikes. And this is what are they for...

Well it happened but the turnout was a bit less than expected, no Fiendish Delights and no Darlo MAG presence (except us and we don't go to the meetings so probably don't count).

So our heroe's on this mission where :-

Andy Bell - CBR600 (fast lunatic)
Mark Graham - GPX600 (slow lunatic but getting faster)
Me - GSX750F (honary lunatic)

Camp Kildonan

The plan was to meet up for a 9:00 start. Except Bell who turned at 9:30 with only half his compliment of luggage and air ...
By about 10:00 we where blatting up the A68 and all was well with the world, the weather was fine and tyres where getting nicely warmed up. Somewhere near Carlisle it started to rain so been a sensible sort I hopped into me waterproofs. Mark decided this was a good idea. Bell looked on, incredulously, as Mark first removed his wellies then commenced to do this odd little dance round the garage forecourt while trying to climb into his waterproofs. Eventually the clouds thought "bugger this for a game of soldiers" and cleared off before he'd got his wellies back on.

Arran, the bikes, chain worries...

Some time later we got onto the A76 from Dumfries to Ardrossan. Now this is in places one of the greatest biking roads this side of the Swiss Alps. After one particualy daft section we needed to stop for a smoke (like ya do) then realised we had about 45 minutes to get to the ferry... Oh fu**. Anyway by deft use of the throttle we managed to catch the 3:15 ferry - the next one is after 6:00 and, believe me, you don't want to hang around in Ardrossan!

Standing Stones on Machrie Moor

Sitting on the ferry I get all excited about my first holiday of the year. Within an hour we're off the ferry at Brodick and riding south. A mile or so from Brodick we pull into a lay-by for a smoke. Bell and me do a couple of sad little burnout, then rapidly stop as we realise the back of the bikes are sinking into the gravel. Sad, but true.

...the pub...

Back on the bikes we head to the south of the island to Kildonan which is rumoured to have a good camp site. And sure enough there it is, overlooking the sea, nearby pub, freeloading cats and dogs and plenty of flat camping space.

Freeloading Dogs and Cats Hassle Bell for some of his nosh

The tents are quickly set up and the bikes unpacked and I realise my chains starting to stretch badly. Oh bollox now I'll have to ride like a wuss all weekend. Out with the spanners, tighten chain and give a good lubing. Coffee and grub consumed (helped by a freeloading pooch who I suspect must have been half goat to eat anything Mark the Idiot would eat) and eventually off to the pub. And what a nice pub, so we sit down (nice comfy seats) and get stuck into the Cafferies. Yes, scrummy beer as well, can this get any better?

Mark the Idiot has his first shave.
Note the rather suspect riding wellies behind his right leg

Saturday morning is bright and cheerful, as opposed to us who, who are all sporting Richter scale hangovers.
By about lunch time we go for a pootle about. Up to Lamlash, over the String Road and back to Kildonan. I'm riding tiddler style, accelerate gently and don't slow down much for corners, to be nice to my chain. We end up back at the tents by about 4:00, watch some seals and get into gibber mode. By about 8:30 we're back into the pub and putting the world to rights and I'm drinking shandies to avoid another hangover. Sunday and we're up early and off to the cafe in Lamlash for breakfast (very highly recommended). Then it's play time. First stop is to see the standing stones near Blackwaterfoot. We all get mystic and then silly about their origins.

Anybody know what an f-stop is?

Mark and Bell are getting the urge to trough again so we head towards the Catacol Bay pub, home of the worlds largest pizza's. This is the fastest road on Arran so we have a bit of a play. It's a Sunday and the pizza's are off so I go for the vegiburgers and stuff. A word of warning at this point, unless you are an extremely fat bastard, don't order extra chips because you will never eat it all and be able to walk afterwards.
Continuing our circumnavigation of the island we head towards Lochranza with its wee castle. We take some posing pictures of the bikes and chill out for a while.

Leaving Lochranza we spot the Isle of Arran Distillers, hammer on the anchors and go in for a visit. All the usual including the free sample and then into the visitors centre for a coffee. The architect in me comes out and I start ranting on about the handrail details and such. Mark and Bell take the piss until I promise to stop.
We stop again at the jetty in Sannox to admire the view (and take more pictures of the bikes). As it's getting on to tea time we head south through Corrie, Brodick and Lamlash back towards the camp site.

An Idiot and his GPX

I'm utterly knackered sit outside the tent, drink coffee and watch the sea while Bell and Mark go off to the pub. I'm asleep by the time they get back from the pub.

Y'll get flies in yer teeth ...

Monday morning and it's time to leave Arran till next Easter. The tents are packed and we blat up to Lamlash for breakfast. It turns out the girl serving is from Darlington - small world. While we eat her kid plagues us with questions about the bikes. I divert him into drawing pictures of them.
After breakfast we head of to buy some presents and such. We get back into the cafe for another coffee and the Devil Incarnate manages to sell me the pictures he's drawn of the bikes.

I get ripped off by a small child...

The ferry back is a soul searching experience. I watch Arran disappear into the mist from the back of the ship...

OK, back on the mainland, rescue card in my pocket, a snapped chain is now an acceptable hazard. Let me at the A76... Oh, ooo, ahhhhh, uggggg...
Dumfries, Carlisle and then the A69 to Corbridge which is hot, dry and sunny (wippee). And full of cars (boo hiss), hang on I'll rephrase the, full of mobile chicanes (wippee - don't you just luuurve bikes).
Oh my god, the A68. It's even better going south. Any remaining thoughts of chain mercy (hmmm, that sounds a bit s&m) disappear as we get down and boogie.

Arran at Easter - you know it makes sense.