WIMA and Wales '98

Thursday 27th August

Escaped from work early, sod it, I'm off on me hols. Load the bike up and off to try and find an interesting route from Darlo to Sheffield. Not as easy as it sounds cos of the A1. Out via Northallerton and York was fine them things got a bit tedious. Still it got me to the M18 with most of my IQ intact. Hello Sheffield, hello Lindsey, hello R1, how much luggage are you going to carry? About this time I started to worry.

Friday 28th August

The general plan of things is that Lindsey and me set off for a WIMA camping do in the Peak District National (Car) Park and then off to Wales for fun and games on Welsh tarmac. First stage is to load up our belongings onto my trusty RF900 and Lindsey's R1. Needless to say this means one small bag on the R1 and everything else on the RF. Bloody great. (Incidentally he did offer to take all the stuff - L). (Ha, it was that or have no possessions all week).

WIMA people doing WIMA things ....
Woman on left "Does my bum look big in this?"
Woman on right "Does my bum look big in this?"
Woman in middle "Does my bum look big in this?"

Anyway back to the plot. Thus laden our two intrepid heroes set off, the weather was fine all was well with world. Eventually after a little gratuitous speeding we arrived at the Grouse and Claret pub, home to this event. Various other WIMA types where there on an assortment of bikes and cars (cars!, I ask you...)

Beer drinking and giggling ensued as we awaited the main event on Saturday. Test rides compliments of Chesterfield Motorcycle Centre. The reason for this insane attack of generosity was due to Liz, regular buyer of bikes form this dealer.

Utterly irrelevant picture of a man with his carnivorous chicken who just happened to be walking through the site one morning. WIMA types gathered round with comments to the effect of "Oh, isn't it sweet" and "Ahh, how cute". It's a feathered death to anything small and squeaky. Give you some idea of the kind of people that join WIMA

Saturday 29th August

We all emerged enthusiastically from our tents, briefly troughed and then set off. CMC had prepared several toys. Thunderace, Thundercat, Fazer, Diversion 900, TRX, TDM and Dragstar. Ahh yes, the Dragstar... more of this later.
First off I take the TDM out. I've always thought these look petty cool and wondered what they are like. Real comfy and dog slow, hard to believe it's an 850 really. TDM by name tedium by nature.
OK, what next? I know, I'll try something I would never usually consider. A Dragstar. Chrome, feet out front, high bars ... bit like sitting on the bog and reading a paper
. The ride sets off with me in hot pursuit laughing all the way. Once out of town the fun starts, "Cor, it corners alright" I think to myself, then I glace down at the speedo and realise I'm doing less than 40mph. Straight coming up so I open up the throttle to experience some of the famous V twin torque. The vibration increases and, gradually, the speedo starts to move until at 60mph the vibration becomes too much and I reach for the brakes. Fortunately I'm on a long stretch of road, I can't help but be reminded of my old superdream as velocity is shed as leisurely as it was originally gained. "At least these won't need ABS" I chuckle to myself. Oh how we laughed, talk about tempting fate...
The end of the run saw us on a small, but busy, back road going back into town. Sharp right hand bend, slow right down, observe the little white Ford Fiesta waiting to pull out of the side road on the left of the bend. I get to about 4 metres and the car pulls out. Stunned by the act of ineptitude I grab for the brake only instead of slowing down the bike dumps me on the deck for a spot of surfing. Bike and I come to a stop gently touching the car.
I'm OK, the bikes got a couple of scratches and the lady driving the car is a nervous wreck. We all head back to introduce her insurance details to CMC's.

Everybody else of course find this whole escapade hilarious.

Granny Sue and her scary thighs.
Note Jas' industrial strength welding shades to resist the glare ...

Sunday 30th

Recovering from the bumps and scrapes of Saturdays fun and games Sunday is largely spent lounging about in the sun, riding the bikes, walking about and eventually drinking beer.

Monday 31st

Time to move on to Wales. Getting there from the Peak District is no fun at all, there seems to be just a continuous urban sprawl all the way to deepest Wales. Eventually the worst is over and we arrive at a place called Bala.
A campsite is found and the tent is pitched.
Throughout tea we can hear bikes howling up and down the backroads. We go for an evening ride, and what fun it is too. Down the B4391, damn good back road, then it's anyone's guess as we meander about, ie we got lost, till eventually we arrive at Dolgellau. Stopping briefly at a Little Thief we head back to camp.

Tuesday 1st

Lindsey and R1

Inspired by yesterday evenings fun 'n games and the sunshine we decide to do the tourist bit. The Alternative Energy Centre proves tempting so off we go where we learn more about compost than I thought possible. Several informative hours later we're riding back up the coast, admiring the view and hassling the twisties. Stopping for a look round Dolgellau we try to decide which way back to the campsite will be most fun. The A494 is fun we know cos we're ridden it several times already, but that also counted against it, so we decided to give the A4212 a try. Big mistake.
It all started out so well. Beautiful open road, virtually no traffic and impressive corners. So we did what girls and boys do in these circumstances and started to play at silly buggers.
Suddenly, after several joyous miles of twisty tarmac and trees I realise Lindsey in no longer behind me. "Strange" I think, but as she's a way better rider than me I assume stopped to do her nails or some such girlie thing, and as the road has just opened up for one of those glorious rollercoasters through the valley I nail it. Coming up the far side of the valley I can see Lindsey far, far behind with a car in front of her. Very strange, perhaps she's managed to blow up the R1. I slow down, cruise round a bend and start looking for somewhere to stop when this maroon car comes hurtling up behind me and starts flashing red and blue lights from behind it's radiator grille.
Game Over
I indicate and pull over in the wild hope that they're after someone else. Nope it's me. Oh bollox, depending on when he's nobbled me this is most likely pedestrian time.
This of course explains Lindsey's delay. It seems the car came hurtling up behind her in the woods and Lindsey, assuming he was a local who wanted to play, gave the R1 a big handful. Then the lights came on. When she pulled over plod came zooming past determined to nobble us both.
"Good evening sir, do you realise you where doing 86mph .... blah blah, blah". I could have kissed him, licence safe and hopefully I just might get away with a lecture. No such luck, 3 points and £40 fine each.

Bastards.

Anyway using unmarked cars is cheating

Depressed we retired to the pub. I'm now wondering what's going to happen next because as we all know trouble comes in three's.

Wednesday 2nd

Wales. Nice roads, hot sunshine, stunning scenery, but they bust you for a measly 86.

Slightly hung over we surface and over breakfast decide to move on towards Snowdon. Again the RF is loaded up off we go. Before I've got off the grass I figured out what problem No 3 is, it's a flat tyre.
Ho humm. Yep sure enough bloody great big nail in my almost new 180MEZ1. Several interesting hours follow as Green Flag eventually get me and the bike transported to some town whose name I've forgotten, sorry, which has a tyre centre that deals with bikes. £150 later and now sporting a new MEZ1 we off to Betws-y-Coed.
A couple of miles outside Betws-y-Coed we get treated to one of those special storms that soaks you within minutes, well before you can stop and find your waterproofs. I wonder which is the worst in these conditions , a superlight/powerful R1 or an overloaded RF with a new back tyre.

At the new campsite Lindsey has a tantrum because the facilities are not up to her standards. This isn't improved by the short walk to the pub, due possibly to a difference of opinion as to what constitutes a short walk.
However once there the combination of Cafferies and good food work their everyday miracle and I'm let out of the dog house with both testicles still attached.

During the night the airbed goes down ...

Thursday 3rd

Utterly pissed off with Wales we go home.

... And if you got here via the WIMA. web site there is loads more of this sort of gibberish at my web site at Darlington MAG, and if you didn't chances are your already here.

H.