OK, so it rained a bit.
Filled with enthusiam from last years event Lindsey and I had
decided to set off early on the Friday and take the backroads up
in blazing sunshine accompanied by Jas and Sue. Things of course
panned out slightly differently. Sue couldn't make it due to a
bad back, we didn't set off till nearly lunch time and it rained,
but for what it's worth we where joined by Stevie.
Almost immediately it's hoss'n it down and we're snuggled in our
waterproofs and looking out for a cafe, a good one is found at
Byzantium (Horsley) on the A68. From there it's a quick squelch
to Carter Bar and we're into Scotland. Although we don't stop we
notice that the man in the kilt is no longer strangling his
haggis, then it's down the hairpins and into the gatso zone all
the way to Jedburgh. From here we escape the evil eye's and take
the only slightly damp road to Kelso, it's almost enjoyable.
The site entrance is only vaguely swamplike and we soon pitch the
tents and head into town for supplies and, as it transpires, few
beers. Back at the site the worlds worse disco is doing it's
stuff, we can't stand it for long and soon head back to the tents
for a small party of our own.
ready for the off, their mighty steeds await
(or in Stevies case leaks quietly)
Saturday morning brings yet more rain. The catering on site is
as basic as ever, so leaving Stevie to snore in his pit, we head
into town for breakfast. By midday we're suckered into going out
for a ride, we're just a few miles from camp when the rains start
again. We continue onto Selkirk on principle but it's not much
fun so after a coffee we come back. I hate the rain, it makes a
criminal waste of damn fine roads by turning them into greasy
liabilities. No sooner had we cracked the first beers than the
sun came, briefly, out - but by then it was too late.
Somewhere about now Andrea, another WIMA, turned up to join the
party. It now been tea time we walked back up to Kelso for food
and beer. This to be followed by another session of talking utter
bollox till the early hours, Jas' rally catheter springs to mind
- no matter how hard I try to prevent it.
Friday evening saw mysterious behaviour from Steve and Jas.
Sunday starts sunny and warm for the main show. All the usual
BMF type things are present and correct; a helicopter buzzes
overhead giving rides, club bikers ride round the arena
occationally getting interviewed and stalls everywhere sell
assorted things. A brief wander round the autojumble fails to
turn up a 2 inch kangeroo for Andrea - hardly surprising really,
it's not a zoo - and after which we're getting bored.
We pack the bikes in blazing sunshine and set off with
hooliganism in mind, by the time we reach the outskirts of Kelso
it's pissing it down.
It's this special ablity we have.
The rain comes and goes till we get south of Jedburgh and onto
the backroads to Keilder. The further we travel the drier it gets
eventually facilitating some real lunacy through the backroads
towards Hexham. Then the rains returned for the final ride down
the A68. Rains which became biblical by the time we reached
Lanchester with rivers flowing across the roads and puddles you
could drown in. We get home and put the bikes away just before
the rains start in Durham.
Still a good weekend though.
Saturday afternoon managed to be no more coherent.