A tale of coffee and castles...
Glorious sunshine. And if that isn't a good start to the
Easter holiday I don't know what is.
Jas and Granny Sue had turned up in Durham last night cold and
thirsty, so we fed and vodka'd them. Amazingly there was some
vodka left in the morning, Granny is loosing her touch.
After huge breakfasts we're off for a feast of A68 and all point
north, twisty and largely traffic free. Lindsey takes the lead
and sets blistering, yet almost sensible, pace from the off. Once
past Corbridge the fun really starts and eventually we land in
Rothbury for lunch wearing huge grins and frazzled tyres.
An hour or so later, replete, we head further north past Cragside
and into the depths of Northumberland. I'm constantly amazed at
how quiet it is up here, brilliant roads, stunning scenery, and
yet bugger all people go there. This is fine by me.
All this lunacy eventually leads to Bamburgh and our Hotel. The
girls seem to have enjoyed themselves, me and Jas have managed to
keep up.
On the beach. Mmmm, good title for a song that ...
Once changed and unpacked we take a walk down to the beach which soon lead to a creaking of joints, wails of distress, a near mutiny and the pub. Back at the Hotel we meet up with Lynn and Derek and proceed to stuff ourselves silly at the Mizan Head restaurant (good grub) and get utterly pissed in various pubs. I awake the next morning to a mouth like a tar pit and a wooden head. The two may be not entirely unconnected.
Awake at some ungodly hour for the breakfast slot of 8:30 - 9:00 we commence to feed. I'm suffering from some strange virus possibly brought on buy eating on an empty stomach last night. The breakfast combined with the continuing blazing sunshine works wonders and soon we're off on the bikes to Lindisfarne.
Our heroes find hole. Cue lots of "well, well well" and "they're looking into it" jokes for the hard of thinking.
Many words have been written by greater scribes than I about
this mystical place so I'll reserve my comments to a simple, but
heartfelt, shit hot. We visit the priory, a couple of cafes and
the meadary for the obligatory free samples and spending of money.
At one of the cafes enjoying a sandwich and coffee prior to
beating the tide back to the mainland we're accosted by a girl
from "darn saff" who recognises Granny's WIMA
sweatshirt. (Or should that be just sweat, Granny was getting a
little ripe). She knows various WIMAs back home but was happily
touring about on her own. I can't remember what her name was but
she was riding one of the new TDM900's. The girls will of course
know her name, family history and shoe size (cos that's the
female way), Derek, Jas and I just remember what bike she had
because that's the male way.
Once back across the causeway we head north to Berwick Upon Tweed
to get Jas some shades and find ourselves yet another cafe. Lynn
and Derek decide to take the A1 back to Bamburgh, the rest of us
head off inland in search of good roads and minimal traffic.
Chillingham Castle - a strange sort of place
This eventually leads us to Chillingham Castle, from the outside a normal country estate, from the inside a combination of museum, antiques warehouse and sale room. Weird, slightly spooky, but very entertaining. The ride back to Bamburgh along the rest of the B6348 is hilarious fun. An evening visit to the Castle Hotel results in both brilliant, reasonably priced food and Lynn, Granny and Lindsey getting outrageously drunk yet again. Jas, Derek and I, been members of the Motorcycling Temperance Society, are of course horrified by this behaviour.
There is no excuse for this sort of behaviour
Well there is actually, two words. WIMA and Vodka.
Later at the posh hotel, good beer and very comfy seats, Jas confides that he is a fairy and pee's in the bed (or was is something to with princesses and pea's under the bed?).
Yet more glorious sunshine but yet again I'm smitten by a
virus. Breakfast and walk around the village help to alleviate
the worst of the symptoms.
Lynn and Derek are leaving today but a visit to Bamburgh Castle
is deemed in order first. This is more like it; suits of armour,
big pointy toadstickers, canons, paintings, and a good cafe. By
the time we've finished we're all knackered cos it's a big castle.
Bamburgh Castle with sexy sheep in the foreground
An afternoon ride along the coastroad to Alnwick proves
interesting when we reach a diversion and have to navigate the
remainder of the way by the sun. Alnwick itself is deserted, so
we walk about for a bit, dodge the odd volvo and eventually find
a cafe - Jas the Ravenous was starting to rumble again.
Yet again we start the evening in the Castle for food and beer
and eventually end the evening back at our Hotel.
Still feeling a little queezy I rattle my way downstairs for
breakfast, then we all pack up and prepare for the return journey.
As the weather is still on the sunny side the backroads are
calling to us, and despite several hangovers, sorry viruses, we
comply.
A coffee stop on the A697 helps things along and clears the
remaining cobwebs before the continuing dash to Corbridge. A
major decision is made, we shall call in at Aunty Bev's to see
the new Harley. More backroads are used to get us to Richmond and
then Chez Bev.
Bev is pissed off, the Harley dealership fucked up big style
resulting them loosing a sale. That saga continues ...