Leaving Durham in blazing sunshine Lindsey and I set off towards The Island. Fully loaded up though we are we're still going to take the twisty route through the Dales.
About 3 hours later we arrive at Heysham dock to utter chaos; bikes, car, bikes, trucks, bikes, coaches and yet more bikes everywhere. There are only two people checking people in, then it's the inevitable join a queue and wait, move the queue and wait a bit more routine. Thankfully it wasn't raining and at last we where all on board the Ben McCree (aka The Floating Brick) and set sail only 45 minutes late, not bad considering how packed it was.
Fun at Heysham, at least it's sunny!
Four very boring hours later we disembark at Douglas, still in sunshine I might add, and start to grin. Honey, I'm home...
A pleasant blat down the coast road takes us to Ramsey and Chez Janice. Practice is on so George and Janice are up the mountain marshalling, but Pete and Cherry, who are also staying at Janice's, are here, leaning over the front wall and watching the bikes come past. Yes folks, Janice's house has a race track outside it's front door.
Times getting on so we wander down to the Brit for a well deserved pint of three. Don't know what the band where called but they played some mean blues; ace bass and a beautiful clean guitar sound, voice and harp, all held together by a drum beat so solid you could anchor a battleship to it. It's good to be back. Janice never made it to the pub. Those of you who don't know Janice cannot appreciate the enormity of this statement.
The return the real rock and roll band. But let us start at the beginning. I awake at some ungodly hour suffering from a mystery virus and require copious quantities of juice, coffee and breakfast before I can face the day. The sun is shining and the weather warm (most unseasonable for early June) and people are going roundy roundy over the mountain in droves. Lindsey and I are still feeling a little frail so decide on a gentle walk into Ramsey and save the riding for later.
Honda CBX in Moto frame and this years colour of choice. Very tasty.
The first race is watched from the front garden; Dave Jefferies is flying, sets an early lap record of 126.something mph on the GSXR1000, and goes on to finish the fifth lap about a minute ahead of the next man, get stuck in 3rd at the hairpin on the last lap but still wins. That's a bit quick!
Big Dave coming up May Hill
Later in the day me and Lindsey take the bikes down the coast road to Douglas to have some tea and then go see the bands. The concert management fuck everybody about with huge queues for anything and not letting you bring in your own drinks etc. then a huge wait before anything happened. But when it eventually did it was worth it, Toploader are one excellent band, playing real rock'n'roll and having a bloody good time of it too. We make it back to Ramsey in time for last orders, made much easier of course by the recent abolition of licensing hours.
Mad Sunday by name and mad Sunday by nature. For those of you uninitiated in the finer points of TT life I will explain. For the first Sunday of TT week the mountain road is turned into a one way system and everybody goes out to play at going very fast. This means however that; a) the place is so full of bike it moves little quicker than the M25 in rush hour, and, b) lots and lots of crashes. The weather is a bit on and off so the crash rate is high this year, chances are for some people this will be the first time they have every ridden in rain, and the road seems to be shut every hour or so while the rescue services sweep up the bits.
Saturdays racing was just far too exciting for Pete. No he didn't really fall asleep, honest, it's just that pictures are sooo easy to fake. Yeah, right!
It all seems a bit too manic so we opt for a walk up through Elfen Glen to the Gooseneck, where the road is closed again, and then back to Ramsey via the Waterworks. I'm hoping to get out later but it's still chaos out there so end up in the pub instead. Janice, Tracey and Venessa have decided to join the fun. Tonight's band in the Brit are the Smokin Beagles, they start off nervously and the look crestfallen when we get up and leave after the second song. Don't take it personally guys, we had only called in for the one. Several beers later George, Lindsey and I return to the Brit just as the band start their second set. This is more like it, I'm looking forward to seen the Beagles next year cos I think they will have matured nicely by then.
There is some more racing on today, the lightweights (250 strokers and 400 fours) and the sidecars. We've seen this before so decide on a ride out cos the weather is looking good. Down the coast road and into Douglas and up to the "village" behind the grandstand. The grandstand looks half empty but at £12 a go I'm not surprised! We look round the stalls and I buy a couple of t-shirts and a hat (well, you have to don't you).
We soon tire of this and head off towards the south of the island to visit S&S Motorcycles at Castletown in a pointless search for a new chain and sprox set for Lindsey's bike. They don't have any in stock so she'll just have to put up with the clanking till we get home.
Castletown, sunshine, Lindsey and Lindseys bike, ashamed of her clanky chain, hiding behind Tigger.
Onwards via some nice quiet (and bumpy, and I mean bumpy) backroads to Peel for a belated lunch and visit to the Celtic jewellery shop. It's pleasantly busy, as opposed to heaving (or tumbleweeds like last year), so we wander about looking at the bikes, the people and the scenery.
Riding back north we rejoin the TT course at Kirk Michael, have a good blat though Quarry Bends then stick rigidly to he 30's down the Sulby Straight. Sure enough plod are parked at the end of the straight with their hair dryer. Cos it boring from here on in we go via St Judes and Andreas back to Ramsey. Once back at Janice's I remove the topbox and, leaving Lindsey to start on tea (well she is far better cook than me), head off up the mountain for the first time this year. Loads of rep stuff comes howling past on the straights but Tigger behaves nicely on the corners and upholds honour. I'm not sure removing the topbox made an 'aputh of difference though.
Rather than go to the pub we spent the evening digesting Lindsey's ace veg curry, erecting a tent that could pass as a prehistoric monument for the WIMA stall at The Sprint and watching Queenies 50th birthday bash. The burning question though is did the young princes have any luck with the Atomic Kittens? One would hope so!
General Lee
Ramsey Sprint day. It's early afternoon and I've just come back. God it's busy, it seems like the whole of Douglas has migrated north for it. Ramsey town centre itself is chaos; cars and bikes everywhere, coppers trying to control it, suicidal pedestrians and the "pipe'n'jacket" brigade trying to thread through it all. Great fun.
Janice, not really selling a T shirt to an unsuspecting punter. Lindsey looking out for Jobsworth.
The Sprint itself is quite good. The first thing to catch my eye when I got there was a member of the CMA (Christian biker types) wheelieing his BMW brick back up the strip. Cool or what, the ancient thing had over 102K on the clock. I soon caught up with the girls at the WIMA tent, they seem to be doing quite well till some jobsworth tells them they need a £250 licence to sell a few t-shirts.
I mosey round the drag strip to watch people abuse their clutches on standard bikes, try their best on slightly modded race-rep tackle and get humiliated by proper drag machines with nitrous and lord knows what else. The noise and the smell is awesome. The Red Arrows then do their thing over the bay, I take a couple of pictures then realise I could just use last years, or the year before that - a bunch of smoking red planes against a blue sky don't look much different year on year.
Coolest tank on the Island award to ...
The classic bikes show and the bike park hold more interest to me so I mooch about looking at all thing two (and occasionally three) wheeled before wandering into the town centre for some nosh and to watch the chaos. All of the above to a backdrop of bright sunshine and blue skies.
Due to an early start for the marshalls and general apathy by others the pub trip tonight consists of only George, Lindsey and myself. The Iron Pier has Liepzeit playing so we head thataway. Mega good band, well loud and playing covers of songs you don't usually hear. I got chatting to three yanks over on their first visit, two on BMWs and one on an R1. They all seemed suitably impressed with the mountain and the lack of speed limits. I let slip that I had not been over the mountain on Sunday at which point Mr R1 started taking the piss because I was wearing my new Mad Sunday t-shirt, fair do's I suppose, I had left myself wide open for that. But at least I didn't leave till the band finished! A minor victory I know but I am grasping at straws. Only the hairy one stayed the course and by then we where all drunk and ended up swapping web addresses with a couple of Ixion guys. A good night from what I can remember.
Well pissed Yank
I went to bed with Miss Drunken Rock/Biker Chick and woke up with Miss Grumpy, and I thought vodka didn't give hangovers. Well there you go, learn something new every day. Due to Lindsey's Mal de Smirnoff Ice the bikes don't get used today so we end up taking a walk along the beach in the blazing hot sunshine and having a paddle. In the distance the bike racing can be heard, 600's and 250 strokers I think but we don't pay too much attention to it. I've eventually got my freebie radio, compliments of T.W.O. magazine, to work but it's FM only and radio TT is medium wave. Bit of a fuckup there boys. Due to one thing and another a quiet night was planned so we ended up in some seedy club drinking cheap beer and shooting pool. Brilliant.
Well, she was asleep, and I was bored.
Another fine hot and sunny day and we're all off to Peel today to see what's going on at Honda Day. Me and Linds set of first and take the mountain road, it's reasonably quiet so we have a good run, we skirt the edge of Douglas to rejoin the course and off to Peel.
Peel is full. We manage to find a parking spot, walk along the sea front and into the chaos. After a while we realise that not only is not much happening but not much is actually going to happen, so we walk into town in search of nourishment. At this point we meet up with George. Pete and Cherry, also craving calories. All the cafes are full but by the simple expedient of hanging around and looking pathetic we won through and got seated.
Once fed Linds and I decide we've done Peel for the day and set off for a ride about. This takes us to the Tynwald where we mose about then settle down outside the Tynwald Hill Inn for a well deserved pint. the Honda Show must have just closed (although how anyone could tell the difference is beyond me) as we watch streams of bikes and cars come past, most heading towards Douglas.
Still Crazy
This evening is THE night. Still Crazy are playing at the Mitre. Things don't start well, George snaps a string early on and the proceeds into the next song tuned to Dow flat. None of this is helped by the fact the pub still has the TV on, ablient turned down. This means that from the bands viewpoint a large chunk of the audience is staring slightly to their right, a most disconcerting, but often subliminal, effect, very much like talking to the kind of nutter who insists on staring at your left ear throughout a conversation. Eventually the band catch onto this, switch off the idiot box and saying if you want to watch telly go home. Well said, pubs are for drinking and entertainment not the electrical sedative machine. The rest of the gig is back on form, aided and abetted by some right tasty sax from the sax man and Mr Bongos realising he can sing and belting out some good 'uns. I end up pissed and the bar closes far, far too early, although it must be said my liver may have a different opinion on this matter.
Our last full day. Yet again the sun manages to do it's stuff so Lindsey and I go for a gentle ride around the north end of the Island, visit cafes and watch some racing from Ballaugh. The regulars take the bridge nice and smooth, others either wheelie, bounce or nose dive over it, great fun.
Big Dave Jefferies takes Ballaugh Bridge
Then it's back to the house and repack all our belongings for tomorrows return trip. Why does everything seem to expand when your repacking? It all went in on the way here!
A trip to the pub is in order to see a band called Jeceris, Barry Nelsons latest group. Barry has not been to the Island for the last few years, which explains why I've never seen him. But it was worth the wait, fooking ace to coin a phrase. Due to an unfeasably early ferry crossing we decide to leave early, Jeceris are now based in Cumbria so with a bit of look I'll manage to catch the full set before the years out.
The 9:00am ferry seemed like a good idea last year, now we realise this means 7:00am check-in and a 6:00am alarm call which is a very silly idea indeed. Due to last nights iron willpower it all happens on time and we arrive at Douglas ferry port in time for yet another comedy boarding process - you would have thought that after all these years things could be simplified a bit. The ferry crossing is as tedious as ever.
On the boat.
Once back in Heysham we join several hundred other bikers for the usual chaotic dash though Lanchester's traffic then onto the joys of the A683 through the Dales. Due to a combination of not upping my preload, been loaded up and thrashing about trying to keep up with Lindsey, Tigger takes some, err, novel, lines through some bends. Hawes for a coffee, Bev's for a chat and then home for tea and well earned beer. Damned good week, roll on next year.