For many a year I've been planning to get to this show but have always managed to miss it due to one reason or another. This year other plans fell through and Lindsey suggested we take a ride down to check it out. Friday morning Lindsey, Lynn and Derek set off towards Wales, I set off towards work - bummer. Friday night I'm home alone with nothing to keep me amused except packing the bike, Kronenbourg 1664, Irish whisky and the TT2002 DVD (which is ace by the way, especially DJ's on board camera lap). Somehow I manage...
The camp, and Derek scampering off for a furtive dump behind the tents.
Saturday and weather is not looking too bad as I set off but
it ain't going to last. Sure enough by the time I reach Penrith
and the ever so sexy A6 the clouds are gathering so the
waterproofs go on as a precautionary measure and as a totem
device, (it will always rain if your are not in wet weather kit,
if you are and look like a prat there is a good chance that it
will stay dry). A mile or so past Shap, just where the road gets
really interesting the heavens open. Arse. So I bimble through my
favourite bits feeling slightly dejected but at least dry and
warm unlike a couple of pissed off looking rocket ship pilots I
pass hiding under a tree.
South of Kendal and the weather picks up again, as does the
amount of traffic. I make it as far as Preston before abandoning
the joys of the A6 for the utter tedium of the M6 and A55 into
North Wales. It's now getting late into the afternoon, the rain
keeps returning and I'm knackered, all of which conspires to keep
me on the A55 to Anglesey. It's boring but it gets me there.
The showground is easily found and I have a chat with the guys
and gals on the gate while Lindsey scurries across with my ticket.
Once settled we do rally things, which doesn't take long - the
show is much smaller than I expected. The evenings entertainment
centres on a large barn; on the plus side there is a huge bar so
it's easy to get served, on the downside the bands sound shite
due to the reverberation.
WIMA and vodka. The two terms are almost are interchangable. You may find a vodka without a WIMA, but you'll never find a WIMA without a vodka. Unless they are detoxing, you can identify this by the shaking and the PMT like attitude.
Sunday morning sees us up and raring to go and by midday
Lindsey and I set off for a ride into deepest Wales, Snowdonia.
It is as beautiful as ever, the main roads are as clogged as ever
and the courtesy showed by the local drivers is as non-existant
as ever. We find some quieter roads and start to enjoy ourselves,
a rather scruffy Little Chef provides some basic nourishment and
all is well with the world.
Riding back I forget it's Sunday and suddenly find myself
beerless outside a closed supermarket at 4:30. Bummer. As luck
would have it the bar back on site sells tins as well as pints.
Sunday evenings entertainment is much the same as Saturdays with
the added bonus of the old beertin tower games. These guys are
serious and make structural use of sticky tape but stop before
using guy ropes and cables. The odd thing is people are just not
socialising outside their immediate circle, at most rallies I
find myself gibbering on to all sorts of people, here there is
none of it. Weird.
The beer tower. Possibly the high point of the entertainment.
Monday and it's time to go home. We end up taking the easy way home pleasantly baking in the scorching sunshine all the way.
Quite and interesting weekend but I think I'll do the Cap'n Cook next year which occupies the same weekend but is apparently much more fun, and getting does not involve any motorways.