As per plan (which may be a first for this lot) we meet up at the Tavern and set off shortly after 6:30. It's a curious and motley collection on the ride down,
Smugger has organised the tickets (so we can't loose him) and Giddy knows the way down (so we can't loose him either). Unfortunately they have both been eating red meat and leave Darlington at a most alarming rate of knots, we have no option other than to keep up. Oh dear ...
Shag shows off his spanky new 8.5 thing...
We stop at the top of Sutton Bank. It's 7:15. Humm, I'm sure we shouldn't be here this early. At least from here on in the roads have a few bends in them which should slow things down to "9 points and 12 month ban" territory.
After much more excitement and a fair few gratuitous overtaking maneuvers we find ourselves leaving the traffic clogged A64 and winding along a country lane and onto the rally site. Big Lisa is on the gate which results in squeals of joy and the feeling that the rally will be a good 'un. The camping fields are a little uppy-downy - not a worry for those of us on GS's (yeah right) - but at least there are sufficient flat bits and the tent pegs do go in, a huge campfire is set up in a natural hollow and the band/beer tents are at the top of the hill meaning getting home (or incinerated) is a simple matter of collapsing the legs and rolling.
We're all buzzing with adrenaline following the ride and immediately dive into the beers and start talking bollox, like yer do, a process that continues till about 10 when we stumble off towards the marquee in search of entertainment. It's busy up here but we manage to find a space where we can see the band without standing on each other.
... the Phantom Wheel Polisher strikes again.
Sad really, perhaps we should set up a charitable organisation to
help rehabilitate him into society
But there again is it really worth the effort?
The disco is doing it's stuff, people are dancing and Friday's main band are shuffling about on stage; all is ready the band adopt ready-to-rock-n-roll positions and the disco starts up some big steaming synth into music, which leads into a song (band still in position) and then .... another song. Towards the end of this one they start to twiddle along, we're on tenderhooks expecting the band to join in with a crescendo introduction ... the disco stops ... and the band start to tune up. Not a good start, I promise myself that as soon as the singer puts his foot on the monitor I'm outta here. It's about halfway through the second song he commits this heinous crime but as I'm still drinking a beer I try to hope it will get better. It doesn't and about midnight I stumble off back to my tent.
I wake up with only half the hangover I expected so start on the coffee and breakfast routine.
Bit by bit people emerge from the wreckage and prepare to do it all again, but first a ride out for the day. Needless to say interest in limited to Giddy, Andy and myself as everyone else decides on an early start for the evening.
Out we head into the mists along the A64 in search of a café, about 6 miles out from Malton we find a good one serving nutritious eggs, beans, coffee and other essential food-stuffs. Thus refreshed we head of in search of empty roads and entertainment, both of which seem hard to find. The first bit to Beverley is nice and twisty but also wet, Beverley is packed full of traffic and shoppers so we head out towards the seaside and Hornsea. We find a café and chill out for a bit, at some stage Jim rides past, oblivious to our waves and whistles, and off into the distance. Bridlington seemed like a good idea as did Scarborough but both where spoilt by mist, murk and endless (and I do mean endless) traffic. Ah well what did we really expect? So we parked up at Scarborough and went for a feed then, pausing only to stock up on beer at the supermarket, we return to the site.
A (very drunken) blast from the past.
The ride back is slightly more interesting, at least we can
see where we where going and the traffic had finally buggered
off...
Party time; heroic quantities of beer are consumed by all, the
bands are definitely of a better standard, the bonfire is immense
and best of all Mikej goes off on one providing top entertainment
for all who listen.
I'm not feeling very clever at all - the virus has caught up with me again. It's seems to be fairly contagious and many others are likewise afflicted. Bee eventually emerges from her tent refreshed and radiant. Actually she looked more akin to the Thing from the Black Lagoon but it would be unfair to make a comment like that.
But all to soon we're all sobered up enough to pack our belongings, ride home and crawl into our respective baths for the obligatory post rally ablute.
Some of our intrepid heroes.
Some more of them
Drunken dancing women (left) and technologically confused (right)
Simply confused (left and right)
... and it was then we realised Smugger was still in the toilet ...