Irish Eccentrics Christmas Brunch - The Come-Back Tour 2016Safely home and a good night's sleep later, here goes with the latest ramblings...
As you may be aware from previous posts and exchanges, I always intended to get over to Ireland this year to participate in the Irish Eccentric's Christmas brunch at Stradbally Fayre. Some of you that have gotten to know me over the last few years will know that any excuse for a gathering, some good K roads and some fine kompany will get my interest aroused, but the promise of a taste of Olaf's world famous Christmas pudding and the chance to savour a few genuine Guinness's in Dublin was too irresistible!
Thanks to some perseverance and
Kat-herding by Olaf, the gathering date was eventually set as 28 Dec and I immediately booked ferry tickets for me and Gretel. Plans made and nothing would stop me, short of severe winter weather and snow on the road. Well that was was I thought, but life is a funny old thing and serves up generous helpings of the unexpected when...erm, least expected! All was good until 18 Nov when a kindly motorist decided that he wanted the same bit of road as me and the ensuing incident left me and Gretel lying broken in the road. That was 6 weeks ago to the day and it has been a long and (at times) painful journey to get to where I am now.
Bruised, battered and pinned together again I was determined to be fit to ride to the gathering. Poor old Gretel, on the other hand is not so well and stands forlornly in my garage waiting on some TLC and needs some serious transplant surgery before she will be back on the road.
During my work commute and weekend rides, I alternate weekly between Heidi and Gretel so they both get a decent amount of running and a little down-time too. This is exactly why you need more than 1 K bike...and Heidi was there for me, ready and willing to take me on my adventures as soon as I was able. The only slight problem with her was that the clutch was a little stiffer than it should be - stripping, replacing and lubricating the clutch actuating arm needle bearing was one of those jobs waiting on me getting around to it. I just wished that I had! With fully functioning hands, a slightly stiffer clutch is not a great problem, but with a broken one, that little extra effort makes a massive difference. Early in my recovery, I couldn't pull the clutch lever in at all and, not being in a fit state to do the needle bearing replacement work, I focused my effort on physio and hand strengthening exercises. If Mohamed won't come to he mountain, the mountain will come to him!
So, I worked hard on getting both hands working again, but progress seemed frustratingly and painfully (literally) slow and the clock was ticking down steadily to the 28 Dec. They say a week is a long time in politics, the same is true for injury recovery and, with the Irish Eccentric's Christmas Brunch being my goal, with focus and application I actually made good progress from week to week. It was still quite a big ask and I was determined not going to give up hope until 27 Dec at which point I would take a test ride and make the final decision on whether I would be able to go or not. Much as I wanted to go, there certainly weren't any prizes for getting it wrong and potentially breaking another bike and complicating my injuries.
Tuesday 27 Dec 16: Home to Fishguard (174 miles)The chosen day arrived and time for the all important test ride. Somewhat apprehensively, I rolled Heidi out of the garage and fired her up ready for my first ride since my off 5 weeks and 4 days earlier. I only intended to do a short ride to my local supermarket fuel station - about a 2.5 mile round trip, but far enough to see if I was capable - both mentally and physically. Family and work colleagues, of course, thought I was barking for even contemplating riding so soon. Perhaps they were right?
Mentally, I was fine - it felt good to be back in the saddle and I whilst I was extra vigilant, I wasn't running scared of every tin box. Physically, things weren't quite as good as I would have liked. My right hand was fine, but my left hand was still quite stiff and the clutch work was not as easy as it should have been, but it was good enough and I gave myself the green light to go.
Back in my garage, I completed the final pre-ride checks and sprayed liberal quantities of WD-40 all over the clutch actuating arm in the hope that some would penetrate into the bearing and free things up a little more.
I was booked on the 02:30 sailing from Fishguard to Rosslare on 28 Dec, so had a 174 mile run from home to the ferry port. This is normally about a 3.5 hour run, but I decided to allow extra time for my journey, just in case. I set off from home at 21:00 on dark and relatively quiet roads. The temperature was about 3 degrees C, but a hard frost was forecast overnight - although that, according to the weather men, was mainly to the eastern side of the UK and I was headed west into Wales.
It felt good to be on the road again and with after-market heated grips (Oxford) doing their thing, I was warm and comfortable. Bristol was quiet as I passed through and minimal gear changes were required before I hit the motorways (M32 and M4). I wasn't in a hurry, so ticked along at a nice steady 70mph enjoying the clear starry night. My music on my Zumo 590 GPS blared away in my bluetooth helmet speakers and kept me company along the way, interrupted occasionally by the odd driving instruction. The temperature dropped to -1.5 degrees C and I was glad that I had added an extra layer of clothing to keep me warm. It's all about the layers...and having the top layer suitably wind and waterproof. Evenso, after about 2 hours, my left hand was getting tired and I decided that it would be sensible to stop for a coffee. I was making good time and had plenty of time to spare - no prizes for slogging on and getting to the ferry port too early.
As the M4 motorway came to an end and became the A48, I pulled off at a service station and parked up. The servo was as quiet as the road had been - just a few other punters scattered around the eating area. I bought a black coffee and settled back to savour the rich, dark, flavour of the roasted beans while I warmed up and stretched my legs. Suitably refreshed, I headed back out into the crisp, cold, night. I was going to fill with fuel too, while I was stopped. I have made the mistake before of getting to the ferry port with only about 35miles of gas left in the tank (I get about 210 miles from a full tank) - the petrol stations near the port are all closed at night and it means I have to refuel very soon after I get into Ireland (where several petrol stations aren't open when the ferry gets in at 06:30). However, as I cruised onto the forecourt, I noticed that every petrol pump had a yellow out of service label on it! I guess they were waiting on a delivery, but no good for me!
Back onto the A48 dual carriageway and I was soon cruising along at a steady 70mph again. Unlike the motorway though, there were annoying things like traffic lights and roundabouts to slow me down and force gear changes. I was now feeling the effect on my left hand and adopted a lazy way of riding - approach junction/lights/roundabout etc. in 5th, pulling clutch lever and holding it in. If my way ahead was clear, I'd drop straight down into 3rd and release the clutch lever to make the manoeuvre. If I had to stop, while clutch lever was held in, I would quickly drop down from 5th into 1st and not use the engine to help with the braking at all. I know it's not a good riding style for proper control, but it was far kinder to my hand and reduced the number of clutch operations quite considerably. Yes - I know - if I have to ride that way, I am not really fit to ride! The other difficulty I was having was indicating left. The effort of extending my thumb to activate the left indicator switch was actually quite painful. Now the main injuries to the left arm humorous and radius are healing, I am noticing an increased pain in the vicinity of the scaphoid bone in my left hand (the same bone that was confirmed as being broken in my right hand). I will get the doctors to take a look when I go for my next hospital review. I found it more comfortable to release the left grip altogether and use the back of my hand to nudge the indicator switch. Again, not a very satisfactory way of operating bike controls, but it gets the job done.
As I was riding like a cripple, my thoughts turned to the likes of Chris Ganley - a guy quite local to me who lost his left arm in a bike accident but has adapted a bike so that he can still ride...when I say ride, he actually races and takes corners on bikes in a way that would have me scared at even a quarter of the angle he is achieving! TWB posted a link to a video clip about him a while back:
https://www.k100-forum.com/t11558-motivation#137775Goes to show that where there's a will, there usually is a way. My temporary disability is nothing but an inconvenience in comparison. What was it that Clint Eastwood said..."Adapt, Improvise and Overcome" (Heartbreak Ridge) - that kind of sums it up for me. Failure is not the end point; failure is normally one of the many steps on the path to success.
Suitably humbled my my thoughts, I pressed on. It was now less distance to get to the ferry than it was to turn tail and run for home and give up. I wondered about the route from Rosslare to Stradbally Fayre that I had pre-loaded into my GPS, lots of twists and turns and an unnecessarily long route. Was it sensible? I didn't know, but I did know that come hell or high water, I would be getting on that ferry and getting myself over to Ireland. What I did when I got there, I would wait and see what the day would bring me!
The night time temperature fluctuated between 6.5 and -1.5 degrees C (I'm glad I fitted a digital thermometer to the dashboard a while back - it is very re-assuring to know whether there is a real risk of ice or not). Mostly, it was about 3.5 degrees C, so icy patches were unlikely and the gritting lorries had been out doing their stuff. The roads were dry and smooth and I motored on in the darkness. About 15 miles from the port, I found a service station that was open and pulled off for fuel. As I rejoined the main road, I could tell that my ferry had arrived on time and was disgorging it's cargo by the marked increase in the volume of traffic heading in the opposite direction. There was a slight increase in traffic heading my way too, but I still had loads of time in hand and wasn't in a rush to get there and plodded on at a steady 60mph (where permitted). I happily let several cars and vans go screaming past me and disappear into the night ahead of me. Eventually, at about 01:00, I rolled into the ferry port, checked in and took my place in the "priority" lane behind the cars and vans that had torn past me earlier!
It was good to stop. 174 miles in 4 hours was never going to be a record breaker. The stop for coffee at the half way point had been a good choice. Now for the hour wait until boarding!
Wednesday 28 Dec 16: Fishguard/Rosslare to Dublin via Stradbally Fayre - the long way round (220miles)
Around 02:00, the ferry boarding began...priority lane first, of course. The idea of the priority lane is to get those "special" passengers onboard and settled before the riffraff - that usually means people that had booked cabins and motorbike riders who need a little more time to strap their bikes down. I was part of both camps - on previous crossings, whilst it only takes 3½ - 4 hours, I have learnt that you can get some good quality rest in a cabin that you just can't get sitting in a public area with noisy and unruly kids around. After a decent ride and with a whole day ahead of you, that few hours rest is pretty precious. It also give you the opportunity to peel a few layers off and get comfortable.
I racked out and, after the obligatory safety announcements, was soon rocked into a deep sleep by the gentle movement of the ship. Good choice. Before I knew it though, it was time to be be up, wash and dress and ready to return to the vehicle deck.
As the doors opened, I rode out into the dark and followed a line of cars that had been allowed out before me towards the port exit. The temperature was a comfortable 7.5 degrees C and frost free. My hands had recovered during the crossing, so I decided to stick with my original route. This route took me north to the Wicklow National Park where I planned to ride the old military road past the Sally Gap from North to South. The weather was dry and overcast but the roads were wet. If it had been icy, I wouldn't have done it and i reckoned that if my hands started giving me gyp again, I could easily bail out and head directly to Stradbally Fayre. I checked my trusty GPS - sunrise was not until nearly 08:30, so it would be dark for most of my ride up to the north end of the National Park, another reason for riding down through the park from North to South.
As I got clear of the port, most of the traffic peeled off to head to the South West and West of Ireland and my road was pretty quiet. Once again I had lots of time to kill. The meet at Stradbally Fayre was scheduled for 11:00 and my meandering route was planned to get me there just before that time. I took it easy on the motorway section, travelling well less than the posted 120kph speed limit. With the amount of time I had, I wouldn't normally include the motorway in my route, but as it was dark, there was little point opting for a more scenic route and it allowed me to get a few km under my belt. By the time I was approaching the National Park, a cold grey dawn was breaking. On the higher ground, the temperature had fallen to about 3.5 degrees C, but the weather stayed dry and there was little wind. In places the cloud cover lessened and gave a promise of sunshine breaking through, but it never quite made it while I was travelling on this section. I more or less had the road to myself which was nice.
As I rounded one of the many blind bends on this twisty road over the moors and heathland, I saw a man near his recently crashed car. I stopped to ensure that he was alright and that he had called for assistance. Travelling in the opposite direction to me, he had simply taken the bend too fast and had skidded off the side of the road into the ditch and was stuck firmly in the peat bog with his nearside rear wheel cocked in the air. I was glad that I hadn't been a few minutes earlier, otherwise he could have taken me out. This is one of the problems with riding this narrow strip of tarmac, not only do you have to get your speed and track right but you have to hope that on coming cars and bikes are able to do the same. Judging by the number of roadside memorials, not everyone is as good as we think we are! I offered to help, but in truth there was little I could do. There was no way Heidi would have the power and grip to be able to tow his car out of the ditch and any attempt would probably just shag her clutch and probably have me slithering all over the road. I wished him luck and continued on my way.
Taking it steady on the bends, I weaved my way South across the desolate moor. The sun still refused to break through the clouds where I was, and I could only enjoy distant views of patches of moorland bathed in soft yellow early morning light
Some sections of the road were freshly resurfaced and smooth and pleasant to ride on, those sections were most enjoyable. Other sections (most of it) were rough, bumpy and broken and less pleasant. As Heidi jolted and bucked under me, I suffered an intense pain in my left hand and let out a strangled aggghh, oooooh, ugghhh with every jolt. To a passer by, it would have sounded like I was rehearsing a voice over for a porn film rather than enjoying an early morning bike ride and that thought amused me and lessened my discomfort! Fortunately, there were no passers by on that lonely stretch of road.
One of the strange things you see on this remote road are Christmas trees growing by the roadside which have been decorated with tinsel and baubles. No idea why someone feels the need to travel to the middle of nowhere and decorate a tree, nor why they would happen to have a box of Christmas decorations with them, but very festive nonetheless!
With some relief, I soon descended down off the moors and through the Sally Gap and Wicklow Gap. By the time I was heading West again on better roads, I had a full bright sun behind me, dazzling me in my mirrors. I was eating up my time very nicely and enjoying the freedom of the open road but had had enough of the rough roads and I soon joined the M7 motorway and was blasting south again towards Stradbally Fayre.
I arrived in Stradbally Fayre around 10:30 and noticed that I was the first to arrive for the meet and, as I needed fuel, I continued on to the petrol station just down the road and filled Heidi up again. A few minutes later, I returned to the cafe and saw that Trapper has now arrived on his gleaming red & yellow K1 and was busy parking up on the pavement. I parked up at the kerbside and we went inside for a coffee and a chat. The rest of the group started to arrive, with Playlikewedream on his blue & yellow K1 and Ringfad on his red K1100 soon joining us at the table. More K's and others arrived and joined us...until we had dominated the side room. It was good to see the familiar faces again; Olaf, Cluain Si, Pat O'D, Corkboy, Reg, Will and others and talk over more coffee while we stuffed out faces with full Irish breakfasts.
Then for the main event - the pudding! Olaf had carefully prep'd the kitchen and at the right time, bowls of delicious, hot Christmas puddings appeared along with custard and whipped cream and brandy butter (thanks John). Yum!! I am glad to report that my pudding eating apparatus was in perfect working order and Will did not get a chance to eat my helping.
The world famous Olaf Christmas pudding with Ringfad eyeing up a second helping to his right.
I managed to eat all my bowlful and was even able to have a second helping, offered up by playlikewedream (thanks Pat). Delicious!! I must admit to feeling very full by the time I had finished my gluttony!
Eating and drinking done, the assembled crowd dispersed onto the street to admire each others bikes and talk even more K talk. Will had a strange modern looking bike creation that started with a "D" - having failed to get his red K1100 out of the shed to join the other 2 (Ringfad and Reg's), but at least it was red and provided a passing source of amusement. Unfortunately, all the bikes were scattered up and down and on both sides of the road so it wasn't possible to get a picture of them all together. I blame the inconsiderate car drivers for their random parking where the bikes should have been.
Socialising done along with a few dodgy "off the back of the bike" deals - mostly bread and puddings, we started to disperse in small groups to whence we had come. I was travelling north to Dublin for the night with Ringfad and Playlikewedream, so fell in astern of them as we headed up the road towards the motorway.
The motorway was much busier now than it had been earlier, but we stuck together despite the best attempts of cars, buses and trucks to get between us. I had Ringfads home address loaded into my GPS and told him that if we did get separated, either because of traffic or because I was being too feeble to keep up (riding behind a K1 and K1100), not to worry as I would see him there. I needn't have worried about being feeble - our pace was moderate and there was no difficulty staying on their heels. It didn't take long to reach Dublin's fair city and, as we left the motorway, Playlikewedream peeled off one way while we went another.
When I came over for St Pat's day way back in Mar 16, I endured a 31 hour day - home to Stradbally Fayre and straight home again. At the time Ringfad said that if I did it again, I should stay with him. A very kind offer indeed. For those of you with longer memories, on my first ever ride to Ireland (in Apr 14), I stayed in Dublin for the first night of a week long tour and Ringfad met me at my hotel for a few Guinness's in the famous Horseshoe bar and other local hostelries. It seemed fitting to take him up on his generous offer this time around and get to see the insides of some more Dublin bars. I'm not sure who was leading who astray, but hope he didn't regret making the offer.
Having changed out of the cumbersome biking gear, enjoyed a refreshing cup of tea and the company of Ringfad's lovely family, it was time to take the train into Dublin centre to see if we could find any bars that actually sold Guinness. We failed - but only so much as we didn't find bar
s that served Guinness because we stopped in the first one (as recommended by Playlikewedream) and then didn't move for the next few hours. Why move on elsewhere when the first place encountered is entirely decent and serves lots of the smooth, creamy black stuff? Pat joined us in the bar and the evening just slipped away in a very pleasant way indeed. I did have to be mindful of needing to ride to the ferry early the next morning, so did take it relatively easy on the Guinness and slow, steady drinking is the most sociable way of doing it.
Bidding farewell to Pat, I had been promised supper at the best fish & chip shop in Dublin (if not the whole of Ireland), but time had slipped too easily through our fingers and, given the late hour, we had to make do with a Macdonalds instead. I guess, you can't have it all in one short visit! Suitably fed and acceptably sober(ish), we made our way back to Ringfad's home where Hillary (Mrs Ringfad) was waiting with a rolling pin...just kidding, she was as charming and welcoming as before and extended the invitation for any future visits (hopefully confirming that I wasn't too badly behaved)! I was most grateful for a bed for the night.
Thu 29 Dec 16: Dublin to Home (260 miles)
Morning came too soon. Antisocially, I had to be up at 06:30 to be away in time to catch the morning ferry at 08:20 from Dublin Port. I felt surprisingly clear headed, which was a relief. I wheeled Heidi out of the garage and said goodbye to Ringfad and left as quietly as I could to join the early morning Dublin traffic. There had been a frost overnight, but it was already thawing fast by the time I hit the road for the short ride to the port. I had been advised to use the tunnel rather than the shorter but stop/start more direct route. Given the wish to minimise gear changes, I accepted the advice and stumped up the 10 euros willingly for the ease and fuggy warmth of the tunnel. I made good time to the port and soon joined the queue of vehicles at the Stena line check in booths.
I hadn't opted for a cabin for the return trip, so no priority boarding for me on that score, but as the only bike on the ferry (again) I was put in a special lane all on my ownsome and was then the first to board. Unusually, we were loaded onto the lower deck alongside rows of commercial trailers, but it really didn't matter which deck I was on and the space was soon filled with cars. As can been seen, the ferry captain was clearly expecting me and put on a list to counteract the weight of Heidi, me and my belly full of Christmas pudding and Guinness (or was my camera just crooked as I boarded the ship?)!
With Heidi strapped down, it was time to climb up to the passenger lounge and find myself a quiet seat with a view. With some particularly loud and ill-disciplined families in the lounge, I quickly wished that I had booked myself the tranquility of a cabin, but settled into some food and coffee while the ship prepared to sail. After I had eaten, I did enquire at the customer services desk, but was told that all cabins were booked. Oh well, I live and learn again.
We left Dublin as the sun rose on what promised to be another cracking day and another calm crossing.
The crossing was uneventful and I managed to cat nap between the bouts of screaming kids and loud parents and we arrived into Holyhead on time, just before noon. By now, it had become a glorious sunny day, tipping the mercury at a tropical 9.5 degrees C, and I enjoyed the fast ride from the port down through the middle of Anglesey. This road is mostly dual carriageway, so I was easily able to get past the few cars that were allowed to disembark before me. Unfortunately, such is the timing of the ferries, the Irish Ferries ferry arrives a little earlier than the Stena line one that I was on (incidentally, Ainsjac, the Stena Adventurer was built by Hyundai in S Korea not in Tasmania) so by the time I got to the bridge over the Menai Straits, I had caught up with the Irish Ferries stragglers. Not much of a problem though, as after the bridge, most of the traffic heads off to the East and the motorway while I was doglegging West to put me on on the road down through Snowdonia and the centre of Wales.
Experience has shown that while this is not the fastest route (according to the GPS), it is quite a bit shorter and I find there is actually little difference in the overall time taken. It is a far nicer route that the boring old motorway and, given the miles of road work that currently blight the motorway (with the wretched average speed cameras), it was my best option. Had I been travelling at night, I would have opted for the motorway though.
So, down the scenic route I went. Traffic was pretty light, although I did get caught up a couple of times behind a few slow cars on the twisty, narrower, sections. It was a nice run down through Snowdonia but I soon lost the sun behind the mountains and it never reappeared again. With the loss of the sun, the temperature did start to fall quickly to more seasonal values hovering around freezing. While the road stayed dry and showed signs of having been gritted, in the centre of Wales, the trees and bushes were all covered in a ghostly white shroud of ice where dew or fog had frozen on their branches.
The temperature only dipped below freezing a few times, but I was concerned that there could be black ice on the road, so took it extra cautiously. I was about 100 miles from home and getting cold and tired. Not a good combination. Fortunately, it was only this area that was so cold and as I headed further south, at least things warmed up a few degrees and the risk of ice diminished again.
Of course, evening was approaching fast and it was likely that temperatures would be falling again with the darkness. I was keen to get home. Its about a 5½ hour ride from Holyhead to home but I decided not to stop except for one brief fuel stop. It would have been better if I had stopped for a coffee and a break, but there was nowhere convenient and I just kept plugging on. My hands were aching and every gear change or indication was becoming a labour. Now, cold, stiff and tired, it took all my concentration to keep going, and by the time I hit the heavy M4 motorway traffic, in the south of Wales, I had really had enough and was glad to be crossing over the Severn Bridge and back into England. The worst was yet to come though - Bristol. I am used to commuting very day through the slow Bristol congestion and know the route like the back of my hands, but with aching hands and increasing difficulty changing gear, the stop start crawl though the city was unpleasant, to say the least. Nevertheless, I kept moving with home now less than an hour away. I was somewhat relieved to finally roll up to my garage door at 17:30 and ease my weary carcass off my bike. I put Heidi away and used my last ounce of strength to heave her up onto her centre stand. My youngest daughter had offered to cook tea, which was greatly appreciated, so I had a quick shower and started the slow process of downloading video clips from my bike camera, but within ½ hour of getting home I was fast asleep on the sofa and had to be woken by her when tea was ready!!
Heidi had run faultlessly and all in all, it had been a good run and I was really glad that I had done it. It certainly was good psychologically, but physically, a 654 mile round trip in the middle of winter was probably a bit too ambitious for a come back tour, within 6 weeks of receiving some fairly serious injuries and not having ridden in that time.
Anyway, home safe and sound and ready to get on with the healing process. When I go back to work after the Christmas/New Year break I will probably use the car to commute for another few weeks and allow things to strengthen a little more before venturing out on the bike again.
It was great to meet up with the Irish Eccentrics again and share their Christmas brunch and hospitality. A huge vote of thanks to Olaf for being the driving force behind these meets and for slaving over a steaming stove to produce such tasty puddings and a massive thank you to Simon and Hillary for putting me up in Dublin.
This forum really is good for heart, mind and soul!
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Message [Page 2 of 2]
Re: Eccentrics Christmas Brunch 2016 Sat Dec 24, 2016 5:20 pm
K1 1990 Laguna Blue and Yellow 
88....May contain nuts!
1986 k75, 1985 K100rt, 
I'll take a walk up to ComberJohn's tomorrow and deliver his.
