Oopnarth, Group ride day 1

Glenn, Mike, Roger and Jeremy, join us before we set off. It's not raining when they arrive, but it starts when we leave. And it doesn't bloody stop all day.

Snads makes sure we leave the property.

Steve's 'tours' are always enjoyable but today there's no source of light to generate any kind of shine as we splash our way along the roads. They say there's no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing, and we're all geared-up with suitable clothing. Jackets under waterproof jackets, waterproof trousers on top of biker trousers, Goretex gloves and boots; but by the end of the day we're all soaked. Except Steve, who's just bought a new triple layer Goretex Klim suit and is wearing a waterproof jacket on top.

We traverse a mixed bag of tarmac, B-roads, mostly unclassified roads, and some that barely pass as roads with grass growing in the middle, which we can only access by opening some gates. There's sheep at the side of the road, with no separation between us and them so we proceed with caution. 

We stop for coffee in a little village called Askrigg, with the single public toilet next door to the temperance hall 100m down the road. Despite the bad weather the coffee shop is full so we take our coffees outside. It's lightly raining and there's no shelter, so we just grin and bear it. Watered and drained we get back on the bikes and hit the road.

More rain which eases off before becoming even heavier. I've never worn my helmet in heavy rain before and realise that it fogs up inside with the visor fully closed. I haven't yet fitted the Pinlock anti fog layer, so I spend the rest of the day with the visor cracked open a fraction. But this lets in a small amount of high-speed rain, so my face gets sprayed. At least it's not freezing rain.

But as the day progresses the wet layers are cooled by the fast flowing airstream to the point that the cold seeps deep inside. I've given up with saturated gloves, supposedly waterproof, but not after several hours in this weather. I eventually don some cheap plastic gloves as an inner layer underneath which helps retain some warmth but not much.

Lunch is a lovely place we've visited before, next to a ford over a small river. We're surprised that despite the weather it's level is not that high. 

We huddle under the bench parasols, which barely cover us and have hot tea/coffee and assorted rolls - welcome sustainance. 

It's a steep ride down to the tea shop and a steep ride back up; Phil on the Harley needs a little push to get on to the tarmac from the rough gravel path immediately in front of our lunch stop.

We decide to skip the afternoon coffee stop and ride the rest of the route non stop except for a brief petrol stop for the Alan Alan on his FireBlade sportsbike, not ideal for these conditions but he copes well.

Mike, Roger, Jeremy and Glenn go their separate ways at this point. Some are joining us again tomorrow.

We get back to Barlick and fill up with petrol before parking the bikes in Steve's garage. It's still raining. 

We are thoroughly sodden and peel the multiple layers from our bodies and spread them all over the house decorating the various radiators. Both Christopher and I are cold to the bone and take ages to warm up in fresh warm clothes.

We watch England thrash France and then have dinner, while regailing stories from our various bike trips and other gems from our lives. Despite the wet weather and England winning, it was a good day. 

Oopnarth again - Trail Day 2

Faffing around to get Christopher's big bike, the mighty Africa Twin, and we eventually get on the road. We're heading towards Steve's in 'Barlick' to meet him mid afternoon and plan to ride some trails on the way. 

Traffic is busy and Christopher is being cautious with the AT, which normal has wide panniers on either side, but not today! Once he realises that he's off, filtering as expected and we make better progress.

At Denton we head up towards the moor, which starts with a gravel path, then leads to grass. 

We open and close a few gates. Christopher struggles for traction on the grass after one gate and then take a wrong turn. We have to turn around but try to do so without leaving the track, easier said than done, and I get the front wheel stuck in a dip. I then struggle to manoeuvre the heavy bike. The clutch starts to complain with a howl, a sign that I need to stop slipping it and get moving. Eventually I'm free and back on the trail.

But now we're on the moor, which is muddy and marshy. It's single track now and in places I'm paddling for stability while riding more slowly. 

Occasionally I catch a foot and feel my soft luggage pushing on my calves. Hard panniers are not recommended for off-road riding as they can break your leg in such situations. But my left leg is starting to ache with all the paddling and dabbing only four and a half months after surgery, which is mentally compromising my riding. 

We cross a few small dips filled with water and mud that need to be taken with care and the going is tough. 

We stop and I walk ahead to see how much more of this terrain there is - it goes on for another 800m or so before reaching a wooded area that is probably firmer ground. We make a decision to head back the way we can and head for Steve's.

At the gate off the moor we meet Bernie, a local, with her dogs, in a 4x4. She asks where we've been and we tell her we've turned back as it's too boggy and that we've been sticking to the marked trail. She seems content with our answers and says that they've been reintroducing beavers in the area and have actually dammed some of the water run-offs to make it more boggy. She's concerned that some riders have been antisocial, riding off the trails and damaging the marsh.

Back down on the grass track taking care not to slip on the grass. Off the trail and we again take a wrong turn towards the Denton Hall gates, but turn around before reaching them. A van driver beckons Christopher and they get chatting. Seems Bernie has phoned down to the driver, who saw us riding up, and reported that we were polite and had been keeping to the trails, we get points for that. Trail riding in the UK, as everywhere, is a constant battle between interest groups to preserve access rights. Many bikers don't help themselves but especially trail riders as a whole but breaking the carefully negotiated rules that risks banning all bikes from the trails.

Back on the tarmac and we reach Steve's, where Snads arrives just after us and greets us with her usual tirade of jovial insults! The rest of the group join us later, Mick and Ray, Hugo, Alan Alan, and Phil.

Dinner is chilli and garlic bread which is consumed while the lads watch the women's rugby: Canada triumphs over poor NZ.

Oopnarth again - Trail Riding day

It was a bumpy night in my cabin as I tried to sleep and take my mind off whether I'd tied down the bike securely enough, and punctuated occasionally by the sound of car alarms going off in the hold. But me and the bike survived the crossing, which was actually very enjoyable as always, even if this time slightly delayed by the rough sea.

On to Christopher's and then I followed him to his storage unit where he keeps both of his bikes (don't tell Keren the bikes are not in his house!) Today he's riding his brand new (Chinese) Kove 450, a dedicated enduro bike, and a model shaped by three successful Dakar finishes last year. The ECU has had an update to make it more 'responsive', but Christopher calls it jumpy. 

A short ride to some green lane trails obtained from Christopher's freshly minted TRF membership. 

It doesn't take long for the Kove to shine and Christopher zooms ahead, the 450 almost braaaping like a two stroke. My trusty DR doesn't install the same level of confidence in me so I'm rather gingerly negotiating the slightly muddy and grassy trails. An early fall makes this all too real, but no damage to me or the bike. I need to loosen up and let the bike go where it wants...

Relaxing makes things easier and I settle into a second gear chugg letting the bike's torque pull me along at low revs - first gear occasionally where the going gets more difficult.

We enjoy a few hours of trails interspersed with road sections and then stop for a stop of lunch. An onion baji burger for me and very nice it was too with a tasty chutney relish.

Back to the lockup and the bikes are suitably painted with a layer of authentic mud.

Alas, no pictures were taken, not route tracked! 🤦🏽‍♂️

Baker Dom: a throwback from 2020

The latest post is actually one from 2020, a 'barn-find' among my files if you like, dusted off, restored and posted for your pleasure! Enjoy it while it's hot.

Biker Dom's Adventures, Two Wheels or Two Legs: Lockdown: Living Life in Dough Motion 

Morocco Madness, Day 18 - to Paris

 A wet start, as we leave the grey steel town. Straight onto the motorway, and soon into France and once more on toll roads.  Less interesting, but we make good progress, stopping to do the usual biker fluid exchange - yikes that sounds dodgy - but it's just pee and petrol!

Tonight we end up just south of Paris with my friends Bara and Adnan, who offer us their fabulous hospitality.  Once again the remote cook does a terrific job!

Stories and university advice before bed, it's nice to share experiences of my own convoluted educational path with the next generation of minds.

Tomorrow its Paris to Brussels for me, Paris to Calais, the Eurotunnel, and a little beyond for Christopher.

Morocco Madness, Day 17

Up early because we have a lot of km to cover today, and we have to walk to collect our bikes from the carpark then load them up before riding away. 

The first part was easy, waking up to a cold breakfast on the terrace, with ingredients purchased from the local Carrefour last night. Cold coffee, cold pastries, cold yogurt drink. 🤷🏽

The walk went ok too. But then we had to leave the car park. We had registered our bikes at the hotel but they hadn't given us a discount code so the parking attendant insisted that we pay the full price. We didn't argue, but decided to walk back to the hotel to get the discount. But before we left, much to our surprise the attendant gestured that we could leave together on one ticket, which we did and bid him our muchos gracias. When I asked about the parking at the hotel, it wasn't actually that much of a discount, so the parallel riding exit solution was a good outcome. 

Then motorway blast. The scenery changing all the time. It became cold and later we realised we had climbed to about 1400m while riding. The weather was clear and cool so we made good progress stopping three times for petrol. On the second stop we decided on our destination that evening, somewhere just short of the French border in the Basque country.

We arrive in Beasain and it's starting to get dark. The bikes are parked, and we look for the check-in. The hotel itself is unusual for us, attached to a bar, and the receptionist is the barman who doesn't speak English - why should he? He uses a phone to relay instructions, which works out fine after our pre-payment is confirmed. The room is better than expected, refurbished and very clean.Then we go out hunting for food. 

The immediate area seems dead for a Saturday night, although the bar itself is busy. It's a working town and there's a Arcelor Mittal steel works down the road, and this is a Friday so no doubt it will be busy with people unwinding after a tough week.

I decide that my chain needs oiling and adjusting, so while I do that, Christopher walks into the centre to find a restaurant. Job done and he pings me his location, another bar. But the food is interesting, I have squid, served in a black sauce, which I eat with bread. Christopher has meat balls and chips. 

After dinner we go in search of ice-cream; no fancy gelato stores here, but we find it in a wrapper at the local petrol station - good enough to scratch that icy itch. On the way back we see sparks flying inside the steel factory. This really does remind me of the steel town in the Deer Hunter film.

800km today on well kept roads and no tolls - yay!

Morocco Madness, Day 16

The capsule would normally be a squeeze, but this one was a double. And in fact a double bunk, because Christopher had the capsule below mine. And while I was a bit hot, he was a bit cold. 🤷🏽

We find a very fine breakfast just around the corner, and the crazy fact of our Morocco leg is that despite being told we'd have hummus every day, today in real fact is the first hummus of our trip! And that's after leaving Morocco and being in Spain!

Breakfast demolished and back to the hotel. Christopher plans to do some work and I plan to do some stalking! 

Miss Hayes has arranged for Mrs Hayes to visit the Alhambra palace on her birthday. And Mrs Hayes thinks that Mr Hayes has forgotten. But up pops Mr Hayes to surprise his Mrs just outside the entrance. 

Boo! Big kiss and happy birthday!!!

95% surprise. 5% impact lost as I had announced our return ferry for which the timing was a little bit too convenient. None the less we had a great day visiting the Alhambra, eating pomegranate ice-cream, playing with camera AI, and then viewing the the museum of torture - the things people did, and still do, to each other is very sad. 

Then we meet up with Christopher for dinner followed by more ice-cream! 

Then we part ways with the ladies who have a early flight back to London, while Christopher and I reinsert ourselves back into our pods, ready to emerge tomorrow hopefully refreshed from our cocoons like butterflies ready to fly away.

Morocco Madness Day 15

Back to the port today, after an uninspiring hotel breakfast - the ingredients were there, it was just, meh... 

Reversing the bikes out required us to move furniture in the lobby! A short ride and we're there at 09:10, but it all seems quite deserted. We see that our 11:15 ferry doesn't exist, and the next is 12:01. I suspect the "01" is more relevant for a Tokyo bullet train departure than a North African/Spanish ferry. 

We hang around until 10:30 watching the swelling terminal population, including an obnoxiously loud pair of Harley bikes, and eventually decide to make a run for the border.  Only to be turned back because we hadn't yet checked in at the office window we've been staring at for the past 100 minutes. 🤦🏽 That takes all of five minutes and we're on our way again. 

Swiftly through passport checks, X-ray customs checks (an x-ray truck driven over a group of vehicles), sniffer dog checks and one more passport check. Then straight onto the ship. The Filipino crew member recognises my bike from the journey over and we chat about the Philippines embassy functions in Brussels, and the Filipino Satwa area in Dubai.... At least I do, he just listens... 🥱

And Christopher notes my name dropping 🤷🏽 yeah, sorry about that. 

The ferry seems busier and nosier, but we settle on a free sofa, before ear plugs and eye shades are deployed and the floor beckons. The journey passes more quickly than expected. 

Back in Europe and a fairly quick passports and customs check for me, but Christopher's equivalent passport and baggage take a temporal detour. But nothing too long and we're soon on our way. 

We figure we'll avoid the toll faff and it's only 30mins longer on a 3hr journey. But that proves a bit longer as we hit traffic due to an accident, and while I can easily filter, big Bertha with his overly lardy rear end struggles to squeeze through the gaps. So what do friends do? I leave him! 

About 5km further along the road, I wait at a bus stop. I contemplate having a dip in the inviting blue sea while I wait; it's just a few metres behind that hedge and row of houses, we've been admiring it since we left the port and it's calling my name...

But like a 'good friend' I wait. Longer than anticipated, but after about 15 minutes the Africa Twin passes by and I race after him to catch up. 

Back on track, we pass Marbella, Malaga before turning off and heading north east into the mountains. 

Then eventually we reach our destination... Granada! Where a surprise awaits a birthday girl!

We check into a capsule hotel!

Morocco Madness Day 14

We are up early: an extended Ibis breakfast, and on the road by 0955! Five minutes ahead of our target: that's a record for us. 

Straight on to the main road north avoiding the motorway, but it's frustratingly slow at 40, 60 and 80kph, punctuated by frequent roundabouts and speed checks. But we are good boys today. 😇

Half way to Rabat and we pass some kind of royal residence; there are many soldiers and police outside guarding the place. The whole coast road seems relatively affluent with nice properties between it and the sea. But from the parts we can actually see, it's mostly low cliffs rather than beaches, and in places anglers dangle their lines into the mighty Atlantic.

As we approach Rabat the area becomes more holiday than home, with restaurants and other facilities catering to tourists. But it's not like Blackpool and has a definite upmarket feel. Impressed by the number of joggers we see along the road.

We pass through Rabat, the capital city, and it seems very nice. Although we are just passing through, it leaves a positive impression as the most attractive and modern of the cities we've seen in Morocco - neat and tidy, with nice architecture.

After Rabat, it's Kenitra, but we don't see enough of it to form an impression. We stop for a roadside coffee somewhere and it's excellent, strong and flavoursome, for a bargain 6 Dirhams (about 60 cents). We need the caffeine because the slow roads are putting both of us to sleep.

Turning off the main road to Tangier we head into the Riff mountains. Not that high, but enough to be interesting. The roads get twistier and the scenery changes yet again. It's almost alpine with conifer trees and a few reservoirs, but at the same time the scenery reminds me of Ireland in places. 

There's a market in Kasar el Kabir and our plotted route is practically barred by throngs of shoppers and stalls, but Google doesn't know that. It quickly reroutes us when I u-turn, but I use my intuition before it does so. 

We pass below the town of Chefchououen. From a distance it looks very pretty with its colourful buildings spread out on the mountainside; it's a shame we don't have time to visit. 

But we do stop to shop at a roadside ceramics store, one of many that we've passed. I buy a tajine dish, but now the challenge is to get it back to Belgium in one piece; at least it fits in my bike's top box.

It's getting colder now as we climb, reaching above 800m altitude. There are still roundabouts and roadworks to negotiate and we both notice our front wheels sliding on the roundabouts' shiny tarmac at times, probably due to the dust on the roads. 

We are becoming tired, but there are still about 100km to got. I take a wrong turn and we have to go back; more police checks, but fewer than the coast road. My bike hits reserve, we stop for petrol for the second time today. 

Not far now and signs for Tangier Med port.  We figure we'll look for some where to eat, but there's nothing until we are virtually in the port. We park up on the pavement and give a few Dirhams to the parking wallah. It's only shawarma and chips, but welcome after no lunch - I have a habit of torturing my riding companion, but he doesn't complain (much).

Then we find the hotel, deep in the port admin building area. The receptionist/parking wallah/concierge directs us to park in a corridor inside the building! 

Our room over looks the container port, but there's not that much actuvity.