YC's trip to Craggy Island

[yorkie_chris]

It's been an experience.

Thought I would regale you all with the tale for entertainment purposes While I'd love to make one of those fancy-dan pictureographical story threads, I am but a poor Yorkshireman, and don't own a camera. They say a picture speaks a thousand words, so here's a thousand words to make up for it!

It begins with MYC's trip to Craggy Island, (Skomer). Some of you saw us on the ARTNW morning after, as we wheezed our way down there in daveprestons wop shed. She's been there a few weeks now, so I reckoned it was about time I went down to say hello.

An XJ900 was pondered for the trip, but in the end was not ready. Bloody lucky really, as it wouldn't have hacked the pace in the end.

Friday saw me meander my way down to Badgers set, on the SV, equipped with a tankbag, a jerrycan and a bergen. That day I'd got word that the only boat going to Skomer was going to be at 9AM! Buggerance! Early start! After shopping, the bergen was fully stuffed with about 40kg of food, booze and kit. 5l of petrol perched on top. The lot held on with some bungies. Safety first The bike brimmed, ready for the off!

The evening drifted by with much hilarity and banter and admiring of guitars. A couple of beers to see the night out and the job's a good 'un.

Consciousness returns at 4AM. Bleurrrgh. I drag myself from womb-like stupefaction of settee and duvet into cold morning air. Attach the bergen to the bike, scents of breakfast drift out. Neighbors stagger from taxi into their house. Return to the settee, quaff coffee, munch fried egg muffins, om nom nom.
On with the bike kit. Checklist; keys, bergen, food, visor, wallet, petrol, oil, mp3, batteries, back protector, lid, gloves. Checked.
Wales gets a rude wake up call as the SV booms to life. I thank Badger for his hospitality and roar up the road, front end a little light with weight of kit on the back. Fully awake now. 4.30AM.

The first few villages are dispatched with ease. Nobody about at that time. Out of the village, a long straight. Plenty of time, no need to go mad. I ease it up to 90 (kph), my jacket flaps a bit, blurring my vision, I back off. Nice and steady, 80kph is enough, only need to average 50mph to get there in plenty time. Dead easy...

Some village in Wales. I decide to check the luggage is secure. 13.1 miles on the trip. Sure I felt something vibrate. Best check my phone. Ah yes, phone. B*llocky-F*CK! What's still on charge on Badgers floor? Time to investigate those long straights. About turn. Chin on the tank, pin the throttle. My jacket flaps and blurs my vision. Ignore it. I can see the road, that's plenty. Pull into Badger's street, front wheel squirms, rear wheel dances with the downshifts. He's heard me coming.

5.15AM I pass the point I turned around at before. Idiot!

Not to worry, plenty of nice open sections here to make some time up. The road to Betws goes by in a blur of gearchanges, revs and heavy braking. I'm wishing I'd worn my leathers by the 3rd bend.

I get on the A5. I miss the turn I wanted by a mile before I realise. The decision to carry and take the B road to ffestiniog turns disastrous when I find the road closed. Another about turn. More full throttle. I find the turn this time, rear wheel kicking out as I give it a big handful. Rev limiter shocks the wildlife from the trees.

Rounding a corner, chin on the tank. An oncoming van flashes me. Backing off to 80 (kph). Road full of battenburg. F***. North Wales traffic car in front. He proceeds to sit at 59mph for the next 15 miles. Frustration.

The traffic car eventually peels off in some village. The occupants have a good look at me and for some reason leave me alone. On with business, aching a little. I promise myself a break at Aberystwyth. Adrenaline banishes the aches as the front twitches on a manhole cover. I know the road to Aber from here well, I'm wishing for my leathers again. Near every corner has the tyres complaining. One under the trees sees a fair slide, both tyres scrabbling across the tarmac. The armco doesn't look inviting.

101.1 miles on the clock. A strange vibration sets my teeth on edge. Feels like detonation. Brain works in overdrive, have I finally killed my SV? Have 80,000 miles of abuse finally caught up with it in this dark Welsh valley? A strange pop as I roll off the throttle, it loses power. Coast into a layby. Hmmm, nope. Nothing wrong with it. Just out of fuel. Dump the 5l from the can into the tank. 16 miles to Aber. This is the fuel that I expected to use for the last leg. Wasn't supposed to need to stop at all.

Tyres whinge and twitch as I bang into the next bend. Oops. Should probably warm them up a bit first. Stop for fuel in Aber. Time is knocking on now. Need to catch the boat. Fill the bike. Fill the can. Dash in, wallet, card, PIN, reciept, pocket the lot. Out. F***wit petrol station attendant wombles out, "sorry sir I've undercharged you for your fuel". "I'm in a rush, it's your problem". He looks like he's going to cry. "For f*cks sake". 89p. I throw him a pound and skedaddle.

Traffic cops about again on the way out of Aber. I whistle nonchalantly. I don't think it makes any difference. They go towards the A44.

I get on the roads that were an impossible mass of overtakes on the way down in the car. I make the most of the power to weight ratio and pin it. Bit of traffic around now. Not for long. Roadworks, a roundabout. I keep the power on. A taxi noses out, I throw it around the back of it and decide enough is enough. I've missed the boat. Sod it. I'll get down when I get there and see if I'm lucky and they're running a later one. B4329. I change my mind. Moment of clarity. Smooth, grippy, empty tarmac winds up the hill. Lots of warning from the rear as it lets go, tracking sideways as I hit full throttle. Wishing for my leathers again. Don't know where the ground is. Toeslider touches the deck, sh*t. If a peg digs in, things go spectacularly wrong. Back off by 5%.

The hill keeps climbing. Visibility drops. Cross a cattle grid. A long straight, a sheep on an intercept course. Stick to the SP's, pin the throttle, close your eyes. I see back legs disappear into the murk in the mirror. Visibility gets worse again, speed down to 45 or so. A gap in the clouds, a mile long moor road. Pin the throttle, flat in 6th. Unspeakable speeds. Clouds close the visibility like turning off a light. Oh sh*t. There was a corner up there somewhere. I make it round.

We drop down the hill, over the other cattle grid, visibility improves. Leave the B road, through Haverfordwest and onto the tiny single tracks that take you out to the beach the boat goes from. Should be fun.

It starts to rain a little. The back kicks out on a polished patch of tarmac. It dries up a bit. Both wheels crab 2' on a corner that looks perfect, god this surface is sh*t. Rear lets go big style, rev limiter kicks it back into shape, I land heavily as it twitches itself back into shape, footpeg tw*ts me in the calf. Knee pings as my left foot hits the ground and pulls my leg backward, bars snap straight. Ow. Checklist; Bike still seems good, feet both work, wrists both working, can't feel any blood running into my boots.

That's it, too many near misses. Too many near highsides. I'm done. Knackered. Running on adrenaline and egg muffins. I'm out. Village sign goes by, Marloes. I'm just a mile from my destination! I pull into the farm campsite and slither off the bike. Light a fag with shaking fingers.

Talk to the campsite owner, check the time. Over an hour to spare before the boat, it was all pointless!

Good read Chris
I did laugh a bit when badger posted the other day you'd left your phone, thats something id do lol
Glad things ended reasonably, couldve been worse, especially with the rushing not being necessary

[dizzyblonde]

.......but you missed out the zombies in the middle of the welsh wilderness....the real reason for the jerry can on the back

lol bellend

I did say that traffic "Might" be lurking between Betwys and Blaenau , but the Mobile Scamera wouldn`t be there til about 9 in the morning . I had major concerns about the weight on that bike and what would happen when getting a Wriggle-On . There may have been a higher Police presence that day as when we popped to Tescos do you remember hearing sirens before we left ? .... there was a fatality on that long stretch before Llanrwst

[Bibio]

and all because the lady loves Milk Tray

Originally Posted by Bibio

and all because the lady loves Milk Tray

or because monkeys cant read/manage time
either or

[Scoobs]

Originally Posted by yorkie_chris

it was all pointless!

I beg to differ. Never pointless mate.

Originally Posted by Scoobs

I beg to differ. Never pointless mate.

+1 sounds like the point was you bloody loved it

[Brettus]

That brightened my morning up, well written and glad you kept it shiny side up!