I recently had my annual physical examination, which I get once every seven years, and when the nurse weighed me, I was shocked to discover how much stronger the Earth's gravitational pull has become since 1990. ~Dave Barry
Learn to trust thy satnav, 'tis a strange path it taketh, but thou shalt arrive. It followeth afterall, only a map. - Mark Wallis
We were amazed when Steve presented us with a Farleigh Hospice cake. I chose not to dive in head first, opting to save it for Tuesday 29th, when we set off from Farleigh in Chelmsford.
Breakfast in Gosforth at the Lakeland Habit Cafe (our favourite) then photos at Wastwater and even a little offroading to film the bikes by the lake. Daz left for Whitby after spending all his money on us in the pub. We must make it up to him when we return by letting him do the same, after all, we'll be skint.
I wanted to stay longer, Wastwater is a stunning view but we had to get to Betws-y-Coed in Snowdonia. Steve and Nicky drove back to Boot and we rode through the rain to Wales.
My comfortable, waterproof kangeroo skin gloves weren't, neither were my waterproof Oxtar boots, or my Frank Thomas waterproof jacket. This is why it's important to test your gear. On the plus side, the roads were fantastic.
We arrived to find the campsite closed for refurbishment until June, and as it was getting late and still raining heavily, decided to break our 'no hotel' rule to dry out the gear. Every clothes hanger, curtainrail, door and handle was covered in wet gear and the heating on full, curling my wet money nicely on the radiator. It was obvious I needed to get new boots, gloves and I knew my tent wasn't going to last long in this weather. So continuing the 'Rat' theme, the evening was spent changing from 'drowned as a rat' to 'rat arsed'.
To gain some time, instead of joining the BMW Boxertrix rideout http://www.boxertrix.com/ the next day, we headed down to Didcot a day early after watching dozens of BMWs and a few others leave the Stables Bar at the Royal Oak ride off into the hills. This would give me time to locate the rarest of items known to mankind in London, a pair of goretex boots in size 13.
Approaching Oxford, we parted ways on a roundabout as the satnav took me a diffrent route than expected, but Geoff soon caught up. The strange route did save some time, always handy to allow Geoff to stop 'for a smirk'.
Mark and wife Anna made us very welcome at their home in Didcot, even allowing us to cram the overloaded Tigers in their garage. His Honda Pan European seemed small in comparison.
I'd hardly slept all week, and must've looked slightly below par, but Mark knows exactly what a tired biker needs....beer and pie.
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