Day Twenty-Two - Military Hardware

Here I sit amongst the mega agribusiness that is Lincolnshire, just off a green lane. Have just met one of the neighbours, Sophie Ramsden - very friendly and is coming back with her biker hubby to make a donation. It's been a friendly people day. First I stopped near the Humber to ask for some
water, at Sunk Island, that well known spot. Before I knew it, I was in the kitchen drinking coffee and meeting family and friends. So cheers chaps, I stupidly didn't get your names or leave a card. Durr.

Four miles later, I can see a large military plane behind a wall, the wall of Fort Paull. I'm in before I know it, and it's a massive military re-enactment weekend, brilliant! There were Brits, Yanks, Germans, Russians - and the gear they had! Before I knew it, I was getting acquainted with a mug of tea, a bacon sarnie and a russian Mosin Nagant sniper rifle. Cheers lads, you were brilliant, and to have your very own Joe Stalin just took the biscuit! I dragged myself away very reluctantly...

I had a slog through Humberside, all refineries and heavy industry. Then on over the Humber Bridge, bloody £1.20 for a bike, I ask you! And on into Lincolnshire. I tell you, we aren't going to starve for a bit, these guys are very very serious about growing veg and no mistake. I had the choice of slogging on to Hunstanton to the youth hostel, about fifty miles, or seeing what I could find, and I found my second and third green lane of the day. I was set up in the lee of a thorn hedge like a rat up a drainpipe, although there is an Arctic northeasterly blowing up me trousers, ooerr missus.
Supper beckons, tara for now.

Photos from day 22.

Day Twenty-One - Takes One to Know One

It couldn't last forever, what with the lovely people and scenery and whatnot. There's still lots of nice bits, just that seeing some really 'orrible bits and some 'orrible people strikes a bit of a contrast, what?

Have done about 160 miles, arriving near Bridlington in Yorkshire. I dropped in at a farm campsite late afternoon, and was virtually accused of fraud by the owners, as I couldn't provide a letter from Combat Stress! A more miserable, mean spirited pair I haven't met on this trip, I was properly raging as I left. What, me, the Earl of Walkhampton, raging? How could that be?

It's going to be another cold one tonight, like last - so much dew my sleeping bag was soaked this morning. Last night, though, I met Kathy Tailforth, whose photo you can see. She has ridden her 125 Suzuki from John o' thingy to Land's End and back, to get in some practice for her bike test! Go girl, that's the spirit! Quite mad, but in a really charming way. Think warm thoughts for me...

Photos from day 21.

Day Twenty - Back in England

Sorry for the missed blog, I was staying near Edinburgh last night with Liz and Rob, and inadvertently went on an extensive tour of several whisky distilleries. Consequently, making sense of a keyboard was not a likely event, falling asleep was... Got going a bit later than usual, too.

Yesterday, I had to get a new back tyre fitted in Aberdeen, by the fastest fitter I've ever seen, and had £90 removed by a woman who was utterly charmless. So, Mrs McMiggins of Silliets Tyres, I am pleased to inform you that you have swept the board, and are now the Champion Grump of Scotland, you miserable old trout. Still, everyone else I met in Scotland, without fail, was really friendly and pleasant, so who cares, eh?

Am now in a place called Beadnell, in Northumberland, another stunning coastline and a top collection of castles to boot. I'm just down the road from Bamburgh castle, which is a beast of a thing. Life must have been well violent up here, backalong. Am on a nice campsite, run by the generous and friendly Brian and Marion. Cheers, chaps, your gesture is much appreciated. Tomorrow, Newcastle and on, on, to victory!!

Photos from days 19 and 20.

Letter from the Editor

It seems Mike hasn't managed to send a blog post or photos today - perhaps he's beyond the pale and out of network coverage for his hi-tech gear. Time will tell.

I'll check tomorrow morning to see if a belated explanatory email has arrived, until then we'll all just have to be patient.

Day Eighteen - Heartstopping Moments

Gone midnight, and I've managed to fit in a serious oversleep, a 300 mile ride in showers and sun, and a large dinner with a bunch of people who project manage dismantling the original oil platforms of the Brent oil fields. More productive than wind turbines I'll warrant - the idle beasts were taking a break this morning as I rode past. Funny how they only work in the wind, ain't it?

Hurtling down the A90 to Aberdeen I had a bad moment when the bike lost all drive - thought the chain had busted. Me, call out the AA? Well, possibly not the motoring organisation, ha ha. Turned out it had stretched so much it had jumped off, but without damage. Weird, never had that happen before. So I nailed it back together and pressed on to my lovely hosts, Alan, Jane and Vanessa, who have filled me right up with quality food and drink and entertained me royally! Thank you, and also a big TA to Eric and Murray, lovely boys and brilliant hosts. Take it easy with that big ol' beasty in the woods, you hear me? And good luck with the extreme enduros, Eric.

Time for bed, campers.

Photos from day 18.

Day Seventeen - Coastrider finds Local Hero

Talk about jammy. I was looking for a camp spot just south of John o' Groats (it was blowing a spitefully cold north easterly and I was fed up) and coming out of Tesco in Wick, I met Eric, who is a biker, and is up here doing a forestry contract - clearing 300 hectares of conifer plantation, so they can erect 19 wind turbines. Yeah, you figure it out. Barmy is the word that sprang to mind. Anyway, here I am, sat in a warm cottage with a pasta supper settling nicely... result.

Gerald headed back to Cornwall today, it was good having a buddy for a few days, but kind of nice being autonomous (selfish?) again. The north coast is fantastic, it looks like the location for Local Hero, one of the greats. I took so many photos, it became ridiculous. Does anyone know how many you can cram into an iPhone?

Catch you later.

Photos from days 16 & 17.

Day Sixteen - Why I Don't Trust the Banks

More blazing sun and a cold northerly as we bashed out Mallaig, Skye and on nearly to Ullapool. This morning we woke to ice on the tent, hmm, thought it was a bit parky in the night. Got a blazing fire going to warm up, one of the many advantages of wild camping. Having ridden till 6pm, after 200 miles of mostly single track road (A roads, bizarrely), we are below the edge of the road in a suntrap. It's got a small river on one side, except it's in a mini gorge. So, a sheer drop of about fifty feet, and Gerald pitched the tent to find it was on a seriously undercut bank, kind of camping Darwin Awards! So it came to pass, and with much swearage, that the tent packed up its tents and stole away about 20 feet, grrr.

I forgot to give an honourable mention to Malcom and the crew at Hog's Bottom Garden Delights, purveyors of killer chutneys and other condiments. The lovely jar that was to accompany me sadly leaked and was thus consumed before I ended up with chutney flavoured unmentionables, ooerr. Malcom is also donating a hamper of goodies to be auctioned off after I return. If I return... it's bloomin' lovely here!