Just a quick ride report (for a change).
Left home on Boxing Day evening (26 Dec 18) and blasted along the motorway and main routes to the ferry port at Fishguard. The dark, dry roads, little traffic and an unseasonably warm 9 deg C made for an eventless ride. The last time i joined the Irish Eccentrics for their Christmas Brunch was 2 years previously - then I was sporting recent wrist injuries and the weather was somewhat cooler and it was an uncomfortable ride (but psychologically important). Boarded the ferry early, but noted that the Stena Line company had reduced their staff and, apart from being told where to park, I was left to my own devices to strap down my bike and secure it for sea. I was the only bike onboard. We departed on time at 23:45 and a flat sea and light wind made for a smooth, calm crossing. I found a quiet place and a reclining seat in the Stena plus lounge (there weren't any cabins available) and settled down for a restless sleep. Rudely awoken by the tannoy announcing our imminent arrival into Rosslare at 03:30, there was enough time to revive myself with a strong, black coffee before heading down to the car deck access stairwell. Again, the lack of staff was evident - the tannoy informed us that we were permitted to access the car deck, but no crew member came to remove the stairwell barriers. As I and my fellow passengers stood around like sheep, I opted for some self help and removed the barrier myself. I was parked right at the stern and was last to exit the ferry. Previously, Stena have always got the bikes on first and, positioned for a quick get away, have allowed us off first too. Still, I was in no hurry, I had 7 hours to ride the 75 miles to Stradbally Fayre for the meet up at 11:00.
I had loaded a longer route into my GPS which took me, as far as possible along the South East coastal route, but whilst there is a certain challenge and amount of enjoyment to be had with riding strange and unknown twisty roads in the dark, there is little scenery to enjoy. The temperature had remained at about 8.5 Dec C but the weather had turned drizzly and the roads were damp. I stopped briefly at the harbour at Ballycotton, just to the east of Cork to stretch my legs and peer out across the dark, cold water. The local fishing boats, deserted and lifeless, remained tied to the jetty, fidgeting and groaning as the gentle swell made them strain against their mooring lines - a stale smell of fish and brine hung heavily on the early morning air. I was alone with just the odd seagull mewing mournfully in its indignation at being disturbed from it's slumbers. I continued west on damp, empty roads, but the dawn remained elusive as the damp blanket of night continues to wrap itself tightly around me and refused to lift. I reached Roches Point on the Eastern headland of Cork Harbour and turned the bike around in a tight spot at the end of the road. The bright white light from the lighthouse (not open to visitors) projected its dazzling beam across the harbour, silently warning mariners to keep well clear of the rough, jagged rocks on the headland. At about 08:10, the dawn finally began to win as night slowly gave way to a cool, grey cloudy morning. I back tracked and then followed the road as it hugged the eastern edge of Cork Harbour until reaching the main road (N25). I had intended to rendezvous (RV) with the Cork Fraternity at the Dunkettle roundabout (08:30), but was running behind schedule so opted for the coffee stop and 2nd RV at Mother Hubbards in Cashell (09:30). The easiest way there was to blast straight up the M8 motorway, which I duly did, making up for lost time easily as my K100LT munched up the miles effortlessly. The day brightened a little, the clouds became less grey and the rain/drizzle dried up - so that was nice.
Just as I left the M8 at Cashell, I heard an almighty great noise, seemingly coming from the rear of the bike. It sounded like high pressure air escaping and my first thought was that I had picked up a puncture. However, the noise subsided and then came back as loud as ever. My next thought was that the exhaust muffler had blown out or that it was the noise of some dreadful mechanical failure heralding an imminent catastrophe, but the tone didn't change as I reduced revs and changed down through the gears. I gingerly rode the bike to the Mother Hubbards Cafe and pulled up just past the assembled K bikes parked outside the front door. I killed the engine - what the F? - the noise was still there! It then dawned on me that it was nothing more that white noise coming from my bluetooth headset! I hadn't had the radio or media player turned on and was just listening to GPS instructions over the headset. I guess that I must have inadvertently activated the voice command to turn on the FM radio and, not being tuned to any local stations in that part of the world, all I got was a deafening hiss of static. I turned the headset off and removed my helmet - ah, the beautiful sound of silence again! Eejit!!
Somewhat relieved, I went into the cafe and ordered a much needed black coffee. Inside, Olaf, Cluain Si, Ciaran and Sean(?) were seated at a nearby table tucking into a pre-breakfast breakfast. After a suitable break, it was back on the bike and, in company now (and without any disconcerting noises), rode the final hour on to Stradbally Fayre, arriving at 11:10.
There must have been a dozen or so of us there, mostly on K bikes although the K1 fraternity (Trapper, Ringfad and Playlikewedream) had all opted to leave their precious K1's at home and come on other K bikes or by other means (too much dampness around). A hearty full Irish breakfast, washed down with coffee and accompanied by chatter with friends old and new was followed by a double dose of Olaf's Christmas puddings topped off with Cluain Si's brandy butter (I had to have two helpings so that I could see if there was any notable difference between the full fat and the gluten free pudding variants - there wasn't). Yum! A group picture was taken, but I haven't seen the evidence yet. We even got to speak to Crazy Frog via the wonders of FaceTime/Skype and Will's phone!! Unusually, my camera remained in my pocket throughout and I didn't get a single picture of the gathering or the ride - just too busy eating and talking!
Brunch done, at about 14:30, we then all started to drift away in different directions. I was to ride on with Ringfad to partake of a couple of festive Guinness's in Dublins fair city. Well, it would be rude to go all that way and not! We slogged up the now busy motorways towards Dublin - an easy and eventless ride, arriving at Ringfads house just before 16:00. A few Guinness's and a take-away Chinese meal later, I was definitely ready for bed!
I had opted for the afternoon ferry from Dublin across to Holyhead (the early ferry makes for a slightly antisocial departure), so whiled away the morning in chat with the Ringfad family. The time passed quickly and I was soon on my bike and headed for Dublin port. A lot of cars and trucks were already assembled awaiting boarding, but I was pleased to be put in a special lane, right at the front. My pleasure was short lived however, as there I sat while truck, vans and cars were all called forward and I sat there like a lemon in my own special lane. Finally, with boarding nearly complete, I was called forward and parked right at the stern of the ferry in a small space behind all the trucks. Once again, I was the only bike on the crossing. At least someone was there to secure the bike for sea. Insult was added to injury as I made my way to the Stena plus lounge where I had paid extra for a "Stena Plus seat". "Experience even higher levels of luxury and comfort in our exclusive Stena Plus lounge" is how they encourage you to part with your money. Well what a crock of sh1t! The lounge on the super fast ferry was nothing more than a busy cafe, with cafe style seating and tables. I was not happy and certainly not comfortable. Thankfully, it was only a 3 hour
grumble crossing.
By the time we arrived in Holyhead (18:30) it was already dark. I managed to prise the bike out of her tight little parking slot and tuck myself in behind a long queue of cars - at least I wouldn't be stuck behind all the trucks. However, I needed fuel, so having disembarked, followed the GPS to the nearby Tesco supermarket petrol station. It was then full speed ahead as I blasted down through Anglesea, across the North Welsh coast and joined the M6 motorway to the west of Manchester. There is nothing like going fast on dark, dry roads to blow away all the grumbles and discontent of the previous few hours. The motorway was dull and boring, of course, but a means to an end. Normally, I would chose to take the shorter, more scenic but slower route down through Wales - but there is little scenery to be seen after dark. On the motorways, I ate up the miles quickly albeit slowed by the long stretches of roadworks with 50mph speed limits overseen by the evil spectres of the "average speed cameras". I noted, with irony, that one roadside sign was proudly proclaiming that there were 408 people currently working on one particular stretch of road works around Birmingham - they were well hidden or very small people as I didn't see anyone actually doing anything.
In another section of road works, my bulb monitoring light suddenly glowed brightly. It had been exhibiting an occasional dull background glow earlier and I suspected that the tail light connections were in need of a clean. I pulled off at the next servo and sure enough the tail light had gone out. One quick disassembly and clean up later and the tail light was burning brightly again (well, as brightly as the K100 tail lamp glows). The distance from Holyhead to home was just under 260 miles, so I knew I couldn't make it on a single tank. While stopped at the servo, I took the opportunity to refill the tank - taking immense pleasure at the hiked up prices and being stung >20p/litre more for the petrol at the motorway services. Clearly Dick Turpin and all the other notorious highwaymen from days of yore gave up robbing stage coaches in favour of robbing motorists from the comfort of their own servos. Buggers! Anyway, fuelled up and all systems go, it was back on the road and thundering south again amidst the busy holiday traffic. Away from the roadworks, both speedo and rev meters needles were set vertical and the bike ran steadily and flawlessly all the way home. I rolled up at home at 22:30 after a satisfying but otherwise uninteresting 4 hour ride.
My total trip was 756 miles (and 7 hours on ferries) - I rode about 370 miles further than I needed to, but making a journey out of a trip and riding the roads less travelled is mostly responsible for that. Unfortunately a lot of those miles were done in the dark, but the weather was mild and mostly dry, so no complaints on that score. A long way to go for breakfast/brunch perhaps, but nothing compared with nipping down to NSW for a weekend's ride!
As ever, it was great to meet up familiar faces again and meet some new people too (finally got to meet Electric Monk). Special thanks to Olaf for organising the Christmas Brunch and for providing the Christmas puds and a huge thank you to Ringfad (Simon) and his family for putting me up over night and for plying me with Guinness in Dublin.
A great end to 2018...now I wonder what treats 2019 will bring.
Wishing a Happy new Year to you all.
Eccentrics Christmas Brunch 2018 Stradbally Fayre Mon Nov 05, 2018 1:15 pm
K1 Black 1993 60K Km 
I'll drop John's off tomorrow.
