Wagons in a circle - the Aussies have arrived……or “Old Indians Never Die” Rally – Traquair Scotland

Last time we spoke Dear Readers we were leaving the Sunny Isle of Ireland… yes we are now in Sunny Scotland…. Well, yesterday it was sunny but today,at the time of writing but not yet posting this blog - Sunday, it has been overcast and drizzling. What have we done since we last corresponded? Read on and find out!
Seven Tirty Tursday morning (I have been working on my Irish speaking as you can read!) our band of intrepid travelers boarded the ferry from Belfast en route to Stranraer Scotland. This meant we had to be at our bikes at 6:00am ready to push them out of the carpark of the Welllington Park Hotel and fire them up in the street so as not to wake the sleeping inhabitants of our last and most splendid Irish Hotel! Off we went to line up at the ferry – a little bit of a hiccup with the bookings for the ferry with Merredith not on the list (originally booked with Frank in the sidecar). Our leader – Parker. JM, sorted this out and we all sailed off eastward to Scotland. The morning was overcast but not our spirits. As you saw in the last missive we had a spectacular night of entertainment and frivolity on Wednesday night – and this was made all the better by everyone taking the opportunity to launder to the max at the local “wash-house”. Phil P, again, led the way to a clean body and soul – go you good Phil.
Landing in Scotland approx. 11/2 hours later we were met by our English Tour Guide, John Wright. Now readers, if you don’t know John, he is 6 foot tall and rides a 741….. and that little machine goes and goes. We took a little while to regroup, exchange our Euros for Scottish Pounds, buy a few supplies at the local Tesco and headed off across the Moors, along the A75 and then via Dunfries, Moffat and finally to Inner Leithan and the rally at Traquair House, arriving at the rally site at about 3:00pm. The site of the rally is Traquair House - the oldest inhabited house in
Scotland - built in the 18th century with direct links to Mary Queen of Scotts - amazing to see.
Highlights of that leg – Brett thought he had an “off road Indian” and headed off onto the verge and nearly into the ditch!!!!!!!!! Observers say he went to sleep, but Brett maintains he was bored with going straight on the main road and wanted a little bit of a change…. Jorgen did not put his hand up to do Brett’s washing the next day. Also many of the group got confused about the speed limit getting kilometres and miles mixed up. The mob had another pub lunch at New Galloway – again we sampled the steak and ale pies but this time Scampi was on the menu and many of the party had a feed of the local shell fish. We rode through fabulous countryside on the way, stopping at a National Trust Site that was a very hard uphill climb for those who wanted to. Item of interest there - remains of an Iron Age Fort 900 AD.
Arriving at the rally site, the mob found a very ambient place to camp and set up tents – right next to Garry Stark and his camper and generator! Peter B lasted a day before asking Garry to stop running it late at night. By this time Steve K and Dave Fisher had arrived – being dropped at the rally site by the publican of the local hotel – the Traquair Arms. Readers, please note, that Dave presented at the rally site with a hard sided suitcase on wheels…. What a site to see him drag it across the pitted landscape of this cow paddock they called the campsite.
Campsite set up, the group set about sorting out food for the evening and a fire to keep warm. Jim and Lyndel (injured) and Jorgen and Katarina went into Traquair to get a room at the beforementioned hotel with Brett and Phil P and Heath headed off to Peebles for their 2 star accom. Dorothy and Merredith took a short walk into Inner Leithen – which Dear Readers – was not short as it took them about 1 hour and they were quite over it when they got to the Co-op to buy the supplies. Others from the campsite came into town and shopped and merriment and gaiety abounded around the Aussie fireside campsite that night.
Friday the campers awoke to wetness underfoot but a clearing sky. Breakfast was in town at the local café for many and a walk around the township. A ride around the local area was in order and a visit to Peebles found shops, pubs and petrol. A little hiccup with the rally entry with not enough entry passes being issued to the Aussies – Toni worked hard to get things sorted and finally, between her and Jim, all Australians and our British compatriots were allowed entry to the Official Rally Site. Dinner that night was Morrocan Chicken – and a tasty dish it was too. A band played until late and happy campers retired in their luxury accommodation. One down note to the location of the camping – not enough flushing toilets with handwashing facilities – however the 2 showers that were provided for the 400+ campers were apparently very good – Toni was able to wash both kids and herself every day. This correspondent does note however that Steve Kavanaugh is looking a little brown around the edges leading me to think he has not yet availed himself of this luxury amenity.
Saturday started sunny and remained reasonable for the day, weather- wise. This was the official start to the Rally and there was a ride scheduled to start at 12noon. Many of the Australian party went back into Peebles to refuel and were ready just after 12 for the start. A photo shoot of the rally entrants was taken a little earlier and when done we all suited up to leave. Unfortunately for us with foot clutches the road out of the field where we had taken the large group photo was a steep incline with speed humps for excitement. Over 150 Indians up that hill together was not much fun for your Correspondent and so by the time we got on the road many ralliers were a little frazzled. The more domestic members of the campsite returned to Peelbles and bought up every camp chair in the town and had a decent cup of coffee....
The ride wended its way through some very scenic countryside to a small village called Pencaitland – where there was, yes dear Reader, yet ANOTHER distillery. Unfortunately there was no café to speak of and certainly no pub so the Aussie contingent left without the tour (seen one you’ve seen them all) and went off looking for food and ale. Hadddington was recommended and so Lyndel, Jim and Brett took off with the rest in tow – they did not keep up the pace and turned back to Peebles where they watered and fed. Pete B found the original 3 at the “Old Plough Inn” eating the specials of the day but was 15 minutes too late for a feed. The cook had left at 2.05pm and there wasn’t even any desserts available for Pete the Sweet Tooth. We fuelled and had a great ride home arriving back about 4ish ready to submit our machines for the Judging Competition. For this effort the Australian party was awarded the "Longest Distance Travelled" and Pete B's Vindian won the "People's Choice Award" - talk at present is that the vote was rigged with very australian handwriting to be found on every voting slip..... NEVER!

The program for the rally was not well followed and the general feeling was one of disorganization – but the Aussie camp will never let a problem get in the way of a good time and after that night’s dinner of Chile con Carne or Vegie Lasagna the gang retired to the campsite – some stayed around to see the burlesque show – a Turkish belly dancer and 2 bands – one band being that of Alan Forbes, the rally organizer. A little more rain that night but again, no spirits dampened. Some of the Aussie contingent dined in town at the hotel they were staying at and that also was enjoyed by them.
Sunday was a wet day, all day….. Most travelers took the opportunity to do as little as possible – the Birthisel Clan went into Peebles, Lyndel and Jim stayed around Inner Leithen, others went into Peebles in the back of the van and just looked around the shops. There was an official ride but after the mess of the day before we did not feel enthused about going. Good day to rest! A Hog Roast had been advertised during the Rally and so that was dinner for Sunday night for the valiant campers. And that was the end of the Official “Old Indians Never Die” Rally. Now for the Highland Tour!!!!
Hearing that Fintan was feeling poorlyafter returning home his brother Conor went down in sympathy and developed a temperature, aches and pains and felt generally disgusting. (We think Fintan felt rotten because he had to go to work!) Peter B has also had a few bad days as well as Daniel James and Stella Barker. Dugal got a B&B for Daniel on Sunday night – Conor took a room too. Good to see all feel better if not best today. Final Note: Tess took a turn of Bottle Flu on Saturday after eating some “bad fish” Friday night – she claims she did not drink a lot but I just saw Gerrard roll his eyes when she said that!!!!!!
Editor's Note: No member of the Indian Tour has, or has ever had, contact with or symptoms of any recent world pandemic illness - Australians have a very unusual sense of humour and all correspondence published is done so in the best of intentions and fun, fun, fun.

Our Final Night in Ireland - Farewell Dinner

Welcome back Readers
Tonight we said Farewell to The Emerald Isle and it's inhabitants - Fintan and Conan are leaving us tonight as we are to board the Ferry to Scotland tomorrow morning at 7.35am.
Tonight's dinner was a celebration of our time together in Ireland - it was a fun night and everyone is sad to say farwell to our very good friends.
We had speeches, a quiz and presentations to Fintan and Conan but the highlight was the Tribe names that we were given by Dorothy and then the song she composed and sang. Enjoy!
FROM THE IMCA BAND OF THE GREAT IRON HORSE NATION
THE TRIBE:
JIM – BIG CHIEF LONG FACE
LYNDEL – BROKEN RIB SQUAW

NEVILLE – ONE HAT WARRIOR

CHRIS – LITTLE BURNT CLUTCH

SLOTH – SNOW ON BEARD MAN
ANNIE – WHISKEY WOMAN
RACHEL – PRINCESS PENNY SPENDER
STELLA – MANY SCALP PAPOOSE

PETER – BIG CHIEF BIRD ON SILL
TONI – SQUAW WITH WHOMPUM
MASON – YOUNG SILLY BRAVE
HANNAH – PRINCESS LOLLY FACE

DUGAL – MEDICINE MAN
DANIEL – LITTLE SHOT

PHIL – WHITE MAN’S NAME
HEATH – SON OF WHITE MAN’S NAME

BRETT – ONE BOOT COMMANCHERO
FRANK H – MIGHTY FUN WARRIOR
PETER – HAIRY TATTOO BRAVE
SHARON – BLUE EYED SQUAW
GERARD – BROKEN HEART
TESS – SQUAW WHO WANT TEPEE WITH BROKEN HEART

MICK – INDIAN BRACELET MAN
SUE – BLOG MAKER WOMAN
FRANK S – LONG FORK
MERREDITH – YELLOW TAIL
RON – NUMBER TWO WIGWAM
DOROTHY – WATER FORD
PHILLIP – EX-CHIEF BIG HORN

CONOR – BIG CHIEF BEE JEEZUS

To our brothers from the Celtic Lands we praise your leaders and braves who have made us welcome
TIM – LITTLE SCOUT BRAVE HEART
FINTAN – KEMOSABEE TWO TIRTY
CONAN – BIG CHIEF FIRE WATER

And from the Norse
JORGEN – CHIEF IKEA
KATARINA – SQUAW ON SIDE

We are sorry to go so soon,
You will always be welcome in our teepees
And in our riding grounds for many moon.

The mighty waters of the great oceans
May keep us far apart,
But the great spirit has made a lodge
For each of you in our heart.

We leave you now with this Irish ditty
In our dear ole Aussie way!

To the tune of “Running Bear”

BIG CHIEF PARKER called a POW WOW,
For all the BRAVES and CHIEFS around.
Time to leave the reservation,
For their SUMMER RIDIN’ GROUND!

POMMIE TIM was there to greet them,
As their party came ashore.
CHIEFS and SCOUTS were made all ready,
Full of petrol, full of ROAR!

(Refrain)
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
WITH A LOVE AS BIG AS THE SKY
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
AND THEY WILL UNTIL THEY DIE.

Pass the Palace and through the Tower,
All the teepees of London Town.
IRON HORSES and their RIDERS,
Saddled up and WALES bound.

THEN AUSSIE INDIANS went ridin’ IRELAND,
On a rainy summer’s day.
AUSSIE INDIANS they rode together,
FINTAN MURPHY led the way!

(Refrain)

IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
WITH A LOVE AS BIG AS THE SKY
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
AND THEY WILL UNTIL THEY DIE.

As the TRIBE rode out of KILLARNEY,
They were headed for the shore.
At MUCKROSS PASS there was an ambush,
That began the Horse Shit War!

Riders scattered round the coaches,
But their chances they were slim.
PONY SOLDIERS led the red man,
Except for one PIL-GRIM!

(Refrain)
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
WITH A LOVE AS BIG AS THE SKY
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
AND THEY WILL UNTIL THEY DIE

Extra BOWS and extra ARROWS,
Phonin’ Conan could provide.
Winding roads and windy weather,
Made a rough and rowdy ride.

Stopping only to feed the ponies,
On their way to the MIDNIGHT SUN.
Drinkin’ GUINNESS and IRISH WHISKEY,
Huntin’ for BIG FUN, FUN, FUN!

(Refrain)
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
WITH A LOVE AS BIG AS THE SKY
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
AND THEY WILL UNTIL THEY DIE.

From County Cork to Bloody Belfast,
Miles and times were mostly ISH.
Hearty Soup and Soda Sandwich,
Was by now the preferred DISH.

SQUAWS and WARRIORS were ridin’ on now,
Leaving behind the Erin Isle.
When they return to the land down under,
They’ll be wearing a shamrock smile.

(Refrain)
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
WITH A LOVE AS BIG AS THE SKY
IMCA LOVES RIDIN’ INDIANS
AND THEY WILL UNTIL THEY DIE

Written and performed by Dorothy Le Claire

A day in Dublin is a step back in time - to the Vikings and the Celts, to cobblestones and patriarchs. It's a thriving City that was thrust into the 21st Century with an economic wave of progress and prosperity for all. But the wheels of progress have come to a screeching halt as evident in boarded up buildings and half finished road works - much to our discomfort! A very expensive pint at the Guiness brewery, a stroll down the laneways of Temple Bar and a neck craning moment at Christ Church and St Patricks and we were back at Red Cow safely tucked into our Rose's and Shiraz and Baileys before bed.

Morning broke with a clap of thunder and Dublin wore a skullcap of grey overcast to greet the day. A light rain turned into a gale and our fearsome band headed out toward Belfast. Some twists, turns and roundabouts later, we were missing one back up van - Conan the Mighty Warrior had gone astray in the battle of the bottlenecks getting out of Dublin. Once found he was lost again by errant marshalls and lashing rain. A quick stop at Portmarnock Beach in time for Jim Parker to declare he saw a never before spotted penguin in the waters of the Irish Sea! Rare indeed as penguins hitherto were not known to exist in the Northern Hemisphere! Perhaps a few too many pints the night before added to the sighting....

The gail persisted and no amount of encouragement by our fearless leader, Fintan Murphy, could persuade the drenched riders to follow the beautiful coast line up towards Belfast. Instead we followed the lashing lorries and river of asphalt that is the sometimes on, sometimes off M1 and finally arrived at our hotel - Wellington Park Best Western in Belfast - just in time to see the sun break out and light the way to bed.

The young braves and Indian maidens of our band have been a terrific addition to the tribal experience of this summer ridin' grounds adventure. From Stella's beautiful hair extensions to Rachel's keen eye for photography; from the IT wizardry of Heath and penny ante poker of Daniel to Mason's insatiable appetite for both lollies and wrestling, they have been overall well behaved and a pleasure to have along. Mason was awarded the "Princess" banner for leaving his wallet on the Dublin Tour Bus but it was retrieved and all was well save his pride. As we faced the lashing from the Irish Sea yesterday though, it is Hannah Birthisel that should get a reward for her steadfast duty as a marshall and pillion on her dad's 48 V-Indian. She was finally pulled off the bike at our lunch stop in Carrickdale and flashed her sweet smile dripping with Irish rain.

A soft bed, a cup of tea and another day of this great adventure closes its weary eyes. Goodnight for now.

Galway to Dublin......

We departed this morning for a smooth ride to Dublin. We stopped at Clonmacnoise Monastery for a tour of the oldest ruins and it is believed the oldest book written in the world. The tour guide gave us a detailed run down of the history. We then rode on to Athlone for lunch. We lunched next to Athlone Castle and rushed down the road to see the oldest pub in Ireland only to find it was shut today. We then road on to Dublin and once again the gods were kind to us as we arrived safe and dry to our motel. The tartan award tonight went to Gerard for adjust the bolts on his head only to find in the end that it was some one elses bike.

Aran Islands

On Saturday 18th July we boarded a bus for a tour of the Aran Islands via a ferry first. It was a long day but well worth it. The iron horses were left to rest at the hotel while we explored the old Celtic villages on the ancient island. These are the oldest islands in Ireland which still speak the old language. We had one of the locals on a quick bus trip around the isle and we had to ask him to slow down so we could understand him. We walked about a klm up the hill to an ancient old fort which dropped to a sheer cliff. A bit daunting when there's no fence around the cliff and a sheer 500 ft drop. The guide had a wealth of info about the island including its only 9 mile x 3 miles and a population of 800. It is littered with stone fences everywhere and partly for boundaries but also to clear the land. The rock fences measure 7000 mile. (You have no idea)

This is where the original Aran knitwear comes from and there were a few bought by the ladies.

The kids enjoyed looking at the leprachauns houses scattered around the island. However, it was a battle dodging all the pushbikes which were hired by tourists.

We caught the last ferry back at 5pm and made it back to camp for dinner even though it was early to bed for most.

The tartan sash went to Phil White the next morning for coming to breakfast with his t-shirt back to front and inside out but the award almost went to Dorothy, for not dressing her partner correctly.

Killarney to Galway.....

Friday 17th July we departed for Galway city via the Atlantic west coast of Clare. The weather held out all day even though the clouds were threatening. The gods were with us as the rain started just as we stopped at the Bellbridge Hotel where the Spanish amada was sunk by Sir Francis Drake at Spanish Point.

After lunch it was on to visit the Cliffs of Moher overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The road there was just as rough as the ocean and a few pillions were a bit worse for wear. It was a long walk up to the famous cliffs made more difficult by the fact that the winds were blowing a gale. Still it was worth the walk and the views were spectacular.

On to the Menlo Park Hotel for two nights. We had our usual dinner together and the tartan princess award went to Finton (our irish guide and Conor's brother) for holding us up in the morning because his bike had a flat tyre.

Exciting images from incidents of interest from Day 5

Welcome back readers - here are a few images from Peter B's camera showing Peter Van S sizing up the mad locals

Here are some more of the images we promised you from the other day's events

Dr Neville Frankenstein after the electrical meltdown

Due to technical difficulties we are unable to bring you the anticipated video of Peter snotting the Irish Gits ... maybe later

This is Dr Neville after the electrical meltdown

Peter Van S having a "chat" with the protestors

Here we see Peter off his bike and interacting with the locals - this is after he took the swing at the bloke in the wagon.

Today's ride (Friday) from Killarney to Gallway was SPECTACULAR and a guest blogger will enlighten you all as to what happened to who when in the next couple of days.

Day 5 of the Irish Leg - Free Day to do what ever you like.....

Greetings from Killarney valued Blog Readers to a run through of today’s events. Day 5 of our Irish Leg Itinerary reads “this is a free day to do what you want” and that is exactly what everyone did. Some of us stayed in Killarney and took in the sights of scenery and shops and others took the option of a ride into “Ryan’s Daughter” Country- the highlands of the area around Kenmare and the Healy Pass with a lunch stop at Teddy O’Sullivan’s Pub on Bunaw Pier in Killmakillogue. (Try saying that when you have had a pint or 2 of the local brew – Phew!)
The ride commenced at 11 am after a bit of tinkering with machines – Chris needing to do a full rebuild on clutch and both primary cases - he had done a little bit of work on the machine back in Cork and some studs broke off the clutch basket and made their way out of the Primary cover leaving a hole which leaked a very large puddle of oil in the carpark at the previous night’s accommodation. The bike now needs 2 new primary cases and a cush drive. This has taken the pressure of Steve Kavanaugh’s bike being the “parts donor” bike. Needless to say Chris has had a lovely ride with Conan in BV1 today watching the day’s events unfold. About 2/3 of the group took the ride/ drive option and as said, off we went at 11am with the Murphy Bros. leading the way again. Marshalling now down to a fine art, we motored along some very bumpy roads with the rigid frame bikes really feeling the speed a little bit – so the pace at times was slower.
First incident of interest today:
As Merredith told you yesterday there was a protest happening on the road out of Killarney by angry locals objecting to laws about horse poo – or near enough. They had formed a picket line on one the main roads that we navigated through yesterday and they were at it again today. Unfortunately they had not had a good brekky and were very angry with the world and that included our little band of merry riders. Phil P rode through to the ire of the horse and wagon owners amidst boos and yells. Jim was involved in a mêlée and as he was next was nearly assaulted by 3 of the protestors – Sharon jumped out of the car to assist Jim but the Garda were there and they moved the men so Jim could get by. Annie, with Sharon now aboard but hanging out of the window watching Peter Van S at the rear, was driving the Black Car and she too was able to get by but by this time we at the back were being jostled by the protestors as they reversed their horses and wagons in our way. This blogger was quite concerned about being dragged from her bike so kept as close to the car as possible. Conor turned off his bike and pushed it through with Fintan trying to talk to the locals to make them see reason. Peter Van S was threatened by the men and he got off his bike and took a swing so we are told, and Peter B has the photos to prove it. Jim, who had got through first kept going and that was the last we saw of him until we met at the lunch stop at the little pub on the Atlantic. Needless to say the tour did not return to Killarney by that route this afternoon.
Second Incident of interest today:
Frank Hutch got a rear flat tyre and was put in BV1 – a little hairy for him as the road was narrow and potholey but he didn’t lose it – well done Frank. Readers please take note that the bike Frank is riding he bought in 1961 and has been riding it ever since (so he already knows what a flat feels like!)
Third Incident of interest today:
6 riders took the option of driving the Healy Pass on the Beara Peninsula – a high rocky mountain pass that is the home of goats and sheep that have NO road sense and then through Glengarrif (“where Fintan’s wife’s parents had their honeymoon”). On the way down we had a stop and Neville left his bike running as we regrouped to which the vibrations caused the bike to topple – this Blogger was riding down the road pointing to the bike as it fell in slow motion to which Neville gaily stood and waved back! And then you should have seen him run! No damage – just a nomination for Princess. We also passed Dugal coming the other way as we were heading in to Glengarrif – caught up with him when we got to Kenmare.
Fourth Incident of interest today:
The roads we have been travelling on are narrow but 2 cars or even a bus and a car can pass each other – with a spare centimetre or 2 tolerance! But when a little old lady in a little silver car just props in the middle of the road to give way to another car FOR NO GOOD REASON what is a little blue scout rider to do but fish tale down the road completely locked up?! And then when she is just about out of it to be rammed from behind by Brett’s BlackHawk because there was no where for him to go – I have to ask you reader, what is a girl to do? Well you just put it into the ditch – yes! So when the others stopped all they could see was Brett getting up from his bike and Lyndel was pinned underneath both bikes laying comfortably in the only bit of clearing there was along the stone wall lined route! So, Brett has a swollen ankle and a bent front end and Lyndel has a bruised rib, bruised ankle and a bent rear end (guard that is). Both riders and bikes took the 4 wheel option to return to base camp. As this blog is being written the mechanic I have brought along with me for this trip is doing a bit of panel beating and straightening of before mentioned machine in order for this factory rider to resume the tour tomorrow.

Fifth Incident of interest today:
Peter B rode out in his Vindian this morning but returned to Base after 2km to swap said Vindian, because it was running like a piece of #*@+!,with the ’38 he has brought as his “spare” bike. I have been reliably informed by Dorothy that he had a minor breakdown on the way home with the splinter group who did not do the Pass ride. Flat battery and then carby trouble – luckily there were many Phils there to give him “sound advice” and it was back on the road in minutes – about 30.
Sixth Incident of interest today:
Neville has exploded 2 ignition coils – yes reader not one but TWO ignition coils. BREAKING NEWS! This is now a major electrical meltdown – graphic images to follow!
So cherished Blog Reader – to this point in time we can honestly say the day has been eventful, memorable and not withstanding absolutely sensational riding. County Kerry may have crazy inhabitants but the country side and its breathtaking changes of scenery have made today a day to truly remember – ouch, my poor ankle!!!!
Post Script: Today’s Blogger has just been examined by Dr Dugal and the diagnosis is a cracked rib – ouch my poor rib!!!!! Brett has retired the bike and is now limping off to dinner.

Wednesday 15th July

Bit of a late night last night but up bright and early for todays ride to Killarney. Leaving the Carrigaline Court Hotel the weather is clear and the sun is out. Don't try to get fuel before 7am in Carrigaline, nobody is awake yet!

All set to go 9am bikes and vehicles lined up then Conor bike no go. Many hands trying to fix it. Peter B said unload '38 chief from back of van. 5 minute rule well and truely up! Stopped at Blarney Castle for 2 hours at 10am. The weather is hot and sunny and then some surprise rain in the morning, afternoon beautiful weather. Lunch was soup and sandwiches. Moll's gap lookout over the amazing views. Phil \p copped the princess award for dropping his bike in front of 100 people, so he beat Conor for keeping 30 people waiting this morning.
Long winding roads but very rough especially for rigid bikes.
Arriving at Kilarney national park we were confronted by a protest about not wanting horses to wear nappies as council forced this issue, \\\\\\\\\\Indians break picket line and pushed through protestors to enter park to boo's and hisses. Tour through muckross house very nice.
On to kilarney towers hotel in peak hour traffic. Safe riding for all.

Monday - first day of the Irish Leg

The motto for this tour is "fun, fun, fun" - coined by Frank Hutch and happily bandied about by all riders. The motto for today was "wet, wet, wet" again coined by Frank and he was not kidding. Back in London we had read a 10 day weather forecast for Ireland - basically the heavens were to open every day and Hewie was to just pour buckets of cats and dogs down to earth. It would seem northern hemisphere weather forecasters know their stuff - 9am ride out time the heavens opened and every rider was pretty much totally soggy by the time we had navigated through Waterford. Brett did his usual and rode out with his stand down, for which he led the betting all day on who was to take over the role of Princess for Tuesday.
Our route today, led by Conor and Fintan, saw us drive by some breathtaking coastal scenery Tramore, Annestown, Dunvargan (Dun Garbhan for all you Irish speakers) all the way to Midleton to the Jameson Distillery. Now as this blogger recalls the scenery was spectacular - shame you couldn't see it through your visor covered with rain. Note to blogger - riding an Indian is a pain in the wet because your wrist gets wet when you reach down to change gear and the water runs from your arm and down into your glove. Also never believe what you read - that waterproofing stuff you spent hours putting onto your jacket DID NOT WORK! Needless to say dear reader that by the time we got to morning tea we were very much soaked.

Dorothy and Phillip, who have been doing a sterling job of marshalling earned themselves the nickname of Hansel and Gretel as all the way from Waterford to morning tea Dorothy shed tiny bits of her hiviz orange wetweather over jacket as it was flapping around in the wind as Phillip drove hell for leather to catch up to the front of the pack for the next mashalling post.
Jim's habit on hols is to refresh himself with an ale or 2 when we stop - however the Irish do not realise it is high summer and the place is crawling with tourists - so every bar or pub we walked to at our stop at Dunvargan was not open until 12.30pm. Sorry Jimmy but it is cappuccino for you!

As you can see dear reader the Irish really are jokers and so every time we got off the bikes the rain stopped and every time we got on the bikes it started. It was noted at dinner tonight that as soon as we got to our hotel the sun shone and the clouds blew away!!!

Jameson Distillery was very interesting as we were shown how the Irish make their thrice distilled nectar of the gods - 4 of our group volunteered for the whiskey tasting to see what was the best whiskey - the Irish 3x distilled; the scotch 2x distilled; and the american 1x distilled (I heard Johnny Walker's name and that bloke Jack Daniels being mentioned in a derogatory manner by our tour guide....) Anyway Dugal, Jim, Frank and Brett tasted and received a certificate to prove it - well done boys - why were you all having trouble with your sense of direction leaving that stop?

Leaving Midleton at 2pm saw us about 2/3 the way through our 137km run for the day. Remember it is still raining but is easing. Next tourist attraction is Cobh (pronounced Cove) which was also called Queenstown and was the final departure port for the Titanic. An amazing little town clinging to a cliff face - take pity dear reader for us riders with our foot clutches and dodgy brakes. The approach to the port was down a oneway street that had a decline of at least 60 degrees - it felt like straight down!!! and so we had to stay upright and focused so as not to wipe out any of the locals that walked in our way. A killer right hand bend found us on the narrow road to the visitors' centre - which Dugal completely missed as he zoomed past it on the Blackhawk. We spent about an hour and a bit looking at the exhibits and reading about international travel and cruise holidays for the poor Irish back in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Note reader the sun was shining at this point.

Final fuel stop for the day and we finished our ride in bright sunshine at the Caragaline Court Hotel, Cork (Corcaigh for Irish readers) Heaters on in rooms, clothes draped around rooms - everyone had the same story at dinner. As mentioned earlier about the betting on the Princess award - Brett came home a winner - he was a sure thing and I should have put at least 5 euro on the nose. Well you live and you learn.

So Monday was wet, wet, wet but really it was just more fun, fun, fun - soggy or not your would not be dead for quids (oops euros - we are in IRELAND).

Heading for Ireland - news from Saturday and Sunday

It would seem to this blogger that when all else fails and it is raining - go do the washing! Lyndel and Phil rounded up as much washing as possible Saturday morning and headed off on the Indian Vincent to "The Anchor" Caravan park to interact with the local welsh holiday makers and very large front loading washing machines. Much fun and laughter as Phil tried to sort Jim's jocks from his own..... Many of the other travellers went into Brecon to take in the local coffee and sights and Phillip and Dorothy hopped on the local bus and went in to Cardiff - the bus driver said it was a short 2 hours for the trip but, as poor Phillip recounts nearing death from thirst (ie. not a drop of ale from here to Cardiff), this was one way and they were stuck on the bus over the scenic Brecon Beacons (local hill formations used regularly by bushwalkers and insane fell running clubs) with the local ladies who had had a day shopping in the big smoke! This lay day ended well with a cozy meal at our accom and then off to bed early ready for the 9am start on Sunday - do recall readers that the night before the group had "tied one on" and many (especially the Princess of the day - Chris) were feeling a little jaded and needing TLC from their fellow adventurers.

So Sunday morning we awoke to intermittent sunshine and the promise of a big day of riding ahead. Destination - Fishguard - to catch the 14.30 ferry to Rosslare Ireland. Again Tim led the group and one rider was so enthusiastic to get started that she rode out of the carpark and was nearly totalled by a silver vehicle of the 4 wheel variety. This blogger is again reliably informed that Lyndel SWEARS she checked the road before committing to the tarmac and that car just CAME OUT OF NOWWHERE I SWEAR IT DID! So that lucky girl was made Princess of the day at dinner that evening (and I thought I got away with that one! ) The ride was a little damp but not our spirits and we drove through some beautiful Welsh countyside savouring as much of the view as we could - we were pushing hard to get to the ferry as Jim is always keen to make sure that we have lots of time up our sleeve in case of any problems with bookings and ticketing.

So 11.30am saw us heading into the port town of Fishguard - main agenda item for all - LUNCH. Weather in Fishguard - sunny, no cloud; forecast for ferry crossing - force 5-7 gales. The bloke at the little pub where many of us had our lunch told us that Saturday the weather had been torrential rain and gale force winds "you should have been here yesterday" kind of news - not. So after a very delicious carvery luncheon we started up the Indians and rode onto the ferry at about 1.30pm.

Life aboard ferry for the next 3 and 1/2 hours was mixed - Annie and family took Travacalm and so did Peter Van S so the last we saw of him was snoring soundly on a couch in the bar. Those intrepid shoppers Sue and Merredith spent considerable time in the jewellery section of the onboard shop. Jim watched the Aussies flogging the Poms at the cricket, had a nap with Phil P and Brett played the pokies - and lost! Leaving the ferry at 6.00pm we were met by Conor's brother Fintan who led us to our stop for the night at Waterford. Jerry and Greraldine, Conor's parents, met us at the Ramada and gave him a really big surprise. Dinner was at 9.00pm and everyone was very pleased to be in clean, fresh clothes eating a good meal and doing their very best to buy wine in bottles bigger than those you get on the aircraft - yes the Irish have not heard of 750mls sized bottles and Dorothy and Toni were forced to take out a small loan from the local irish money lender in order to pay for enough little bottles to wet their whistles.

Lyndel, as mentioned, was crowned Princess and the weary, but dedicated riders bid goodnight to each other and headed for the vastly improved accomodation of the Ramada Viking Hotel.

Note to reader from Club Captain: Sunday ride out 9am SHARP. Remember that..........