My First Motorcycle Holiday
What? No motorcycle analogies...?
As Freddie put it:
I've gotta be cool, relax
Get hip, get on my tracks
Take a back seat
Hitch hike
Take a long ride on my motorbike
(Ready, Freddie...)
Back
in March, if you recall, I had finally achieved a long standing
ambition and was the proud possesser of a full motorcycle licence along
with my peronal Starship Enterprise, a 2016 Suzuki Burgman 650 in white.
(Poser - ed)
Easing
into Spring we had done some longish day rides. A day trip to
Llandudno, up to Northallerton for lunch with a good friend and even a
run to Hull and back (didn't rain this time tho') to assist at an Audax
control. (Long distance cycling - don't ask) Mostly motorways and dual
carriageway stuff, getting used to the bike, being out in the open and
building endurance as I had plans.
As
luck would have it getting back on two wheels coincided with the 75th
anniversary of Operation Overlord, otherwise known as D-Day. 6th June
1944. Something I'd been interested in since my teens. I'd heard of Daks Over Normandy
and had been following the movement to bring a large formation of
Dakotas (otherwise known as DC3s or C47s, Skytrains etc.) to England
with the intention of dropping paratroops in Normandy as a tribute to
the veterans. Realising that this was a once in a lifetime thing, I
didn't want to miss it.
By
the end of May everything was in place. Accommodation, route, ferry,
the works. Set off on a Friday morning with an eye on the weather but
realised that whatever the day brought I had to be in Newhaven for a
midnight ferry. The journey seemed mostly uneventful, Manchester to
Leeds smartly despatched. Then I ran into traffic. Leeds to Castleford
was chocka - filtering (lane-splitting) was the only option. On to the
A1 and the traffic was heavier but moving. More filtering but this time
at around 50mph. You know the feeling that you mght be pushing your
luck? That. For 50 miles. Was very happy to reach the diner at New Fox
unscathed but I was way behind schedule, not for the ferry but for an
important (to me, at least) rendezvous, meeting the most excellent
@hardtailchop. (If you haven't heard of Charlotte before then please
head over to YouTube
and check out her adventures) Engineer, feminist, mother, experienced
blood biker and all round damn' good egg. We'd arranged to meet at The Bike Shed
and I was now worried it was all going to go wrong. Stopped for fuel at
the services on the M11 next to Stanstead and it took around 40 minutes
to get out again. Nearly dropped the bike, too. Gods I was late!
When
you get to The Bike Shed it can be a little intimidating. For those who
don't know it's a railway arch in Hackney and when you turn in off the
street you ride straight into an outdoor cafe. The parking is beyond the
tables but everyone's cool about it, they're expecting bikes to ride
through. Nervously I weaved between the tables. Thankfully nobody moved!
Parked up the bike and was met by a cry of "Shitting hell! It's
enormous!" (No smut thank you very much! The Burgman is a scooter - of
sorts - but it's as big as an early Gold Wing and weighs the same as a
Pan European. Like I said, it's my personal Starship Enterprise and I
still get a tingle every time I open the garage door.)
A
very pleasant half hour in the sun catching up with a friend. Coffee,
company and motorcycles in an achingly cool hangout. What more could you
want? But this was just a diversion, the main event was still to come. I
now had to get to Newhaven. If you look at it on a map, Newhaven is
pretty much due South of where I was but crossing the Capital on a
Friday evening? No, thanks! I took the coward's way out and headed for
Dartford and the M25. It turned out to be a good move as you can ride a
motorcycle in most of London's bus lanes and before too long I was out
of the hazardous traffic, heading for the QE2 bridge. A fuel and food
stop completed my longest ever ride at just under 350 miles for the day.
All that remained was to board the ferry to Dieppe. There were quite a
few motorcycles and plenty of cyclists, too but the most unusual vehicle
was a velomobile. The engine seemed to be fuelled by crisps and
chocolate...
I
can never sleep on a ferry. Completely buzzed after a long day's ride
and the excitement of solo travel, this was no different. Seeing the sun
come up over La Cote d'Opale was a unique experience but the
comedown was being biffed out on the dockside at 05:30 and queueing for
passport control. We don't realise how lucky we are in the UK. Need a
snack at 2:30 in the morning? There's any number of late night kebab and
pizza outlets, there's McDonalds for coffee and 24 hour service
stations if you need fuel or tobacco. France is a different story. I had
around 8 hours to kill until the gite I'd rented would be
available and it was at the most 2 hours ride away. Having been told
that many bars & cafes open early in France, I headed to Rouen in
the hopes that I could find a little Bar Tabac, get a coffee and
some breakfast. Buttons pressed on the satnav off I went, sticking to
the D & N roads. Even dawdling along - and I'll admit I was tired
and flagging by now - I was outside Rouen cathedral by 7am but couldn't
find anywhere open so I pressed on towards Honfleur and ultimately,
Villers-sur-Mer. The sun rose and it began to get warmer, the promise of
a beautiful day. Around 8 o'clock I rode past a restaurant in
Toutainville and it was open. Breakfast!
Several coffees later it was time to complete the journey. I found the gite
and explained in halting (shattered) French that I was sorry for
arriving early but needed to rest. Luckily they were ready. I made a
brew and closed my eyes for a minute...
To be continued...
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