Travels with my wife, long but on-topic(ish, mainly)
From
AndrewR@andrew.rockface.spam@gmail.com to
uk.rec.motorcycles on Sun May 24 09:22:36 2026
From Newsgroup: uk.rec.motorcycles
Back at the arse-end of the 90s, when beer were still tuppence a pint, I
had a CBR400 rCo some of you may remember it rCo and that CBR400
occasionally had Mrs R, as sherCOd just become, perched on the pillion
seat. It wasnrCOt, to be fair, a very good seat for pillions, or a good
bike for pillions, and I wasnrCOt a good rider for pillions, so we never
went very far. When Mrs R got pregnant she decided her time on the rear
seat was over, and that was that.
Time marches on. That pregnancy is now our 26-year-old daughter, the CBR
was followed by a short string of other bikes, almost all of them not
replaced because of scaffolding lorries. The most recent change, last
April, was from a BMW R1200GS rCo which I bought because IrCOm old and sensible now rCo to a Honda VFR800-VTEC, because it turned out I wasnrCOt *that* old and sensible.
The moment the superbly pillion-friendly BMW was off the driveway was,
of course, the moment that Mrs R decided she might like to try going out
on the bike again. Last summer we did a few runs out, all of the ride-for-an-hour to one of the more respectable biker cafes, have a
coffee and a scone, and ride home again, variety. However, a bigger
bike, a slower husband, and the miracle of modern intercoms, so that she
can point out interesting cows that we pass, have meant that Lisa has
enjoyed the experience enough that she didnrCOt immediately hit me with a frying pan when I suggested a bike holiday.
The original plan was to join the UKRM French run, but her work holidays
were at the wrong time, and also I remembered that yourCOre all cunts, so
we decided to give Scotland a try instead.
The first thing that went wrong is that I planned a rough route on
Google maps and sent it her, with instructions along the lines of, rCLI
just put the stops in to plot the route, we donrCOt need to actually stop there,rCY and she promptly booked in stops at those places. On the plus
side, thatrCOs pretty much where the list of things going wrong ended, and actually the stops worked out fairly nicely.
In the run-up to the trip we treated ourselves to new waterproofs, and
the bike to its annual service and a nice set of SHAD panniers, to go
with its existing OEM top-box. Then, last Monday, we set off.
Day 1: Our house to nearly Dumfries
Left to my own devices, I would never have had an overnight stop here,
because itrCOs barely 70 miles from home, but it actually doesnrCOt take
much post hoc justification; my wife hadnrCOt done any long journeys at
all, I havenrCOt done many trips that were more than a tank of petrol
away, and IrCOd done none of them 2-up. I also hadnrCOt ridden the VFR fully (and I do mean fully) loaded before. A short first day therefore made
quite a lot of sense. If the worst came to the worst then we could nip
home and pick up a car.
I decided to avoid the drudge of the A69, so we followed the old Roman
road Westwards, and then cut up through Longtown and by the time we
reached Gretna the voice in my ear was telling me that the back seat was
ready for a coffee stop, so we pulled into the Old Toll Bar caf|-.
TOURING LESSON 1 rCo All Scottish cafes are run by old ladies, who work to
an ordering/cooking/waiting system that requires at least 2 more old
ladies than they actually have.
We enjoyed our eventual coffee and sandwich and my wife asked how much
further we had to go.
rCLSixteen miles,rCY I told her, and the look on her face suggested that she hadnrCOt quite expected our first day to be so short either.
We kitted up and made the short hop to Hetland Hall hotel, which is
perfectly nice, but didnrCOt manage to wow us in the way that other venues
on the tour did. Still, at least the weather was nice, so we got blue
skies for the daily proof-of-life photo I had to send to my worried old mum.
Day 2: Nearly Dumfries to Ballachulish, Glencoe
The second day did not have blue skies, which was typical, as it was our longest day of travel. Still, the weather wasnrCOt even close to bad
enough to make me want to take the most direct route, up the M74, so we
struck out for Kilmarnock.
Just short of there we stopped for a coffee at the superbly weird little Castle Caf|-, where a woman who must have been in 90s chatted to us about
the weather and the motorbike her husband used to have (the only detail
of it she had was the she used to ride on the back, wearing an open-face helmet)
TOURING LESSON 2 rCo Everywhere you stop, someone will want to chat with you.
After coffee we headed further West, to Irvine, before steeling
ourselves and getting past Glasgow and over the Erskine bridge, which is
when the weather decided it was done with pissing around with drizzle,
and got on with the job of properly raining.
We waterproofed up and pressed on. At the North end of Loch Lomond,
where the road gets all nadgery, on-coming cars started flashing, so I
slowed right down, and then rounded a corner to find stationary traffic.
The problem turned out to be twofold:
(1) Transport Scotland seem to have spent their entire budget on shoring
up roadsides heading up to Glencoe, and we were at the first of many
sets of temporary lights, with accompanying 30 limits
(2) We were behind a simply gigantic lorry, carrying huge pipes to the
people of the North, which was so large that it had to come to a
complete stop and then inch past anything larger than a bicycle coming
in the opposite direction.
The various sets of lights gave me the opportunities to pass the trail
of cars, campervans, and smaller lorries that now formed its comet-like
tail, but getting enough straight, empty road to get by the pipe lorry
itself ate up another 20 cold, wet minutes.
I think if IrCOd stopped for a break then IrCOd never have got Lisa back on the bike, so instead I played the mental game of pretending that places
IrCOd heard of were rCLnearly thererCY.
rCLAh, Crianlarich, thatrCOs nearly there.rCY
rCLBridge of Orchy, only 10 miles, thatrCOs definitely nearly there.rCY rCLRannoch Moor, Jesus, is this place ever not grim as fuck? Anyway, that really is nearly there.rCY
rCLWerCOll be at the first viewpoint in a couple of miles. ThatrCOll make it all worthwhile. Nearly there.rCY
And still, even through the rain, and my rain-soaked visor, the first
view of the valley did make it all worthwhile. IrCOve wanted to bike up through Glencoe for years and, though IrCOd pictured doing it beneath an
azure sky, in 20-degree heat, it was still special to finally do it.
The next two sets of temporary traffic lights, along the valley itself,
kindly gave me extra appreciating-the-specialness time.
We finally rolled up to the AOS S|! lodges, behind the old rectory, about
a mile past Ballachulish village. The lodges are little circular wood
cabins, that feel for all the world like Hobbit-houses. They are also waterproof, have excellent radiators, to-die-for underfloor heating, and
a massive bath each. These things restored happiness to our lives, which remained with us right up until the point that we learned that BallachulishrCOs only restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays.
As our Bilboabode had a kettle, a toaster, a microwave and a coffee
machine, we quickly popped to local Co-op and got ourselves a couple of
ready meals and some breakfast stuff and had a cozy night in, wondering
if the rain was going to stop.
Day 3: Ballachulish to Pitlochry
The rain had slowed down to mere drizzle by the morning, and as the
lodgerCOs owner (does all his riding on the track, all over Europe, but
never in the UK, on a 600, because they have all the power you need) had kindly allowed us a late check-out, we decided to do one of the local walks.
We had our, now dried, waterproofs, but of course they donrCOt have hoods,
and Lisa needed something to keep her head dry (IrCOd packed my baseball
cap). She ended up buying the least touristy cap in the Glencoe visitor centre, which meant it only sported 3 fake badges about Scotland/the highlands. This led to the tourrCOs most-likely-to-get-me-divorced running joke, as I took to asking her, rCLAre you going to wear your hat? How will people know you love Scotland if you donrCOt?rCY
TOURING LESSON 3 rCo When packing, remember that you are going to want to
do some stuff that doesnrCOt involve being on the bike, and pack accordingly.
The walk was great. We saw not another living soul during it, and by the
time werCOd reached the highest point the drizzle was light enough to
afford us a reasonable view of Loch Leven and surrounding hills.
We walked back to the lodge, then realised that not all of the stuff
werCOd bought the night before was going to fit into the luggage. We
decided to keep the pot of jam and what was to become known as the
Travelling Lurpak of Scotland, and headed off.
TOURING LESSON 4 rCo Do not pack to capacity from the outset, leave some
space for baseball caps and butter that you will acquire along the way.
We headed North, to Fort William, and were pleased to see that it has maintained its award for Ugliest Town in the Most Scenic setting, then followed the A82 up to Speen Bridge, where we struck out East on the A86 andrCa
rCa and, sometimes, everything just comes together, and you think, rCLYes, this is what biking is all about.rCY I overtook a couple of cars almost as soon as we turned on to the A86 and then we didnrCOt see another vehicle
on it. The sun came out. The road is magnificent. The VFR behaved like
the extra weight it was carrying meant nothing to it, and just motored perfectly through every sweeping corner. Lisa watched the wonderful
scenery and I watched the wonderful tarmac. This one stretch of road
more than made up for the damp slog of the previous day and earned its
place in my all-time best motorcycling moments of all time.
Eventually, though, it had to end. We reached Laggan Bridge and turned Southwards, to find our way to the fucking A9. Just before we got there, however, we happened to stop at the Apiary caf|- in Dalwhinnie, for a
truly excellent lunch.
TOURING LESSON 5 rCo The caf|- in Scotland that is not understaffed by old women is efficient and works on the principle that people may want high-quality food delivered to their table on the same day that they
ordered it.
The fucking A9 was the usual fucking A9 and was only brightened up by
ending at the back of a motorcycle group for people whorCOve never ridden
one of these things before but reckon they can work it out as they go
along. I was sure we were going to get a ring-side view of a spectacular crash, but they were all still upright when we turned off for Pitlochry.
Their tail-end Charlie gave me a wave as I left, so I hope that his
inevitable fiery death was at least swift and painless.
Last time I was in Pitlochry, 8 years ago, it was for a party at J K RowlingrCOs house, so I was too busy shitting myself (before) and being monumentally hungover (after) to really appreciate the place. It is very
much a tourist honey-trap, but itrCOs also rather lovely. We walked down
to see the dam and the fish-ladder and then tricked our room TV into
letting us watch iPlayer.
Day 4: Pitlochry to Upper Largo
The day started in the best possible way, with us finding out exactly
why our digs, Craigmhor Lodge, had won the rCLBreakfast of the YearrCY
award. IrCOd have given it to them, if I was on the judging panel. Also,
IrCOd very much like to be on the judging panel, if anyone knows how to
make that happen.
The owner kindly let us check-out but leave the bike there and stash our
stuff while we walked to the top of Craigower Hill. The slightly damp
weather meant that again we seemed to have the walk to ourselves, and
nobody had to hear the nasty names that Lisa had for the person who
painted the sign which claimed it was only 150m of ascent to the top of
the hill.
This was the shortest leg of our trip and could have been just 55 miles,
if we did want Google Maps wanted and headed South on the fucking A9.
Instead we headed North-East, on the A924, because it wasnrCOt the fucking
A9. It also meant that we stopped for a coffee at the Kirkmichael
community village shop and caf|-, which I loved, because it managed to
quickly deliver hot drinks and delicious home-made scones, despite it
being clear that absolutely nobody working there had a clue what they
were supposed to be doing. I couldnrCOt resist telling the guy serving to donate my change to the little charity box on the counter, raising money
to support the community.
rCLWhat /all/ of it?rCY he asked, and I felt like J D Rockefeller as I
agreed that all -u2.45 could go in.
TOURING LESSON 6 rCo Sometimes you just have to go wild and give -u2.45rCa to
make the places you pass through a little better for you having been
there.
We headed down through Dundee, a city IrCOve never been to before (it
seems nice), over the Tay Bridge (half of it was shut), and down to
Upper Largo, on the Firth of Forth. Our overnight stay there, The
Crusoe, certainly doesnrCOt short-change you if you want a room with sea
view. At high-tide the sea was literally lapping against the wall 10ft
below our window. It was calm when we were there, but if the searCOs rough
you must have to sleep with the window closed.
More importantly, the food they do is incredible. I had Shetland
mussels, in a tomato, chorizo, and cream sauce, and I think they were
the best IrCOve ever had.
Day 5: Upper Largo to Slaley
After our longest day of travel (Tuesday) being such a washout it was
amazing to see our second longest day start bright and sunny, with a
forecast to get even brighter and sunnier, although that didnrCOt really
help alleviate that it was also going to involve bits of the M8 and M9
and the Edinbru bypass.
The motorway bits were, of course, dull, but at least short, and the
bypass itself wasnrCOt too terrible. There was only one bit with
tailbacks. We were following another bike at that point, and the traffic parted in front of us, like the Red Sea. I had worried that the panniers
make the bike a bit wide for filtering, but people were so keen to get
out of our way that the bastard pipe lorry of Loch Lomond could have
filtered through behind us.
We stopped for a coffee in Jedburgh (the most extreme example of the "Inefficient number of old ladies" model) and I watched a group of 3
scooters chug their way North on A68. Followed, a minute later, by
another group of scooters, then another. Turns out itrCOs the Kelso
Scooter Festival this weekend, which means we must have seen a couple of hundred scooters scooting in the opposite direction to us over the next
50 miles, and did most of the rest of the journey in a pleasant haze of two-smoke fumes.
The wind was ferocious over the border (IrCOm certain that Scotland is stealing our wind) but once we got into the lower-lying areas the
temperature started going up, meaning that we arrived at our final destination, the very posh Slaley Hall, rather hot and dishevelled.
TOURING LESSON 7 rCo For fuckrCOs sake, you idiot, at least leave enough
space in your luggage that you can take the thermal lining out of your
kit if it warms up!
Slaley Hall is actually only about 15 miles from our house, but Mrs R
had managed to find some sort of room-booking deal there, and it was our wedding anniversary (27 years), so werCOd decided to have one more night away.
Also, it turned out to be more of a suite-booking deal, than a
room-booking one, but the nice receptionist kindly handed over the
key-card to the massive room, in the centre of the old hall, with
commanding views out over the golf course, to the two sweaty,
fly-stained, luggage-overloaded bikers who turned up without a fuss.
We showered, cleaned up, purchased cold drinks, and sat in deckchairs in
the sun, watching the golfists, and that suited us just fine.
Day 6: Slaley to our house
ItrCOs 15 miles, thererCOs a limit to how much even I can say about it.
Nobody tried to wipe us out, which is more than can be said for the
journey into Slaley, where an idiot going too fast swerved to avoid a
car sticking its nose out of a driveway, without worrying too much about
what was using the side of the road he was swerving on to (us).
Anyway, we made it home. The dogs were delighted to see us, the children acknowledged that we had returned, we both had a fantastic time and will
do it again.
TOURING LESSON 8 rCo ItrCOs good to be home.
--
AndrewR, D.Bot (Celeritas)
Honda VFR800-A9
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