Travels with a DV in the Cevennes(And Elsewhere) submitted by HondaDullsville
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Feedback submitted by Steve Adcock following a trip to Poperinge
I left home at 07:30 bound for Dover and the 12:30 Norfolk Line boat to Dunkirque. Choice of breakfast stop was going to be Nell’s café or the Honda shop, at either end of the A2.
Passing Nell’s about 10:30, I was listening to something on the radio, so carried to H’s. Leaving there at 11:30, I went onto reserve (210 miles) so I splashed £3 worth of petrol in at the docks, and went through to the ticket booth.
Here I was issued with my boarding pass and instructed to go to lane 182. I think this is closer to Folkstone than Dover! Hardly had time to turn off the ignition when the walkie-talkie man told me, and the Harley Ferguson rider in front, to proceed to the boat.
Six other bikes were in the process of parking, and I found myself next to Paul Kelly. Perfect! A couple of minutes later, we were on our way up to deck 7 and the reclining seats.
Here I was introduced to the other four members of our party, as varied a bunch of ne’er do well, cutthroat, scurvy dogs who ever plied the English Channel. Oh sorry, that was the crew. For our party, please delete the word "scurvy".
Somewhere between the two coasts, I let slip that I knew my way along the back roads to our destination. I was immediately designated leader for this stage and most of the others to follow (when will I learn to keep these things quiet?).
So off we set, 5 bikes and a car in line-ahead formation. The weather seemed much warmer here. In Nottingham the previous few days had been almost frosty overnight, so I had inserted my thermal lining into my jacket. This, along with a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt was now threatening to cause overheating. So various zips were opened in order to get some airflow.
At Watten, we popped into the Champion supermarket for petrol, and then started on the interesting bit. Straight away, this flat part of the world throws a surprise and leads uphill to a windmill, one of a half a dozen locally.
If that was a surprise, then the approach to Cassel is a shock. Hairpin bends are not what you expect around here, throw in a few tarmac ripples and it all gets decidedly interesting. We stopped to get our breath back in the cobbled square at the top of the hill, partaking in the first (small) beer of the trip. A quick visit to the statue of Marshall Foch by the historian among us, then it was down the cobbled hairpins leading out of town. Or was it?
There were a few non-descript roadwork signs dotted about, and round one corner we discovered why. The road no longer existed. After a moment’s perusal, I set off along the pavement in true continental style. I have to admit that the queue of cars at the other end had given me a clue!
No further complications ensued until we arrived at Poperinge. We knew we had to be near the main square, but weren’t expecting a one-way system in such a small town. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to go round it twice.
Having found our destination, Talbot House, it took a few minutes to get parked and checked in. Now, Talbot House is something very special indeed. Half museum, half hostel, it fairly sizzles with atmosphere, the old photos and written signs dotted about the place creating a feeling of having gone back in time. All for 23 Euros per night.
But enough of this, let’s get to the bar. No, first we have to play a game led by Paul. It’s called "guess who has a rear wheel puncture".
No one wants to win but unfortunately someone has to. Ian, the (un)lucky lad, decides that tomorrow will give ample time for playing mechanic so we repair (good word) to the nearest hostelry. The next couple of hours are spent quaffing good beer and hearty food in time honoured fashion, and we are well behaved and retire early. But not before enquiring re the whereabouts of local motorbike shops.
Breakfast is variously taken next door at the coffee shop, or by utilising TocH’s own kitchen. Then it’s time to roll the sleeves up. A large screw head is clearly visible, but it’s obvious from the valve that there’s a tube lurking in there. Time to formulate a plan.
Although we have sufficient tools to remove the wheel, we have no tyre levers. Also the bike, an Africa Twin, has one of those dirty chain things on it. Don’t see why Paul or I should have anything to do with one of those. So, whilst I go and find a m/bike shop following the barmaid’s directions, the others see if the tyre will hold enough air to get there.
The shop turns out to be only 1.2 miles away, probably within pushing distance. Arriving there I ask if the lady speaks English. No such luck, so with the aid of my Dutch phrase book** and much miming, I get across the bad news. She replies in similar fashion that if we get the bike or the wheel there for 11:00, it will be fixed.
At this moment, she slips in her desperate efforts to translate and says "onze" for eleven. "Whoa", I cry, "do you speak French?" "A little" she replies, "do you?" "Also a little" says I, so we repeat all we’ve just said in very bad French.
Back at base, the tyre is slightly inflated, GO FOR IT, is the common consensus. So we do, and the bike is dropped off with the choice of ‘phoning at midday, or returning before they close at 16:00.
Reporting this back to the troops, we decide to visit the 2 small exhibitions in the garden of Talbot House, then have a wander round the town, and get some lunch. A preserved post in a courtyard behind the town hall provided the grim historical content in Poperinge. Its purpose was as a place to execute so-called "cowards", nowadays recognised as young men suffering from shell shock. As I’m sure you can imagine, this and the accompanying cells are not the cheeriest of places.
By the time we finished lunch and collected the repaired bike (12 Euros to patch the tube and plug the tyre, can’t be bad), the afternoon was slipping away. A revised plan was hastily cobbled together, and we set off for Tyne Cot cemetery. A route that avoided Ypres was chosen to enable the car to keep up and once again I found myself nominated leader.
I thought everything was going well until we realised that we had been monitoring the wrong blue car in our mirrors. Only thing to do was press on and eventually we all got back together safely. Tyne Cot was very busy with coach parties of young people. Probably better not to visit these well-known places at the weekend if at all possible.
On then to the museum at Zonnebeek with it’s newly constructed trench system complete with flickering lights. This may have been a design feature, or just dodgy foreign electrics. A tea break in a local café, then we were off to Ypres for more sustenance. As we hastily ate our food, which seemed to take forever to prepare, more and more people were making their way towards the Menin Gate. By the time we joined them, a huge crowd had formed, in readiness for the 20:00 ceremony.
The traffic was stopped, and four buglers from the local Fire Brigade gave out a short call and a hush fell on the crowd. This was followed by a welcoming speech, and the reading of the names of selected soldiers who had died close to this day during The Great War.
Now the buglers sounded "The Last Post", a tradition that started in 1928, and apart from a four-year break during WWII, has continued ever since. To close, the buglers played Reveille, a suitably uplifting tune for those who recognise it.
(I DO!! My father had been a Navy bugler, and would often summon me from my slumbers with such a tune. Oh how I appreciated it, especially with a hangover).
An interesting journey followed. I’m not the type to point out that this was one of the times when I didn’t lead, but no one else will! Paul decided he knew best, so led us off towards who knows where. Eventually, we recognised a road from earlier in the day and arrived safely back at TocH. From here it was but a short stride to the local bar and a few more of Belgium’s finest.
I had a boat booked today, so decided to leave after breakfast. This would allow me time to view part of The Veteranentreffen MTO in Ostend recommended by a friend in the BSA Owners Club. This was a fantastic sight, with a few marques I had never heard of amongst the usual suspects.
With plenty of time in hand, I decided to ride the old coast road to Dunkirque. Daydreaming about where to partake of a "spaggybol" and my final beer, I lost the plot on a roundabout.
Fortunately, having aimed for a grassy knoll, the DV only suffered cosmetic damage. I sorted myself out with a little help from a white-van-man and a pleasant old guy on a scooter. All I had to do now was ride 240 miles, heave the bike on/off its stand on the boat, and get to work for 06:30 the next morning with a damaged shoulder.
Most painful part was taking my helmet off! Turned out to be a bruised rotator cuff, not something I’d care to repeat.
Apart from the silly bit, I had a great time in excellent company and thoroughly recommend Belgium. The beer and chips are simply the best!
Steve A / Paul K Deauvilles
Stuart Caponord
Ian Africa Twin
Trevor Hornet
Robin Mondeo
** for future reference
Tyre = De Band
Inner tube = Binneband
Useful links:
http://www.norfolkline.com/NorfolkLineSplash/default.htm
http://www.greatwar.co.uk/westfront/ypsalient/meningate/lastpost.htm
Feedback submitted by Steve Adcock following the inaugural DUK Meet
August 27th - 29th 2004
Another fine outing!
Having phoned the Powis Arms and been told that it was “first come first served” for camping, I arrived at 14:30.
Stu and Carl arrived after 19:00, so it was a matter of throwing their tents up and scurrying into the pub for food. A pleasant evening ensued, and we went off to bed sensibly early and fairly sober.
I awoke the next morning to the sound of familiar voices. The other two had seemingly been up for hours. A cup of tea and a quick wash later, and I was ready for anything. Well actually, I was ready for my breakfast, a service offered by the pub. Now this is what I call camping!
Breakfast over; we had to wait to see if t’other Carl turned up before the scheduled 11:00 start. Stu and I wasted some time by popping over to Bishop’s Castle for petrol, but at 11:15 we decided to go without him. The next day we would learn that he turned up 15 minutes later. Oh well!
First ciggy break for Stu was at lake Vyrnwy. He’d probably need it, as the next section over to Bala tends to be quite narrow, twisty, and strewn with gravel. The scenery is breathtaking, with one valley that wouldn’t look out of place in a Swiss tourist brochure.
From Bala we took the A4212 to Trawsfynydd, a great road with ups n downs, plenty of sweeping bends, and quite a bit of four wheeled traffic to play with. We were joined by a “power ranger” on this stretch, and I kept expecting him to appear under my elbow. But no, we kept him at bay for the whole stretch. Maybe he was even older than us!
Next was a stretch down the A470, and I called another ciggy break whilst we discussed where to have a proper break. This turned out to be a short diversion to the George III at Penmaenpool, a fine establishment with views over the estuary.
Suitably refreshed, we set off to Aberystwyth and petrol for two. Up the A4120 to Devils Bridge, passing the first Red Kites of the day. From here we followed the Elan Valley to Rhayader, featuring the single-track roads, gravel, and loose sheep (oo’er Matron) we encountered earlier.
Along the main road up to Newtown, and then the last of the narrow, gravely roads over to Clun, this time throwing in a few unexpected hairpin bends.
A few more miles and we were back at Bishops Castle where I introduced the lads to The Three Tuns, and then the final 4 miles back to Lydbury North.
I had 220 miles on the odometer, and hadn’t gone on to reserve. It would finally run out with 223 miles up as I approached the filling station on Sunday morning.
Here’s to the next time.
We rode out, Sunday 14th March
Here is the news from Derbyshire.
7 intrepid Deauvillers, 1 pillion, and one wife on her Virago braved the wild and wet weather yesterday. Breakfast at Madisons in Matlock was taken at the crack of noon. A late arrival made it just as we were saddling up at 13:00 (ish). Off we set in light rain, just as forecast. This didn't last long though. As we climbed the mighty Via Gelia, the Rain Gods decided to test us to the limit. Torrential rain both downwards and sideways, huge lakes / rivers forming at the side of the road, visibility...negligible (all too much for one 4x4 driver who threw it away on a big bend ).
At about 3/4 of the way up, I decided to hang a left to cut off a big corner. Checking behind, there were now only 2 of us. So I waited for a while, and all the others sailed merrily past on the road below us...Hmmm. A hasty U turn, then playing catch-up resulted in heading them off at the pass, just as they were turning right towards Buxton. Back at the head of the pack, I managed to lead them on to Fenny Bentley under clearing skies. At the pub, there were so many customers that we had to sit in the kids room. No comments please.
Of course, the sky turned blue as soon as we got indoors. After a pleasant interlude, it was time to go our separate ways, pausing only to push start Stu, and notice that Karl has one larger than the other (you'll have to wait for the photo's!!!!).
Must say that it stayed dry back to Nottingham.
SteveA
Role Call
Steve Adcock from Nottingham on a black DV
John Whitaker. Nottingham. Red
Stu Brace. Nottingham. Green
Carl Lubbock. Halesowen. Red
Keith (Digger). Long Eaton. White
Carl and Trish. Chorley. Black
Scrote. Somerset. Silver
John Warner. Malvern. Beige
Brenda Whitaker. wife on Virago.
A fine weekend attended by the following: (in no particular order)
Steve and Jenny from Nottingham on a Black DV
Eric and Sue / Nottingham / White with black lowers
Ken / Manchester / Beige
Paul and Cathryn (sp?) / Manchester / Green
Carl and Trish / Chorley / Black
Matt / Balham / White
The weather was mostly kind, Saturday evening in the pub was marred by the entertainment...we could only natter between songs, and Matt mistook "low key" for "laid back"
Nice, again, to meet up with a bunch of like-minded people. It was over all too quickly, but with promises to keep in touch and do something similar soon.SteveA
As demanded by the Werkmeister, sorry Webmaster, here is my account.
Saturday 23 August 12:00, I set off for Bishops Castle. Within 2 miles, I encountered a torrential downpour on the Nottingham ring road. This lasted for a mile or so, it then remained dry but threatening for the rest of the journey. Lunch was taken at The George, Eccelshall. In keeping with the theme of the weekend, this is a pub with it's own brewery. I meandered through Newtown (twice) / Shrewsbury / Telford (ie. I got lost), battled my way to Much Wenlock then over Wenlock Edge to Craven Arms and Bishops Castle. Approx 160 miles as opposed to the 99 suggested by ViaMichelin on the printed directions I left at home!!
On arrival, I looked for the camp site and continued to do so for the next half hour. Anyone that has visited the place will know that there is just one hill to search. I asked various locals, all of whom directed me to where the camping SHOULD be. Other bikers with camping gear were cruising around, and we finally met up and wondered what to do. A passing cyclist stopped to ask who the Deaville belonged to. I stepped forward, and he uttered the magic words "I've got one of those". An interesting guy from Kidderminster, a collector of vintage bicycles. Even better, he knew where the campsite was. The "campsite" was a ploughed field at the back of the town, equipped with portaloos and a stand pipe for the extortionate sum of £4 per person per night.
Having set up camp (quick plug here for Khyam tents.... half a dozen bikers pulled in at the same time as me. I sheltered in my tent from a 10 minute shower, the others stood under trees ), I wandered into town for a little bit of shopping then beer and music at The Three Tuns. What a wonderful establishment. Three cheers for all those who brew beer on the premises, including The Six Bells at the bottom of the town.
Hang on, are you saying that this a small town with one street and 2 brew pubs? Absolutely! Ok, carry on!
Sunday 24 August. Despite the efforts of the camping folk singers and the nearby pack of hunting hounds trying to spoil my beauty sleep, I awoke refreshed and set off for Wild Wales at 09:30. Rode around Lake Vyrnwy, then out the back to Bala on a single track road worthy of the Pyrenees. Had intended returning by a different route, but it was so good I turned round and did it the other way. Approaching the campsite, I spied a Deauville. A green Deauville with reflective tape. Just had to be Paul Kelly, and so it was. For what happened next, see Saturday (pitch camp / drink tea / go to Three Tuns + chip shop). Well, despite me having to drink for 2 ( ask Paul!), we had a cracking time and discussed everything under the sun other than the duties of EOUDSA's (Entertainments Officers UK DV Self Appointed).
Monday 25 August. Up, breakfast, break camp, pack bikes and on the road by 09:30. Gentle ride to Shrewsbury, from whence Paul headed North, and I headed North East. As I was working later, I took the quick route: A5 / A38 / A52. Other than being confused in Telford (as usual), it was a great run. Went on to reserve coming out of Derby, so pressed on and arrived home at 11:30.
A most pleasant way to spend a Bank Holiday. See you in Scarborough? SteveA
A great turn out, no doubt due to the glorious weather. Plenty of tea was consumed at this very friendly place. Only problem is the lack of parking and/or outside seating for a large party. We therefore moved a couple of miles up the road to The Anchor near Tideswell. The bikes were lined up for a photo, and we realised one was missing. Andrew had been eating inside and somehow missed us leaving. Allan volunteered to pop back down to collect him. A very pleasant afternoon then ensued, with all aspects of DV'ing being discussed. I think we convinced Paul to go easy on the servicing!!
There were 3 Green bikes: Ron from Leeds, Stu from Sutton in Ashfield, and Paul from Manchester
2 Blue: Mary from Cheadle, and Rob from Northampton
2 Black: Chris from Garstang, and Steve from Nottingham
2 Red: Allan from Leeds, and John from Nottingham
1 White: Andrew from Stafford, and 1 Silver: Murray from Kenilworth