The longest, Longest Day Down. A middle-aged man's adventure

Can't sleep. Its too light, I'm  too uptight. At 3 am I give up and go have a shower. I glug a bottle of water and drag all my crap out to the unsuspecting poor old bike through the grey pre-dawn light and drizzle. The bike fires up on the second attempt only, this does not bode well...




Anyway, myself and the Battlestar Galacticrap cough and splutter our way down to the start point. Most folk are here already, as well as some other bunch of guys doing the same thing! I need to chill the fook out, but I hate riding in the rain, i hate riding in big groups. I decide to hang near the back (this turns out to be my default position for the event :biggrinvk4:  ) when we get waved off.





This is it, 6 months or more of prepping and bodging the bike, keep it together now. The bike is running rough, it keeps bogging down then surging forwards unexpectedly. fook! I'm panic braking into corners because the bike keeps running on, my confidence is shot and I'm annoyed at myself for not fitting the carb refurb kit I got a few weeks previously. Ah well, MTFU time, carry on regardless. Next stop Inverness for me, I know the bike can do it I decide to try and relax, let the bike take the strain and enjoy the scenery, after all, I'm in the North East of Scotland, its stunning up here. Sometimes I forget all of this is only a few hours from my door step




Eventually I catch up to  the scooter and Jez on the 125 cruise-control  and pass them. The roads open up and the fluffinees is less of an issue with fewer tight turns, so I wind it on a bit and roll on through the Dornoch Firth and on down into Inverness.

I pull into the Tesco on the far side of town, only to see Rich on the NTV. We stop for a blether, a quick drink and snack and we're on our way again.



As we get further south, the weather improves and we can make some progress. Well we do until my jerry can escacpes from its bungee along the A9 and bursts, throwing 95 octane everywhere. I do the environmental thing and fling it into the bushes  :ph34r: .

It is a little while from here that we see Smobytoe jumping around like a loony, it fair perks me up and I'm laughing into my lid while bopping along to ZZ Top on the Bluetooth ( I like them ok, shut up you at the back).

We're doing ok and since I'm the local I'm on navigational duties until we hit Engerland. Naturally I turn too early for the A823 (about 50m too early and we have to turn around again). Aah the A823, or the Rumbling Bridge road as us locals call it. It used to be a stonking road, but the surface has crumbled in parts, luckily there are still some good bits here and there. A quick photo opportunity at Knockhill and the into Dunfermline and Rosyth, where due to being on the phone to my Mrs, I missed another turn and we had to double back on ourselves again. So much for local knowledge.



We scoot over the bridge where my Mrs, her folks and my son are waiting. Jez is just readying to leave as we arrive. Looking in a hurry as he has been accosted by my father-in-law. We have a wee chat, quick nibble, half a cup of coffee, then off to brim up.


Quick blast around the bypass, onto the A68 and its roadworks. Its at one of these temporary lights that Rich tells me my bike has been smoking. We pull over at the next layby, and there is nothing showing in the oil sight glass. One of the sag wagons turns up(someone remind me who was in each, My mind is blurred) I endure comments about Scots being exposed to the sun etc, while pouring 3/4 litre of Halfords finest into the big Yamaha.

Topped up, we up our pace a little over the swooping curves of what used to be s brilliant biking/driving road before it was cluster-bombed with cameras.

We make the border, get some pics, the sag wagon appears again, as does Johnny McAvoy (PB journalsit and organiser). We must be running pretty far behind if the big chap is here I think.





We head off again, Rich in the lead this time...

And so the saga continues...

Rich heads straight off down the steep hills into the English side of the A68 (better surfaced than this side BTW) and immediately the pace picks up. Its warm and sunny, this part of the A68 is like a roller coaster and I'm on an adventure. I feel fooking fantastic at this point. Rich is navigating so I just switch to follow-mode.

I get a phonecall on the bluetooth from a mate who thinks its hilarious that he's speaking to me while I'm doing 90 throught the Yorkshire Dales. I do to come to think if it. He wishes me well (he donated £20) and rings off.

I love this part of the country, its just utterly beautiful. Although I do have to admit that every time I am down that way the Postman Pat theme pops into my head ( and won't fooking go away!). I think it may be that when I rode my Bandit to the PB 90's trackday at Cadwell in September 08 I nearly got flattened by a Post Offcie van...

Anyway, back to the action. I can see that Rich is itching to pull the trigger, but I just can't seem to ride faster than I currently am. I'm now aware of the bike's thirst for oil and I'm reluctant to rev it too hard. So I just admire the scenery as we roll on by at 80-90.

Finally we reach Darlington, fill up, have a drink and a wee snack. Then we head off, fruitlessly it turns out, in search of the next part of the route. The junction we wanted to take was closed for roadworks, the diversion had a diversion. We turned back to Darlington and saw John(??) on the big scooter in a layby. We pull over for a chat about where to go and the Galaxy arrives. After some discussion, and a call to JM, it is decided that we will follow the Galaxy down the A1 (NOT motorway apparently, but boring as fook nonethless) for a few junctions and the npick up the route again. It is during this stint that the scooter dies for good. Poor bloke.

We gain the route again after a wee while and go in search of the pit-stop caravan. We finally find it, but come from the wrong direction. Anyway, we pull in and get given a very welcome cuppa and a ham sandwich. never, ever, has white bread with ham on it tasted so goddam good! The XJ gets roughly a gallon of oil added ( ok half a litre) and we head off again.



Rich is heading off to see a mate, but says he will catch up again. he indicates to me where to head, but immediately I get flustered. I find a services where there are a pair of Traffic Officers and explain my predicament. They are very interested, and frankly impressed by our bravery/stupidity, by the whole LDD. After they give me pointers to get back on the route, one of them gives me £5 to put in the pot! I thank them both, shake their hands and say ( with an inwards chuckle) "Thanks GENTS"

I'm now heading onto what JM said would be the most difficult bit, but I find it relatively easy, with just one bit of self-doubt causing an uneccessary stop to check the map. Sheffield and Chesterfield though seemed to take ages to get through. On the A38 I started to give it some beans again as I realised that I was rapidly losing daylight ( it gets dark far too bloody early in that Englandshire for my liking). I stop for fuel somewhere along A38 and text Mitch to update. By this time its twenty-to-nine! I am most definitely that last bike on the road by now I reckon. I haven't seen Rich for ages and think he must have passed me while I was dawdling along through Sheffield.

I leave the services and blast along looking for the turn towards Warwick. It is here that I have my little crisis. I get to the roundabout that takes you onto the A46 and then onto the A429. Except I cannot seem to find which way to go, there is no North or South indicated, no sign for the A429. I ride back up to a petrol station and get off the bike. I remove my lid and gloves, take a swig of water and look at the map. Clear as mud. I am now tired, confused and seriously bothered by the loss of daylight. My nightvision is poor, my headlight is woeful and I really, really don't know where I am. I realise that making to Land's End by daybreak is now looking unlikely. I call my Mrs and have a wee moan to her. I tell her that I'm goign to ask the garage attendant for directions. If that fails I'm going to call Johnny or the sag wagons. She request that I call her back once I know what i'm doing. I get directions and try to call home, but its not connecting. likewise texts are failing to my Mrs, mitch and everybody else. I figure its the network and head off.

The Fosse Way, the darkest, scariest English road this tired, emotional, short-sighted, night-blind Scotsman has ever found himself on. Holy fooking fook, the headlight on this bike is CRAP! I'm practically feeling my way along the road when my saviour appears at my right shoulder.

RICH IS BACK and his headlight is like the sun in comparison to mine  :rock:  :rock:  :rock:  :rock: . Without any need for words, I wave him on in front and try to keep up. The man is clearly on a mission. We stop for fuel and I check my phone. I've been trying to call home on the bluetooth while riding but no connection. I rest my phone and suddenly there are texts and voice messages from Mitch, my mrs, and others trying to get in touch. It seems that when she couldn't get back in touch with me, my good lady used her noggin and got in touch with Mitch through the facebook page, asking him to get directions to me. Now I had been on radio silence for an hours or two and folk thought I was in a ditch somewhere. I put everybody's minds at ease, got a bollocking from the mrs and then we pressed on. 300 miles to go and about 4 hours to do it in.

We press on , and on, and on, and on. Then we come across Brett at the side of the road. His brakes are binding, he's lost his tail-light.  So we have him tag along behind us, with the Galaxy taking up the rear. its like this all the way to Exeter. We fill up here. by this time I am dangerously tired, I'm micro-sleeping on the bike, forgetting to turn into corners and having to brake and pull the bike down on its ear to get around. Its all very exciting! I feel sorry for Brett tagging along behind.

Its at this point that pat (gix) inthe van says that if we can keep up this pace, we can still make it. Rich says to me and Brett, that is time to get our heads down. I drain my water bottle, take the emergency Red Bull, do a few stretches and we head off towards the A30.

Now I have driven this road a good few times in the past and ridden it a couple of times too, but always in daylight. Bloody hell, it is dull and long. Why is Exeter so much further away from LE than normal at night? it is hard this next bit, I have zero concentration level, my depth perception is gone, I keep nodding out on the bike. I'm tagging onto Rich and his blue flamethrowers* one minute, the next I'm opening my eyes and I'm doing 50 and less, with the Galaxy and Brett almost under my wing-mirrors ( to me at least, I was hallucinating too).

I'm shouting at myself, opening the visor to let air in, I even tweaked my nose at one point to try and wake myself up. Somewhere along the line, a part of the roadsurface appears to jump up vertically to block my path, it took what little reasoning I had left to stop me pulling on the brakes and screeching to a halt.

The road goes on

and on

Suddenly Rich gets his head down, this is it, home stretch. I can see the sky lightening in my mirrors. We have ever so slightly more minutes than miles to get to LE. I think it was something like 35 miles to Penzance and 42 minutes to sun-up. Rich is going for it, properly, and amazingly I'm keeping up. There are nuns and kittens all over the place, its bedlam as two decrepit old motorbikes with two extremely tired riders absolutely rip up the pre-dawn roads across the last of the peninsula. I honestly havent ridden a bike this hard or fast in almost 3 or 4 years. its fooking excellent! I had forgotten that I could do this kind of stuff. I need to do it more.

The madness continues through Penzance, land's End 11 miles a sign says. 15 minutes or so left. fook it, lets do this shit, if the bike dies, it dies, I'll get the train home, I'm beating the goddam sun!

Both bikes are getting hammered, I feel for the residents in the houses we rip past, especially since I can hear the shotguns on Rich's bike over my blowing downpipes and the music in my headphones (It came on by itself, nothing exciting or approprate though, just an 80's compilation). My toes touch down a couple fo times, rich touches the pipes down one time on a right-hander, sparks fly through the blue flames flying out of his exhausts on the over-run. I wish I had a picture to show you guys. Its an image that will last with me forever. I laughed out loud  and whooped like an American**. It was getting lighter and lighter, I could see the road now and knew it was going to be a fine thing.

Finally, over the hill, there was the visitor centre. We tear up the drive, I jump off my bike and take a few pics to prove we beat the sun. The adrenalin is flooding through my veins still and I shake Rich's hand. I couldn't have done this without the big chap's encouragement and his big round headlight.



I am am so utterly chuffed and relieved, I did it! I never, ever, ever have to put myself through this again. I am not physically fit, I am not bike-fit and clearly barely mentally fit enough for this, but I did it.

Brett rolls in with seconds to spare, the Galaxy just behind him.

We head up to camp, Colin gives me the best cuppa I've had in years. Thank you mate, my best wishes are with you.

We swap war tales with the few that are up

and that was that

done, finito







on the way home, somewher along the M5 or M6, the bike reached a milestone...




Many of the participants had a much easier time than I did. It will be run again next year, Johnny McAvoy form Performance Bikes hopes to run it again, but he wants t oget a much wider audience and thusly a much larger fund raised to donate to Cancer Research.

If anybody wants to do next year's run, let me know. Once the ball start rolling I can get you in touch with Johnny. 21 particiapnts this year, we reckon an absolute max of 35-40 to be workable.

A final thank you to all who have donated to this cause, those who haven't, my justgiving page is open until end September.

Thanks for sharing. Great effort all round.

Anyway back to topic! Great ride and well done to all involved!

looks like you had a laugh anyway

Thanks fellas. I now have something to bore my kids with forever.

Middle-aged in body and time: 43 years old

Mentally: 17 - 24

Im still waiting XMate

Great read, thanks for posting this up. Glad the yammer came through til the end.