What with one thing and another I haven't had a lot of time to sort photos and write diary and all that stuff, but early last weekend I made a somewhat spur of the moment decision to ride the couple of hundred miles south to Runcorn, of all places, to see the the masters of mediæval merriment, the raconteurs of renaissance, Gryphon, still completely barking after 50 years and just kicking off their latest mini-tour.
And since I was in the area, pretty much, I had a day and a half to spend with my best friend again. The trip to hers was strangely devoid of motorways, because last time it was motorway pretty much all the way. I didn't realise but I'd managed to switch Dumbass mk2, my GPS, to "Avoid motorways", after some last minute navigating to get back to the hotel after the concert the day before. I was thus led on a magical mystery tour through the middle of Manchester, which really wasn't my plan at all, because I don't have a Bluetooth setup for my helmet and I can't use voice directions, instead relying on monitoring the screen for each turn. My HJC has a fitting at the back for their made-by-Sena (I think) device which I might buy except that it seems to get a pretty poor write up.
We spent Saturday pottering around and not doing bikey stuff, but Fidra the 1300 spent some quality time in the garage with her friend Biscuit, no doubt discussing highly technical things like tyre compounds and stoichiometry.
For the ride home, my friend accompanied me for a good while. We both use Magic Earth™ for navigation so we synchronised our
watches settings so that we could each lead some of the ride. We took ourselves north up the motorway for a while, then through Forest of Bowland, along tiny roads and up and over the moors and through equally tiny villages.
At Devil's Bridge I was surprised to find the place hoaching with motorbikes. Apparently it's quite a meeting place. Someone else arrived on a red 1300, sporting a Saltire sticker, while we were plotting a route northwards but I didn't have a chance to say hello.
From there we rode north again, visiting the Lowgill viaduct by Beck Foot, that once upon a time could have become part of the West Coast Main Line between Glasgow and London, were it not for the railway companies' continual efforts to outmanoeuvre each other, and the magnificent viaduct spent the rest of its days as nothing more than part of the Ingleton branch line. It's now a Grade II listed structure along with its counterparts further south.
Fidra and Biscuit huddled under the central arch of Lowgill viaduct while we wandered up and down taking photos.
At Tebay, which is well known in UK motorwayology for its ambience and excellent farmshop food and its duck pond, we had a hot(ish) meal and hot chocolate and did our best to warm up, because it was really quite cold! The air temperature was perhaps 8ºC but it sure didn't feel that warm at 70mph, and not even the expansive bodywork and the great heat from the V4 could counter it. My friend rode home from Tebay, and I knocked out the remaining 130 miles with three stops, one for fuel and two for jumping around to get warm. I even had the heated grips cranked right up underneath my winter gloves. In fairness, I probably needed one more layer on top under my jacket, and one of these days I will buy a heated vest and plug myself into that Powerlet socket I installed on the right-hand side. It was already getting dark after dinner, but the A702 is easy enough to ride at 40-50mph, and the new BT023s I had fitted a week or two before were gradually getting scrubbed in, so I just took my time.