June 2011 Beaulieu forum meeting

Day 1 - 24 June

I woke up early (of course) and got dressed immediately into my motorbike gear.
Because it had been rainy the last days, I started up the computer to have a look at the rain radar. The prediction looked good: there were only a few showers in the north of the Netherlands (where I live), but there seemed to be a break between two shower area's just big enough for me to ride south.
And indeed, the roads were still wet, but it had stopped raining when I climbed on the bike. A few photos were taken & I said goodbye to the members of my household & drove off.
After about a mile I remembered that I had forgotten to pack my two water bottles; they were still on the kitchen worktop. So after about 5 minutes I was back home and found a very surprised wife.
The bottles were filled soon & strapped to the bike and I drove off for the second time.
Filled the petrol tank to the brim at one of the local stations. The first bit of the route was very familiar: it's the same route I ride to work. The only difference was that the bike was now fully loaded.
Just south of Utrecht I had my first break. I stopped for a drink of water and sent Buzzin and RJ2para a text-message saying that I had left home as planned. After a minute or so, I got a text back from Buzzin saying that he was already waiting at the meeting point, in the McDonalds. From where I was to the meeting point was still about an hour away !

Just about when I decide to leave, it started to rain !!
I think it's important now to tell you that my motorbike gear is about 6 years old, so it's not very waterproof any more. So I waited for a while under some trees, because it was only a small shower after all, it would go away soon. And I waited some more & more...... Then I decided to put on my rain overall. I packed it right on top of my luggage, so it was out soon enough. But putting it on over my normal gear was something else.
The rain overall is rubberized on the inside, so not very easy to put on. You've guessed it: by the time I had managed to put on the overall, the rain had stopped.
But I wasn't going to take it off again, so I rode in the overall from Utrecht to the meeting point (Hazeldonk, at the Dutch - Belgian border).

At Hazeldonk the sun was shining. I found Buzzin's V-strom 1000 soon enough and then saw someone with a friendly face waving from inside the restaurant.
I peeled myself out of the rain overall (which must have been a funny sight, but I didn't see any of the Japanese tourists laugh) and tucked it under my luggage straps.
Then I went inside and met up with the owner of the friendly face, who was indeed Buzzin. We had a cup of coffee and then we climbed back on our bikes.

A few miles into Belgium, I realized that I hadn't fixed my tank bag to my bike properly, so I stopped on the hard shoulder to fix that.
A little later we saw a digital road sign stating that there had been an accident in the Kennedy tunnel and that all traffic was advised to take the Liefkenshoek tunnel.

The Belgian town of Antwerpen has a notorious ring road, with two options to cross the river Schelde: the Kennedy tunnel (shorter & toll-free route) or the Liefkenshoek tunnel (longer and you pay about 5 euro's toll).
Of course, we had planned to take the Kennedy tunnel, but, reluctantly we indicated to each other (with hand signals) that we'd better take the Liefkenshoek tunnel.

The planned route was to take the E17 to Gent and then the E40 to Brugge.
But, because of the unscheduled route throught the Liefkenshoek tunnel, it was better to continue on the E34 which goes directly to Brugge.

About 10 minutes after the tunnel we were hit by a heavy shower. After a while I could feel the rain dripping through my underpants. But there was no hard shoulder on this road and nowhere else to shelter, so the only option was to carry on.
In Hazeldonk, I'd also taken off the rain protection from my sat.nav. (which isn't water proof), so I was also worried about that. But the sat.nav is positioned behind my wind screen, so the riding wind would also keep most of the rain off of it. So, not stopping was also better for the sat.nav.

I think, this is a good moment to take a break from this story to tell you why I ride a motorbike:
Robert M. Pirsig writes in his book "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"
You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.
On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it's right there, so blurred you can't focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness.
I support this view, but would like to add something else: For me personally, one of the great things about motorcycling are the smells. Every morning when I ride to work, I pass a bakery and smell freshly baked bread; I love that.
Here on this Belgian motorway it was the freshness, just after the shower that was lovely (even though I was soaked through).
So it did smell very nice, but I couldn't see a lot, because this particular road is made out of concrete. It's also a very popular route for lorries to take from the harbours of Antwerpen to the coast and/or Calais. Due to the recent shower & the road surface, every lorry produced its own cloud of fog, which we had to ride through.

Somewhere close to Maldegem I turned into a side road, because I was running low on petrol. Using our sat.nav.'s we found a petrol station, but this only sold these special kinds of petrol (with added alcohol). A few km down the road there was another which did sell normal petrol. In the meantime we had arrived in French-speaking Belgium, so the communication with the lady behind the till was a bit limited.

I had brought two home-made Cornish pasties and there was a picnic table next to the petrol station, so we consumed these there.
Strictly speaking I shouldn't call my pasties Cornish, because, according to some EU-Directive, a pasty can only be called "Cornish" if it has been baked in Cornwall. Well mine were backed in my own oven at home. But I did get the recipe from my mother who was born in Porthleven (= deep, dark Cornwall).
But I think Buzzin liked his (at least he said he liked it), Cornish or not.

Guided by sat.nav. & Buzzin up front we continued on towards Dunkirk.
The ferry terminal is actually so far south of Dunkirk, that you can hardly claim that it still is in Dunkirk. Checking-in & customs went without problems. The French and UK-customs are both on the French side.

We arrived in plenty of time to have an expensive cup of coffee out of a very big machine.
We rode on board the ferry as one of the first vehicles; they were actually still unloading the vehicles coming from Dover.
The bikes were strapped down very nicely: you have to position your motorbike between two lashing points in the deck, so that your saddle is right between these points. Ferry staff then put a cushion on your seat and secure your bike with a strap that is tightened between the lashing points & over the cushion
The only minor point I thought, was that the bike was out on the open deck; open to all elements.

Once we were on the passenger deck, I sent RJ2para a text-message saying we were on board the ferry, as planned.
Back came a message that he was already waiting for us at the end of the exit-tunnel at Dover - Eastern docks. The ferry was still at the Dunkirk-docks at that time and the normal crossing time is 2 hours !

Crossing the channel wasn't very exciting. I had a muffin & some tea.
The ferry actually follows the French coastline, until it reaches Calais and then it crosses the channel.

For some or another reason there was a warning in the men's toilet on board the ferry: "Beware of sharp objects".
What sharp objects would you expect in the men's toilet ??
And shouldn't you always be aware of sharp objects ? (not just in the men's toilet)

Nobody stopped us once we were off the ferry and RJ2para was indeed waiting for us at the exit of the dock-area. It was nice to meet another friendly face & someone I had had a lot of contact with in the months/years before this trip.
I needed some UK-cash and RJ needed some petrol. I knew there was a petrol station with a cash-machine a few miles to the south-west, so the three of us went there.
I managed to ride in the wrong side of a one-way street and parked on a double-yellow line, all within 15 minutes of landing in the UK.
Fortunately there wasn't a cop who saw that (or else they thought "Oh, bloody foreigners").

Tanks & wallets full, we rode in the direction of Canterbury. This would be the scenic route to the planned campsite.
Reaching the A2 from Dover means that you've got to cross a huge concrete bridge, called the Jubilee way, to climb up into the cliffs.
This is a 3-lane road: 2 lanes climbing & 1 decending. We were in the fast lane, climbing (so the middle of the road). While we were climbing, a few lorries came down the hill. And I must admit that I checked a couple of times that I was in the right correct lane. Traffic passing on your other side, takes a few minutes to get used to.

After about 6 miles we turned left off the A2 towards Lydden and then we let the sat.nav. take us to the planned campsite, using the shortest route.
Very narrow roads & bad road surfaces, but I loved it. On one or two occasions I did think the roads were a bit too narrow.
We found a nice viewing point & stopped to take photo's.
Not long after that we arrived at "the Black Horse": www.thebestpubintheparish.com/default.aspx.

We put up our tents on a field behind the pub and then had a super dinner in the pub, washed down with a few pints of lager (or cider, in my case).

Rather tired and thinking of our next day's riding, we had a fairly early night.

It rained quite a lot that night, but the inside of the tent was completely dry & warm, so I slept fine. Even though it was the first time on the ground & under canvas in about 13 years.

Day 2 – 25 June

Woke up to a grey sky with a drizzle.

I’d heard from the others where the toilet & shower were, so I had a look.
Coming into the small building there were three LED’s burning in the ceiling. I thought this was emergency lighting, so I looked for a switch. Flipping the switch just turned the three LED’s off.
The toilet (just the one) was extremely dirty. There was indeed a shower, in a corner behind the toilet (equally dirty) and there was only a shower curtain for some privacy. So not really a shower I would see females use very quickly.
Even Buzzin (who, in his own words, desperately needs a shower in the morning to wake up) skipped this opportunity.

RJ said it was a “project under development”, but I think it was just a shambles.

I made some coffee & had some “ontbijtkoek”. This is a dutch form of cake, which is somewhere in the middle between bread and cake.
I gave RJ a slice… and another one… and another one. So I think he has a new addiction here.

The rain wouldn’t stop, so we decided to pack up our wet stuff. And set off towards Hythe.
The plan was to follow the coastline past Brighton and then go inland, in North-westerly direction towards Loomies.

In Hythe, waiting for a red traffic light, I saw a cafe on the other side of the road, which was open. So, as soon as the light turned to green and the rest of the traffic had passed, I crossed the road to see if they served some breakfast. Buzzin followed me, but RJ disappeared around the corner and came back later, following a more legal procedure to cross the road.

Anyway, we had a lovely “chippy breakfast”.

Stomachs full, we continued the route. We skipped the Romney, Hythe & Dymchurch railway, because it was still a bit too wet.

Next stop was Dungeness point. That is an eerie place: it’s very flat, the ground is made of pebbles, there are a lot of wooden (fishermen ?) huts and the occasional fishing boat, which is pulled up on the beach.
Add this to two big lighthouses and a huge nuclear power station in the background. It’s the most bizarre bit of the UK I’ve seen in a long time.

A few miles west of Dungeness is Camber beach. This is a hot spot for wind- & kite surfers. Again we stopped to have a look around & shoot photo’s.

Continued on the coastal rd. A259 → Rye → Hastings.
The sun was still hiding behind some very low clouds. And there was a lot of wind.

We stopped in Bexhill for some very important shopping: I had to get some Bisto. My familie & me are Bisto-addicts. In fact RJ2para got his nickname “Bisto-kid”, because he was my supplier for a while.
And, unfortunately, you can’t buy the “brown stuff” in supermarkets in the Netherlands.

Continued on the coastal rd. A259 → Eastbourne → Seaford → Newhaven.
Traffic got very busy and the bit just before Brighton, there was a lot of wind. This wasn’t fun anymore.

In Brighton we stopped on the pavement, just before we reached the pier, to have a look around and take some more photo’s.
When we left, RJ nearly tipped over his bike: rolling the bike backwards off of the pavement, the step was a bit too high and his side stand hit the edge of the pavement. Luckilly he managed to stay upright.

There was hardly any movement at all in the Brighton traffic, so we carefully started filtering.

East of Hove we stopped following the coast & went north-west, following the A283 / A272.
The sun came out. Riding was fun again & we could ride at normal speeds again. And, apparently there’s always lots of police on this route, but I didn’t see any.

We stopped at Loomies (crossing A272 & A32) met up with Skyhook & Jan.
By that time I was really tired, so it was a good thing we stopped.
Between Brighton & Loomies, I think we only stopped once for petrol.

We’d agreed to meet between 3 and 4 in the afternoon. We arrived about quarter to 4. But Skyhook and Jan had only just arrived minutes earlier.
We had lots of tea (more “ontbijtkoek”) and a good banter.

Four bikes & five people then continued, using the fast route (M3 & M27), to the campsite Hollandswood in Brockenhurst, New Forest.

I was up front. And, just to prove that I was getting a bit tired, I forgot to turn off my left-indicator. This made the people behind do all sorts of strange things, untill Buzzin had the good sense to overtake me and warn me about it. Thank Buzz.

The New Forest is a beautiful area. And it was really getting hot by now.

We found the campsite “Hollandswood” without a hitch.
We hadn’t booked, but they still had space for us (or so they said…). The only instruction was to pitch your tent, at least, 6 meters away for another tent → well that was impossible !
We did find a suitable spot, to pitch our tents, but they were certainly less than 6 meters apart.

While riding slow speed on the campsite, to find a spot, my bike’s fan had turned itself on. It was nice to know that it still worked, because in the ±7 years that I’ve owned the bike now, the fan has only turned itself on once or twice.

RJ thought that we would perhaps make a bit too much noise on the campsite with our bikes. Our bikes turned out to be quiet compared to the noises some of the kids made on the campsite. The campsite & area itself are beautiful, except it was perhaps a bit too crowded when we were there.

Once the tents were pitched, we walked into Brockenhurst & found a fish & chips shop for dinner that evening (I had a steak & kidney pie & chips).
The local Tesco’s was still open,so we bought a few cans of beer (cider in my case), went back to the tent and consumed them there, while we were listening to Skyhook’s stories from his military days.

To bed early again.

Another good Video & Diary post GvS.

Fun to watch.

One more thing:

About a week or so, after returning from my trip, there was a horrible smell coming out of the big yellow bag.
I first suspected my rain-overall (perhaps it had been packed a little wet).
But further inspection revealed that I had taken a pet home with me.

A frog (or toad; I can't tell the difference) had climbed into the bag at some time. I'd just chucked all the rest of my stuff on top and taken it all home.
The poor frog (or toad...) didn't survive
And now was slowly decomposing:


I didn't keep this souvenir ;D

GvS