1. 2000 Coast to Coast April (Pam)
"Yes of course all the bikes will fit in the bus" says the driver confidently as we twist, turn and generally cajole 12 bikes into the 30 seater bus. The rain was cascading down the night before we left and the forecast was worse - perfect for cycling, if you’re a masochist.
However it was a jolly crew who set off on Good Friday 21st April 2000 at 6.00 am from Stokesley. Arriving around 8.45 at Greenodd in the Lake District, we were met by Roy and Glynis in the ‘support’ car. It was pouring as we waved a sad goodbye to the bus and sheltered in the garage toilets. Craig proceeded to change into Batman in his new cycling cape and carefully dipped his ‘Giant’ banana coloured bike into the water. We all dipped toes or fingers quickly into the salt water inlet and then we were off.
Ten minutes later, the rain had stopped and we were cycling along the east side of Lake Coniston admiring the scenery and waiting for Rennie.
We crossed Windermere on the ferry, stopped for lunch, and then continued to Sedburgh after multiple map stops, hailstone stops and waiting for Rennie.
The Black Bull was a really welcome hostelry in this cobbled town and we made the most of bar and food facilities.
Saturday was overcast but dry and we set of for the dales, arriving at the biggest hill of the ride about 11.30. Craig had, by this time, disappeared on his speed machine not to be seen until Richmond. Mike tried hard to get lost, heading for Hawes instead of Buttertubs but was caught and returned puffing and blowing his way up. The ascent was long and hard but the descent was short and scary with speeds of 41mph being touched upon. Mike’s video camera even survived the perilous journey down, then it was Postman Pat type countryside to the pub in Gunnerside.
Mega pints and chips later we set off uphill (why are pubs always at the bottom of a hill?) towards Reeth. A quick ice-cream stop and on to Richmond as the rain returns. We split into an upper and lower group with the lower following the Swale and the upper taking to the hills above.
The lower group reached the B&B ten minutes before the upper group and bagged the best rooms. (Craig of course having got there hours before and tried everybody’s room)
After admiring the Swale in spate we ate in a Cantonese restaurant and split into a ‘those who like having their ear-drums blasted’ group and ‘those who don’t’.
Rennie made a special friend before the late group tried to tiptoe up the stairs without waking anyone.
Sunday was sunny and we set off on the last leg up the hill where both Mike and Rennie got a puncture. While Mike’s was fixed in a jiffy, whereas Rennie’s tyre was so old it was impossible to fix so he was picked up by Glynis in the car and taken to a bike shop.
We continued through Hurworth, Croft and Middleton on Leven coming down into Yarm in time for lunch by the river. Ray managed to get five waitresses confused before starting his lunch at the Bluebell.
The final fling took us through Coulby Newham (where Bridget insisted on trying the new MacDonald’s loo) then on through Guisborough (where Emma and Mike decided it was time for a water fight) and on to the last hill above Saltburn where we stopped to admire the North Sea in the sunshine. A last glide down the hill to the beach where Roy and Craig dipped their bikes ceremoniously in the waves and we all froze our toes happily for a final group photograph.
2. June 2000 Scarborough via York (Mike)
This ride was planned and organised by Jim and was all men (no women allowed) - Barry, Craig, Drew, Jim, Mike, Neil, Ray T, Rob.
Jim had planned a roundabout route to York to ensure that we had a full day. We stopped at the Millennium stone on the way to Rosedale Abbey. Drew had been finding the ride difficult before lunch but then consumed 2 Red Bulls in the pub and transformed into "SuperBiker", leading the field with his legs going round and round even when we stopped for a rest.
The guest house where we stayed had on an event with all sorts of cold food provided for the guests. This cold food became Drew's breakfast, dinner and tea the next day as he was too late for the guest house breakfast.
The first day had been enough for Barry and he packed his bags and returned to collect his car from Middlesbrough. We set off for Scarborough with a good pace being set by the whole group but then it was found that Drew had been left behind. He had another puncture and it seems that after repairing one then a second one was discovered. All this held up the charge to Scarborough. However it was a slow charge as the route was up-down up-down up-down. Finally we arrived in Scarborough to be greeted by Barry.
The overnight stay was interesting with the guest house owner informing us of her rules. At breakfast we were served our flakes in small dishes with no-one daring to ask for seconds until Rob had the audacity.
Everyone was apprehensive about the third day after the hard first two days. Just outside Scarborough Mike's type split and he had to jump in Barry's car. It was quickly realised that a new tyre could not be found. The rest of the group were informed by phone with Rob begging Mike to take his place after lunch. Barry and Mike searched and searched for the group but finally admitted defeat and went home to prepare the reception.
A bedraggled group finally arrived back in Great Ayton, having travelled over 150 miles.
3. May 2001 Scottish Trip (Pam)
They came, they saw, they cycled……………
The excitement was mounting…..A car arrived at Ardrossan, Saturday 26th May. The occupants leapt out, embraced the sea air and first view of the sleeping giant…Arran.
Another car full arrived, then another, a fourth and……a hustle and bustle of wheels, panniers, and a few rustic words later, GASBAGS were assembled with a bike for every member:- (well almost).
Mike, towering magnificently over his video camera.
Ray, a face hidden amongst that beard somewhere.
Jeff, loading his new expanding bag, panniers, suitcase etc
Bridget, drooling at her new bike.
Pam, with matching shorts and knee pad.
Liz standing around looking hopeful/helpful.
Zoe with energy pulsating from every pore.
Craig just looking cute.
Neil looking for something.
Paul, wondering about the sleeping arrangements.
Roy, with an assortment of hats for every occasion.
Rob, arriving with 1 minute to spare.
Paul and Kate wondering what they’re doing here.
Glynis with the CAR!
The sun shines as we, along with about 100 other cyclists, load our bikes on to the ferry and enjoy the views, beer and chips.
The temperature begins to climb as we ascend the first and highest hill of the trip. Fantastic views accompanied by lots of heavy breathing. It was at this point that somebody forgot to tell Paul and Kate that it was permitted to get off your bike and walk. Reaching the summit was breath taking - literally. Goat Fell to our right, the glistening, deep azure sea behind us….heaven.
Onwards, downhill at first, past banks of bluebells, pink campion and something I’ve forgotten the name of but Neil will tell you.
Happy Gasbags, drinking in the Scots air then drinking in the Scots beer at Blackwaterfoot. The most beautiful coastal ride must be the west coast of Arran with its clear waters, peaceful little hamlets and rugged terrain. However, while Jeff and Pam enjoyed these pleasures, Ray and Bridget got the best room at Edie Rankin's B n B!
Everybody else stayed at the Lochranza Hotel - where we ate the first night - in fact the only place to eat so it was heaving and tempers were obviously getting frayed behind the bar.
Awoke the following day to see the mountains shrouded in mist, although still fairly warm….except on the ferry where we all huddled up against the funnel …(warm air right up yer kilt).
Landing at Claonig, we set off east to Skipness castle where we dutifully dipped our shoes in anti foot and mouth disinfectant before entering. Jeff conveniently got a puncture so it gave us lots of time to look around and pretend to be Juliet looking for Romeo (well Liz did).
The huge arched entrance was just begging for a photo and we managed to get the full group in by waylaying another unsuspecting cyclist who kindly took about 10 shots on different cameras before making his getaway.
Back to Claonig and north up and over and a very exhilarating downhill to Tarbert just as the rain hit. Wanting to upstage Jeff, Mike got a puncture which had to be fixed in the rain before we could have lunch with the yachties at the Tarbert Hotel. Lovely food but poor service and we had to hot pedal to the ferry for Portavadie. The weather began to clear so we headed down to Ardlamont Point for a nude dip…well, nude feet anyway.
A really lovely little coast road took us to Kames and on to Tighnabruaich where bribery, corruption and bargaining went on for the best room deal. Strangely enough, Jeff and Pam got exactly what they wanted by arriving last… large double bed, beautiful view and cheap!
We were very lucky to have a patient and witty lad from Aberdeen to serve our evening meal…lesser men would have perished! Breakfasts were scottish and hearty but vegetarian breakfast was something else….cucumber and chutney?????????
Monday morning found Gasbags disagreeing on the route and a lower and upper split took place (so what’s new?) Whilst Mike, Roy, Craig, and Zoe took the high and much easier wimps road, we all went for the romantic dirt track which took us through a wonderland of flowers and waterfalls, soft verdant pastures with little fluffy bunnies and…..oh sorry, getting carried away there. Our heroic route finished with a bit of mountain biking and jungle trekking so, although we were an hour behind them, we were much more courageous having fought off the grizzly bear and crossed the crocodile infested swamp as well. (Scotland is full of surprises).
The road from Tighnabruich to Colintraive must have one of the best views in Scotland, looking down the Kyles of Bute with mountains and sea lochs and its downhill to the ferry! Across the ferry, it’s a flat coast road all the way to Rothesay (which you can see about an hour before you get there).
We found our two hotels and some of us managed to get hot water for a shower…some of us didn’t. The hotels were both on the same main street with lovely views across to the mainland but the choice was between hot water showers and the sergeant major hotelier.
The wind was getting up to gale proportions as we strolled to a local bar for an aperitif and we were blown to the local curry house (bring your own booze). Some Gasbags managed to continue at the pub after but most ambled happily, if noisily off to bed.
A bright and beautiful last day and we headed off for another famous split ride. Setting off together we stopped at some beautiful gardens…this must be the best time of year for keen horticulturists!
While the faster, fitter group (except Mike) were taking the high road to Mountstuart, some of us took the slower, let’s stop and smell the flowers and watch for seals route, rewarded by seeing two or three seals basking on the rocks. Just along the road was a very pleasant surprise - the little hamlet of Kerrycroy with its sleepy beach at the lower entrance to Mountstuart. A final cycle round the souvenir shops and our last ferry took us to Wemyss Bay. Suddenly the Scottish trip was over and bags and bikes were being strapped and goaded back into the cars for the return journey….but was it better to go on the A66 or the A69? The discussion continues….ad infinitum.
4. May 2001 Scottish Trip (Mike)
The women on this ride were really looking forward to this ride as the men had twice been before without them. Pam was especially keen as she is a woman of the countryside and is normally found by Jeff's side. The ride was meticulously planned with the Kings booking the first hotel stop at Lochranza, the Newton/Smiths booking the second hotel stop at Tighnabruaich, the Vamplews booking the third hotel stop at Rothesay, Craig booking the ferries, and Paul GH booking the initial hotel for the main party at Moffat.
The Kirkland House Guest House at Moffat was especially notable, with excellent accommodation, a listed building with many fine interior features, and a welcoming drink.
The group of 15 all arrived at Ardrossan well in time for the ferry, and piled their bags into Glynis's car, our GASBAGS one non-cyclist.
After ensuring that everyone was off the ferry the group set off across Arran the hard way, going due West up a very steep hill. It didn't take long to realise that the new member's Paul and Kate, although having wonderful new bikes, did not have the muscles to go with them. However they finally arrived at the top of the hill still smiling. The group rode onto Lochranza with all but the Kings and Vamplews staying in the upmarket Hotel Lochranza. The Kings and Vamplews saved a few pounds by staying on Mrs Rankin's floor. Finding somewhere to eat that night was difficult as the place was full of damn tourists. The night was finished by a short walk along the enchanting beach and skimming stones across the water.
The next day we set off for the ferry to Kintyre. Any thoughts of initially going south to Gigha Island were removed by the dismal weather and we headed towards Tarbert. The clouds were thickening as we reached Tarbert and after a quick meal we caught the ferry to Portavadie. The Tighnabruaich Hotel that we were all booked into, gave us a good welcome and arranged the seating in the restaurant so we could be together. The view of Loch Riddon from the main hotel window was very inspiring and led to much drinking and frivolity.
The next day Mike woke early and went for a short walk to the sea to find that Jeff had woken even earlier and had taken a bike ride along the sea-shore, becoming convinced that this would provide a short-cut. He was so sure of himself that he was able to convince the gullible ones in the party to attempt his route. The sensible crowd (Craig, Mike, Paul GH and Zoe) went the normal road route expecting to find Jeff's "gullibles" in front. Instead they were so late that the "sensibles" sent out a search party, Glynis and Mike. It turned out that the "gullibles" had to turn back and made their way up a perpendicular field jumping over cow pats and fences. Just as Jeff's "gullibles" arrived at the Colintraive ferry the clouds burst open and we all dashed into the pub, consuming a bonny meal and many a pint. The "gullibles" then made out that they had really enjoyed their ride, thought the sun shone out of Jeff's backside, and would do it all again - the "sensibles" knew better.
Heading towards Rothsay the rear of the group was led by Paul and Kate, with Paul making the remark "no one told us we could go more than 5 mph". The group split into two hotels at Rothsay, our normal one the xxx with poor showers but the best breakfast in Scotland, and the xxx with excellent showers and no choice given for the standard cooked breakfast. Jeff again had the poor showers and was thinking of complaining to the Scottish Tourist board. We booked into an Indian restaurant hoping that their food would give us extra speed the following day.
A great debate took place on the final day, should we head straight home or go for a ride around Bute. The group split, with those on the ride round Bute seeing seals splashing in the sea.
5. June 2001 Lincoln Trip (Mike)
The mens-only 2001 trip was meticulously planned by Jim with a central location, Lincoln, and 3 trips out. Jim also planned for good weather and was rewarded, as ever, with 3 good days.
Route
Day 1 - Lincoln, Market Raisen, Walesby, Wragby, Lincoln (46 miles)
Day 2 - Lincoln, Woodall Spa, Tattersall, Scopwick, Lincoln (53 miles)
Day 3 - Lincoln, Saxilby, Scampton, Lincoln (36.5 miles)
Jim has us booked into the Barbican Hotel, renowned for being cheap, and the first time that we had had breakfast in the bar - but we would go back again.
Drew had come all the way from Scotland for this trip, this time without Barry who had a bad back. This was Roy's first mens-only ride and he soon got into the beer-drinking occasion. We were also joined by Alan Topp, an ex super biker, who fortunately was very good at puncture repairs as Mike had several and Jim had one. Alan and Roy thoroughly enjoyed the joing GASBAGS on this ride.
All 3 days were memorable for the flatness of the countryside around Lincoln, and the distance from which Lincoln Cathedral could still be seen.
On the second day we stopped at a massive hotel in Woodall Spa called the 'Petwood' (famous for the Dambusters), sat on the balcony, admired the gardens, and all stated that "we must bring the wife / mistress here" - something we are very unlikely to do. The bar meals were tremendous with the bar staff admiring our hairy knees.
On the first night Jim stated that we must go to the best real ale pub, the Morning Star, for miles around - this turned out to be right at the top of the hill and we lost Peter / Neil on the way - they were last seen staring into a restaurant window with their minds being on food not beer. We crammed into this little pub and after a few pints the sensible ones went to get some food - this did not include Jim or Drew. However they learnt that there was to be a barbecue and an Irish band at the same pub the next night.
On the second night we arrived at this same pub, watched the dreadful group for a time and then went inside, Mike remarked to a woman that he had never met , as is normal to do, that he had a sore bottom from riding. This started off a conversation with two couples with Jim and Drew taking the lead roles. After a time Mike, Roy and Peter decided to find somewhere to eat leaving Jim, Drew and the night-bird Neil to carry on drinking and talking. They arrived back at the hotel so late that they almost had to sleep on the pavement.
6. June 2002 Isle of Mull June 2002 (Mike)
At last we were off to Mull after many months of anticipation. Craig & Zoe set off a few days early to see northern Scotland and to sample the rainy weather. Roy & Glynis arrived a day early to rest after a mammoth drive. The rest of split into 3 cars. The drive up gave true meaning to the word GASBAGS with non-stop guzzling in the Vamplew car. As we passed Loch Lomond we sang the “Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond” via mobile phone to the King car who returned their own melodious version – this led directly to Margaret falling asleep. As we approached Oban the skies opened and we assumed we were in for a wet holiday. Outside the Ayres Guest House Roy was dancing in the rain, and Craig had been locked away in his van. That night we ate out at a restaurant with Scottish singing and “wee” girls dancing.
After an excellent breakfast we emerged into a day that was rapidly getting hotter. We crossed by ferry to Craignure, with Roy explaining how they would shoot to the midway point in their car and return to meet us. The trip across the island was much easier than expected. Mike returned to help Ray with his first puncture, and then shot back up the hill – though waiting for Ray with concern for his heart ticker. At the midway point we stopped for some guzzling. Bridget applied copious amounts of suntan lotion as the sun was taking it’s toll – especially on Brenda. A professional photographer, employed by the Scottish tourist board, took several pictures of us – one day we might be famous.
Glynis & Roy were the first to arrive at Fionnphort, finding that travelling by car across Mull was much slower than expected due to the single-track roads. The fast squad arrived next (Craig, Zoe, Mike, Paul, Brenda, Emma) and checked out the Guest house showers and beds – Brenda and Emma having a bathroom bigger than their bedroom and with a bidet in which they could sooth their sore bottoms. The slow team shot straight across to Iona on arrival, aiming for a late dinner. “Mad” Zoe then led the team for a walk and a rock climb across the beach, with Craig and Brenda opting out as they don’t like sand between their toes (or was it that they were keen to drink copious amounts of Drambuie).
The second day on Mull was equally as hot. A quick trip to Iona and around the church prior to setting off – the fast squad checked out John Smith’s grave and didn’t pay to look round the church much to Ray’s upset. Jeff fixed Neil’s puncture whilst Neil was praying on Mull for someone to fix it. Margaret’s knee was playing up and joined Glynis in the car, giving Roy the opportunity to show us that he knew how to use a bike. We soon caught up with the slow team.
The overnight stay at Salen was at the Hotel Glenforsa built of wood, with more log cabins outside. Everyone “aahed” when Craig & Zoe were seen walking hand-in-hand to the beach after the meal. We all then walked to the beach to see the sunset. Pam drew Ray’s head in the sand using seaweed for hair, unsure where to put most of it, up top or down below.
The third day on Mull and we were off to the match having discovered that there was a pub with a large TV half-way to Tobermory. The non-footballers Ray, Bridget, Neil and Margaret (also the extremely slow team) went their own way and lay on Calgary beach for hours. The rest of us raced to get to the pub by 12:30 for the England v Argentina match. Jeff was very proud of having beaten Mike to the pub, even more proud of this than England beating Argentina despite Scottish support in the pub for Argentina.
The last few miles to Tobermory proved to be worse than we could possibly have imagined when we were warned that there were steep hills on Mull. We had to push our bikes up two hills that were each worse than an Alpine pass. The arrival at Tobermory was helped by Roy & Glynis having found the Guest houses on a road above Tobermory. However the second group to arrive, including Paul and Brenda, got lost ending up down in downtown Tobermory. They phoned Mike for help and he jumped on his bike racing down the steepest hill of the day to the Tobermory high street to find that the group were now at the Guest House – not a happy Mike!
The extreme slow group of Ray, Bridget, Neil & Margaret had not arrived by six o’clock. A garbled message had appeared on Mike’s mobile phone from Ray about being 2 miles from somewhere but where? The first rain of the holiday had started at five o’clock and we were getting worried about all Ray’s health problems and Margaret’s knee. Roy went off in his car to search for them, finding this forlorn group not far from Tobermory all refusing, except Margaret, to be rescued.
That night we found a hotel overlooking Tobermory with a romantic view to be remembered ( except I was sitting across from Paul). On the walk back to the Guest houses Emma led the unharmonious singing of the GASBAGS songs.
The final day arrived with a 22 mile dash to Craignure. However trying to get Neil to dash is about as difficult as two hedgehogs having sex as he decided to stop mid-way for his standard cup of tea. Mike conducted the final video interviews with Ray saying “I am f-d” as his first statement.
Everyone had enjoyed the trip immensely despite the 600 round car trip to Mull. The weather had been glorious for 3 days, the best in the UK with only a spot of rain. We had covered over 140 miles. Everyone had enjoyed the views, the food, the drinking and the company of the rest. Everyone had special memories:-
Pam and Bridget were caught up by two young men who accompanied them for a few miles making them feel glamorous (the rest of us thought these men were missing their mothers)
Emma for having bean faster than her mum and her dad every day
Paul for having survived sleeping in the same room as Mike for 4 nights
Brenda for getting more sunburnt than on her trip to Cyprus
Zoe for female “biffon” soreness – a term not known until after this ride
Margaret for keeping on going despite severe knee problems
Jeff for being the only one to escape from being interviewed on Video and beating Mike to the pub
Roy for doing less miles than he had hoped and Glynis for doing more miles than she had hoped
Craig for always leading the ride but still arriving third (after Roy & Glynis)
Neil for the many cups of tea he sampled
Ray for dreaming of “RAYBAGS”, a society chaired by himself of cyclists who lead the ride from the rear
Mike for non-stop coughing and interviewing everyone on Video except Jeff
7. June 2002 Isle of Mull (Pam)
Mull & Iona on 26 wheels (or 27 on Tandem days) June 2002
Oh, we took the high road and they took the high road
and their text was longer than our text
And the rain it did pour
But then the Gasbags they swore
That Mull was the hottest in Britain
It tanked it down so much in Oban that we were forced to watch highland dancing and eat Haggis in McTavish’s Kitchen. We are:
Mighty Mike with his new flash bike
Ray , the pacemaker Vamplew
Jeff with new puncture proof tyres and most used puncture kit
Pam and Bridget – with new puncture outfits:– Mines blue shorts and top, hers is a nice little white number….ideal for watching repairs.
Craig – furry legs -Lewis
Zoe –You owe me £10 Jeff -Lewis
Tall Paul on Mull (o.k. he’s not that tall but it rhymes)
Brenda – with new go faster legs
Emma - Young and beautiful…takes after her mother
Roy and Glynis – Tandem superstars
Margaret – riding through the pain barrier
Neil -I name that flower in one – Heaton
Wednesday 6th June
First emergency for Gasbags as we lend a hand pushing a vintage car off the Mull Ferry. Warm sunny weather as we watch Oban slip away and Mull come closer. The planning has come to fruition - We set wheels on Mull soil and off we go….First hill no problem, through pleasant country lanes and over heatherclad moorlands. Fast going along lovely flatish roads through forests along the sides of quiet lochs, always the smell of Mull: salty air tinged with bluebells and so fresh…Emma enjoying cycling away the stuffy London air she usually breathes. Everybody savouring the views, sounds, smells, feel of a perfect environment – except Mike who “thought there would be more here”. Does he mean more mountains, lochs, seals, eagles? Or more high rise blocks of flats? – the mind boggles.
First puncture to Ray.. Mike goes to the rescue heroically wresting the spare inner tubes from Bridget. Some views and miles later, meet Roy and Glynis on the tandem who tell us only hostelry for miles is the Kinloch Hotel at the head of Loch Scridain…proceed swiftly, only stopping to admire hairy gentle ginger highland cows and calves trundling along the road. Such a beautiful day we sit outside pub chomping and guzzling.
Continue along bluebell clad single track road to Fionnphort…spoilt only by large tourist coaches every so often and a few steepish hills after Buneson. The breakaway group tradition starts as Kings and Vamplews only, head off to Iona on the 5 o’clock ferry. Vamplews arrive at the Abbey, pay admission and saunter off while Kings view John Smith’s resting place in Chapel cemetary. Kings proceed to Abbey where admission hut is shut. Ray is convinced Jeff’s delay was deliberate to avoid paying. Jeff is delighted. This one could run and run.
Fantastic evening sunshine as Fab Four arrive back on ferry and find others munching and guzzling in ‘The Keel row’….good food and beer …packed out. We wait for a table whilst others finish and go for a wander on the pink rocks. Roy finds some interesting buoys and Emma tells him what he can do with them.
Next morning dawns bright sunshine, blue skies and whose was the best breakfast?? Has to be Roy, Glynis, Margaret and Neil’s at Sea View House…. Should slow them down a bit..
Happy Gasbags – Neil because Jeff fixed his puncture, Zoe, Craig, Emma, Mike, , Roy and Glynis because they also saw the Abbey on Iona without paying, Pam, Jeff, Ray, Bridget, Brenda and Paul because we got a head start…Margaret because she got a lift! Back to Kinloch Hotel at Pennygael but this time fresh enough to enjoy the amazing views in the opposite direction. Our chance for fame came with a local photographer who thought we looked interesting enough to make notes about. Our Chairman rose to the challenge, giving every last detail about websites, members, past rides…yes, Mike will do anything to become famous. When he offered his body, (do your zip up Mike) our new friend quickly disappeared.
The afternoon’s ride got better……Jeff got a puncture, Ray helped him to fix it which gave the fasties time to get even further ahead and Pam and Bridget the chance to pull two nice young men from Blackburn with naked chests and bondage rucksacks. “Pity we asked them about the two old codgers with the puncture” said Bridget. They told us we were bound to see eagles ( an unusual chat up line) and, as we drooled our thanks and began a very big hill…..what should we see wheeling and circling around the edge of a forest but FOUR magnificent sea eagles….. Of course they had flown out to sea by the time the old codgers caught us up and then Jeff’s tyre went down again (half way up a very steep hill).
It was worth the sweat and toil…..the view as we approached Loch na Keal was to die for. The sun still shining, we stopped for numerous photo opportunities expecting to see our loyal companions waiting just around the next bend. Past quiet beaches, below massive cliffs, alongside the sparkling loch, wild irises….pretty close to heaven I’d say. We stopped at one point to look at a huge shoal of jellyfish blobbing about near the surface and finally our road led us away from the loch and towards Salen. Getting hungry now, and Ray was forced to share his liquorice allsorts. Still no sign of our loyal companions. Through the rhododendrons and on to The Glenrosa Hotel where our loyal companions had nabbed the best rooms and were guzzling in the bar.
An unusual hotel, with its plumbing system that allows you to hear everybody else’s bathroom activities. The peaty water made Mike appear even more brown. 10pm and still warm and light. We stroll down to the water’s edge for a game of skimmers and a bet on how long the sun would take to go down….Paul won….7 minutes.
Friday 8th June
Meticulous planning to make sure every gasbag gets what they want from the day. Theres a pub in Dervaig with an English landlord and a big screen for the England v Argentina match starting at 12.30. Can we get there and enjoy the scenery by kick off??? The Fast Football Fans set off at break neck speed. The fantastic views on the north side of Loch na Keal sped past but Emma was so determined to get to the pub for kick off, I had to accompany her on the short cut and Brenda had to keep us both company. Of course we could have taken the long cut and seen Calgary Bay but decided we didn’t want to glow that much. We took our time, admiring the highland cows, magnificent views across to Ulva and got to the pub in time to chat up some Norwegians before getting the best seats in front of the big screen. A sweaty beetroot appeared shortly before kick off and turned out to be Roy who described the terrain towards Tobermory. Glynis glowed quietly behind him. Just after kick off, the FFF group appeared:- Zoe, followed by a river of sweaty gasbags who had seen Calgary Bay and now wished to consume megapints whilst watching ENGLAND BEAT ARGENTINA. (It looks so good in print). There were some strange scots people who actually weren’t supporting England. Can you believe it?
Singing “Engerland, engerland”…we set off behind the tandem with English t shirts and flags flapping in the breeze…..Discovering the road out of Dervaig is vertical, we are soon puffing and pushing all the way to the top to discover……. another one. We arrive at our B&Bs in Tobermory after an excellent day. (The wee boy of the house does not appreciate the english flag stuck in his garden).
6 o’clock and no sign of the non football fans…We begin to worry that Neil may have held them hostage in a café somewhere and be forcing them to drink tea and name wildflowers whilst giving them the names of every scottish peak he has ever climbed. A garbled message from Ray to Mike’s mobile confirms the awful truth…..they still have the two terrible peaks to cycle up from Dervaig. Roy’s rescue party sets off to retrieve Margaret as the rain starts to set in. Shortly after 7pm, Bridget, Ray and Neil cycle in to tumultuous applause. A wonderful day had by all.
Saturday 9th June
Potter in the Mull Pottery at Tobermory after hearty breakfasts. Pack bikes for final fling….back past Salen and on to the Craignure Ferry. Cannot believe our luck when we have the perfect end to the perfect cycling trip…. a shoal of porpoises leap happily after the ferry! We arrive in Oban with sore bottoms but happy memories.
8. June 2002 Beverley Ride (Mike)
The 13th GASBAGS Men’s ride was aimed at the same idea as the previous year – staying in one location, fairly flat and many pubs. Beverley was chosen as it suited all these requirements. The members interested changed over the months but finally eight were to leave from GASBAGS land on the Friday to be joined by Roy and Peter for the Friday night booze up, and then Ray, Jeff and Rob on the Saturday. However at the last moment Drew turned up and Alan switched to a Saturday start.
The first day started badly with first Neil having his standard tea break even before we had started, and then Mike having to turn back after 2 miles to have 2 spokes replaced. However he rapidly rejoined the rest who had been searching for a pub and had finally found one near Bainton. During lunch discussions Doctor Paul pointed out that the sore bit that we are were getting just behind the bollocks was called the “Biffon” – we were gullible emough to believe this off a man who was about to have his biffon biffed for over 1000 miles and also wore sandals. The ride, just short of 50 miles, turned out to be quite tough as the countryside rolled up and down.
Roy and Peter Cas turned up just in time for the night out. GASBAGS split into the standard 2 groups – the late eaters Jim and Drew, and the early eaters being the rest. The early eaters found a superior Chinese restaurant with a round table. The waiter nearly poured 10 bottles of beer down Neil’s front.
The following day up rolled Ray, Jeff, Alan and not least Rob. Neil had a puncture even before we set out, and without stopping to question if he should do it the GASBAGS puncture repair specialist Alan stepped in. By this time Peter Cas was frothing at the mouth with fury as he was keen to start not knowing that there is standard time and Neil time – Jim remarked “Does this man always moan?” – we were to find “yes but pleasantly”. Everyone was excited by this ride as we were off to the seaside, Hornsea. The big talking point was Ray’s bottom as he had just had an internal wash given by 4 nurses. Suddenly there was a dreadful smell in front of us and “Old” Paul looked up to see Ray’s bottom in front – he almost fainted. Part way to Hornsea Neil requested that we go to Aldbrough first as he had stayed there on holiday for a week 52 years before. Neil looked out for his landlady but we forgot to check the graveyard. What we did find was a road that came to an abrupt end going out to sea.
Peter St had avoided Aldbrough meaning that for once he arrived somewhere before the rest – in this case Hornsea. We split into different pubs to watch the World Cup but afterwards Jim was keen to find the best fish and chip shop for Halibot (or was it Haddock?). On the way back we split into two groups for a time – Craig and the rest. Craig had set off in front but when Jim said turn left there was no catching Craig. However he re-appeared out of the blue. Later on we called in at a pub and had an impromptu meeting where everyone gave their view of a good ride for next year. Ray began raving on about “JimBags” hoping that Jim might appoint him chairman, but Jim quickly dispelled such a notion. Everyone thanked Jim for choosing the location, organising the route, and booking the hotel – basically doing everything – even consuming the most beer. The day’s ride was just over 60 miles, a long way but mainly flat.
That evening we split into the eaters and the drinkers. The drinkers led by Jim went in an old gas-lit pub called “Nellies”. Jim thought that that this was the best pub he had ever been in in his life. Mike thought it was a dull ugly decrepit place best knocked down. Roy, Peter Cas and Mike then split off having consumed enough beer and wandered around aimlessly. Jim, Drew, Dr Paul and Alan arrived home later after consuming a late-night Indian meal. Dr Paul, rather drunk, tried to get Mike to sleep with a Christmas tree, and had to be stopped from climbing out of the window.
Rob disappeared early the next day being careful to not have his Biffon biffed anymore. Craig disappeared straight after his non-breakfast keen to watch the World Cup final with Zoe – can you believe he is still in love? Dr Paul went home with Craig, probably to do a quick two hundred mile practice run. Jim, Drew and Peter St went off to see the Beverley sites. Mike set off with the keen bikers but had to turn back, again with spoke problems. At 11:00am we raced to the pub to see the World Cup final to find it shut. Jim was furious being a football supporter through and through. Drew was calm just praying that one day Scotland may win the World cup. Jim jumped up and down outside the window whilst Mike just looked through the window – neither could the get women inside to comprehend the importance of this event. Brazil won the World Cup beating Germany 2-0
9. 2003 Dumfries & Galloway (Mike)
Friday May 23rd
Paul, Danny and I met at 3pm to set off, packed the bags and bike in the car, filmed the start and set off. We went through all types of weather, mainly rain. We seemed to be being held up by other cars, until I realised that we weren't going any faster with no cars in front. This must the new safety conscious Paul. I had expected his normal speed of 90 mph. We were being chased by Craig & Zoe, about 10 miles behind. Phil & Becky were expected to arrive first on their motorbike but had to go back for Becky's glove. The thought of going 150 miles on a motorbike in pouring rain is worse than the prospect og going through the north Yorkshire Moors on a bike betweeen Ayton and Whitby.
We arrived at the hotel to be met by a busty exuberant lady. This time there was no need to rush to put helmets on beds - a normal practice to build GASBAGS team spirit. Paul and Danny definitely wanted a twin and not a double, and I had the only single. Craig & Zoe arrived, and faster than I can say Zoe they were in the bar consuming beer and playing pool. Paul had remarked on the way up that Craig could be a sobering influence on the first night and would want to not drink much and have an early night. Instead Craig seemed keen to drink the hotel dry. We were told that the hotel main bar filled with 200 people on a Saturday night, but Friday nights were quiet. Zoe was disappointed. Phil & Becky arrived not looking too worse for their trip. Phil looks the spiting image of Zoe (brother & sister) and even have the same outgoing personality.
Now it was time to set out into the main town to find somewhere to eat (and drink). The seven of us walked down the main streeet (there did not appear to be many other streets). We passed a few pubs. I asked WHY? Then reached an Indian restaurant. I was not keen on an Indian meal as I wanted to sleep well, so in the end we booked for a Chinese restaurant (the Jade Palace) and went across to the pub opposite to await Glynis & Roy.
Roy phoned to say they had arrived and would be down shortly but weren't keen to eat. They now have digestion problems at that time of night due to their elderly condition. We went to eat in the Chinese restaurant, bringing exuberance and life into an establishment with few customers. Zoe had her own meal, then ate about two-thirds of Becky's, and would have eaten any other meals that were left. It is a good job she does lots of sport or would look like a Sumo wrestler.
Roy & Glynis walked back early as they weren't eating. When the rest of us arrived back at the hotel, Craig disappeared off to bed and the rest of felt we should try a few whiskies. The bar was packed with about 10 local people. Our hotel lady was playing pool and drinking beer. Roy & Glynis re-appeared as they were not keen to miss out on the fun .I suggested to Zoe that we should all fetch down Craig but she would none of it - she is very protective to her little lamb. The night ended and now the biking begins
Saturday May 24th
I have woken up to a dry day and wishing it remains so. The sun is out and I am hoping that GASBAGS have brought bright weather. I have just phoned Jeff & Pam and they are passing Brough, then phoned Rob & Karen and they are passing Penrith.
The breakfast in the hotel was filmed on video as has been the case on all GASBAGS rides. Roy appeared with his new digital video camera, trying to compete against the official video. There were jokes about Roy’s being the bootleg version.
Jeff, Pam and not to forget Emma arrived even before Craig & Zoe were out of bed. Paul and I had to stand outside their door and shout, with a tired Zoe voice saying she would be up soon. There was not a word from Craig. Jeff was as ever effervescent, Pam was keen to use my room but I did not have a gas mask for her and thought it better if she tried elsewhere. Emma looked demur now that she is in love.
Rob & Karen arrived. I had not seen Karen for a few years and she was as bouncy as ever. This was to be her first GASBAGS ride and her excitement was easy to see – the thoughts of biking with such illustrious people.
Craig appeared at breakfast to great cheers. He normally only appears after breakfast. We were almost ready to go by 10pm but Rob had to buy some gloves. It was certainly cold enough to wear gloves. The bikes were all ready then it began to rain. Roy murmured “I am not going in this” but then his GASBAGS spirit tripped in as he saw Jeff, Pam and Emma dressed up in all their rainproof garments.
The first part of the trip was easy but wet, down a very long hill, with my enjoyment being tempered by the thoughts of coming back up it later. We went through Dalbeattie, and detoured to Kippford as it was renowned for a picturesque beach. Just as we arrived the sky opened and the rain came down. We dashed into the pub/coffee shop. Now the competition of the video cameras became fiercer with Roy videoing me whilst I videoed him. We thought that we would have to go back up the hill out of Kippford but Jeff checked at the bar and found that there was a rough path that led to Rockliffe. This path was fun for those with appropriate bikes but Glynis/Roy found the route difficult with their tandem, and Craig walked all the way with his bike held high – no dirt to touch his sparkling wheels. Surprisingly Karen, with little practice, was always near the front of the ride. We arrived at Rockliffe beach to find Phil & Becky already there. These associate members of GASBAGS were cheating by using a bike with an engine. Pam and Jeff ran onto the beach to look for the sea but the tide was out and the sea was nowhere to be seen. I walked slowly towards the group as they returned from the wet seabed, then Pam began to run towards me with arms outstretched. She was keen to act the scene of the two lovers who run towards each other with arms outstretched then meet with a twirl. I obliged
We set off again towards Sandyhills. The road went down as we almost reached there. I was in front with Craig. Then tragedy struck. Paul and Danny appeared with Paul leading. Suddenly he shot off his bike and rolled over. He looked just like an Italian the way he dived and rolled. I asked him to go back and repeat this sensational move. He refused. Fortunately he was not cut but felt bruised and was in shock. A few of us went onto the Sandyhills beach to see the view. I astounded Jeff by knowing the difference between Brush and Gorse (plants).
Only then did we realize how bad Paul was. He was finding it difficult to walk and could not ride his bike. He now explained why he came off his bike. It was not because he liked showing off his football roll but because he had been in two minds as to go straight on or go right. His bike decided to go straight on whilst he went to the right. We found a wooden hutted holiday village close by where we could eat and Paul walked there slowly.
The restaurant served good food but could get the till to work. In the end we all paid though the bar staff weren’t sure we had. Karen marched in to be assertive with them – boy did she sort them out. Now it was decided that Paul would need to stay at the restaurant whilst we all returned to Castle Douglas, then Craig would fetch him. Fortunately the ride was uneventful, Paul was fetched but could not drive as his right side was bruised. I drove his car the 30 miles to Newton Stuart.
Jeff, Pam and Emma disappeared to their hotel, Paul lay injured in his room, and we all bathed and got ready for the pre-booked 3 course meal in the hotel. We all appeared again by 8pm except for Paul who was to have his meal in his room. The food was excellent. Now the time had arrived for the GASBAGS songs. Roy had brought his guitar and 8 copies of the songs. We all sang like mad, really enjoying the pride of being a GASBAG. No-one though could remember the tune to the GASBAGS theme song – about Ray Vamplew when he came off his bike 14 years ago. I phoned John Appleyard, the composer, to ask him. He said “It is 11:30” I forgot the time as wee were enjoying ourselves so much – how embarrassing.
The night ended. A few of us had visited Paul during the evening to see if he was ok. He was in good sprits despite being forced to endure the Eurovision song content where the UK came last.
Sunday May 25th
Ray & Bridget arrived about 9:30 and we were ready to go by 10:10. We had all said goodbye to Paul. He intended to see the doctor and to check if he required an X-ray.
The ride today was to be through the Glentrool woods. We first had to drive to the Glentrool Visiter Centre – about 10 miles. We all parked up there – 4 cars in total. We set off, Jeff & Zoe in shorts but the rest of us wearing biking trousers, apprehensive about midges. The route was over rough tracks, with the navigation by Zoe. Unfortunately one wrong route was taken and we ended up at a dead end. We all decided that we should get back to the good roads asap. We returned to the Visiter Centre and set off again, this time to Loch Trool. The scenery was magnificent, and we stopped for a picnic overlooking the Loch.
Now the group split into 3 teams:-
Craig, Zoe, Karen, Danny and I decided to go all round the Loch then ride back to Newton Stuart.
Jeff, Pam, Emma, Rob, Roy, Glynis, Ray, Bridget to ride back to Newton Stuart
Phil & Becky to walk round the Loch and drive back to Newton Stuart
My group had not realized what we had let ourselves in for. The route round the Loch was about one yard wide, going up and down, full of stones. We had to push and drag the bikes for about 3 miles. We met up with Phil & Becky. We moaned a bit but were proud of our achievement. Karen was remarkable as this was her first major ride. When we reached the road again Karen said she felt like kissing the ground, and so I filmed the team kissing the ground. We rode back to the Visitor Centre, had a quick drink then rode back to the hotel, a total of 27 miles in the day – but hard miles.
We found the Paul had gone to hospital when we returned. He was to see the doctor and thought he would need an X-ray.
The rest of us went out to eat in a Chinese restaurant. The food was excellent but we all felt very tired. Craig went to bed straight after we returned to the hotel. I followed shortly after so I don’t know much more about what happened last night. I will learn at breakfast.
Monday May 26th
Last night we learnt that Paul had broken a bone in his elbow and the ligaments on his leg had gone again – the same ones he had broken a few weeks ago. His wife is to come across by train and to drive him back today. This means that Danny and I will need to go in the other cars.
I arrived at breakfast today with just Rob & Karen there. They were going home today straight after breakfast. They have a 13 year-old daughter who had been dropped off with Rob’s parents in the Lake District. Karen said she was aching all over but was proud of her achievement. Then a few more call into the dining room including Paul, who was much more cheerful now he knew what was wrong with him. His arm was in a sling and he could only just walk but the beer he consumed the previous night had made him realize he was still alive. He had decided that it was best if his wife Liz came across by train to fetch him and to drive his car back. The rest of us worked out plans to take all the bikes and luggage with one less car.
Danny and I went with Ray, Craig took the extra bikes, and the 4 cars set off for Wigtown. We parked up in the village square. A sign said to the Martyr’s Cross. We almost went but it was downhill. It seems that in years gone by two women had been tied to a stake and drowned as the tide came in – all to do with religion. There had been much discussion about going to the local distillery but with the extra time in packing the cars we abandoned the idea. Eleven of us set off for the first destination 17 miles away, Isle of Whithorn. We parked up the bikes and took a short walk up to the Lighthouse. It was claimed that you could see Scotland, England, Ireland and the Isle of Man from this point but it was too misty. We went in the local pub and had an excellent meal. The next stop was Port William 12 miles away. The wind was behind us, the terrain rolling and we made good time. We stopped for a coffee break, the found a sign post that gave mileage to all sorts of places (New York, Newcastle, Dublin, Belfast etc).
Now we just had 11 miles to go to return to Wigtown. The wind was again behind us surprisingly and we made good time. My mileage was 39.5 miles so I went round the village square until I had 40 miles. Now we were off in the car to Port Patrick. We found the hotel on the harbour. Inside the rooms were excellent. The bath was rejuvenating. Now for the evening…..
We walked to the pub just up from the guest house last night, moved round all the tables so our group of 13 could sit together. We ate more food, and had to refresh ourselves with beer after the 40 mile ride. Then in small groups we walked round Port Patrick. What a romantic place. There was a rocky formation just off the harbour that looked like a small island but actually was connected to the pier. A Scottish flag was flying above the small island. Phil proposed that we took down the flag and replaced it with an English one – Roy had a small English flag attached to his bike. Fortunately he was all talk or he might have caused a diplomatic incident. We walked along the harbour to where the sea was crashing against the rocks with spray flying through the air. We tried to get wet as we went close to it. There were a few steps leading up to a plateau above. Each step had an inscription on it about past events..
It was then that I turned back to look at the houses in Port Patrick. They all seemed to be white, with the houses rising above sea-level as they got further away. The lights were shining in between them and the small hamlet looked very romantic just like a Greek village on a small Greek island. Romance appeared to be in the air, and I noticed that the couples in our party were now walking along arm-in-arm. I mentioned that couples had split off to Jeff & Pam, then Pam put her arm round me, then Emma (just 23 years old) and I linked arms, then Glynis was keen to link arms so I did not feel left out.
We walked back towards the guest house and called in at the other pub in the village, the whole group gradually appearing. We had a few drinks, chatted and a few (Roy, Glynis, Jeff, Pam) began to sing a few songs. Ray & Bridget felt so embarrassed that they went back to the Guest house – I think it was just an excuse to get to bed as they join in most of the time.
Young Danny (18 years old) was still around, and was drinking profusely having been given some money by his dad (injured Paul). He was getting louder and louder. He and I were sharing a room, and I was getting worried about him returning to the Guest house. I went off to bed and fortunately Danny appeared shortly after and was asleep very fast.
Tuesday May 27th
Today we all had breakfast in the Guest House. It was excellent and I filmed parts of the meal, with complaints off the odd one. We had aimed to leave at 9:30 as our ride today was to be about 50 miles. Danny had been told by his dad that he would get a new bike if he went 50 miles.
Eleven of us finally left at 9:45 and we headed off on the route planned by Ray. We went through Sandhead and onto Ardwell. At this point Glynis & Roy announced that they were keen to go round a garden close to Ardwell and weren’t keen to go to the Mull of Galloway. Ray & Bridget decided to join them. The seven of us that were left set off for the Mull. We stopped at Drummore for the purchase of Mars bars, and were told that the next 5 miles to the Mull was all uphill Ugh! My legs were feeling tired but I was determined to make it. I find that when I first start off that my thighs hurt and I go slowly, then something happens and my legs go much faster, and I pass everyone except for Craig (& Zoe).
We reached the Mull which was supposed to have fabulous views, but mists had just come down and we could not see very much at all. We all took photographs of each other as we were proud of this achievement. Then we set off down the hill. Unfortunately we then realized that the 5 miles had not all been all uphill, as now there appeared to be many uphill parts again. We continued onto to Port Logan, where by chance we met up with Roy & Glynis, Ray & Bridget at a small restaurant. We had a snack there, with the break-off group leaving before us. We now had 15 miles to go back, and we raced along (except for the uphills) and caught up with the break-off group. Craig, Zoe and I then zoomed back to the Guest house. Danny arrived shortly after, only having done 48 miles, so he went on a short tour to add another two miles.
We wondered back in small groups, with the Zoe contingent having sampled another pub on the way. Bridget found some cheese biscuits and crisps in their car. The Zoe contingent brought back some drink. Roy brought out his guitar, and we sang the GASBAGS songs again. Pam borrowed the guitar and sang a song mainly to herself. Jeff strummed on the guitar and sang. I thought it was time to make the GASBAGS awards – my chance to talk, to try to be amusing and to sum up the holiday.
I like to give an award to each person, so these were they. I had lots of helpful comments along the way:-
To Paul for doing the best dive, with Juventus (an Italian football club) thinking of signing him up as their diving coach
To Danny for the young persons award, having gone so fast on his first major ride
To Karen for achieving a momentous ride/walk through the woods without complaint – just her saddle complained and split
To Craig for being the fastest cycling but also stopping to let everyone catch up – though Zoe did point out the Craig had the best bike, who knows what Ray would be like on Craig’s bike
To Zoe for being the fastest female cyclist
To Phil & Becky for coming on a GASBAGS bike ride and never going on a ride – Phil pointed out that he had touched a bike when he helped lift one onto a bike rack
To Pam for being the only mature woman who had ridden 50 miles in a day
To Glynis for sticking so closely to Roy on the Tandem after Roy had been drinking the night before
To Emma for tearing herself from her lover to go on a mere GASBAGS bike ride
To Jeff for not complaining once about anything – then Pam said he had complained, but we all shouted her down as we had heard nothing
To Roy for entertaining us with his guitar and songs, and making the GASBAGS songs seem like major hits
To Ray for now being our elder statesman, and still being able to cock his leg.
To Rob for having the bravery to lie on a rock and ignore Karen’s assertiveness
To Bridget for acting as Ray’s nurse and ensuring that Ray at least had some exertion, also for being like a girl guide (always prepared) bringing crisps and biscuits out of their car
Wednesday May 28th
The morning arrived and also the rain. All thoughts that Ray & Bridget had of going round gardens and to the Mull disappeared fortunately as I was keen to get back. Jeff, Pam & Emma went for a look round Stranraer and Kirkcudbright on their way home. Glynis and Roy had a long trip ahead, whilst Phil & Becky again would have pebble-dash faces by the time they arrived home. The holiday was over.
10. 2003 Buxton (Mike)
Friday 20th June
We arranged to meet at 6:30am at my house. John turned up at 6:25am on his bike and just one bag (“doing a Jim” – Jim being renowned for his Dr Who Tardis type of bag”) then we drove round to Jim’s. Drew was putting the bikes on his car. Had Neil arrived? Yes he was drinking tea in Jim’s house.
We set off by 6:50am and Drew had a phantom shortage of fuel so diverted off the motorway. John and I became stuck behind a very slow moving truck. Then John, an ace map-reader, spotted a diversion we could take to end up in front of the truck. It was not till we had gone 5 miles that John realized our diversion had diverted us off the route, but John is an ace map-reader and quickly returned us to a fast route to Buxton.
We arrived at the hotel first and waited for the others. Finally the others arrived and we set off, after a short wait for Neil to sort out his bags. The weather started warm but soon became very overcast and cold, but we are GASBAGS and did not complain. We stopped at Tideswell for refreshments. I phoned Craig, Paul and Jeff (did not answer) to tell them how wonderful the ride was (though very cold). Paul said we must look out for Well Dressings. We moved onto Litton and eagle-eyed Neil spotted a woman doing a Well Dressing. He charmingly asked her if he could watch and we all raced after him. (note that Well Dressing is a picture of say one metre by two metres without clay used as the background and all sorts of flowers, hay stuck on the clay to create a picture).
We moved on to Chatsworth House, a stately home in immense grounds. We all tried the toilets as these were outstanding in design (well worth while Pointing Percy at the Porcelain and video-ed when not in use).
Now we felt like stopping for a beer and fortunately Rob phoned as if on cue and said try the Devonshire Arms at Beeley. We were now half-way round and the trip had been quite hard with the rolling countryside. John sat back with his pint and with a “devilish” smile said don’t worry the second half is much flatter and should be a doddle – we all believed our ace navigator and tried a second pint.
Neil had brought a notebook to note down rare flowers, and he photographed a few, probably talking to them at the same time to ask them to smile. At one point he shouted us back to see a green orchid. We looked at this thing that looked like a weed. Jim said “Is that it!” and Drew said “It’s just a weed!”.
Now the hills were getting worse. Jim’s titanic muscles in his legs hadn’t changed in looks but were not working too well. John was racing ahead, stopping every mile to let Mike, then Jim, then Neil and Drew to catch up. We stopped at the top of one hill, with John in sheer admiration of some hills in the distance with an “edge”. He said “I must come back and climb them”. I looked at him with disbelief and I felt exhausted and cold. Jim arrived, but Neil/Drew had disappeared. John raced back down the hill to find them being shown round a ladies garden. Jim, John and I had had enough. We raced back to the hotel wondering if Neil and Drew would ever get back..
Rob had arrived and looked very serene in his perfectly pressed-trousers. We all felt knackered, and wondered if our ace navigator had deliberately told us the second half would be easier.
Saturday 21st June
Today started well. The weather forecast was good and the sun was out. Jim & Drew came down to breakfast despite consuming an Indian curry at 11:30pm the previous night, Roy and Peter turned up in plenty of time.
Drew chose his racing bike but quickly regretted it as the first 2 miles was up a stony path that went up and up for 2 miles. What hell and our minds wondered what we had let ourselves in for. But then the ride transformed into a most enjoyable ride. There were now long downhills. The team was split into two groups: those who were keen on drinking rather than biking led by Jim, and those who were keen on biking rather than drinking led by John. We reached a pub East Sterndale after 8 miles but it was shut much to Jim’s dismay. We set off again to Hartington. Part way there we realized that Neil and Drew had disappeared. John went back to check, finding out that Neil had spied a hill and decided to climb it leaving Drew to look after his bike. Then Peter cried out that he had lost £25 out of his back pocket. He turned round now going much faster in search of his day’s allowance, and astoundingly found it. Roy reached Hartington first and was supping his pint at the Devonshire Arms. He seemed to have become acquainted with most of the pub’s clientele, going round chatting to them all. He would have probably have had them all singing the GASBAGS songs if he brought his guitar.
Now the two teams divided. Jim’s Wets were Jim, Drew and Rob. John’s Dries were John. Mike, Roy, Peter and Neil. Jim intended to take his Wets from pub to pub. The Dries set off again now expecting a ride of over 50 miles. We reached the Manifold Way and went fast down this flat path for 8 miles. Neil fell back a few times complaining of flies in his eyes. Someone remarked that he probably took them out of his eyes, photographed them and wrote them down in his notebook. We then had to go up a few steep hills finally stopping at the Isaac Walton Hotel at Dovedale where we consumed tea and scones. We reached the Tissington trail and were now on our way back. This trail runs on an old railway line, and had a gradual incline going on for 15 miles. The views were immense and the ride easy. John said “I must bring Bev here”. Mike said “I must bring Naoko here”. Roy had been on the trail with Glynis and was thrilled we were enjoying it, acting as a signal man at a disused Signal house that we found. Peter was talking to customers on his mobile about wasps, rats and other nasty creatures, and had a wife who preferred Marks and Spencers to cycling. Neil shouted out “I must go and climb that mountain with a serrated edge”. (to me it just looked like hard work).
We continued onto the High Pea trail for 5 miles, a much stonier trail, doing immense damage to Peter’s Biffon on his solid rubber tyres. We had had enough of hills and decide to complete the last 5 miles back to Buxton on the main road. Mike phoned Jim to find they were only one mile in front. Rob was later to claim they had only drunk 3 pints and had gone 42 miles, which the Dries found hard to believe.
The Dries arrived back in Buxton after 53 miles racing to the fish and chip shop, whilst Peter still talked to customers about vermin on his mobile phone. Finally we reached the hotel at 8:00pm (the longest GASBAGS day) to find Rob looking debonair with Jim and Drew tucked up in bed.
Sunday 22nd June
Today we had to drive to Howden Reservoir near Sheffield for a short ride around the 3 reservoirs: Howden, Derwent and Ladybower. We leant that again Jim and Drew had had another 11:30 Indian meal – how can they take such punishment at their age?
The four cars set off in convoy and called in at a Service station. Now Pete’s defining moment of the whole 3 days occurred. A woman drew up in her car, climbed out and bent down to pump up the car tyres. Pete whispered “She has on a Thong”. The whole team of eight took furtive glances at this phenomenon. Yes she was showing the upper inch of a thong without doubt.
We arrived at the reservoirs and set off round what can only be described as “Little Switzerland”. We stopped for a picnic lunch at a very picturesque stream. John, then Neil then Roy paddled gaily in the stream like 5-year olds. We shouted “Fall-in for the video” but none had the nerve.
The final act was to have a drink at the pub, with the team thanking Jim for booking the hotel, and Rob for preparing the route. Everyone was looking forward to next year’s ride when hopefully those who missed this year’s ride can make a re-appearance.
11. 2003 Zoe 100 & 4 Acolytes (Mike)
Zoe had been dreaming of a ride of 100 miles in a day for a long time as she was keen to join the band of four who started GASBAGS with the Scarborough 100 ride in 1980. The Ancient GASBAGS had tried to persuade to do the Scarborough 100 route but she said "No - I want a flatter route", and that was decided upon. Craig signed up straight away, then enthusiastic John, our ACE navigator, then Paul of hockey fame. Finally Mike could not stay behind and joined up the day before the ride, despite numerous old-age pains.
We met up at Craig & Zoe's house meaning to leave at 7:30am but finally left at 7:45am with Craig crawling out of bed just before the start, still dreaming of sex that had not been on offer.
The first third of the ride was easy going through Great Ayton, Battersby loop, Great Broughton, Potto, East Rounton. Then tragedy struck as Craig had the first puncture of his life. Out came the rubber gloves with the bike ride repair kit laid out as for an operation. Zoe supervised as the men fixed the puncture as Mike filmed for posterity. We were off again then then traqedy again as Craig had the second puncture of his life. This time it was all hands to the wheel with even Zoe getting her hands dirty as Mike filmed. However it required three attempts to fix the puncture and a total of an hour had been lost. Craig promised to buy us all a drink. We rode on to Thirsk, where it was decided to have a quick pie stop. John and Mike bought flap-jack as well but was it as good as Bev's? Now we wanted to carry on and rode through Topcliffe and onto Scorton at the 80 mile mark. Craig jumped off his bike and lay flat out exhausted until he was reminded about his promise of buying a round. Not to be outdone in generosity Paul bought a round of crisps and offered everyone his mouldy bananas.
It was realised that the planned route would go well over 100 miles so the route was altered to go through Picton, Crathorne with a pub stop at Hutton Rudby. Ray and Bridget were informed that we were close to the finish so they could rally the crowds that would be out to greet us. Five miles outside Hutton Rudby Ray & Bridget turned up with the crowd of one, Naoko, with the sad news that the Hutton Rudby pubs were all shut. We were getting concerned that we might be the odd mile short, especially Craig whose speedometer had stopped for a few miles. He began to go round in ever decreasing circles. Fortunately the ride leader's (Zoe) milometer read fractionally more than the others and was adopted as the official milometer. The 100 mile mark was reached just before Brenda's house and we all slapped hands and cheered.
We went straight to the Spreadeagle pub to be greeted by Ray, Bridget and Naoko. Ray jumped into the official photographs hoping that future generations of GASBAGS will believe that he completed his second 100 mile ride.
Zoe had her dream of joining the ancient GASBAGS in having achieved a 100 mile ride in a day. Will she now get the loss of hair that has been inflicted on the 100 mile club?
12. 2003 Suffolk (Mike)
Craig was very enthusiastic about this ride, possibly because he was aiming to establish a new Guinness Book record: how many GASBAGS could you cram into one house, in particular his sister’s house in the little known place called Ipswich. The number going on the ride went up and down as the weeks progressed towards the planned weekend of August 22nd to 25th. First Brenda was going, then she wasn’t, then she was going with her boyfriend then she wasn’t – ingeniously bumping into a wall and scrapping her leg to escape the sardine-can effect. Peter and Denise were very enthusiastic until it was mentioned that they were sharing a room with Glynis and Roy, then Peter had a very urgent job that ruled out all nights except the night in the guest house.
Glynis and Roy went down to Suffolk on Thursday August 21st to stay at Lavenham for Glynis’s 5?th birthday. Lavenham is a very quaint place with crooked houses. Were they hoping their hotel might fall down to avoid the GASBAGS weekend?
The Friday arrived with Mike & Naoko, Craig & Zoe setting off in their cars in convoy for the 250 mile ride. The first stop was at the Major Oak in Nottingham Forest, a tree 800 years old in which Robin Hood hid 850 years ago. They were then set to make the rest of the trip arriving at Corder Road in Ipswich just after Glynis & Roy. Debbie and Steve were wreathed in smiles as we arrived; were they pleased to see us and had they been drinking as their house was about to be taken over by a gang of GASBAGS?
Debbie invited Mike to look down her air-raid shelter at the bottom. Mike was apprehensive in case this was a dastardly plot to capture the long-serving chairman of GASBAGS so John could take over this thankless role. Steve and Roy went down first giving Mike a false sense of security then Debbie shut the door fast as soon as Mike was down. Yes it had happened!
Steve now started to barbecue the meat, with an endless supply of chicken, sausages, and any other meat that their visitor cat had rejected. Roy remarked later that this was alike to the Atkins diet, not realising till arriving back at Ashby that he put on a full stone in weight.
Debbie brought out her copies for everyone of the planned route for the next 2 days; 6 sheets of maps marked up with watering holes, hotels, shops etc. Everyone was overwhelmed and burst into singing the GASBAGS songs for all of Ipswich to hear, accompanied by Roy on the guitar. Glynis’s birthday was celebrated with a surprise cake bought by Roy.
The Saturday arrived with Mike & Naoko going to look round Lavenham whilst the other 6 went off on the planned bike-ride, going past Wickham Market. Zoe and Debbie looked very attractive in their identical black and white kit and certainly deserve their roles as GASBAGS kit modellers. The bikers arrived at Framlingham earlier than planned, with the Vamplews arriving shortly after. Mike had urgent calls from both Zoe and Craig to get there fast as they were keen to eat.
Now Bridget joined the bikers, with Ray & Christina driving to the Guest house so they could get on their bikes to meet the main group.
That evening Peter and Denise arrived and everyone had an excellent meal at the “The Parrot and Punchbowl Inn” at Aldringham.
The following day Mike and Ray were on their bikes with Naoko travelling with Bridget. They arrived at the coffee stop first, with many shops to look round. Naoko was now in her element as she loves shops, buying a sixties dress. The ride continued to a lovely old pub next to the river, a ride of now over 30 miles. Fish and chips was eaten by most with some consuming enormous ice-creams, adding to their waistlines (Roy’s in particular). After lunch Ray took Mike 9and Naoko) to fetch his car with the rest cycling. Debbie was brave enough to cycle through a ford and ended up wet-through as her wheels lost grip and she disappeared under the water surface. In the evening Peter was asked about his Pest Control business. He turned out to be the David Bellamy of Pest control, giving a fascinating insight into rats, bats and wasps. A Mountain of chocolate was passed round at the evening meal . Never has so much been eaten by so few, in particular Zoe and Naoko.
The final day arrived with Ray and Mike going by bike into Ipswich for a quick look around when Ray was struck by a puncture (to his bike not his stomach), and he had to walk back slowly. The group went to look round a house museum and then onto a Chinese restaurant. Naoko may look slim but she could certainly consume Chinese food, going back for a third helping. Mike made a very short speech to thank Debbie and Steve for their immense hospitality, promising them both a good GASBAGS post. He also thanked Craig and Zoe for all their work in getting everyone enthusiastic and involved and the maps they provided. Ray spluttered a bit as he thought he should be speaking as the new President but his role is as a non-speaking figurehead for us all to aspire to. Bridget and Zoe disappeared into a gift shop to purchase an Air plant as a gift to thank Debbie and Steve. Speciality ice-creams were bought by most (except Mike – banned by Naoko) as the GASBAGS wandered around the Ipswich streets. Now Roy’s stomach had become humungus.
13. 2004 North Wales (Mike)
The Mixed GASBAGS ride to North Wales was the biggest ride ever with most of Mike’s, and Craig & Zoe’s far-flung families taking part, and a total of 19 riders and 1 invalid. Unfortunately Naoko, who had flown 6000 miles to the UK especially to take part in this ride, fell off her bike the night before we set off and fractured her elbow.
The first day, Friday May 28th, saw the first 12 drive to North Wales with Debbie and Steve taking an epic 8 hours to arrive from Ipswich, probably slowed by having to stop holding hands at roundabouts. Paul and Sue, though not knowing about the helmets on beds routine, still managed to get the best room in the Guest house, the Caer Menai Guest House. Without waiting to get acquainted with the Guest house, the Lewises and Hodgsons raced to the quay-side pub, The Anglesey, and were ready for their third round when Mike and Naoko appeared.
Phil and Becky were next to arrive, and this time in a van with real bikes in the back, without engines. Roy and Glynis were last to arrive, and appeared at the Anglesey when the rest were ready to eat. A brave few chose an Indian restaurant, hoping for the odd surge the next day.
Saturday arrived with the other eight racing towards North Wales at an early hour. John appeared in his Sports car, describing how he had not slept all night due to the excitement of the coming ride (or was it VS?). Rob appeared and straight away eyed up his sleeping-partner’s car. Jeff & Pam, Ray & Bridget, Malcolm & Brenda arrived in convoy, and now everyone was ready for the planned 10:00am start.
This was Jeff’s day as he was the route planner, with his route going from Caernarvon to Anglesey. (Jeff was only informed later that over breakfast there had been talk of doing a “Jeff” and changing the route). By 10:25 we were off, with Naoko in the car with Glynis, and the other 18, including Phil and Becky, heading on their bikes to the Menai Bridge. Almost everyone was wearing their GASBAGS shirt and the names of Great Ayton and Stokesley will be remembered in Wales for a long time now. Five miles on Roy suddenly believed he had the only set of keys for their car and shot off back to the hotel – then three miles further on Glynis appeared driving the car with her keys. Our day leader, Jeff, kept stopping to check the map and take photographs so the rest of us just carried on.
We headed over the Menai Bridge then onto Beaumaris where we were watched by an enormous crowd upon arrival. We wondered who had told them we were coming until we realised that perhaps the crowd were getting ready to watch the Red Arrows, A slight change of route saw us head down to Red Wharf Bay, a wonderful sandy beach. A few peddled across the Beach to the sea, dipped their toes and smelt the sewage.. We looked up at the hills facing the beach, and then Jeff proposed that we should bike the three miles across the beach. First we cycled, then we pushed the bikes and after what seemed an endless time we arrived at the far end, with Zoe kissing the ground and Jeff being slow-handclapped when he arrived.
Now the day had turned hot and we raced back to the Bridge Inn next to the Menai Bridge where ample beer was consumed. Suddenly Craig jumped up and shouted that we were off to the pub at the Marine. Several of “we” did not know about this detour and continued to enjoy the beer.
That evening the GASBAGS split off into several eating holes. Rob and John were discovered sharing an intimate meal in a Chinese restaurant. Several tried the Indian with the service being so slow that the lack of digestion by bedtime led to Roy missing the next but one day through lack of sleep (one of the best excuses yet!).
Sunday arrived with it being agreed that this day was to be used for climbing Snowdon (except John and new found partner Rob who decided to ridge climb) with the ride by bike (7 miles) having been planned in great depth by Ray. However everyone had little confidence in his route and decided to drive there instead. Glynis rushed to the payment desk and bought a one-way up ticket for herself and Roy, and a both ways ticket for Mike and Naoko. Then Naoko shouted “I am climbing Snowdon”. Everyone looked astounded as she had her arm in a sling, but there was no stopping her. Roy and Glynis were joined on the train up by Phil, Becky, Steve and Debbie. The rest drove round to the “Pig” path to try a more difficult route. The clouds were still low and it began to rain. Jeff phoned Mike and Naoko several times saying come down, you will die of exposure and get wet through etc etc. Mike was all set for turning back but Naoko was not for turning.
Mike and Naoko arrived at the misty damp peak with Mike’s falling into Sue’s arms from exhaustion. Zoe and Sue looked rather proud as they had arrived first, even though going up the more difficult route, and wearing almost no clothes, and with other climbers staring at them in astonishment. I forgot to include Craig and Paul who were Zoe and Sue’s escorts.
Meanwhile Jeff and Pam, Ray and Bridget, and Malcolm and Brenda had turned back from the difficult route, claiming they could not park, and opted for the less demanding route taken by Mike and Naoko. Ray almost turned back after the first 100 yards after detecting a slight incline in the path, but Jeff convinced him that the route was almost flat.
That evening we were all booked into a Chinese restaurant in our own private room. Sue kept running round the table trying to get everyone to agree to the set meal, but Jeff, Pam and Naoko held out for the vegetarian menu, and Malcolm and Brenda chose the slimmer’s cheap meal. Steve and Debby were sitting across from each other mid-way down the table, giving everyone a good view of their hands entwined together, except for odd times when they had to cut their food. Mike proposed a toast to Steve and Debbie and their wedding, with this being closely followed by others calling toasts to the marriages of Malcolm and Brenda, Phil and Becky, and Mike and Naoko. No-one mentioned the romance blossoming between Rob and John! Now pudding had to be agreed and everyone was shouting at once, with Phil continually saying “I want strawberry and chocolate icecream”. Sue jumped out of her chair and soon sorted things out being easily able to make the most noise, and acquiring her new GASBAGS title of “Loudhailer”. Suddenly Zoe and Craig jumped up and ran for the door. We had all thought that they were too long married to be running back for a quick-one, and we were right. Just outside the door Zoe again saw her meal nicely stretched out across the pavement.
Monday arrived and Zoe had handed the route planning over to John. Roy and Glynis were now exhausted after two late-night meals and drove straight to the Glyn-y-Coed Hotel in Criccieth. Rob went home, with Pam replacing Rob as John’s passenger. The rest of us drove down to Morfa Nefyn. Mike and Naoko went on a wonderful walk along the coastline, one of John’s favourite walks! The rest went off in the direction of Aberdaron. Now the incident happened that will be remembered in GASBAGS history. A helicopter was seen approaching the group and Ray and Zoe waved vigorously at it, just being friendly. However the helicopter landed and the pilot ran out to rescue someone but no-one was injured. The helicopter disappeared then just round the bend the group came across an accident, with a cyclist having dislocated his shoulder. Brenda was back on the helicopter very fast and it came back with the injured cyclist being whisked away.
That evening the group separated into various eating establishments. Paul and Sue went home, and the following day Malcolm and Brenda, Craig and Zoe, and Mike and Naoko also went home.
The rest were led by John on a bike ride to Harlech, with only John carrying on to complete his planned ride of 60 miles.
Thanks for this wonderful and eventful weekend go to:- Pam and Bridget (aided by Ray) for organising the hotels; Brenda for managing the finances; Jeff for planning the first day’s ride; Ray for not being upset that everyone ignored his second day’s planning; John for taking over the planning of the third days’s ride and planning the fourth’s days ride; Sue for acting as loudhailer in the restaurant.
14. 2005 Isle of Skye (Mike)
This was to have been the largest group of GASBAGS ever assembled on an annual ride but then Jamie dropped out due to a training course, Craig dropped because he just had to start playing with his new fire engine (well done Craig for achieving your personal ambition of becoming a full-time fireman), and Steve and Debby dropped out due to being in love, house moves and career ambitions. So the number left was just seventeen with only one youngster coming – Emma, that is if Zoe no longer counts as a youngster!
The number of nights on Skye was to be seven for those who wanted to stay the full course, but an extra night was to be stayed near Fort William for those eager to try white-water rafting and incessantly-rainy mountain climbing.
John, Mike and PaulG were the first to arrive near Fort William, with the rain streaming down. Mike was still upset about the “wet beef sandwich” that he had bought for £4 on the motorway services. John climbed out of the car first and shouts of “Help I am being bitten by a thousand midges” shattered the silence. They had a chat with the landlady who informed us that she had invested in a £1,000 machine to kill midges but that it had little effect. The landlady’s boyfriend informed us that Skye was even worse for midges so Mike, trying to catch him out, asked about Mull as we had seen no midges on the Mull trip in late May. The boyfriend said, “Mull is especially bad” but then explained that midges don’t like heat or wind (by wind this is not referring to that made by Ray Le Pong).
After many pints of beer the first arrivals decided to not wait up for the second group of intrepid cyclists, PaulH, Sue & Zoe.
The following day Mike climbed in with PaulH, Sue and Zoe and they drove to the starting point for the water experience, which became inflatable canoes rather than white-water rafting due to a lack of water. The other people who were booked in were a group of nine stag-weekend men, though two came dressed as women, in dresses and with bright-red lipstick and make-up. Everyone got decked out in wetsuits and buoyancy jackets. Sue looked especially apprehensive but was it due to the thoughts of the canoeing or the fact that having a wee was impossible unless she followed the example of the rest of the women that had worn that same wetsuit. Fortunately men are endowed with a device that goes round corners much to Mike’s delight, and also it was unlikely that a woman could have worn his giant wetsuit. Paul paired with Sue, and Mike paired with Zoe. Besides getting wet by the canoeing, the constant rain added additional wetness. However GASBAGS can be proud of their twosomes as both pairings never fell out of their boats, whilst some of the “staggers” spent more time out of the boat than in.
Meanwhile John was dragging PaulG on a walking expedition in incessant rain up the Blaven mountain but failed to reach the peak due to mist. They walked over 8 miles in 5 hours and turned round when 200 metres below the peak.
Gradually the whole group assembled in Broadford, split between four Guest Houses. Zoe booked the group to have a meal in the Broadford Hotel though PaulG had been advised to eat in the local pub. Fortunately this pub served such wonderful food that it was packed out with locals, so the choice was made. Little did we know that the Broadford Hotel’s kitchen had been shut down two weeks before and had only re-opened two nights before. The first waiter had been imported from Fawlty Towers and acted alike to Manuel. He turned out to be Polish and improved as the night extended. Unfortunately John had told Ray & Bridget to go to the local pub and there was no way of getting a message to them as their mobile phone was dead. Jeff came to the rescue, running up and down like a madman over the one-mile distance between the two locations – he murmured afterwards that it was a good opportunity to practice for the Great North Run.
A bar was attached to the hotel, and an initial reconnaissance was that it looked very rough (or at least the people did), but a three-person group had just started singing. Zoe ordered us to all go there as she was eager to start dancing but Ray & Bridget disobeyed and went home. The group were playing lively Scottish music. Zoe grabbed one of the drunken old men at the bar and told him to dance – he looked delighted and lascivious to be dancing with a woman with gyrating hips. The music became even more Scottish with Pam and Glynis dancing a jig, and with Emma joining them once she had realised that throwing ones legs and arms around in a gig looked quite fun. Gradually more and more of the GASBAGS got up to dance but PaulG remained firmly stationary as a groin strain from the walking was affecting his leg movement but certainly not his arm movement as pint after pint poured down his throat. A drunk with a moustache and wearing a Celtic shirt sidled up to Mike who shouted “Up the Rangers”. John whispered in a loud voice “Shut up – you are likely to start a fight”. Zoe jumped on one of the tables and danced away, then stepped on the top of a bench. Another parties’ lead dancer jumped on the top of the bench behind Zoe’s and the two womens' bottoms clashed again and again, as they danced away. For some reason this latter woman thought it fun to slap Zoe’s bottom, and she gave it a right pelting. John was not keen to be left out and he now began to dance on the seat. Then the seat top gave way with Zoe and John being trapped for a time amongst the ruins of the seat with nobody noticing – their struggles looking just like dance movements. The table-top dancing was further joined by Pam, Emma and Sue and now the whole pub was swaying to the music. Suddenly PaulG’s right foot began to move, then his left foot, and the eight pints he had drunk must have lubricated his groin as the pain was forgotten. He danced around partner-less just enjoying the alcoholic atmosphere. Another of the pub’s drunks, a thin man with jet black hair and beard, who had been serving on the bar earlier in the evening (but probably serving more to himself) jumped on the table. His legs swayed like jelly as he took off his shirt and swung it round over his head. Whilst all this commotion was going on, Ray and Cath sat glued to their seats looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. PaulH remarked to Mike that two women dancing away by themselves were Italian, so Mike was surprised when the taller, thinner woman spoke with a broad Yorkshire accent when she joined GASBAGS in a frenetic dance circle. PaulG slowed down his dancing enough to have a good chat with this same woman. She turned out to originate from Hebden Bridge and had been camping with her friend. However this night she was booked into the hotel and she tried to entice PaulG to her hotel bedroom, but he was having none of that nonsense!
Sunday arrived and PaulG had booked for us to catch a boat from Elgol to the foot of the Cuillins. RayV had heard that the fifteen-mile cycle ride to Elgol was not perfectly flat so decided to go by car – any incline can start RayV coughing. John had decided to cycle to Elgol earlier than the rest of the group, and to walk round and get the boat back. Mike discovered that his tyre was worn flat on one part side due to his wheel bouncing along on PaulG’s bikerack and hitting the road. It looked safe enough to cycle on though. The terrain was tough going. We were greeted by RayV and Bridget, who had managed to cycle back one mile after parking up. The boat journey included views of seals, and waves splashing over the back wetting those seated there.
After a walk along the shortest river in the United Kingdom and the loch, we arrived to get back on the boat. John had made it and was proudly sitting eating his lunch. We had been told that there was no room on our boat for John so he would have to get on the second boat that had been laid on. PaulG, in a totally unselfish way, shouted “John, you need to rejoin the main group. I will take your place and go in the other boat”. John thought how kind, but had not known that the other boat cut through the water like a knife through butter, and was much more of a thrill than the main boat which went at a pedestrian pace. PaulG was seen talking to an attractive woman next to him as his boat sailed off first, not noticing the sixteen other GASBAGS waving him goodbye.
On the cycle back there is no doubt that Mike bonked. This is a cycling term that means ran out of energy or fluid, and does not mean that Mike grabbed a woman and bonked her. In fact all the women cycled past him much to his chagrin, and he was left trailing behind, and well behind Cath, who on her first major ride was keeping up with RayT, so close you could believe that the bikes were roped together. In an act of kindness, Pam stopped and gave Mike a drink of water, and he shot off as if he had a rocket had been inserted up his backside.
On arrival at Broadford Mike left his bike with PaulG whilst he went off to tell the rest to get how to their Guest Houses in Portree. When he arrived back PaulG’s car had disappeared, leaving Mike forlorn and hoping that the rest had not left. Fortunately not, and Mike squeezed in next to Emma.
The evening was late when everyone was ready to eat, and Zoe proposed eating at the Indian restaurant. This time the group split, with PaulG, John and Mike choosing beer, nuts and crisps rather than being left with a hot Indian ring of fire in the morning.
Monday started brightly with sunshine but the rain soon started. Roy and Glynis, Ray and Bridget had decided to take their cars on the three-day tour, and they were joined by Brenda who had suffered bottom pains after the strenuous cycle the day before. The rain subsided an hour into the ride and the first stop was to view a waterfall. Roy and Glynis had checked out the cafes in Staffin, and found one that matched our economic requirements – cheap. Glynis began taking orders for the café – her second career could be as a waitress.
John left first as he wanted to cycle up the mountain and walk to the Quirang. He discovered more of a view than he expected. His description of his walk was ten percent on rock formations and ninety percent on five twenty-year olds (three men and two women). Just as he arrived at his destination one of the women asked him if he would mind if they stripped off naked and took some photographs (surprisingly John did not ask if he could join them – perhaps his recent weight gain is affecting his confidence). John claims he did not watch as they undressed but he certainly saw enough as he described that the brunette had a good “bush” and was well endowed. Unfortunately the blond woman took the photographs and remained fully clad, but John heard them remark “Let’s find somewhere more private so we can get photographs of the women”. John felt like following them but realised that he might acquire a “dirty-old man” tag!
Jeff and Emma decided to go on the coast road round to Uig, whilst the rest set off in three groups up the mountain. Ray and Cath went first, with PaulG, Pam and Mike second, and Sue, Malcolm, PaulH and Zoe last. Astoundingly Malcolm and Sue kept peddling all the way up. The downhill was one of the longest ever (and someone claimed that it is known as the longest downhill in the UK).
Zoe, who had booked the accommodation at Uig, had also booked us all in to eat at the Ferry Inn. The elderly waitress was having a difficult time with understanding our menu requirements, until Glynis spoke to her in a polite, calm manner, and she loosened up and began to smile.
The following morning the weather looked fine and as it turned out this was the warmest day of the cycling holiday. All those that were staying at the Ferry Inn were standing outside with their baggage when Mike arrived at 9:30, and he was admonished publicly for not having the rest there as well. However RayV claimed he had been told 10 o’clock, and Mike could not get our stubborn president to move faster – Ray & Bridget finally arrived at the Ferry Inn at 9:59. At this point Jeff said that Pam, Emma and himself were going back to the Uig ferry terminal to see some odd looking Russian dogs – they must have thought they were like grazing sheep who are kept outside all the time. When they arrived to admire these animals they weren’t there leaving them ten minutes behind the rest.
The rest of the group travelled fast towards Uig, when John suddenly stopped when going up hill. He announced that his back brake block was loose – had someone been tampering with it? Well Paul had been fixing his brake blocks just before we set off and had not been wearing his contact lenses – could he have tampered with John’s bike by mistake? We will never know. Mike and Malcolm raced ahead then stopped to let the rest catch up to find that they had taken a short cut. Numerous phone calls between Mike and Zoe indicated that one of the groups was in front of the other but which one? Malcolm and Mike stopped and saw bikers in the distance and waited…and waited. The bikers came into view and it was….Jeff, Pam and Emma. Now Mike knew that the “Zoe” group was in front, phoned Zoe who said her team would slow down, but no matter how hard Mike tried he couldn’t catch them. Finally Brenda appeared going in the opposite direction and shouted at Mike “Go to the main road, turn left, cycle 500 yards, they are in a restaurant near the Post Office”. She must have turned round when she met the next person and her favourite, her fiancée Malcolm, as Jeff was never given any directions and cycled on to the right when he should have turned left.
In the afternoon everyone cycled to Coral Beach and admired the coral sand. Zoe ran into the sea almost leg deep but keeping her “bush” (to quote John’s term) dry. PaulG followed, all his groin problems left well behind.
Fish and chips were on Bridget’s brain and she almost composed a splinter eating-group. However Zoe came to the rescue, being very keen to maintain a united team, and persuaded everyone to eat at the Dunwegan Hotel. We met down in the Cellar Bar, and sat outside watching a wonderful sunset until we were chased indoors by a posse of midges. After the meal the older generation-type (Roy & Glynis, Ray & Bridget, Malcolm & Brenda) went back to their guesthouses. The rest of us descended back into the Cellar Bar. PaulH and Zoe stuffed money into the jukebox, and PaulG persuaded the barman to turn up the volume – he can be very sweet-talking. John proposed that we play “Killer” on the Pool Table – John being an expert pool player (plays every Tuesday night) assumed he would win. In between the shots everyone danced around the table. When the white ball would not re-appear, PaulH lifted the Pool table off the ground and shook it – as he had informed to do by the pubs regulars – they had all disappeared as they had lost any chance to get to play pool, and they probably thought we were a rowdy English crowd. Just before twelve o’clock the barman came to rescue his table and almost chucked us out!
The following day it rained and rained. The cycle back to Portree was hard and everyone arrived wet through. Cath had a baptism of fire on this ride, never before had GABAGS cycled twenty miles in incessant fast rain on a GASBAGS Mixed ride. But she never complained – except perhaps to Ray? Naoko sent an email to Mike saying she would have complained. Pam was rescued by Ray & Bridget, whilst Jeff was almost frozen and had to be thawed in the Chinese restaurant. John, Paul and Mike arrived at the Meadowbank Guest House and were met by the woman owner, “Go in garage and get out of the way as I am showing a potential buyer round” she cried. John and Paul began to strip off their wet clothes hoping RayV, who had their baggage, would appear but he was six miles away rescuing Pam. Just as John had stripped to his underpants and was eating a banana seated on the floor, the side door opened and in stepped the owner with the potential buyers. She turned to them and said “These garden gnomes don’t come with the house”. She pressed a switch and the enormous garage door swiftly opened, almost decapitating Mike, and allowing the world to see Paul’s bare top and John’s hanging up wet clothes.
Malcolm and Brenda drove home earlier in the day and were joined in going home by Paul, Sue and Zoe. This left twelve but Jeff, Pam and Emma drove off to stay with their friends, leaving just nine to enjoy the incessant rain in Portree. By seven the rain had ceased and the remaining group strolled into Portree, Mike was wearing his midget-proof head-covering hat and John was wearing his Buff, which covered his neck and a good proportion of his head. They looked like a pair of gangsters ready to rob a bank. Over dinner PaulG worked out that he had been consuming beer at 5 and a half pints a day, and stated “My stomach has come out too far – I intend to get a six pack when I get home”. Is beer sold in six-packs?
The sky was full of rain when we arose on the Thursday. Paul, Mike and John decided that rain was not going to stop their enjoyment, and they walked up to the Old Man of Storr. The mist was swirling around and even our experienced guide had become disorientated. Fortunately we had noticed white bags full of path-making stone on the way up, and now we saw white bags below. PaulG was all for following the white bags but John wanted to go further round. Mike kept quiet but thought our guide should lead. Fortunately PaulG was adamant that we should follow the bags, and he was correct – we might still be up there now but for his decisiveness. On the drive to Carbost PaulG began raving about the drying room in the hostel at Carbost, “It is fantastic, we will have clothes dried in no time, don’t worry our clothes may be wet now but in they will be dry in a jiffy”.
On arriving at Carbost Mike ran into the Drying room to lay out his wet clothes, but then heard an old-timer say “Clothes don’t dry in here. There are too many”. Mike was forlorn!
In the afternoon Jeff, Pam and Emma re-appeared for the trip around the Talisker Whisky Distillery adjacent to the Carbost Guest House. The group was almost drowned under the heavy rain on the two hundred yard walk from the Guest House to the Distillery Visitor Centre. Inside we all had a free tot of Talisker Malt whisky, which Bridget drowned under half a pint of water – what a waste! Pam and Emma had a better idea with what to do with their whisky – they each poured half in Mike’s glass. We were each given a £3 voucher which could be used to get discount off a bottle of whisky, but at over £25 a bottle not one was used. PaulG asked the shop assistant “Can I have £3 off my £3 miniature?”, she smiled (a Mona Lisa type of smile) but had probably heard that joke 1000 times before.
The evening began quietly with an excellent meal in the atmospheric Guest House bar. Unfortunately before the food appeared, a revolting smell erupted and everyone removed themselves from our eating room except Ray the Pong. He smiled and laughed whilst being admonished by Cath. After the meal John proposed that we should all play “Killer” again on the Pool table. RayT and Cath decided not to play, possibly RayT was eager to not offend Cath again and thought sitting would allow him to keep firm cheeks. An old man appeared with a guitar and sat amongst us, getting everyone to sing along. Roy borrowed the guitar, sang a dance song and there was no stopping Pam and John from dancing vigorously. The guitar passed back and forth between the old man and Roy with Roy’s sessions increasing to the point where the old man sat and watched. He remarked “ I always bring my guitar just in case something like tonight happens – this is wonderful”. All the GASBAGS were dancing again, except for Ray and Cath, and of course the five that had gone home. The tables were to remain dance free with Zoe not being there.
At breakfast Mike, at last, made a short speech to thank everyone: Zoe, Ray & Bridget, Jeff & Pam for booking the accommodation; PaulG for booking the boat trip; Emma for putting up with all the old people; Roy for providing the pop-group and dancing session; Brenda for looking after the accounts; John for booking the Distillery and entertaining the group with his nude-people story; Zoe for trying hard on each night to book an eating establishment to take the whole group.
The rain was still incessant and Roy and Glynis, Ray and Bridget decided to join Jeff, Pam and Emma in going home. But first we all agreed to meet up for a walk (except RayT and Cath) off the road to Glenbrittle. Paul, John and Mike cycled the five miles in the rain to the meeting point with the rest driving. The path could be seen stretching out into the distance and looked enticing as it meandered along the riverbed between two mountains. However the rivers were full of water and were fast flowing. Bridget fell down and was covered up to her waist in water whilst Glynis leg disappeared into the river above her knee. John observed that he was impressed with them both as they laughed and joked about being wet.
PaulG and Mike had turned round at the first sight of the deep river that had to be crossed, and cycled onto to Glenbrittle where they met up with Ray & Cath. On the way there the rain had been torrential, but when PaulG and Mike set off back they became disorientated by the lack of rain – the road seemed totally different, and they were questioning their sanity when John appeared. John is enough to make anyone feel sane as he now had the idea to go down to the Youth Hostel, get dried out and to go on a long walk.
The afternoon came and the sun came out. PaulG proposed that those left, except for John, climb into his car and drive 20 miles up to Neist Point. At last the sun was really shining and we could see how attractive Skye could be. Going through Glendale was remarkable as the narrow road led to a large community of houses scattered across the hillsides. Neist Point had a lighthouse that had been turned into holiday homes, and there were wondrous views of massive cliffs.
As we drove back Mike noticed all the sheep staring at the green grass munching away and remarked “Sheep stare all day at grass whilst People stare all day at PC screens – not much difference”
Cycling distances:-
Portree to Elgol & return 30 miles
Portree to Uig 32 miles
Uig to Dunwegan & Coral Beach 41 miles
Dunwegan to Portree 20 miles
Carbost to Glenbrittle & return 18 miles
Total 141 miles
15. 2005 Isle of Skye (Pam)
Saturday 28th May 2005
Driving through the driving rain, knowing somewhere in Skye were other people prepared to wear the blue & yellow of the Clan Gasbags.
The McKings + McEmma
The McVamplews
Mike McNewton
Ray and John McTurner
McCatherine
Mc Lewis & Butt
McBrenda & Malcolm
McRoy & Glynis
McHodgsons
McGreenhaugh
MacKintosh
Benn Doune & Phil McCavity
We managed to find a venue to provide all seventeen of us with an evening meal and retired to the hotel bar after. It looked as though the locals had drunk most of the contents but we managed a jar or eight. Zoe pulled an engaging Celtic supporter with a list but was told to put him down before he got too excited. We started with a style of Irish dancing known only to Pam & Glynis, and deteriorated to the usual table and chair dancing. We told Johnny to be good, admired somebody’s girl’s brown eyes, encouraged Sally to ride and enquired about directions to Amarillo. By this time the floor was brown and squidgy, the air was brown and squidgy and an eighty eight year old local had been dragged to the floor by Sue? or was it Emma? – and he only came out twice a year…..that should teach him. By the pool table were a little group, one of whom was wearing a tartan scarf and smoking a pipe – unfortunately he forgot to say “och aye” instead of “chia”….they were Italian engineers. We finally got them to jig about a little before we staggered off to find our B & Bs. Paul tried his best with the denim skirt and boots but she had other ideas.
The McMidges brought their entire clan to meet us as we unloaded bikes in the misty isle Sunday morning. Amid the confusion of sandwich buying, bike packing and generally chilling about in Broadford, we managed to lose Paul G. Catherine decided to head for Portree but apart from that and a few photo stops and ‘ooh, aah’ stops, the ride to the coffee shop in Elgol, was a great start to the trip…sea lochs, mountains and Gasbags.
We managed to take up most of the room on the boat trip with the sea sparkling all around the Vamplews’ bananas. The seals didn’t get off their fat butts to greet us so we ambled all over their loch (Coruisk).
Back to Broadford with Brenda saying some really nice things about her new bike. Paul & John had had enough of Mike already so they tried to give him the slip, however he managed to hitch a ride to Portree with the Kings, frantically phoning everyone to let them know where they were staying and checking that the Vamplews had a double bed.
After managing to convince the population of Portree that the P.L O. had not arrived….Mike and John with their midge headgear: (Plonkers Looking Odd), most of us went for some typical Scottish fayre: An Indian curry.
Monday -We awoke to a brilliant blue sky and beautiful sunshine….followed by torrential rain two hours later when we met in the car park in Portree. Brenda had now decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad that her bike was playing up and decided, along with the Vamplews and Roy & Glynis, to take the car. This brightened everyone else up because now there was enough space for all our bags in the cars. We started the ride from Portree to Staffin in the rain, the Old Man of Storr appeared out of the mist and things began to take a turn for the better. By the time Sue’s bike needed attention we were in Waterfall land. The sun even brought the Vamplews out on their bikes and we all stopped to admire a cliff length waterfall. Mike said “that’s nice, where’s the café?”
Great lunch stop in Staffin and the big discussions began: whether to go across land past ‘Quraing’ a fantastic shaped mountain but big hill to get to it, or round the coast which was a bit longer. John had already made his decision which included going early with his walking boots and ‘doing’ Quraing in the middle of the ride. Apparently he was rewarded when he got to the top by naked revelry and we’re still wondering what he’d taken before the walk.
The Splitters, Jeff and Emma, went off round the north coast and the rest of us (after sunbathing and beachcombing) headed for the hill.
As Mike gasped his way, soaking various tourists with his perspiration to the top, an American approached him to ask if this was the top…..I didn’t catch what he said but I know what I would have said.
Pirate Paul, Mike and Pam admired John’s bike (and energy) and set off for the longest descent in the U.K. It was brilliant. We didn’t need to pedal for half an hour. I remembered why I liked cycling again.
A quiet night in Uig by Gasbags standards but we did manage to fluster the waitress at the Ferry Inn.
Sitting outside in the sun with a fantastic view of the Ferry heading away to the Western Isles was a real highlight. It made Paul H think of…….Fleetwood Mac?????? and the Vamplews had a double bed again.
Tuesday - Shona & Tim at ‘Woodbine’ had the nicest B & B and dog of the trip. The Vamplews convinced the Kings there was a herd of large dogs in the village but I think it was a ploy to make sure we got to Dunvegan last. We caught Mike and Malcolm (The M Men) as they took a wrong turn but they still beat us to the smallest conservatory café in the world. You couldn’t breathe for Gasbags but the smiley auld lassie served us all with scrumptious chips and things and gave some of us an appetite for tandems:-
John and Paul looked really sweet.
The very best part of the trip was cycling in the sunshine past Dunvegan Castle to the Coral beach. The road ended about a mile before but some intrepid Gasbags cycled to the very lumpy, ow, bumpy, ouch, end of the track. A short walk and long photo stop and a heavenly view, which looked like a south sea island. Zoe and Paul G tried to convince us it was by wading in up to their thighs but we noticed the blue legs as they came ashore.
As we arrived back in Dunvegan there began the monumental task of finding a venue to suit the great variety of Gasbag appetites. We went a little upmarket as it was Malcolm, Brenda, Zoe Paul & Sue’s last night. The Dunvegan Hotel provided a scrumptious meal but with a tantalizing wait. Some of us were ready to eat the tartan carpet.
A few retired to their B & B’s after the meal. Ray and Bridget couldn’t get a double bed so Bridget kindly invited Ray back to her place. I hope they had a chaperone.
Being the shy, retiring type, Paul G asked them to turn up the volume on the juke box in the cellar bar and a few of us managed to amuse ourselves by:-
1) watching the pink sunset
2) trying to play Killer pool
3) dissecting the pool table
4) pretending to be the Supremes
After which we even managed to find our way back to our digs…..and Ray had just got back from Bridget’s……we didn’t ask.
“I can’t believe it’s going to rain tomorrow” said John Tuesday night.
Wednesday dawned like a very cold misty monsoon. Most of us had to cycle the eighteen miles to Dunvegan and set off ready for the challenge. It was like cycling in a washing machine on cold rinse. We three kings even sheltered in a phone box at one point, still thinking “Yes, this is quite a challenge”…….as the road got higher and the wind got stronger we began to think “oh bugger” and as the cars got closer and the rain got colder, Wonderful Wonderful Ray appeared in his car through the gloom.
(The fast group had probably arrived in Portree by now) Unfortunately there was only one space in his car and, as I was the slowest, I had to have it. I love you forever Ray…..He gallantly put my bike on his rack, drove to drop Paul’s dry clothes off and there was a treat for me….3 half naked men in a garage for the taking…unfortunately they were Gasbags so we left them to it and dropped off Ray and Kathryn’s bags. We then got stuck in the road works by which time Jeff and Emma had arrived and Wonderful Ray and Bridget helped us load bags and put the bikes on the car. They then accompanied us to the nearby Chinese restaurant where we finally stopped shivering when the owner put on a heater for us and gave us tea and food in an effort to stop us driving customers away.
Us Kings had an eventful night staying with our Crofter friends, moving the cows to the summer pasture as you do and admiring all the changes made since we last visited.
The Portree Gasbags had a great night according to Mike’s text. The Vamplews were lucky again to have a double bed.
Thursday was to be the walking day from Carbost but because the washing machine was still on cold rinse cycle, it became Distillery Day. We drank our drams and prosheeded to the tour. It wash shtill raining when we finished the schtour but things seemed a little brighter inside somehow.
The mixed bunk house dorm in Carbost was comfy and had a great view of the mist. There was a roomy kitchen cum lounge upstairs – great for big groups. Some wimps stayed in the hotel.
The best meal of the hols was here, served by a Californian waitress who said it was a “bit different” in Scotland.
We managed once more to commandeer the pool table, getting advice and tips from many punters: “Put your tongue away” and “isn’t it about time you were going?” spring to mind.
Roy the Raver then commandeered a guitar and we were rocking and rolling until the wee small hours (much to the amazement of the rest of the pub who were hoping for a quiet night). Ray and Catherine were the livelist…. You just couldn’t get them to sit down.
Back in the bunk house dorm, it was a hotbed of bed hopping, black knickers, steamy romps…. Sorry you missed it Bridget.
Just for the record, John wore skimpy black ones, Jeff had on his old faithfull M & S s, Bashful Mike wore a full length tartan nightshirt with matching panties and Paul wore nothing. Emma went to change in the loo and I got into bed in a flash….what a night. You could hear a pin drop.
Friday morning Bridget and Ray came to visit after an awful night in their twin beds. We packed the cars, the number of Gasbags dwindling by the minute. Some wimps decided to cycle to the campsite and missed the white water walk. Glenbrittle has the most amazing waterfalls. Bridget, Emma and Glynis just couldn’t wait to get into them - Bridget even managing to include the camera.
We bravely, dripped onwards but were finally thwarted by another torrent of water which beat everyone except Emma who decided she needed a wash anyway. Returning to the car, Glynis decided to take up gorge walking but we managed to dissuade her.
We said our goodbyes with the tears streaming down our faces (or was it rain?) For some, an end to another memorable Gasbags holiday, for others a blessed relief.
Catherine looked so happy as she cycled back up the hill in the rain with Ray LePong. John went to dry off at the Youth Hostel – looking forward to finding the Quraing revellers again. Mike and Paul cycled back to the dorm, Paul now looking forwards to having John to himself for the night. Hope it was good.
16. 2006 Holland Trip – May 26th to June 1st (Mike)
The planning for this trip started long ago in November 2005 with the planning meeting looking at various options. Those present voted almost unanimously to go to Holland - many years after RayV first proposed that we go by ferry to Holland. Mike rushed out and bought some maps of Holland, with contributions to the cost of these being cheerfully given, even by RayT who declared a few days later that he and Catherine were not going as the ride would be too dull and boring – RayT was then interrogated on one Thursday night whether Catherine had been consulted on this joint decision.
It was expected that the group would be as large as the one that went to Skye but a few people came up with excuses why they could not make it - Roy and Glynis as their tandem could not fit all of Glynis’s wardrobe and cosmetics; Craig as he forgot to book the time off – will he forget to turn up for an unlikely fire at the airport?; Sue who had to look after the children who were revising for exams; Malcolm and Brenda – whatever happened to them? The group reduced to ten of us (Jeff & Pam, John & Bev, Mike & Naoko, Neil & Margaret, Ray & Bridget) going by boat from Newcastle to Ijmuiden with PaulH and Zoe flying across – PaulH gets terrible seasickness.
Naoko had arrived on May 12th with this trip going to be her maiden GASBAGS Annual ride where she would cycle – she had arrived especially for the North Wales trip 2 years previously but had broken her elbow so could not cycle. She was keen to practise cycling (or was it that Mike was keen for her to practise) before the event. This time, just 4 days after she arrived, she cut herself on her bike – a three-inch cut that required 12 stitches. Her bravery shone though as she declared, “I am not letting a minor cut stop me cycling across Holland.”
Margaret had had a knee operation the previous year and had gradually strengthened her knee since, with the sole objective being to make this GASBAGS ride. She was back to playing tennis, had been walking for a week, and had cycled on a 17-mile ride. “I am ready,” she stated, “I can now achieve my life’s ambition of rejoining the famous GASBAGS.” She was so keen that she came round to see Mike and Naoko on the Tuesday before the ride with Neil in tow. “Mike,” she said, “please can we go through the itinerary. I am worried in case teashops delay Neil’s progress and he gets lost.” Whilst she was there she wrote out a list of clothes and belongings that she would be taking to help Naoko with her packing – inadvertently she missed out the list of cosmetics that she would be taking – probably concerned about saving paper as 5 extra sheets would have been required. Neil was writing everything down and suddenly declared, “I must buy a map of Holland.” “Neil,” Mike said patiently, “It is too late – I had to send off to Holland for them.” “I will contact the Dutch Embassy in Holland then,” Neil stated. Margaret began to lose her patience, and admonished Neil in no uncertain terms. Mike could see that she required help. That evening he scanned in parts of the map and put copies though Neil and Margaret’s door.
1st Day – By ferry – Newcastle to Ijmuiden
The day we were to set off finally arrived – Friday May 26th. Mike attached 5 bikes to his car, collected Neil and Margaret and drove round to Ray and Bridget’s house. A few minutes later Ray turned up with Jeff and Pam in his car. Jeff jumped out and sauntered across to Mike’s car. He pushed and poked the three bikes on the rack. “These wheels can turn round,” he said. “You must tie them down as they will use up the earth’s natural energy resources.” Mike looked round for help from anyone who was sensible to counter this spurious statement.
We arrived at the ferry terminal and cycled towards the ferry. John and Bev had arrived first and proudly showed us their tickets. “You have to go back to the ticket booths,” John said knowingly. All eight of us cycled back and had our tickets checked. We were booked on as 8 people and 2 bikes – we argued with the little man but to no avail. We would have to go to the ticket office to see if the extra 6 bikes could get on the ferry or we would have to share just 2 bikes. We told John and he smiled superciliously, “I got it right,” he said, “there was a box for the number of bikes.” Mike and Jeff shouted back, “Not on our website!”
The tickets were stamped and we stood in-line with other cyclists in the cold waiting to be allowed to go on the ship. Jeff spoke to the loading officer, “Hey you Newcastle-supporter let us Boro supporters on the ship.” The man looked Jeff straight in the face, and declared, “You will be the last to get on now.” We all rallied round and supported Jeff – one for all and all for one – but when we were finally let on last a few of us hoped that Jeff’s diplomacy would not be used on the way back.
We hurried to our cabins and unpacked some of our belongings. Margaret brought out her bag of cosmetics leaving just enough space for the rest of us to move slowly about the cabin. We nicknamed her back-rack pannier ‘The Tardis’. Several of the group took seasickness tablets but the sea turned out to be absolutely calm.
2nd Day – 45 miles – To Schagen
We arrived at Ijmuiden and cycled off the boat but Naoko was stopped at passport control to have her passport stamped. It looked like we would have to wait for every car to leave the ferry but fortunately some car passenger required their passports stamped and Naoko was lumped in with them – the power of a car is greater than that of a bike.
John (and Bev) took the lead on the route as he had realised that there was a cycling path across the estuary adjacent to the ferry. We arrived at Wijk aan Zee to be greeted by an enormous dog. Jeff received a text from Zoe – the two seasickness adverse cyclists had arrived and were collecting their bikes. Mike got out his mobile and texted PaulH and Zoe – he was not being left out of the texting group. Naoko went off to buy postcards using her best English, closely followed by Neil – these two competed for buying postcards from this point on.
As we cycled on towards Castricum aan Zee Mike received a phone call from Paul. “Our train has hit a car and we are delayed and don’t know for how long,” Paul said. A further phone call from Paul indicated that a bike was also involved. Mike told those nearby. “What other details are there,” asked RayV, “you must know more.” Mike could tell that RayV just wanted details so he could tell Bridget who had not yet arrived. Mike said, ”A cow and a pig were also involved – I think the pig jumped over the train.” RayV ran off to tell Bridget. Mike overheard RayV telling Bridget, “A whole herd of cows was involved.” Mike thought that it was not surprising that people believed in Christ’s miracles!
At Castricum everyone parked up their bikes next to the beach and walked down to the sea with a few intrepid ones paddling in the sea. Now we cycled on for a planned lunch stop at Egmond aan Zee but just before we got there RayV argued strongly that we should go onto Bergen aan Zee – in this mood no-one dare go against RayV! Just after lunch Paul, looking ashen faced, and Zoe arrived and at last we were given the full details of the train incident. They had initially thought to cycle all the way to meet us then had changed their minds and got on a train. Within a few hundred metres the train had hit a car parked on a level crossing. The car had hit a bike as it drove across the crossing. The driver got out to check on the cyclist leaving two passengers in the car. The train ploughed into the car sending it many metres and concertinaing it. One passenger got out but the other was very seriously hurt. No cows or pigs were involved! “We had to wait on the train for over an hour and a half before we were told the train would not be continuing,” said Zoe.
We cycled on towards Schagen under the “Hondsbosse zeewering” dyke, well protected from the wind, and reached Schagen after 45 miles. The Best Western Hotel was very welcoming with the receptionist telling us about an outdoor festival that was being run the following day. All thoughts of cycling around the Texel island disappeared out of the heads of Paul, Zoe and John.
When Mike and Naoko arrived at the bar a short time later, the “Castle” constituency was already there – Paul and Zoe, John and Bev. Mike checked out the prices and alcohol content of the beers. John had no idea that the pint he was drinking was 11% - he switched beers after this revelation! Jeff and Mike were sent out to search for an Indonesian restaurant. They found an ‘eat-as-much-as-you-like’ Chinese Indo restaurant. It was agreed that we would try it and the whole group (including Neil and Margaret) piled into the restaurant. The waitress stated that the ‘eat-as-much-as-you-like’ menu had finished as it was 8:50 and it only went on till 9pm. Fortunately the ex-diplomatic officer Jeff spoke out, “We will go elsewhere if we can’t get it.” The waitress disappeared and returned with an affirmative answer.
3rd Day – 43 miles – To Texel
At the excellent breakfast the next day John was recorded on video saying, “I am worried about today’s ride for the weaker members of the party.” Bev spoke up, “There’s no need to look at me when talking about weaker members!” (Bev had been expected to be near the back of the pack when cycling but instead had been near the front the previous day).
John (and Bev) led the way out of Schagen towards Texel. Within a short time we discovered that we had cycled almost a mile in the wrong direction and had to retrace the route. Jeff whispered to Mike, “See - John does go wrong at times.” We all caught the half-hour ferry across to Texel. RayV had a strong belief that he might have relatives on this island and was keen to ask around about the name “Vamplew”. The rest of us looked out for men with bald heads and shaggy grey beards.
We arrived at a restaurant in Den Hoorn. Neil, with his fine sense of humour climbed the bank behind the restaurant and ran along it in the style of a long-distance runner. We had decided as a group to get the 3pm boat back. Margaret and Bev set off early to ensure they arrived on time. The rest of us raced there with Naoko and Mike trailing. It looked like most of us would miss the boat but Mike and Naoko looked on as the rest raced on-board but then the barrier come down in front of them. Mike shouted to Jeff, “What about us – you have the tickets!” But then the barrier opened – the captain had taken pity on these two unfortunates.
Jeff had been very keen for us to book a hotel in Callantsoog but he had been voted down. Now to placate him, we cycled along the coast towards Callantsoog. The wind initially was terrific and it was difficult to make headway. John shouted out, “Just two hundred metres and we will turn the corner.” He called this statement out several times as we turned many corners but we always cycled directly into the wind. Will we ever believe John again? We arrived back in Schagen after cycling 43 miles. The festival was in full swing, with many fish dishes on sale. It looked really interesting but Jeff and Pam went back to their room and slept, Neil and Margaret ate sumptuously in the hotel. The rest tried various fish dishes and enormous bowls of chips.
A blues band was playing in the hotel bar, which was packed with a beer-swilling audience. After the festival was over Mike and Naoko disappeared whilst the rest first listened to the blues music then went on a pub crawl.
4th Day – 35 miles – To Volendam
The continuing group of Neil and Margaret, Jeff and Pam, RayV and Bridget, Mike and Naoko set of early at 10am in the direction of Hoorn. It would have been earlier but Neil went on a postcard search, dashing back and forth in front of the waiting cyclists. The route was fairly easy with few disputes between the three joint leaders – Jeff, Mike and RayV. We arrived at Hoorn and cycled through the town centre, with some with empty stomachs searching for restaurants. However Jeff led the pack straight through the town to the sea. The front was composed of just large houses and office blocks. Neil and Mike began shouting that we should return to the town centre to eat but Jeff wanted us to go on, as always supported by Pam. This time he was right! He led us to a lovely sailing boat district. RayV remarked, “Jeff is not often right but this time I have to admit he has been.”
Occasional showers accompanied us as we cycled to Volendam. The Volendam Hotel, another Best Western hotel, was excellent but expensive (£73/night for a room with breakfast). The inside walls were covered with paintings and the hotel had a pool to which we all repaired. Naoko exclaimed, “My feet can’t touch the bottom.” Neil and Margaret ate expensively in the hotel – Neil loves his food – whilst the rest of us found a cheap fish and chip restaurant.
John and Bev accompanied Paul and Zoe part way south with the latter two heading to the airport and also missing the plane. John and Bev ate a full meal on board even though the seas were very choppy. They both slept well but the following day had difficulty in getting up because of the rough seas.
5th Day – 24 miles – To Amsterdam
The cycle ride went via Marken, a small very attractive town that was only connected to the mainland recently. Mike remarked, “Every house is painted green.” “No they aren’t ,”said Ray, seeing one house that was brown. The ride continued towards Amsterdam on top of a dyke with the wind buffeting us all.
Now Bridget’s bike had a puncture and RayV, Jeff and Mike fought over who should repair it, with RayV not fighting very hard. Neil, to show his disgust, turned his back to the bike and took down his trousers. The rain began to come down heavily and the other Vamplew bike was struck with a puncture. This time RayV fixed it himself.
As we approached Amsterdam Mike could see the bridge to go south of the river but there seemed to be no way to get onto it. Jeff called out, “There is a sign for Ost Amsterdam and one for Amsterdam Centrum.” RayV responded, “Ost Amsterdam is a different place to Amsterdam – we don’t want to go there.” Mike shouted vociferously, “Head towards the Centrum.” A few hundred metres later Jeff asked a passer-by and persuaded the group to turn round. From this point Jeff and RayV were asking every Tom, Dick and Hans which direction to take. We finally arrived at the hotel – Mike was not the flavour of the month when the group saw inside the hotel rooms. RayV was given directions to get to the lockup garage just a few hundred metres down the road – this turned out to be like hunting for the Holy Grail as Ray disappeared inside the University for half an hour to ask for intellectual help.
At last we could go to the Red Light district of Amsterdam – the whole purpose of the Holland trip in some participants’ minds. We wandered round looking in many red-lit windows, with Naoko issuing many “oohs” and “aahs”. After satiating ourselves with the ‘girley’ delights we retired to a pub – to drink coffee!
A discussion started about how we should get from Amsterdam to Ijmuiden the following day. RayV, who would actually prefer to have a motorised bike, proposed that we should go by train. He said he (and Bridget) would walk to the station to check out if it was possible. Mike said he (and Naoko) would come along – concerned about whether Ray was involved in some skulduggery. It turned out that there trains did not run to Ijmuiden so going by bike seemed to be the only option.
6th Day – 20 miles – To Ijmuiden Ferry
Mike remarked to Jeff at breakfast, “I’ve checked the route –fairly easy going south of the river.” Jeff responded, “I want to go north of the river – much more attractive.” Mike did not respond – the battle could be fought later in the day.
Each pair went their own way around Amsterdam and met again at midday. Jeff said, “I’ve found out that we can go by boat to Ijmuiden.” RayV’s eyes lit up – he wouldn’t have to cycle. Mike agreed that it was a good idea and that appeared to be settled. Then whilst packing the bikes, Jeff remarked, “I think we should complete the circle on the bikes.” Now Margaret came in, “I agree. I don’t want to by boat – this is a bike ride not a boat ride. We are not a boating society.” RayV looked dismayed. “Bridget and I are going by boat,” he said. “I’m sticking with the rest,” said Bridget. So we all agreed that we would cycle on Mike’s route.
Just as we were cycling out of Amsterdam RayV had another puncture – this time his ancient bike not only had a puncture but also a knackered tyre – matching the bike’s owner. RayV shouted out in delight, ”I’m going by boat.” “I will join you,” said Bridget, ever faithful.
The 20 miles to Ijmuiden seemed like 40 miles as we fought against the wind. Margaret’s knee was hurting and slowing her down – but still a quite remarkable effort to cycle 170 miles after her knee operation. Jeff kept looking for more scenic bike tracks, which raised a few hackles. We arrived at a café just outside Ijmuiden, with RayV emerging with a big smile on his face – he had bought a new tyre and his bike was as good as any ancient bike could be.
Each pair cycled separately to the ferry terminal. Six of us had arrived but there was no sight of Jeff and Pam. Mike phoned Jeff – he said he would be there in 5 minutes. The minutes ticked away but they didn’t appear. Finally they came round the corner – they had got lost with Jeff leading!
Mike and Naoko went straight to the bar on the boat, with Naoko sinking a half pint fast. The rest appeared and bought drinks. Naoko asked to try cider and sank a full can. Now Mike and Naoko, closely followed by Jeff, tried the second-floor swimming pool. The swell in the pool looked like you would expect with a wave machine but was driven by the rough seas. Naoko disappeared to her cabin to be sick, shortly to be joined by Margaret who also felt sick. Both ran back and forth between their beds and the toilet.
Jeff and Pam, Ray and Bridget spent the evening in the coffee bar whilst Mike and Neil went to the cabaret, ogling up scantily dressed women whilst their partners suffered.
7th Day – To Newcastle
Jeff was up early to go swimming. Both he and Pam had avoided seasickness.
17. 2007 Yorkshire Dales – May 25th to 29th (Mike)
In early November 2006 GASBAGS met up to discuss the 2007 Annual ride, with proposals on the table for going to the Yorkshire Dales, Scotland or Spain. Zoe turned up with the future of GASBAGS tucked away inside her and was happy to speak and vote knowing that it was unlikely that the “Lewis’s” would take part – but it is hard to keep a good woman down. After much vociferous argument a vote was taken and the Dales was chosen – just being ahead of Scotland.
Jeff thought it was unlikely that many would go on this local ride and kept raising the possibility of changing the location back to Scotland – he knew Pam, the greatest exponent of Scotland, would be pleased. However more and more sent through their names to where there were 17 signed up for the ride. With great enthusiasm Jeff switched his mind back to the Dales and within a short time had the route worked out and two nights booked at Giggleswick (everyone thought where the hell is Giggleswick!) and Jeff explained that it was near Settle.
As the event became closer changes began to occur. Naoko said she was keen to come all the way from Japan for the ride…and would see Mike as well. Alec cycled into a car and broke his collarbone – actually very lucky to be alive. Margaret backed out as she had the opportunity to climb a major peak on the Isle of Skye and she felt this could be last chance before old age set in. So the group was down to fourteen.
Friday – To Bedale: M&N, R&B – 39 miles; J&P, J&R, N&J – 30 miles.
The day arrived with Mike and Naoko arriving first cycling 39 miles – 9 miles more than Jeff’s estimate but they did get lost. On the way Mike received a phone call from Paul to say that he was being violently sick with food poisoning after returning from Turkey. He hoped that they would still take part and would probably be bringing the car. Malcolm and Brenda were next to arrive – again in a car with their bikes on the roof – was this becoming a motoring holiday - GIBMACS – Gainsborough and Ingleby Barwick Motoring and Coffee Society.
The Turner twins were closely followed by Jeff and Pam, and everyone set to hugging and kissing. RayV phoned to say that they had set off just an hour after Jeff & Pam so everyone was expecting them to arrive just before it went dark. Nige and Jess arrived easily with 30 miles being nothing compared to their 32,000 miles around America. Last but not least Paul and Sue finally arrived with Paul running up to their room before something else ran!
Saturday – to Giggleswick: 43 miles
Saturday arrived but there was no sign of Paul at breakfast. We learnt that Paul and Sue were to join Malcolm and Brenda in taking their cars around the route. Paul crept downstairs looking thinner than normal and was vociferously welcomed but without kisses or hugs – perhaps food poisoning was infectious. There were now four in cars and ten cycling. The group set off, with eight proudly wearing their GASBAGS shirts, and Nige and Jess perhaps in the same outfits as they began their 32,000 mile ride – hopefully washed! After a short time the Turner twins had disappeared, while the other eight, the main group, huffed and puffed their way across to Kettlewell, up and down Dales. Up the hills Nigel lead and was closely followed by Jess with Ray bringing up the rear , but then Naoko astoundingly passed Jess leaving the Kings and Vamplews trailing. However downhill Ray’s natural assets, heavy weight and protruding stomach, ensured that he regained his lost distance. On entering Kettlewell a search party was sent out to look for the Turner twins but a phone call from John brought the search to an end – they had reached Malham and were paddling in the Tarn. The second leg to Giggleswick was equally difficult and a proposal to cycle to Malham Cove was rejected after a lengthy discussion. Nige and Jess turned out to be an excellent asset to the group as they took more than their fair share of the time “Vamplew-sitting” – staying at the back and coaxing Ray’s legs to go round.The Turner twins were cycling round and round Giggleswick looking for restaurants when the main group arrived, but had time to send Mike & Naoko on a long-cut and the others on a short-cut to the hotel, so everyone arrived at about the same time. On arrival Mike suggested that the group could eat in the hotel restaurant. Ray took this on-board fast and stated that he was not getting back on a cycle again that night or walking anywhere. So the restaurant was booked for 7:30 with Mike’s suggestion of 7pm being squashed by Sue’s dominant tone (the GASBAGS Loudhailer).
Sunday – John – 50 miles; R&B – 100 miles by train; M&N – 4 miles by foot; the rest – 25 miles.
Sunday was as God stated to be a day of rest but only four took this to heart with Ray & Bridget sitting on a train for a long period and Mike & Naoko walking slowly around Settle. The rest decided to cycle on a 25 mile circular route, except for the Turner Twins who set out on a 50 mile circular route. At last Malcolm & Brenda, and Paul & Sue mounted their bikes, with Paul feeling his way carefully after the rigours that his backside had gone through over the previous two days.When Mike & Naoko arrived back the Lewis’s had arrived, with the future of GASBAGS still in her room, and with Craig taking pint after pint of beer up to her room. RayT had also arrived back so the inseparable Turner twins had been separated. – Ray said he was in socialising mode not cycling mode.
Amy appeared and soon pass the parcel got under way – she must have been thrilled to see all her aunts and uncles assembled again. Everyone arranged to meet at a pub in Settle at 5pm before the evening meal, and by chance everyone turned up but then Paul and John set out to check for a better pub. Now everyone ran round and round checking out pub after pub whilst Malcolm & Brenda and Jeff & Pam sat quietly supping their drinks at the original pub.
Monday – to Reeth: 40 miles
John appeared at breakfast stating that last night’s evening meal at the Settle Indian restaurant was the best one he had ever had. Jeff backed this up when he appeared even though as he had previously stated that he didn’t like Indian restaurants. The ones that had eaten in the hotel responded by explaining how much better the hotel meal had been to the previous evening, and of course all the women had enjoyed cuddling Amy afterwards.
Most of John’s relatives had arranged to turn up at Hawes so the Turner twins shot off after the group collected Nigel and Jess from their very cheap barn. The rain started and became persistent so everyone dressed in their raincoats. At Ribblehead the rain was still continuing and most stopped to wet the inside of their throats with hot tea but Mike & Naoko continued on.
Hawes arrived with Mike & Naoko joining the Turner contingent – Ray, John, John’s father, sister, brother-in-law and niece. Mike pumped John’s Dad for John’s background – plump child who didn’t like sport - could this be useful at his 50th party?
Everyone looked worried as they set off in the afternoon – the route chosen by Jeff was via the very steep Butter Tubs Pass. After a short time the Turner twins were out of sight, with Nigel leading the main group followed by Jess. Mike passed Jess and now Naoko came on the attack up the steep hill but Jess fended her off. At last the top was reached and it was easy cycling down to the wonderful pub at Muker, where we all stopped except Jess who shot past unaware that beer was about to be consumed. Nigel went after her to fetch her back but they were never seen again – well at least not till Reeth! The eight ‘GASBAGS shirts’ members had photograph after photograph taken in the pub.
Tuesday – to Home: M&N; R&B – 50 miles; N&M – 45 miles; J&P, J&R – 41 miles
The Turner twins shot off aiming to get back early, with John phoning at 1pm to say he was home and about to step into a hot bath. Jeff had decided to take us on a scenic route through Richmond, racing against cars to Scotch Corner, and on through Croft to Hurworth for a picnic on the bank of the Tees. Jeff & Pam had arranged to meet Emma and Richard at this point, and stayed with them when the other six left. They later claimed that they cycled home but had they loaded their cycles on a bike rack?
Mike & Naoko, Ray & Bridget finally arrived home at 5pm – just 4 hours after John, but had cycled 50 miles – a real feat for Naoko and also for the old-timers Ray & Bridget.
Malcolm & Brenda sent through a message to say they had cycled up Tan Hill – a quite remarkable achievement but with no verification.
Final Distances: M&N; R&B – 173; J&P – 179; N&J – 183; John – 204; RayT – 179; P&S – 25; M&B 50.
Pam stated later that she enjoyed cycling from home – hopefully ideas of cycling in Scotland had disappeared out of her head otherwise we will have a bloody long cycle to and from Scotland!
Great thanks to Jeff for booking Giggleswick and the route plans; RayT & RayV for booking the Reeth and Bedale hotels restively.
18. 2008 Spain – May 24th to 31st (Mike)
Preparation
It all started in 2006 when the 2007 GASBAGS annual ride was being planned. The majority were giving their support for the Yorkshire Dales but Paul was vociferous in his support for a cycling trip in Spain – the idea was planted!
As the time approached for discussions on the 2008 GASBAGS annual ride Mike checked out the support for Spain, and everyone seemed to like the idea. Unfortunately Mike forgot to check with Jeff and when he learnt about his lack of consultation he was not happy (his toes had been trodden on!). He sent out an email “if we vote for Spain and based upon your details it is a BIG if…”.
The first meeting to discuss the ride was held towards the end of September. Everyone gave their support to Spain and even Jeff was becoming enthusiastic. Three couples were especially vocal in their support: Paul and Sue who had lived in Spain; Craig & Zoe who wanted somewhere warm and had actually booked Craig’s time off and arranged a babysitter; Neil and Margaret – Margaret’s sister lived in Barcelona. The Turner twins were not very enthusiastic but were holding their own (or each other’s at the meeting). Mike proposed a sub-committee and Paul, Margaret and Jess put their hands in the air very fast – three of our four Spanish speakers. That was it then but Jeff felt snubbed – again a mistake. How can any sub-committee not contain Jeff (and of course Mike)!
Shortly after the meeting, emails were received from the Turner twins. First Ray sent one saying “Spain was too far, too hot, too expensive, too complicated”. This was an astounding email from a man who had twice cycled through France on his own bike – though PaulG had sorted out all the arrangements for his latter ride. There was little doubt that Ray had a hidden agenda – his marriage to Catherine. Mike replied calling Ray “a wet blanket”. John sent an email saying he couldn’t make it as he had other arrangements – a very hard walking holiday in Scotland – was GASBAGS too tame for super-fit John now? However he did suggest a long weekend in Spain without bikes and a bike ride around Yorkshire.
The first meeting of the sub-committee was in early October but unfortunately Mike sent out the invite too late and only Mike and Jeff were present. By now the Spanish options were down to three: Girona; Majorca and northern Spain. Informal talks led these three options to being reduced to one – Girona. Within the week Jeff had worked out his first pass for routes, and Mike had found a bike rental shop in Girona.
The following week the second sub-committee meeting was held without Paul being present – his company had kindly arranged for him to be overseas whenever a sub-committee meeting was held. Margaret was now agitating about her knee or her knee was agitating her! She didn’t think she would be able to come after all as she had to have an operation. However she was prepared to help as much as she could.
The following day an email was received from Paul. He and Sue would not be able to make it as they had all sorts of holidays planned around Sue’s 50th and their 25th wedding anniversary (Sue – this must mean that Paul had previously forgotten about these – very naughty!). Now only two of the very enthusiastic Spanish advocates (Craig & Zoe) were still coming. Our team was reduced to eleven: Craig & Zoe; Jeff & Pam; Alec & Ann; Ray & Bridget; Nigel & Jess; Mike.
The sub-committee started to go through Jeff’s routes with a fine tooth comb. Pam turned up then at later meetings RayV, Nigel and Alec/Ann. RayV began questioning everything: why were doing this?; why weren’t we doing that? He wanted lots of hills but only ones that went down. Nigel was the reverse as he only wanted hills that went up. The stopping points were almost agreed but which way round should we cycle? First one way was agreed then Jeff proposed the other way then Jeff proposed reversing his own decision – even Jeff was confused by this time so we took advice from Saskia – our cycle rental guru in Girona.
In early November the time had been reached when the flights needed to be booked. Suddenly our only two-left initial enthusiastic advocates for Spain started to become lukewarm! Craig and Zoe wanted more time to think, and said the rest of us should go ahead – very strange!
The remaining nine met at Mike’s house to book the flights. Alec & Ann had decided they would go four days before to look round Barcelona, and they disappeared to book their flights on Mike’s desktop. The other seven were about to book when Mike said “Don’t book mine. I will book tomorrow”. Nigel gave Mike a long hard look – he and Jess were in the same situation as Mike of being forced to book in an expensive week for the other four’s sake and Mike was not booking. However he went ahead as he is a team player! Mike sent an email the next day explaining that he had booked for 2 weeks and included his own bike for a much smaller fee than the others. Nigel almost exploded!
The time had arrived for hotel booking. Both Mike and Jeff had worked up an initial list of possible hotels but it was realised that it would probably be better if the hotels were booked by someone who could speak Spanish and we only had two left in the group who could speak Spanish – Jess and Ann. Ann was rapidly co-opted onto the sub-committee, and the hotels were split between the two ladies. Mike also asked Ann if she would take over renting the bikes as he was taking his own bike. Ann replied “That’ll teach me to open my big mouth!!”. Mike decided to not make any comment about the size of Ann’s mouth.
Now Ann and Jess set to it to book the accommodation and progressed rapidly. Each had their own way with Ann’s way being to run both the bike rental and accommodation booking as a project. She established success criteria, and began flooding the world-wide web with emails. Suddenly Jeff changed the route again, almost upsetting himself, and introduced a new location – Besalu – and had the accommodation booked in no time at all – perhaps the Spanish do understand English after all.
The GASBAGS Annual Dinner was held in December and at last the reason came out why Craig and Zoe had been holding back. Zoe had been so keen but Craig had put his oar in or something slightly smaller, and Zoe was pregnant. The group was reduced to nine.
By the end of January all the accommodation was booked except Cadaques which was being looked after by Jess. There was some concern but Jess had in all under control and sent an email “Let’s wait for a few weeks”.
Panniers! Everyone had expensive panniers except Alec and Ann and Ray and Bridget. Alec had bought some off eBay which might have been Neil Heaton’s as his subsequently fell off his bike like Neil’s had in days gone by. Ann, with Alec’s advice, also bought some off eBay for a cheap price. Ray bought some very expensive ones which were slightly reduced in price but still cost three times Ann’s bags. When he heard he turned green with envy.
Jeff copied a map of Catalonia that Mike had bought (Jeff paid half – the rest paid none!) and gave out copies to everyone. He subsequently found an even more detailed map and again gave copies out to everyone. By this time the panniers were full of map sheets and there was hardly space for clothes. Mike sent out his list of kit that he was taking as an example. There as much debate about headbands, denture glue, eye drops, and how many pairs of underpants / knickers to take. The list definitely included oil – a sore point on the future ride. There had been no mention of brake pads!
The Cycle Ride (Mike becomes I)
I arrived at the airport on the Tuesday before the Saturday that the rest (except Alec and Ann) were to fly out. I felt upset that I could not be at a desk beavering away at that long-forgotten thing called ‘Work’. I had fully prepared my large plastic bike bag with labels but thought I would check if my bike could just be wheeled onto the plane. The Ryanair ticket checker said that there was no need to dismantle but to just wheel it to the outside baggage desk. The ‘jobs-worth’ man said I must dismantle it and I had off the pedals when another man appeared saying I just needed to let down the seat and let the air out of the tyres. I put back the pedals and waved my bike goodbye wondering if I would ever see it again or at least in the top-class condition it was in just then.
I met up with Alec and Ann in the airport lounge, but then left them sitting whilst I stood in what I thought was the priority queue. Suddenly another queue began to form and someone mentioned it was the actual priority queue. I was not happy as I need plenty of leg room on a plane. I moved quickly to the front of the actual priority queue smiling at the front group and not pushing too hard.
Alec and Ann joined me in the front seats of the plane with Alec being so pleased with the leg room that it was coffee’s all round (Alec is actually taller than he looks from a distance).
I stood next to the carousel entry door assuming my bike would appear through it. After most suitcases had gone past my bike appeared looking no different to before – excellent I thought, I will be cycling soon. I wheeled the bike outside, said goodbye to Alec and Ann, pumped up the tyres, reset the seat, and I was off. My joy lasted six inches as the bike came to a rapid stop. I got off my bike and walked round it – what was wrong. I then noticed that the derailleur was bent. A man came up who spoke very good English (probably was English but I was not in the mood to check) and asked, “Something wrong with your bike?”. He stood there and watched as sweat began to mount on my worried brow. He said, “I can see some twisted chain links”. I looked down and saw one link twisted 90 degrees. I had visions of me walking to Girona. I removed two links and inserted a new link. The derailleur sprang back to almost being straight. Had I fixed it? I remounted my back and I was cycling. Wow! I felt like a real cyclist!
I cycled into Girona and twice asked for help. I was astonished how helpful my two helpers were and both spoke English. The second one was on the far side of a busy road and saw me nod in his direction, realised I needed help, then waited about five minutes to cross the road to give me help. I realised I may never have to use my Spanish-speaking skills after all – after persuading Jeff and Ray to contribute to a Spanish-speaking CD.
The following day I called in to see Saskia at Cicloturisme to ask advice about routes. I explained about my bike repair and how the derailleur was catching against the spokes. Out came her pliars and with womanly strength she bent back the derailleur slightly.
My destination on this first day was Sant Joan de les Abadesses which is in the direction of the French border. It looked fairly flat on the map except for a few mountainous bits and the mention of Colls at 1010 metres and 1064 metres. I was expecting a difficult day but not too hard. I arrived at a junction on the road to Mieres when I saw a few police cars and was waved down. I saw a policeman nod at me and was saying something in Spanish so I assumed he was saying something like “Stupid Englishman cycling in the midday sun - get on your way”. So I did and the policeman ran towards me with his hand moving towards his truncheon. I retreated rapidly. I looked down the main road then about 200 cyclists appeared in top-class racing gear followed by numerous cars with bicycles on top. Within a very short time they were past, I was waved on and I set off in pursuit. I had only cycled half a mile when I saw the road lined with over 300 children. They saw me coming and a mighty cheer went up. I felt like raising my arms in the air like a great cycling champion but decided the possibility of falling off was too great. I gave a weak wave instead.
By the time I arrived at Olot I felt knackered. There had been four long uphills and my sweatband had been rung out numerous times. I had decided that I wouldn’t look around Olot as I would return with the Spanish team so I cycled up the road to Sant Joan. There was no mention on any signpost in English that there was nine miles continuous uphill. I was going round bend after bend expecting to have reached the top but all I could see was the road winding upwards. I stopped frequently for a drink and a squeeze of my sweatband – water in water out! Finally I was at the top and cycled rapidly 4 miles downhill. Fortunately Saskia had given me a map of Sant Joan and explained how to get to the Youth Hostel.
I parked up my bike outside the Youth Hostel and went in expecting to see and hear hundreds of screaming kids. But no – just the receptionist was there and she was very surprised to see me. I gave her my receipt form showing days booked and pointed in my best Spanish-pointing style as she couldn’t speak English. She looked up at me as if to say this man’s too old and sweaty to stay in my Youth Hostel. Then she smiled, led me to a room with 2 bunks and an ensuite-bathroom, gave me the keys for the doors, and within a short time had gone. I had this whole Youth Hostel to myself. I found an internet PC and sent an email to the Spanish team saying how wonderful everything was – I thought that should frustrate them!
I walked down to the local restaurant which had a large TV. The owner said “Manchester United Chelsea” and I thought he spoke English. However these were the only English words he knew. I bought a beer (cervaza – see I do know some Spanish) and asked for the menu by pointing at my mouth and moving my hands as if I had a knife and fork. Finally they twigged what I wanted. I spent a long time with my Spanish-English translator trying to understand the menu. However it was in Catalan and not Spanish. I pointed at one of the options and prayed it might be something edible. For the second time that day my meal was pork grizzle with a large quantity of bone. At this rate I could have my weight rapidly descending!
This large restaurant only had a few other customers who were there to watch Manchester United v Chelsea. When Ronaldo was brought down I cheered but then thought the owner may support this Portuguese winger (renowned in the UK for diving) so I turned round and smiled weakly at him.
The next day I was up for breakfast at eight o’clock – just me! I said a few words in Spanish to the cook and back came a hundred words in Spanish. I realised that sign language was easier and more understandable.
I cycled along the old railway line both north to Ogassa and west to Ripoll. By the evening I had cycled all the possible flat bike rides and didn’t fancy any more uphills as yet. I was wondering what to do the following day. I was still the only guest in the excellent Youth Hostel. I sent what Jeff read as a forlorn email to the Spanish team and Jeff replied saying “The cavalry is coming”.
Friday arrived and I decided to walk. I had looked on the map and seen what I thought would be a pleasant 10 mile walk – I hadn’t noticed that a mountain near the road was over 2000 metres. I set off with my cameras and GPS phone. I didn’t bother to take drink or food or raingear though there were some black clouds looming. Initially the walk was flat but began to go steeply uphill winding bend after bend. I noticed that the tops of the mountains were slowly getting closer. My destination was the Sant Marti d’Ogassa (at 1370 metres). The road continued on upwards after this place. A walkers’ signpost stated 3 hours back the way I had come to get back to Sant Joan and 5.5 hours if I went on. I was not giving up and continued on as I was fairly sure that the turn for downhill was just around a few corners. Fortunately it was and I marched fairly fast down the rough track. I reached a viewing point and climbed up to look over a wall. Wow! What a view! Sant Joan was a tiny speck in the far distance. This was the best view I had ever seen (until the next time). I finally found the Sant Joan to Ripoll road after being saved from a mauling from 4 vicious dogs. I arrived back to the restaurant after over 6 hours and 19 miles, and consumed lots of water and beer.
The following day was to be arrival day for the rest of the Spanish team. I looked out of the window and the rain was falling heavily. The Youth Hostel hadn’t been empty the previous evening, and at breakfast I met a Dutch woman who enjoyed cycling through Spain by herself. I thought of inviting her to join up with GASBAGS but then I thought the culture shock would be too great.
I dressed in all my rain gear and set off knowing that I would get drenched in sweat as I had to initially cycle uphill for 4 miles. Fortunately the rain stopped after the first mile and I was back in shirt sleeves. After the first 4 miles I cycled a wonderful 9 miles downhill, continued through Olot, and found the packed granite-sand railway route to Girona. The ride along this track was fairly easy with no watery potholes.
I arrived at the hotel and met up with Alec and Ann. We walked around to the bike shop and after a time Saskia’s van appeared and out climbed the team. There was lots of hugging and kissing, and then out came the luggage. I was staggered, flabbergasted about how much could have been brought by so few for a cycling tour. Were we taking along porters like in the Nepal to take all the luggage?
The eight hire bikes came out and were allocated based upon height. Is Ray actually 1 cm taller than Alec? The bike seats were raised then lowered then raised again, with Ann switching hers to her own from home. The gears were tested with claims that they didn’t work on some bikes then Saskia testing them and finding they did work. Is it all down to technique? No-one bothered to check the brake pads.
The bikes were stashed away in the hotel, and we toured around the Girona old town, being led by Alec who had led Ann round in the afternoon. Beer was on our minds and we collapsed after a short time outside a bar facing the Cathedral steps. We all wanted to eat Spanish food but everywhere we tried didn’t seem just right so we ended up in an eat-as-much-as-you-like Chinese. We certainly did and also knocked back endless bottles of house wine at 5 Euros each.
I awoke to heavy rain. This was to be first day on bikes for the rest of the team so it was very unfortunate. We all dressed up in our raingear and set off down the packed granite-sand railway route to Sant Feliu. Despairingly the rain loosened the sand and it was getting in all the nooks and crannies on the bikes and up the backs of the riders without mudguards – the women and Nigel! After 20 miles we stopped at a cafe and surprisingly were allowed in though covered in sand. We feasted on chips and cake. I was ready to give up and to switch to roads with the rest agreeing except Nigel who wanted to cycle the whole way on the track. We set off again and the road led onto a dual carriageway with a wide verge for cyclists. Cars were zooming past but now I just wanted to get there. Jess was in front with me closely following. We reached the Sant Feliu turnoff and stopped but no-one was in sight behind. After a very short discussion we set off to find the hotel with the road winding down and down until we reached the sea. Jess asked directions to the hotel (Hostal Zurich) in Spanish, and then when we found it, used her Spanish again to get us checked in – I was a useless bystander so smiled at appropriate points.
I went to my room then thought I should go outside again and await the rest. I went down to the hotel side-door but it was locked and it seemed to have two locks on it. I went up to Jess’s floor and knocked on every door shouting “Jess – are you there?” but no reply came. Where was she? I seemed to be locked in and not a soul around! I gave up and showered, then went downstairs. The door was open and everyone was back except Nigel. There were buckets of water all around, and the sand was being washed off the bikes, and had been washed off the women’s raincoats. The elderly Spanish hotel owners were flapping around, and Jess translated one statement to being that we had to get out the bicycles at 8am prompt in the morning – had we arrived at the Spanish Fawlty Towers? Everyone disappeared up to their rooms then Nigel appeared – a sand-person in the making! Every part of his bike was encrusted with thick sand. At last I could help out! I ran up and down to my room fetching more and more water and within a short time Nigel had his bike looking spotless again. Nigel told me about how he had helped an old man change his inner tune – RayV – Ray’s first puncture.
In the evening we strolled along the front to the far end where we relaxed for a time. The next moment Ann and Pam were standing on one leg, and Jess was touching her toes – it just shows what a day’s wet cycling does!
Whatever happened overnight to the hotel management we are unlikely to ever know, though one possible reason for the change in their demeanour was feelings of guilt about the TV that crashed down onto Ann’s spared bed (well done Ann – I didn’t know you had brought a screwdriver). When we all came downstairs to find a café for breakfast, the owners invited us to have breakfast in their café and it was all free. The need to get out our bikes at 8am had also disappeared, and everyone was smiling at us. We were also smiling as outside there was blue sky and little prospect of rain.
The bikes came out of the garage with rust forming on the chains. I had brought some super-expensive oil which I had assumed would last just two weeks. Nigel had brought just sufficient drops (36 per bike) to oil his and Jessica’s bikes – he had counted out the drops at home. Alec had also brought oil. I was being asked by Bridget then Ray then Jeff then Pam to just oil their bikes. Ray shot off to buy some oil, whilst Jeff was satisfied to use my suncream lotion on his and Pam’s chains.
Our goal this day was L’Escala but first we cycled south for a short time to see what we had missed by not cycling up from Tossa De Mar. We arrived back in Sant Feliu with Ann and Jess complaining about their brakes making lots of noise. I had fortunately brought some spare brake pads and gave a pair each to the respective partners to fit. We continued through L’Escala, stopping at a bike shop to buy loads of brake pads. Nigel thought they were so cheap at 3 Euros that he filled his panniers with them. We reached the turnoff to Calonge which led onto a very mountainous route. Ray had earlier claimed he wanted to go this route but now backed off. However Nigel and Jessica decided to go this way – they were not seen again till the following day.
Jeff and I were swopping the lead. I had the map in front of me in my enclosed clear pouch. Jeff had a map on his handle bars and had to put his reading glasses on whenever he wanted to read it – it’s dreadful what turning sixty does to a man. Jeff also had a compass round his neck which he could read without glasses and was proving useful, so I brought out my compass. However Alec was starting to assert his leadership skills and had a walkers’ clear pouch round his neck. Ray was taking the view that he didn’t want to lead which was fortunate or we would have gone backwards.
Our chosen route took us down to L’Estartit where we relaxed in a café on the beach. Pam led the discussion about whether it was better to have ‘longer and easier’ or ‘shorter and quicker’ – she pointed out that she was discussing the next section of the ride to L’Escala and no sexual connotations were involved. We chose shorter and quicker which led to cycling up an enormous hill for most of us with Ray pushing all the way. We finally reached L’Escala after 44 miles and dropped off Alec and Ann at their expensive hotel with a pool. The remaining five of us searched out our very cheap hostal to find the door shut and no sign of life. After ringing the bell again and again the door was answered and we were in.
That evening Alec and Ann had a romantic evening walking around L’Escala arm-in-arm whilst the five of us strolled round. We found 11 statues of musicians and took turns in taking photographs of the rest playing imaginary instruments (we didn’t know at this point that a Sardanes band always has 11 musicians). Finally we stopped for a meal at one restaurant then moved to another and tried a hot chocolate drink that was so delicious that Pam thought it was better than sex (with Jeff?)!
In the morning there was more heavy rain that lasted most of the day. We met up with Nigel and Jessica at Empuries with Greek and Roman colonies dating back to 575. BC. Near Castello d’Empuries Nigel and Jessica set off on their own long route to Cadaques. On the outskirts of Roses there was a choice to go into Roses or climb the hill to Cadaques. I had reached the point of wetness where I was keen to just get to Cadaques and Alec (and Ann) agreed. So we three separated leaving the other four to look round Roses and to try the coastal road.
The road to Cadaques went up into the clouds but by the time we were at the top the rain had stopped. We cruised down the far side and alighted right onto our hotel. We showered and changed then strolled through Cadaques. We had just passed a shop with a perfect reflexion of us three in a mirror at the back of the shop when a lens fell out of my glasses. The tiny screw had disappeared so I went down on my knees to search but to no avail. I asked the receptionist at the hotel about an optician’s shop but was told that might be just one place that could fix it – the chemist up the hill – and she would take me there. The glasses were left there and reappeared in my room that evening. There is no doubt the Spanish people are very helpful and considerate.
By the time I came back the ‘Roses’ group were back claiming they had cycled the coastal route…only later it emerged that they had come over the hill like me.
The evening discussion centred on whether we should take the coastal route or go back over the top to Roses. There was doubt whether the coastal route went all the way through.
The following morning and decision time had been reached. Nigel and Jessica were adamant about trying the coast route. Ray preferred over the hill. I was starting to prefer the hill route as I was not keen to have to turn back. However the rest chose trying the coastal route so I switched and finally Ray switched. The whole team was cycling the difficult coastal route. It certainly was difficult going uphill on loose stones. Remarkably Ann was keeping on her bike and leading with Pam not far behind. I walked over the rough rocks initially then mounted my bike and kept on. Ray and Bridget were trailing at the back. We reached the top and went rapidly down the far side. However poor Ray had another puncture after hitting a rock and was delayed. He appeared after a time still looking calm and in good condition for a 62-year old.
We finally arrived in Roses with the 13 miles from Cadaques taking almost 4 hours. Ray’s bike tyre’s sidewall looked very worn when it was checked, as if one of the brake pads had been rubbing on the tyre. He phoned Saskia who advised going to the local bike shop. However this shop didn’t open for an hour and it was now 2pm. Nigel, from the goodness of his heart or from his frustrations, proposed that he switch bikes with Ray. He stubbornly refused initially but then accepted. Nigel wanted me to accompany him (and Jess) in case the tyre exploded and needed fixing. We three set of as the fast group to get to Besalu but took a long car-free scenic route and arrived later than the other group who had chosen the shortest route due to Jeff’s bad knee. I was expecting Ray to embrace Nigel as his saviour but he was still moaning that his bike still had a dodgy tyre.
Nigel, Jess and I didn’t arrive till 7:40 after 55 miles and I felt knackered. However Nigel and Jess dropped off their kit in their room and went off site-seeing. I realised later that this didn’t mean much as about the only unique site was an old bridge.
When I looked outside on the Thursday it was warm again. The direct route to Olot was less than 15 miles and the team wanted to cycle more, despite Jeff’s bad knee. Nigel and Jess went off on their own ride up the steep hills towards the Pyrenees. The rest of us repeated in part my route on my first day. I couldn’t remember how hard it had been as I had cycled 9 miles uphill from Olot afterwards. It was very hard with 4 long uphills. I am astounded at how resilient Ray can be. We stopped on the way at Sant Pau. I was now into saying “it is the journey that counts not the destination”, in part because I felt like a beer. Sant Pau turned out to have an ancient old centre which could be viewed from the ‘new’ Sant Pau. I was happy to stare at it with my beer in my hand then an ice-cream whilst ‘resilient’ Ray and Bridget walked across and around the old centre, closely followed by Alec and Ann.
I helped the rest find their hotel in Olot , Pension La Vila, as I needed to know where to meet up then went in search of the Youth Hostel that I was sharing with Nigel and Jess. I found reception but no-one was there. There was a sign in Spanish (or Catalan). I was phoning Jess to translate when a young lad went by who explained that the notice said they were at dinner. I checked in with us three sharing a room.
I joined up with the rest and we set off to walk up a volcano. I had only just discovered that Olot was surrounded by volcanoes as the map I had was an A4-size black & white photocopy of the A3-size Olot map that the rest had been given in their hotel. On this walk ‘resilient’ Ray was knackered and just walked part way up and was joined by ‘bad-knees’ Jeff. The volcano top turned out to be a large grassy patch with no signs of fumes at all – what a disappointment!
Nigel and Jess were tucked up in bed when I arrived back in the Youth Hostel. Jess was reading a very sophisticated book about Chile. They had tried to find us but had not been able to get through as my N95 mobile, that does everything, had a rundown battery.
The final cycling day for the team arrived, just 36 miles on the railway track back to Girona. Nigel and Jess decided to go their own route back to see some of the views we had seen the previous day. I assumed we would be back before three o’clock. The weather was perfect until mid-afternoon then the rain started and we still had several miles to go. The rain became intense at one point and Jeff sheltered under a garage forecourt. I was leading with Ann close behind when I spotted the bike path on the other side of the road. I stopped dead with Ann swerving out to avoid me and was almost run over by a large truck. She was not happy! I had agreed that from now on I should use the slowdown signal. We were about to go on when Jeff shouted us back – Ray had another puncture. In mid-afternoon we stopped next to a river. My foot slipped off a stone as I was getting water to wash my bike – raucous laughter ensued, then Ann slipped on the same stones and landed on her back. All the men ran to help but Alec was too quick, and had his arm round her in a jiffy. We continued on with Bridget falling off her bike and grazing her knee – the same knees with scars from years before.
Jeff’s phone rang. It was Nigel. They were at the hotel and it was fully booked. We had confirmed the booking only six days before so this was very strange. We arrived at the hotel and Ann went into intensive discussions with Marc, the hotel receptionist. I asked Jess to help in case Ann needed Spanish backup. It was agreed that we would leave Ann and Jess to sort out the hotel whilst the rest took back the bikes. By the time we arrived back the hotel owner had arrived and had sorted it all out. Everyone had a room at the hotel except me who had to go to one close-by. It was past six o’clock by the time everything was sorted out, much later than I had estimated.
Poor Alec was totally knackered by the time he had finished with the bikes. He took his bike back first then had to return to the hotel to get his bike spanner to remove his pedals, then, when he returned again Ann asked him about her bike seat. He had to return again to the bike rental shop!
The last night for the Spanish team was to be back in the eat-as-much-as-you can Chinese restaurant by a unanimous vote.
I waved goodbye to the team at the bus station the next day, and cycled a mere 25 miles back to L’Escala and booked into the Youth Hostel. I had enjoyed being with the team but now I had a sense of freedom. I wandered around Empuries again, spending much more time looking at the ancient Roman ruins as well as the ancient Greek ruins – unfortunately there was so little left it was hard to imagine what it must have been like.
When I returned to the Youth Hostel I was joined in my room with 9 bunks by two mid-forties occupants, a man and partner. I was reading my book when I heard much huffing and puffing, little doubt about what was going on! I cycled up to L’Escala in the afternoon and enjoyed a Sardanes band playing in front of the 11 musician statues, and playing the same instruments. Two groups of people had locked hands high in the air and were putting one foot in, one foot out etc etc. It was good to watch and I almost took part but realised that my hands would be too high. In the evening I ate out at Sant Marti d’Empuries, a 15th century hamlet with four outdoor restaurants that face each other and compete. My restaurant was fairly full but the opposite one was empty much to the amusement of the staff. I cycled back to L’Escala and had another of Pam’s favourite hot chocolates but now I had begun to believe it was yucky….and expensive!
I awoke to rain and my plans about cycling to Empuriabrava didn’t start till mid-afternoon. This ‘new town’ has a system of canals flanked by luxurious housing. I cycled up and down but was not impressed by the enormous hotels on the sea front.
My last full day arrived and I cycled back to Girona as fast as I could. I walked around Girona taking over 100 photographs in readiness for making a YOUTUBE.
I called in to see Saskia as I wanted to include her on the YOUTUBE. She jumped at the chance of a photograph, got the other two staff members involved, and they togged up in their special shirts.
I cycled to the airport on my last day and fortunately it was dry. This time I packed up the bike just as had been required in the Ryanair literature. The bike re-appeared in Teesside airport with the bag looking just as expected. I unpacked it then blew up the tyres but then yanked off the pump by mistake with the valve being attached to the pump, and the tyre deflating fast. I had joined Ray in having a flat tyre. I cycled the 16 miles home in the rain!
Distance cycled: Mike 480 miles; Nigel & Jess 250 miles; Alec & Ann, Jeff & Pam, Ray & Bridget 215 miles.
Thanks to all the team for a really enjoyable holiday, and especially to:
Ann and Jess for arranging the hotels, and being our Spanish experts
Ann for being arranging the bikes, and trying to ensure that everyone’s desires were fulfilled
Jeff for proposing the cycle route and providing copies of maps to everyone
Mike
19. 2008 Spain – May 24th to 31st (Pam)
Ole Ole Ole
Spanish Gasbags and their pannier hot spots.
Jeff – a heap of medication
Pam – a heap of oranges
Ray – an empty space where his tool kit should have been
Bridget – support bras
Nigel – bike rags and a secret energy-enhancing drug
Jess – determination
Ann – Bottled water
Alec – wet wipes
Mike – the most hi-tech mobile phone ever with a battery that lasts 5 minutes.
Teesside Airport
We walk away from checking our baggage in:
“You haven’t got any tools in that pannier have you Ray?” asks Nigel jokingly.
“ha ha” we all laugh…………..then Ray produces the biggest store of bike tools you have ever seen:- a terrorist’s dream. He departs sheepishly to the car with them.
Girona
Arrive to beautiful warm weather and Trendy Saskia. After much trialling and adjustments we cycle off to Hotel through the busy Girona traffic, squeeze our bikes into hotel cellar and head off towards the cathedral in the busy old town. With Jess and Alec navigating we soon have no idea where we are going and happen upon a China Buffet King with a lovely round table and even lovelier food. Lots of Salus before wobbling back to hotel.
The rain in Spain stays mainly on the Gasbags route to San Feliu
Awake to cascades of water hurling itself onto the pavements and roads. “It’ll stop after breakfast” I assure myself. ‘We’ll just wait a bit till it stops. Okay we’ll just wait a bit longer. Okay we’ll wait …….Oh it, lets go.”
First 2 miles the wrong way up a hill- well done Pam and Jeff. A wonderful Spanish driver escorts us to ‘el carillet’ along which we discover the boys all have nice tidy little mud guards and the girls get DIRTY, no – FILTHY – sand and grit on tyres, brakes, panniers and crevices where I didn’t know I had crevices.
We drip into a bar for chips and Nigel (to prove he’s tough) decides to continue on the squelchy bike track whilst we opt for the road. The motorway in Mike and Jess’s case (they just put their heads down and missed the sign that said no bikes). Ray decided to begin as he meant to carry on and got a puncture which, who should come riding along to fix but (Superman music here) ….SuperNige. He said he had had to carry his bike across parts of the track, fight a wild boar and still arrived at the hotel in time for tea.
The hoteliers looked at us and our bikes and brought copious amounts of water before deciding we might be clean enough to put our bikes in their nice clean garage. They tell us we have to leave at 8am???
Having aired our clothes all around the scaffolding outside our rooms, we set off to view the sea, do some Tai chi and have a beer in the sunshine before heading off to a pizza parlour for mountains of food.
San Feliu to L’Escala
The hotelier relents and, instead of having to leave at 8am with no breakfast, we finally get on the road full of coffee and croissants about 10.30. Hurrah – no rain, fantastic coastline, beautiful greeny blue sea and a bike shop selling much-needed brake pads. With undies and shorts steaming on the panniers Mike leads the way. Nige and Jess head off up the hills whilst the wimps head for the bike tracks to L’Estartit. This is what we came for….sunshine, quiet roads, sleepy old spanish villages. As we cycle through the quiet walls of our lunchtime village we suddenly meet ourselves coming the other way – except there were more of them and they were welsh.
The welsh windbags had a Mike, maps as bad as ours but they had got the pick of the bikes from Saskia the day before us. We set off behind them and I am proud to say after a wee chat, left them in the dust, well proabably a bar in the next sleepy,cobbled village.
Onwards on exquisite bike tracks with a riot of colourful flowers on all sides, we wizz towards Estartit and finish with a flourish and a beer on the beach.
The first real hill defeats Bridget’s first gear and we declothe as we begin a beautiful ride in the sunshine down to L’Escala. Ann and Alec swan off to their luxury hotel whilst we plebs find the smallest pension in the town and wonder how Nigel and Jess are getting on with 800 children in the Youth Hostel. We have a lovely meal at a restaurant overlooking the crashing waves and the most amazing hot chocolate to finish at a nearby bar. Tucked up in bed we listen to thunderstorms and the sea crashing against the huge rocks and think it will all have blown over by morning.
L’Escala to Cadaques
Completely waterproofed from head to foot we scurry between closed café awnings as the rain increases in volume and speed. Croissanted up, we splash our wheels round to the Ritz to find Alec and Ann breakfast buffetting. After a quick buffetting from us we get on the swirling river of a road towards ‘Empuries’ and meet up with Jess and Nige.
Ahead of us, on the road towards the ancient ruins is a huge shiny black
slug, which on closer inspection turns into about sixty small children in black plastic bin bags braving the weather to be accompanied by their enthusiastic teachers who obviously know what’s good for them. They were incredibly well behaved!
I won’t describe the next part of the journey to Roses. It’s too painful.
A Gasbags split was called for and while 5 headed to Cadaques, Me, Jeff, Bridget and Ray headed to a Roses Restaurant and dripped dry over a beer and snack. We met an English couple who were uncertain about the coast road to Cadaques so we declined – even though Ray was determined. We did however decide to tell Mike we had come that way.
Hurrah – it was dry all the way to Cadaques and fantastic views as we puffed our way up and squeaked my brakes down the other side. We all met up for a sunshine walk around the old town and Mike was really impressed that we had come the coastal route. I remember posing by the statue of Salvador Dali who lived and worked in Cadaques but not much more except that there was a very confused waiter and the restaurant was empty by the time we left. And did Jeff order a bottle or a litre of red wine?
Cadaques to Besalu
Oh joy oh paradise……..if you want the best mountain bike ride in Europe this is it. From Cadaques to Roses along the coast the track starts steeply but I only got off once! Then its rugged hills, fantastic views and glimpses of solitary farm buildings, beautiful doe-eyed cows (with horns) ugly bikers (without horns) and eventually a tarmac stretch leading past holiday beaches tucked into sparkling coves. Unfortunately Ray hit a rock and Nigel wasn’t there to fix his puncture this time. The saga of the split tyre began. The Sagalout phoned Saskia but a tyre could not be had in Roses and Nigel offered to ride Ray’s bike until the tyre dropped to bits……..Off he went with my sewing kit????? Jess and Mike. They were the fast group who would get to Besalu first while we remaining six, would take it a bit easier.
Half an hour later the ‘fast’ group catch us up just before we head off the main road to navigate ourselves along the quiet, now sunshiny route.
Our Ace map reader Alec finds the correct track against all odds and we cycle onwards, reaching Besalu before the ‘fast’ group arrive. Jeff’s knee has now decided it doesn’t like cycling and goes on strike. Nigel, Jess and Mike finally arrive. Nigel tells Ray he has tested his tyre by cycling an extra 20 or so miles and its still in tact. Mike drips quietly to his room.
We amble around this lovely olde Spanish town admiring the ancient bridge and cobbled walkways and return to the Hotel Siques for dinner. It’s early season and there is a limited menu but its very cheap..10euros for 3 courses! Jeff decides to go for the local dish:- stuffed apple – very strange and no potatoes, only chips. Spanish cuisine not at its best.
The more costly vegetarian dish was good.
Besalu to Olot
A beautiful buffet breakfast, a beautiful day for a beautiful ride to Olot. Nigel and Jess head off for the high spots and we opt for the lower high road. Being near the volcanic mountain area there is no flat route but our road (once we find it) takes us by poppy infused fields, a lake, quiet valleys and (eventually) a shady picnic spot where we devour our baguettes, jambon, queso and accompanying food with gusto. We have a good view of the old walled town of San Pau where we head for an ice-cream (and a beer).
Really settling into this spanish cycling now and the sun is beginning to have an effect as I drain the last of my water. We stop for a refill and Alec passes one of his bottles to Ann. It’s great travelling with two food hygienists. “Is this the bottled water or the tap water?” asks Ann. “The bottled water” answers Alec as Ann takes a mouthful……”Er no I think that’s the tap water actually” says Alec promptly followed by an explosion of tap water from Ann. It’s psychological she explained!
Mike, having been here a few days earlier leads us to the centre of town where we look up and down the narrow streets to find our pension. It’s great having Ann to chat in spanish for us and we are soon parking our bikes in the café part of the hotel which is not in use. He explains to Ann that there is work going on and apologises for the drilling which stops shortly after we arrive (luckily). Our rooms look over the square in the old part of this historic town and after a quick shower and change we head off towards the volcanoes. We (Jeff and I) manage to get lost on the way back and strangely enough find ourselves sitting down to a beer in the main square. After Mike has taken many more photos for his numerous Youtube vids, we start looking for a suitable venue to eat. It is not yet high season and we eventually find a kind of spanish Wimpey bar and indulge in yet more food and wine…………strange bean stew full of pork-like stuff but nice chips!
Olot to Girona
The drilling wakes us up just after the alarm and we head down to have breakfast next to our bikes. We cycle past a bike shop at 10.am - at last – a new tyre for Ray. The sign on the door states it opens at 9. The door opens, a man locks the door and hurries off despite Ray hanging onto his leg pleading for a tyre. Bridget decides he needs a treat and hangs out her bra from her bike bag to dry.
We cycle from our claustrophobic hotel past the Olot Yout Hostel where Mike, Jess and Nigel have been staying in splendour. The building is a grand colonial style which they said was even better inside. I definitely would have opted for that if I had known!
A few twists and turns and we are on El carrillet again amongst the fields of quiet sheep, flowers and the occasional shady gorge to cool us down. We don’t even have to pedal for some of the way as its appears to be all downhill……….Bridget gets worried as “there is always an uphill to follow” she says.
And then it appears we are being led by the Missing Link and a Hairless Wonder – Mike and Jeff take off their tops*. Happily the sky begins to cloud over and they hurriedly put them on again much to Ann’s relief. We stop for another picnic on some convenient benches and watch the clouds moving towards us. Unbelievably our lovely last day is going to be spoilt. The clouds open and Bridget, Ann and I are clarted in no time. As the rain cascades down on the Gasbags Mike tries to increase the drama by nearly getting us all killed on the busy road. He manages to hold up the traffic until Ray gets another puncture and we return to a nearby garage for repairs. (I say we but as Alec, Mike, Jeff and Ray do their boy thing, we have a snack and take photos of each others mucky feet)
They manage to delay fixing the puncture until the rain stops and we set off again in sunshine along a lovely dappled track towards Girona. About 5 miles out we loiter by a bubbling brook not wanting the ride to end. Ann got desperate and even tried to throw herself in the river, only succeeding in hurting her back unfortunately. (Mike had omitted to tell her he had just slipped on that particular rock). Not to be outdone, Bridget decided to somersault off her bike into a pothole about 10 minutes later and Jess and Nigel phoned to say we were not booked in at the Hotel!
Confusion reigned in the hotel foyer. (So no change there for a Gasbags holiday) Some of us returned our bikes to the bike shop whilst WONDERFUL Jess and Ann sorted out the accommodation in fluent, assertive spanish.
I’m not sure whether they stopped short of offering to sleep with the rather nice looking Hotel Manager, but by the time we returned we all had a room except…………………….Mike. He was found one in a nearby much posher hotel though. Phew!
A warmer walk around the old town pretending to be photographers and then strangely enough we found ourselves back at the bar by the Cathedrale and even stranger…….The China Buffet King. Our circular table awaited us and we managed to eat and drink even more than last time.
Girona to Teesside
The hankies were out as we waved Mike goodbye at Girona bus station. The plane soared towards Teesside as a lone Gasbag pedalled off to continue harassing the Catalonians until Tuesday.
21. 2010 Trans Pennine Trail – April 14th to 19th
22. 2010 The Outer Hebrides (Mike)"
23. 2010 CTC Ride including Jeff & Mike
24. 2011 The Czech Republic (Pam)
25. 2011 The Czech Republic (Mike)
26. 2011 CTC Ride to the Lakes
27. 2012 South Wales - The Celtic Trail (Mike)
28. 2012 The Alps - joint CTC & GASBAGS (Mike)
29. 2013 Andalucia - Joint CTC & GASBAGS (Mike)
30. 2013 3 Rivers Ride in Germany(Mike)
31. 2013 Tour de Menorca - joint CTC & GASBAGS (Mike)
32. 2014 Majorca - joint CTC & GASBAGS (Mike)
33. 2014 Canal du Midi in France (Mike)
34. 2015 Sardinia (Mike)
35. 2016 Croatia (Mike)
36. 2017 Menorca (Mike)
37. 2018 Galway (Mike)
38. 2019 Salento (Mike)
39. 2022 Sicily (Mike)
40. 2022 Sicily (Pam)
41. 2023 Bolzano to Padova via Lake Garda (Mike)
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