Silly Season and Slippery Stuff

Living in the beautiful County of Cornwall in the South West of England has it’s advantages. For example, we are surrounded by sea, well on three sides anyway! The scenery is generally fantastic, not like the French Alps, but very easy on the eye. The local produce, particularly the sea food and the famous Cornish Pasty is renown the world over. All of which at this time of year leads to one thing, yep that’s right, hoards of visitors, holiday-makers…or as we call them in these parts, Emmetts!

Most of the time these in-comers are pretty benign. They add millions of pounds to the local economy, which in turn provides jobs in tourism, catering, hotels and other service industries. The cost, however, is borne by the infrastructure and most noticeably the roads. We have a joke around here about public holidays, the extra day off is provided because you need an extra day to get anywhere! The last week most of the schools finished for the summer, so this weekend has heralded the beginning of “The Silly Season” as the liberated masses headed off on holiday.

Harley and I hit the road very early on Saturday morning and headed West along the A30, the main arterial highway through Cornwall. Every lay-by across the fifteen miles of Bodmin Moor was jammed up with caravans and motorhomes and even at six thirty in the morning the traffic was both heavy and driving along like total morons! The outside lane was busier than lane one as the overloaded masses lumbered towards the seaside disregarding all laws of the road….you all know my views about most British car drivers by now, but this was my worst nightmares all rolled out as one and right on my doorstep! Oh the joy of another six weeks like this, until they all go home for the winter! That said the weather was superb and it was great to be out, mind you I have ridden Harley just about everyday since returning from France…I just can’t get enough of that bike!

Later in the day we headed up to Plymouth Harley Davidson, via the A38, to buy some bits and pieces, the traffic was still heavy, but as we were generally heading against the flow of holiday traffic it wasn’t too bad, especially in ‘street fighter’ mode! Unlike In France, the British car driver always seems determined to make life difficult for us bikers; little tricks like driving over to the right as much as possible, blocking at junctions and racing at the end of a dual carriageway. Pretty dumb really, as most motorcycle riders are going to be quicker, much more nimble in an overtake and yes, better trained to boot and also as car drivers ourselves know the difference in relative performance between the two machines! Rant over, for now!

I said I needed some bits, actually I wanted to give Harley an oil change as we have been racking up the old mileage since the service in Spring. It has been said that oil is cheap, but engines ain’t, and I certainly buy into that sentiment! This afternoon I jacked Harley up on the workshop stand and set to work. It’s not a difficult job, nor,  if you get it right, very messy…except for removing the old oil filter which is as messy as it gets, cos H-D designed the thing to lay on its side and when you unscrew it at least half of it’s contents of old oil have got to run out, it’s a gravity thing! This what it looks like when the filter is off.imageYes, I’d cleaned up the majority of the spill! And with the new filter fitted it looks like this..image

Three point three litres of this good stuff later.imageOnce all the work was done and the engine was bench tested it was time for a road test, just to make sure all was well. So we headed out onto Bodmin Moor for a gentle(ish) test ride.

She felt fine, but the Emmetts were still in evidence! As I put in an overtake on a heavily loaded Peugeot, with a big Wigan Athletic sticker on the rear window I was treated to cigarette ash being flicked out of the window into my face, nice. Passing the idiot, I gave the driver a suitable glare as he flicked more ash out of the window with his right hand, whilst holding a mobile phone to his ear with the left hand! I can only assume that he had very cleaver knees or was concealing a midget in his crotch who was steering for him!!!! Perhaps his name was William, William Anchor!

I stopped Harley for a quick check, all was well, so I grabbed a quick photo and headed back to Dookes H.Q.. Time to get the barbecue going!

image“I need a shot of salvation baby, once in a while…”

Dookes

 

Simply Gorge-ous

imageAt the summit of Ventoux the temperature was naturally cooler, there’s a clue in the name, vent = wind in French, it’s an altitude thing you know! Dropping into Malaucene it had soared.

We turned north to Nyon and picked up the gorge of the River Eygues, which closes in to spectacular vertical cliffs around St May.

imageWe took a breather and enjoyed a leisurely late lunch, more local fruit, in the cool of the gorge.

imageDriving through the gorge I noticed a number of springs at the roadside that had been turned into shrines, complete with troughs and in a couple of cases cross. Whilst we were having lunch a large truck pulled up and the driver went over to the spring, splashed himself with some water then signed himself with the cross and stood obviously saying a prayer. He then took some water in his hands and splashed it on his truck before driving off. I was intrigued by this ritual, which was repeated about fifteen minutes later by a car driver. I figured that this spring must have some significance, so before I set off I washed my hands in it and splashed some on Harley for luck. Five minutes later down the road, it poured down in the short violent way it can do in the mountains, darn it, forgot the prayer!

We stopped the night just outside Gap, a nice town that claims to be the southern gateway to the Alps.

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….a claim that could just about be correct!

Just finished breakfast, time to roll.

“Long live rock and roll!”

Dookes

 

Hot Stuff!

Phew, what scorcher today has been!

Harley and I got away from Tudela at 09:30 and promptly found heavy traffic for nearly twenty miles until we got onto the Autopista, then we virtually had the road to ourselves! The sun was pretty unforgiving, even at that time of the morning and the temperature was already well into the mid twenties Celsius. The landscape remained quite parched, though nowhere near as arid as our desert exploits saw last evening. We skirted Zarragoza, a large mess in Ebro valley. I know it has nice parts, but the industrial sprawl that has surrounded the old city kinda spoils it for me. The regional names around those parts always seem quite romantic to me; Navarra, Aragon (where Catherine, Henry VIII’s first wife came from) and then Catalonia. The Autopista is a toll road, not cheap, but sure gets you there quicker than the National Routes. I grabbed this quick shot at a toll booth to show the typical scenery that went on for miles and miles!

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We cruised into Llieda, for fuel and a visit to the Harley Davidson Dealership where we were made very welcome….all of the staff were ladies. Excellente! The cathedral citadel towers above the old town.

20140617-202537-73537240.jpgWhilst the city park looked cool and inviting through the imposing gates.

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One of the many things I love about my Harley is the way she enables me to engage with complete strangers. By the park gates was just such an example, a group of teenagers gathered around admiring her and I soon realised by their use of signing that they were deaf. One of the lads indicated to me to blip the throttle and when I duly obliged, great merriment ensued, the lad indicated to me that they could feel the vibrations in their stomachs! Try sitting on her for 200+ miles pal, you’ll know what vibration is then! Well actually no, she doesn’t vibrate much at all really, but I digress. Others rushed to the back of Harley to put their hands in the exhaust as it exploded from the pipes, never have I seen such happiness gained from feeling the air vibrate in such a way! After a few minutes of such goofing about, I had to say farewell to our new friends and hit the road. We turned the corner out of sight and stopped, so I could wipe a tear away. That bloody motorbike frequently has a way of putting life into perspective for me and reminding me of how lucky I am for so many things! It’s just one of the reasons that I love her so much, got tears in my eyes again thinking about that moment…
After Llieda, we turned north and started the slow climb to the Pyrenees. I was looking forward to getting some altitude and hopefully cooler air. The land soon began to grow towards the sky and the valleys narrowed as we found harder geology.
Halfway it was time for lunch, fresh apricots and peaches from a roadside stall. Why can’t we have stuff like this in the UK…? Oh yes, cos it’s too bleeding cold and wet! Nice view though.

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After a bit more climbing we arrived in the Principality of Andorra and clocked up another country that Harley has graced, that’s six so far! Naturally we just had to visit the H-D dealership, which is not only one of the newest in Europe but probably the most exclusive…until one opens in Monaco!
Now this place, Andorra, is something else…
It’s a bit of an anachronism, the place that the Moors never got around to grabbing when they took over Spain and subsequently no-one else has bothered with! It’s supposed to be a tax haven and also cos it’s tax free a shoppers paradise…well not exactly! Looking at the dealer tee shirt that I bought in Llieda it was €25 before tax, but here in Andorra the same shirt was €27, that’s two bucks more expensive in real terms!!!!! Get this too, Andorra ain’t even in the EU, let alone the Euro zone, but hey any cash will do! The drivers gain my “Most bonkers in Europe” award, the blanket speed limit is 50kph, but now and again there is a 200metre stretch of 60kph, just watch ’em go! That’s when the driver of a Porsche 4WD found out a Harley goes faster, just had to be done! Bizarrely, the fastest stretch of road in Andorra is in the Twin Valleys Tunnel at 80kph, I dunno why either…! Gotta say that I’m not over struck with Andorra, a mate says it’s good for skiing but apart from the highest capital city in Europe I don’t think it’s got that much to offer, give me the Alps any day!
The view out of my room.

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Catch ya later!

“Riding down the highway, stoppin’ in the byways, playin’ rock and roll.”

Dookes

In memory of Piran, an old git, but a true friend!
Yesterday don’t matter when it’s gone.

Desert Exploration

imageimageimageimageimageYes, honestly, a real desert…

Right, cards on the table. This trip does not have a theme like many of my other adventures. Well OK, it is about the pure unbridled pleasure of riding my beloved Harley, but we are not chasing fictional spies or following in the historical footsteps of anyone. The trip doesn’t even have a name, though I am open to suggestions! There are, however, one to two places that we are going that I have long had on the old Dookes radar. Tonight the destination was the Bardenas Reales Natural Park.

This is an extensive semi-desert unpopulated area of nearly 42,000 hectares in the South East of Navarra. It has a unique landscape with high cabezos cliffs, raised plateaus, hidden ravines and eroded land forms matched by few places on earth. There are three main areas but tonight we only had time to head for the most spectacular, La Bardena Blanca.

The landscape is jaw dropping amazing. It’s evolution began about 20 million years ago when the depression was marsh and inland sea. Geological changes then caused the land to drain to the north and further shifting of the rocks brought about a tilt that reversed the flow of the Rio Ebro to drain into the Mediterranean. The alluvial deposits became soft mudstones with sandstones capping them. Over time, weathering has attacked the landscape wearing the mudstones and silts away quicker than the sandstone and leaving behind a spectacular and changing scenery. The area receives minimal rainfall and is officially Europes largest desert.

The rock formations are amazing, best of all is Cabezo de Castildetierra which is a fragile finger pointing skywards and literally in the middle of nowhere! Access to the park is via gravel tracks, which certainly  puts off many visitors and I must admit that under normal circumstances I would not have dreamed of taking Harley off Tarmac, but you don’t get to drive in a desert everyday! So….off we went, slowly, very slowly!  You can see from the pictures that Harley certainly got the dust in her toes and by the time we got back on real roads certainly looked a tad weathered! The whole place has a touch so Area 51 about it, engendered by the presence of a large military zone complete with barbed wire sentry towers and signs basically telling you to go away….I didn’t see any UFO’s though!

Sorry that the photos are in one block, but at least I got them posted! If the photos remind you of anything, well, think Spagetti Western and you’ll be spot on as many of them were filmed around these parts. As Clint once said “With the Rojos on one side and the Baxters on the other, a man could make money here…..”

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair”

Catch you all later, off to the High Sierras, in cowboy speak, next!

Dookes

 

Hola Espania!


Well, my wish for no rain in Spain was granted! Lovely warm weather saw us into Santander just after midday. The beaches were golden whilst the hills beyond looked brooding with high cloud. Unfortunately Harley and I with over a hundred other motorbikes were stuck on the lower vehicle deck for over forty five minutes whilst all of the other vehicles were disembarked! It was like a sauna, only with motorbikes in there with you as well, not pleasant!

Once we were released, the Spanish authorities could not have assisted more and we all flew through passport control and customs without any further hold up. Harley and I hit the Cantabrian Autopista and sped eastwards. Traffic was ok, a little busy round Bilbao but soon thin to almost nothing on the AP68 as we headed towards the red soils of Rioja and the Ebro valley. The Region of Rioja is rightly famous for its splendid red wines, made largely from the tempranillo grape and acres of vines can be seen stretching away for miles. Now I have seen quite a few wine producing areas around the place, but Rioja takes the prize for the sheer scale of the cultivation. The vines are small, but boy are there a lot of them!

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The road was quite simply fantastic, lots of European cash has been invested in the Spanish transport network and the roads have got to be amongst the best anywhere, a real joy to ride.

“I’m just glad to be here, happy to be alive.”

Dookes

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ii

Cast Off!

Well here we are again on my favourite ship in the Brittany Ferries fleet, the MV Pont Aven. I’ve written all the statistics about her before, so if you really want the details either look back at previous posts, way back, or go Google! Anyway, she’s more cruise liner than ferry and definitely more Pullman than tourist. She’s the Flag-Ship of the BF fleet and I love her!

The ship is very busy today, being outside the school holidays the clientele are definitely, shall we say more “mature”! Let’s put it this way, most of them make me feel pretty young….! By the time we were manoeuvring out of port all of the deck chairs were nabbed and rearranged into tight defensive enclaves that reminded me of the film ‘Zulu’!

Like I hoped, the run to the port was lovely and sunny. Harley purred along contentedly, like me probably happy to be on the move, whilst I got used to riding her fully loaded up. It’s a funny thing how different she handles when all the gear is strapped to her, but after about twenty miles it seems normal.

As we passed through Plymouth I mused how glad I was to often set sail from that port. Not because I either have any affection nor wish any ill on the place, it’s just that you know as you ride to the port that anywhere else is going to be better! I can hear the knives being sharpened in City Hall as I type! Let’s put it this way, Plymouth certainly has it’s nice parts; The Hoe, The Barbican and erm…? Yeah, it’s a biggish city, sea port, naval base, transport hub (or was until the airport was closed!) and shopping centre, but it ain’t exactly up there with London, Chicago, Barcelona or Rome! What is does have going for it, both for me and probably millions of others, is that is the springboard to adventure and has been for hundreds of years. It’s the place that the Pilgrim Fathers sailed from to the ‘New World’, it vies with Portsmouth to be known as the home of the Royal Navy and was formerly the last stop, via tender, for the great Ocean Liners as they fought for the Blue Ribband of the North Atlantic. Quite a pedigree and to be honest, it’s still doing great business today. Well done Plymouth!

Now, if only your football team wasn’t so bad…..!

“There’s a feeling I get when I look to the west and my spirit is calling for leaving.”

Dookes

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This Time Tomorrow, Where Will We Be?

On a spaceship somewhere, sailing across an empty sea….

Or in my case on a big white ship sailing across the Bay of Biscay, to Santander in northern Spain.  Yes people, the next adventure is about to begin!

Amazingly for the start of a Dookes trip, it’s not raining! How many times have I set off in the wet stuff? Can’t remember to be honest, but today looks like Harley and I will at least arrive at Plymouth Port Terminal looking smart! Weather forecast along our route looks favourable at the moment too, so screw it, lets ride!

I’ve got the usual mix of emotions before a big trip; excitement, nervous and just impatient to get going. Harley looks the business, continental headlight fitted and new rear tyre nicely scrubbed in all set to go. It’ll be cool if you all tag along again! The ship sails at 16:00BST, don’t miss it!

“Come on with me, tramps like us, baby we were born to run.”

Dookes

 

D-Day 70 Years On. Remembering Heroes.

When Harley and I visited Normandy earlier this year we were privileged to be able to visit some of the famous D-Day beaches and contemplate the events of 70 years ago when the liberation of Europe from Nazi dictatorship began. Much is said about the actual landings on the beaches, but I mentioned then about the contribution that airborne troops also made to the operation. Sometimes I feel that this vital contribution is not given the full focus that it deserves, because without it the whole operation would not have been the success that it was. I am not decrying what happened on the beaches, merely drawing attention to the oft forgotten massive contribution by the airborne operation

In the hours leading up to D-Day itself, 6th June 1944, 13,000 allied airborne troops either parachuted into occupied Normandy or arrived by glider under cover of darkness. They had set out from fifteen airfields across southern England and crossed over the English Channel in a massive stream of 220 aircraft that was described as being nine aircraft wide and five hours long! Soldiers from all of the allied nations were involved, but the majority were British and American. Let me tell you a little about one of those American soldiers.

Daniel L. Reiling was a classic Mid-Western American kid, he didn’t have the easiest of starts in life, he never knew his father and at times life was a little tough. Determined to get on in life he joined the U.S Army as a career soldier. He progressed well through the ranks and married a good-looking girl from Chicago, named Florine, whose father owned restaurants and whose mother came from Britain. By the time that the war in Europe was raging Daniel was a Sergeant in the 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment. Soon he found himself and his men crossing the Atlantic to Britain on a troop-ship which constantly zig-zagged to dodge the deadly threat of Nazi U-boats. On arrival in the U.K. the troops were posted to various locations for more training and preparations. Some lucky ones managed to get leave, which Daniel did and took the opportunity to visit his wife’s family, though by all accounts the poor chap was suffering from influenza and spent a fair bit of his leave in bed being looked after by his wife’s uncle, my Grandfather William. You see now that there is a big family connection here!

Following his leave, Daniel returned to his unit and began the final preparations for the Liberation of Europe. His regiment was allocated to two airbases, RAF Membury and RAF Greenham Common. Unfortunately, we have not been able to ascertain yet exactly which one Daniel’s platoon was at, but we will! On the evening of 5th June 1944 the various airfields involved swung into action. At Greenham Common, General Eisenhower, the Supreme Allied Commander, dropped in to encourage the troops. IMG_0343Men and equipment were prepared and loaded onto the C-47 transport aircraft which at the assigned time taxied to the runways and began to take off. Sergeant Daniel L. Reiling and his men would have been dressed in full combat kit armed with a variety of weapons, they sat in total darkness inside the noisy vibrating fuselage of the C-47 as it took off and turned South towards Normandy.IMG_0342Once over the French coast the pilots took the aircraft down to the jumping altitude of 500 feet  The green jump light came on at 00:48 and Daniel threw himself out into the Normandy night, landing in a field near to Saint Martin de Varreville and set about making life difficult for the Germans! By 06:30 St Martin had been captured and shortly after the German garrison at Mésières was taken as well.  Five days later the town of Carentan was liberated after fierce fighting that included a bayonet charge. The 502nd then moved to assist in the capture of Cherbourg before stepping down for regrouping and rest, before rejoining the war and fighting their way across Europe, finally capturing Hitler’s private residence and many senior Nazis at Berchtesgaden in May 1945.

By the end of the conflict Daniel had been promoted to Master Sergeant and shortly after was promoted to Sergeant Major, one of the youngest in the Army. Later he was to see action in Korea and became an officer, finally rising to the rank of Major.

During WWII and the Korean War, Daniel was in a total of 13 major campaigns. In all that fighting he was wounded in the leg during the Ardennes offensive near Bastogne, but never received the Purple Heart. He won two Bronze and one Silver Star plus several other wartime decorations. Sadly, he died young in January 1969. I guess you could say he lived a full life, a real american hero, a John Wayne kind of guy. In our family we are all incredibly proud of him; none more so than my cousins, Florine, Peter, Paul and Marianne.

Over the last few weeks I have been able to visit the remains of both RAF Membury and Greenham Common. There’s not much left at either place to recall events of 70 years ago. There is however, another old base about 60 miles away from Dookes H.Q. that also played a prominent role in that airborne assault, RAF Upottery, here there is still quite a lot to see. Last evening I took the opportunity to make a pilgrimage with Harley and my mate Greg to the old airfield and remember the events that unfolded on that fateful night.

It was a super evening to be on a motorcycle and riding through the beautiful Devon countryside I pondered if it was like this all those years ago? An old sentry post is now a memorial to those young men who left to fight in mainland Europe. P1010770The old airbase was quiet and still and much has reverted to farmland, though the runways, control tower and a few other buildings remain. P1010774Just by luck we met the local farmer who gave us permission to go on the site. It was with some awe that I turned Harley onto the main runway, the strip of concrete and tarmac from which 81 C-47’s took off, this was hallowed ground indeed! It seemed fitting that an American motorcycle was visiting the place where so many young American soldiers took off, some never to return.

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In some places the grass is beginning to win.

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After spending some time soaking up the atmosphere, we decided to leave the ghosts of the past to enjoy the sunset. As we rode off the airfield we were aware of other people who were gathering to pay their respects as well. DSCF3394

Stopping to chat with one guy he observed that we have much to be thankful for, we have indeed; like a super ride home west into a crimsoning sky on a growling Harley Davidson! I’d like to think that those young paratroopers would have approved!

Dookes

 

The battle patch of the 502nd, I think that this will look good on my leathers!

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Dedicated to all those who came by air in 1944.

 

 

 

 

 

I Wanna Live The way I Like!

This is really bad, it’s nearly a month since my last post on the Blog!

I am really sorry to all you good people for being so tardy at keeping in touch, lets just say that life sometimes gets in the way of a good ride….but not often!

Harley and I are well and getting ourselves organised for our next road trip and as you can guess we need a fair bit of practice out on the road together, it makes sense really! Last Saturday the sun came out just after lunch and it would have been remiss not to take advantage and do some head clearing! We headed West to begin, as I have said before I just love riding across Bodmin Moor, especially when the sun is out! Harley and I then hung a sharp left and swung towards the South East corner of Cornwall. Traffic was reasonable for the last weekend of school half term. We ended up at St Germans Quay on the estuary of the River Tiddy. Unfortunately the tide was out, so it’s more the Muddy than the Tiddy, but the view of the railway viaduct was pretty cool, you guys know that I love big bridges! In a previous career I once walked across that, honest!20140531_155842 …and looking downstream. 20140531_155941Anyway, back to the biking… The next trip starts on Sunday 15th June, so please put that in the old diary! We are going to take the ferry down to Spain; try to find Andorra cos it’s kinda small; then to the Camargue; Alps; Italy; Burgundy….you get the idea! I have promised to lighten up on the Blog this time, Big John thought the last trip got a bit “heavy”. Well, yes it did, but then it was a pretty emotional experience, but your support was great and I do appreciate that! So I will get back to the irreverent humour that I am notorious for!

Harley is going to need a new back tyre before we go away, that’s next weekend’s job, got 8000 miles out of the old one! With a new tyre comes the need to scrub it in with a few miles before going nuts with it. Oh hell, just gonna have to get out and ride again…life can be a real sod sometimes!

It’s TT week over on the Isle Of Man, lets hear it for Guy Martin on the Tyco Suzuki, crazy dude, but he deserves to win it! Sparky Paul and a few mates have gone over there camping, which means it will probably rain again! Thinking of you fellas.

Thinking of someone else, it’s a big “Get Well Soon” to Wilko Johnson, ace guitarist of amongst other bands Dr Feelgood, who has just got out of hospital after major pancreatic cancer surgery. Here’s hoping that you’re doing OK Wilko! …and for the rest of you, grab a listen to his album “Going Back Home” with Roger Daltrey, magic stuff! IMG_0336Catch you all soon.

‘I wanna live the way I like, sleep all the morning, goin’ to get my fun at night!’

Dookes

Maybe Holiday

Sometimes I get the urge to write, but then sitting looking at the empty screen with the cursor dumbly blinking at me my mind goes blank. What was it I was so desperate to say? Perhaps I just needed that interface with the means of broadcasting my thoughts? I dunno, often that’s the moment to say, “Screw it, lets ride!” Riding is sure a good way of getting the old head back together, you have to immerse yourself totally in what you are doing or you end up in the ditch!

This has been a holiday weekend in the UK, people everywhere heading for the D.I.Y. stores or the beach, still a bit cold for me on the beach for me at this time of year! Loads to do in the garden though. Saturday morning saw a quick clamber underneath the Dookes-Mobile car, to change the rear shocks. The left side had started leaking and its good practice to replace the pair, not a tough job, an hour and a half tops, I’d rather pay someone else to work on cars, but as this is a holiday weekend I had to do it myself, shot shocks are dangerous. I don’t exactly detest the work, but I can think of a million other things I’d rather do! Unfortunately the endless grass cutting that followed was not exactly high on that list either! I know I go on about the bloody green stuff of which we have nearly an acre, used to have more before I planted hundreds of trees, and yes I know how lucky we are to have the space…so I’ll shut up being disingenuous and enjoy the view when its all cut!

Number one favourite other thing to do being…yeah you know! On Sunday, Harley and I hit the road!

Not a mega ride, just a bit of head time on a glorious loop around Cornwall. For a Holiday Sunday the traffic was very light. Not too many Sports Bike People in their colour coordinated leathers and boots as well! Bodmin Moor looking good as always, I love that place which is just as well cos we live there!DSCF3378

Harley and I did about a hundred miles, like I said not the biggest ride ever, but you know sometimes it’s not about quantity, it’s quality that matters! My Harley sure delivers that in bucket loads.

Unusually for a holiday weekend the weather has stayed good. Today, Monday, I have promised not to bugger off again on two wheels; not to cut more grass and not to disappear into either the Man-Cave or Man-Lab….what the hell am I going to do?IMG_0348

Anyway, thinking ahead, I plan to be off on another adventure in mid June. This time taking in Spain, Andorra, The Camargue, Italian and French Alps…. you get the drift! Before that another family pilgrimage in connection with D-Day. Stick with me, this is just gonna get more interesting…again!

“I was born in a cross-fire hurricane….”

Dookes