Portents of Summer, Hospitals and New Crash Helmets

I’ve said it before, this whole “getting older” thing is a vibe that i’d rather not have…though given the reality of what the alternative is, I’ll settle for my discontented lot!

Just to ram things home on the ageing theme, this past week has seen me deliver one mate to hospital for corrective neck surgery and sit talking with two others who have both just returned from hospital having received a cancer diagnosis. On the plus side, my doctor called me in for a general checkover and a host of routine tests that I am pleased to report saw Dookes given a pretty good bill of health; I am grateful.

Whilst riding this wave of positivity and also enjoying some very nice weather which brought on the blossom on in our garden, I took the opportunity to pop out and ride a few miles on both of my lovely Harleys.

There was also the added bonus of wearing my heated jacket, which eased my injured shoulder considerably, double win then!

Being out on two wheels is always a great mental tonic for me, it resets everything, puts things into perspective and because you have to totally concentrate on the job in hand, everyday troubles are washed away, even if for just a short time.

Around Dookes H.Q. in North Cornwall we are blessed with a delightful selection of great roads to enjoy and just at the moment there are few holiday visitors about, so progress is easy and very enjoyable. A trip North up the Atlantic Highway to Westward Ho! on Hettie was delightful. I had coffee near the beach at Northam Burrows, as the surf breakers rolled in under azure skies.

Another day saw Harls and I heading across Bodmin Moor, no pics this time, just all-out riding pleasure.

Both rides saw me wearing my new crash helmet. For those of you who have never wore a motorcycle crash helmet, let me explain that breaking in a new helmet is never the greatest thing. Yes it may be your size, yes it may be exactly the same model as your old helmet, which fits like a lovely comfy glove, but it will take some time to bed into your head shape…or is that that your head takes some time to bed into the new helmet?!?!?

The new Schuberth C4 Pro.

Either way, it always seems to take ages for a new helmet to go from stiff and a tad uncomfortable to fitting in a way that you don’t realise you are wearing it any more; so shorter rides are a great way to go. I’ve ridden in Schuberth helmets for many years now and I am very happy with them, no connection other than as a satisfied customer.

Pausing to grab some fuel on my way home on Harls my eye was caught by a flash of dark blue in the sky and my heart was fully lifted…the first Swallow of summer skimmed past me on silent soaring wings!

A Swallow, Hirundo rustica. Photo, Ian F.

Aristotle wrote, in the First Book of Ethics, so very long ago, “One Swallow makes no summer.”
Well, yes, but it sure is a portent that Summer isn’t so very far away and I really needed that bit of symbolism!

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

Catch you soon,
Dookes

Farkles and Sparkles: Comfort and Safety

Earlier this year I went through a slightly worrying phase: I began to question whether I should keep both of my Harley Davidson motorcycles…after all, I can only ride one at a time!

This disturbing musing then threw up another dilemma. If I was to say goodbye to one of my bikes, which one should go?

“Sensible Head” says keep the newest, Heritage Classic Hettie: she has much lower mileage, is more powerful, has modern suspension, better luggage and is generally a bit more comfortable.

“Romantic Head” says keep Centenary Softail Harls; been places, done things and got great memories of the many, many, many miles we have rolled together.

I was still pondering my self imposed conundrum when I visited the local Dealership for Hettie’s service a few weeks back. It was whilst i was waiting that I wandered around the showroom and saw the price of bikes for sale. Not just brand new bikes, but also the price of pre-owned bikes.

I wasn’t just surprised…I was totally dumbstruck by how much Harley Davidson motorcycles were selling for. A new version of Hettie for example would set me back a cool £24,500! (Thats 24,500 UK Pounds) Add into that mix the various tweeks and additions that I’ve done to her and an extra £3000 could easily disappear too…!!! A massive £27,500 in total!!!!

Time for a serious and sensible chat with the Dealer Principle about bike values. Even dear old Harls, who now is, a bit like me, viewed as a “Classic” is now appreciating in value!

Do I need to sell either bike? – No.
Do I want to sell either bike? – No.

What the hell have I been thinking about???

So I did what any sensible Harley rider should do and ordered a set of heated grips and a new LED “Daymaker” headlamp for Harls! The grips for a bit of added comfort and the nice bright headlamp for a bit of added safety.

The Dealership fitted the grips a week or so back, as previously reported, I got around to fitting the headlamp yesterday.

All was good until, after a nice test ride, I decided to give the headlamp mounting bolt an extra bit of torque and the distinctly heard something tear in my right shoulder! I dropped the wrench like I had been hit by an electric cattle prod and am now sitting writing this with my arm in a sling and stoked up on pain-killers and anti-inflammatories!!!

Oh the joys of getting older!!!

Catch you soon,
Dookes

Back In The Dealership

I have a problem, it’s pretty persistent and can flare up without warning…

It frequently happens when i walk into a Harley Davidson Dealership and usually involves parting with substantial sums of cash!

A week ago I was sitting here in Plymouth Harley Davidson, waiting for Hettie’s service to be completed thinking how nice it was riding in with her heated grips keeping my hands warm…and the thought occurred to me, “Why haven’t I ever had heated grips fitted to Harls?”

Good question Dookes…and to be honest, it has never really occurred to me in the past to fit them!

Well, that didn’t seem like a very good excuse not to have them…so i ordered a set and here I am waiting for them to be fitted! Call it my 20th Anniversary present to her!

One of the old grips, I’ve been to a lot of places holding onto those!

It’s just a shame that it’s such a crap day, weather-wise, to ride a motorcycle!
There’s reasonably heavy, no, read monsoon, rain, gusty winds, lots of spray and the roads are a slippery as hell!…Welcome to Cornwall and Devon in March!!

I’m valiantly trying, successfully so far, not to spend any more money. I am though looking forward to enjoying the new heated grips on the way home! Not that I froze on the way here, i have my heated under-jacket and gloves with me, I’ll just be a little bit more comfortable…

Nice new shiny heated grips!

Catch you soon,

Dookes

Shiny Things and the Smell of Rubber

It’s the time of year that my two lovely Harley Davidson motorcycles have their annual service. Normally, as part of the service plan I have, they get collected by the Plymouth Harley dealership and delivered back all serviced and nicely clean. That happened with Harls a few weeks back, but unfortunately not for Hettie, I’ve had to ride her to the dealership….!

Now this isn’t really an issue, I love riding my bikes even if just lately i haven’t had much time to do so, unfortunately though, this morning dawned a bit damp and soggy…oh well, suck it up and get on with it Dookes! Regular blogonaughts will know that I’m certainly not a fair weather rider, just that given the choice I’d rather avoid the wet stuff especially when the ambient temperatures are a bit on the low side. Tyres can take an age to warm up this time of year and the added fun of mud, low sun, slippery roads and this morning a liberal coating of diesel oil on a particularly tight corner made for an “interesting” 45 miles from Dookes H.Q. to Plymouth.

So here I am relaxing in the showroom of Plymouth Harley Davidson, surrounded by lots of shiny things and with the smell of rubber from new tyres, whilst Hettie gets the best attention of a Harley Davidson Technician.

I’m also sitting here in a state of shock.

Shock induced by how expensive a new Harley is these days!

There are currently 67 bikes here in the showroom and if I apply a, probably low, average price of £20,000 i calculate that I am surrounded by £1.4million worth of Harley Davidsons!

I’m not sure if that is cool….or scary!!!

Over the last few months I had been contemplating just becoming a “One Bike” rider, possibly parting with Hettie, but I’ve been wavering. This morning has firmly buried that idea, Hettie stays!!! A new Hettie, in basic form would cost me in excess of £24,300 on the road; if I then add on all the little bells and whistles that i’ve put on her it would push the new price to over £25,000!!

Hettie….this girl’s going nowhere!!!

That’s £7000 more than I paid for her!!!!…….Ho hum, it’s only money!!!

Now I must relax and breath deeply, I love the smell of a motorcycle dealership showroom!!

Catch you soon,
Dookes

PS I really need to check Hettie’s agreed insured value….

Cooking in France….again!

It had been a long tiring drive from Roscoff to the Val de Loire. OK, I didn’t make it easy by dropping in on friends across Brittany, but the last 180 miles were particularly tedious, especially the Périphérique around Nantes. We arrived at our friend Anne’s vineyard in time for aperitifs. She makes a rather special Coteaux d’Ancenis Malvoisie white wine that is….well….. to die for! It’s light, sweet, but at the same time quite forwardly acidic…all of which makes no sense at all, until you taste it; it’s heaven in a glass.

The road was telling and hurting, I hit the calvados.

Ask me to ride three to four hundred miles on a motorcycle and i’ll say “OK”…ask me to do it in a car and i’ll likely yawn!

Dookes don’t do cars!

Sunday morning dawned bright, sunny and warm.

I was still feeling yesterday’s miles, plus the effects of quite a lot of Calvados the night before!

Mrs Dookes and I wandered into the pretty village of Oudon and it’s Sunday market.

The Château du Oudon.

Un Marché le Dimanche matin is quite unusual in France and although this isn’t a big one it’s a good one. My mate Olivier was there with his olive stall, yeah, I know, “Olivier des Olives”!!!

I wandered over to Olivier as Mrs Dookes disappeared into her favourite patisserie adjacent to the market.

“Ça va Gallois? “Oui, ça va! Et tu?” “Ça va bien.”

Oliver paused to serve an annoying couple who were allowing their young daughter, of perhaps 10, to choose their olives. Maybe these, perhaps those…what do they tase like? Oliver was patient for a while, then just exclaimed “Ills ont tous le goût d’olive!” “They all taste of olive!” Father then decides and they go away happy!

I feel compelled to buy some saucisson from my friend..”Sanglier, noisettes, et bleu d’Auvergne!” Olivier exclaims, he knows me well!

Olivier looks around and produces a small bottle of Calvados, the Normandy apple brandy.

“Un pour la route eh?” One for the road indeed! The Calvados is rough, warm full of apple flavour and awakens my taste buds.

“Ok mon amis, maintenant tu vas cuisiner pour nous, le suis occupé”

“OK my friend go cook for us, i’m busy at the moment.”

“Cuisine une de ces recettes bâtardes de Normandie que tu et Floyd aime tant!”

“Cook a dish from those bastards in Normandy that you and Floyd like so much!”

We smile at each other. It”s been 13 years last Thursday that Floyd toddled off this mortal coil. I miss him dreadfully.

“OK mom amis, pour tu et pour Floyd!”

I scurry around the marché gathering the ingredients. A poulet jaune, fed with corn plump with yellow fat, haricot verts, carrots, a spaghetti squash, juicy pink garlic and as a surprise and only because a lovely lady is selling it, fresh Gnocchi: Floyd would approve. Oh and a rather special vin blanc du Chinon, one of my favourite Val du Loire wines.

Once back at our cottage I set about preparation: Floyd had a view that cooking shouldn’t be about being tied to the cooker and that the process should allow time to relax and enjoy the moment…so after prepping the chicken we went for a petit promenade along the banks of the mighty river Loire before returning to enjoy the meal and a gin and tonic before!

“Pour un Gallois tu cuisines comme d’un Français!” “For a Welshman, you cook like a Frenchman!” Oliver exclaimed. After a lot of wine and Calvados….that’ll do for me!

Et maintenant, le fromage!..cheese!

Oh…. and a bit more Calvados! I love this country and it’s people.

Here’s to you Floyd! I miss you.

Salut!

Dookes

Moor Wandering

Yeah, I know….”Where the heck have you been Dookes?”

When I took on the whole, “I’m retiring” thing, I thought that it would lead to sunlit uplands, keep that thought, time to do things as and when I wanted, lots of “free” time and a general slowing of the pace of life.

Let me tell you, forget that thought, even if you are only mildly toying with the idea of retirement!

When I was a young Dookes, just starting out in my working life, I remember various retired members of staff dropping by to say hello to their former workmates and the common theme always seemed to be “I don”t know how i ever had time to go to work!” Young Dookes thought this was extremely funny and that these old timers had somehow lost the plot with their transition into retirement…little did i know!

Now please don’t misunderstand me, i’m not complaining and yes retirement is great. The hours are certainly good, even if the pay isn’t quite what it was previously, but sunlit upland nirvana and time to do my own things whenever I want it certainly isn’t!

I’m always so bloody busy! I guess thats a direct result of being one of those people that finds it hard to say “No” if someone asks for help! Which kinda explains the lack of blog activity….

Certainly one great advantage of retirement is the ability to do things without much forward planning. A couple of weeks ago, Mrs Dookes decided to take a week off work; yes Mrs D is still working. On the spur of the moment, grabbing a window of nice weather, we decided to head for Dartmoor, only 30 minutes away from Dookes H.Q.

Dartmoor is the highest and biggest upland area in Southern Britain, covering 368 square miles and has been protected as a National Park since 1951. The landscape consists of moorland with many exposed granite hilltops known as Tors. It provides a wonderful habitat for wildlife. It’s hard country, with bogs and cliffs to test the adventurer that sets out to explore, add into the mix classic mountain weather changes and it can be dangerous for the ill prepared.

The highest point is High Willhays, 2037ft above sea level and on a clear day this peak is clearly visible from Dookes H.Q. and is somewhere I had been promising myself to visit for a long time.

High Wilhays.

Parts of the moor have been used as firing ranges since the early 1800’s so whilst the public is granted extensive land access rights on Dartmoor, its always essential to check if the military are going to be active where you plan to wander; fortunately for us they weren’t!

West Mill Tor (Left), Yes Tor (Right).

Dartmoor is known for it’s Tors, high hills topped with outcrops of bedrock granite, which are usually rounded and weathered formations. The Tors are the focus of an annual event known as the Ten Tors Challenge when around 2500 people aged between 14 and 19 hike for distances of 35, 45 or 55 miles between ten tors on varying routes. For our day out we weren’t looking to top Ten Tors, just a couple of the big ones!

On West Mill Tor, looking North East.

Over the past few months the UK has been experiencing abnormally dry weather and the infamous bogs of Dartmoor have certainly dried noticeibly, not good for bog dwelling animals or plants, but it certainly makes the life of a walker a lot easier.

Bog cotton dancing on the breeze.

What a glorious day we had. Starting from Meldon, we skirted the reservoir, with worryingly low water level. We started climbing and headed for West Mill Tor, one of the Northern most peaks, where we paused to take in the view, before turning South West to Yes Tor for a lunch break. After lunch we followed the plateau South to High Wilhays before cutting back across the contours towards the reservoir and our starting point.

Yes Tor

Great to be back on high ground again, good to be writing too, even if this isn’t very good, but hey I’m out of practice…!

Summit Cairn on High Wilhays.

Catch you soon,

Dookes

Through Others Eyes (Showing AGMA around)

OK, Dookes is bad…no posts for ages, again!
No excuses, other than life stuff constantly getting in the way…

Over the years, blogging has given me many great experiences and the opportunity to make many “on-line” friends. Some I communicate with on a regular basis, though few as much as the legendary AGMA, that’s “Ageing Gracefully My Ass” in case you were wondering!

It was an absolute delight earlier this year to hear from AGMA and learn that she and husband “Hubs” had decided to come visit Cornwall as part of one of her famous round Europe dashes! Would Dookes be available to show them around his part of Cornwall?
You bet I would!

Regular blogonaughts will know that Dookes lives in the far South West of the United Kingdom in the fair Duchy of Cornwall; a rocky, windswept, at times sunny, but ruggedly always beautiful place to live!

Sometimes though, just to keep things in perspective, you need to look at it through other’s eyes and realise just how lucky you are to live here!

Amongst places that AGMA wanted to visit was Tintagel Castle the world famous legendary birth place of King Arthur; yes him of Round Table fame!

Mrs Dookes and I have a bit of history with Tintagel so it was a pleasure to show AGMA and Hubs around the place and tell them of it’s history and legends.

The medieval ruins of Tintagel Castle

To stand on Tintagel’s island mount and look out at the wild Atlantic Ocean with AGMA made me so very grateful to live here and call this land home.

I’m pleased AGMA and Hubs enjoyed their holiday in Cornwall, we were delighted to meet them, show them around and welcome them, albeit briefly, into our lives.
We hope to see them again before too much longer!

Oh yes, before I forget. AGMA was insistent that she met my beloved Harls…no problem, you weren’t going to leave without saying “Hi” to her!

Catch you soon,

Dookes

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Hapus, Happy St David’s Day

Y Ddraig Goch, The Red Dragon

Bore da pawb. Heddiw yw Dydd Gŵyl Dewi, y Diwrnod Cenedlaethol Cymru.
Dymuniadau gorau i chi i gyd!

Good morning everyone. Today is Saint David’s Day, the National Day of Wales.
Best wishes to you all, from a rather dreary Cornwall!

All is not gloomy however, despite the dreadful events unfolding in Ukraine, daffodils, the national flower of Wales, are in bloom and with a freshly picked bunch on the table next to me, its like the sun has come into the house as well.

The world is a sombre place just at the moment, so it’s nice to have something to cheer me up!

OK, brief history lesson then:
Dewi Sant/St David was born towards the end of the 5th Century in the region of West Wales known as Ceredigion. Whilst alive he built a reputation for his preaching, teaching and simple living amongst the Celtic people. He founded a monastery at Glyn Rhosin, which became an important early Christian centre. Dewi died on 1st March 589 and was buried in what is now known as St David’s Cathedral in Pembrokeshire where his shrine became a popular place of pilgrimage.

For centuries 1st March has been a national festival in Wales with parades, concerts, poetry readings and of course traditional food all being enjoyed. Around the country not only will you see the flag of Wales, Y Ddraig Goch (the Red Dragon) being flown, but also the flag of St David, a simple yellow cross on a black field.P1030045

Today is also the time when Welsh exiles around the world remember ‘The Land of My Fathers’ and try to ease the sense of “Hiraeth” that yearning homesickness tinged with grief, nostalgia, wistfulness and pride in our identity that we often feel.

I imagine that many Ukrainians are feeling something very similar today too…

In these increasingly dangerous times, as if the world hasn’t gone through enough in the last few years, have a lovely day and in the words of St David:

“Gwnewch y pethau bychain mean bywyd.” “Do ye the little things in life.”
(And maybe offer up a little prayer for peace too!)

Hwyl fawr!
Dookes

Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i’m Gwlad.

Bike Nights and Near Normality

The world remains strange, though there are the beginnings of green shoots of normality slowly starting to emerge.

Here in Cornwall, as one of the most popular UK tourist destination areas, we are used to visitors during the summer months, but nothing like the invasion that we are experiencing this year! The prime driver of this is the continuing restrictions that the UK government have placed on all but essential foreign travel, as a result most people who would normally holiday abroad have swarmed to popular UK hot spots….and don’t we know it!

Local journeys are on average taking twice as long as normal. Narrow roads are choked with motor-homes, caravans and bewildered drivers who seemingly are unable to reverse when faced with a large tractor hauling silage; yes there is more to Cornwall than just the beaches!

The great thing is, with a motorcycle and a bit of local knowledge, you can avoid most of the holiday making madness!

Not very far from Dookes H.Q. on the stunningly beautiful north coast of Cornwall, lies the small town of Bude. Originally a harbour and fishing village, like many small coastal towns it developed into a holiday resort in the 1800’s and with the arrival of the railway in 1879 became a firm favourite of affluent Victorians.

Today the railway is gone, closed in 1966. The harbour just a shadow of it’s former glory. As a holiday destination Bude is no longer on the “must do” list for visitors to Cornwall, but it still retains a certain charm and in places, elegance.

Each Wednesday evening through the summer Bude hosts “Bike Nights” when motorcyclists of all sorts gather on the quay to drink coffee, eat donuts, hang out together and talk motorbikes in a relaxed atmosphere.

It’s great fun to see the holiday-makers giving us a wide berth; if they looked closely though, they’d notice that most of us are drawing our pensions!

It’s also great fun to have an evening out with motorcycle mates, plus a nice ride there and a nice ride back, you can’t beat it!

Pop down and see us if you are in Bude on a sunny Wednesday evening in the summer.

Catch you soon,

Dookes

It’s Not All Bad!

Today is the Summer Solstice and here in the Northern Hemisphere our longest day of the year. It should be warm and sunny, but instead it’s miserable…which sort of matches my mood. Actually that’s been caused by a dose of computer grief, always guarenteed to wind me up!

Normally in the Dookes calendar, this time of year I would be riding Harls on the high mountain roads of the Alps or Pyrenees.

Er..don’t tell Mrs Dookes that I rode up here!!!


At present though, life is still anything but “Normal.”

It’s virtually impossible to travel abroad from the U.K. at the moment and like a lot of sensible people I’m also feeling very much less than enthused with the idea. Apart from the trifling matter of health and travel insurance, there’s also the balls-ache and cost of Covid tests before travel and the same in reverse….and that’s assuming that your country destination of choice will even let you in!

Oh and yes, I’ve had my two shots of vaccine!

Foreign travel is just not worth the hassle when I live in such a beautiful place and can enjoy riding around here.

Cornish roads, you can’t beat them.


Which is exactly what my mate Mark and I did last Friday.

First a gentle trundle to Port Isaac to collect an order of shellfish for Mrs Dookes.

Port Isaac is a working fishing village on the North Cornwall coast and if I take the direct route, only around 25 minutes from Dookes H.Q….we didn’t take the direct route!

The harbour, Port Isaac.


It’s a lovely little place with tight streets and alleys that has been made famous by a television drama called “Doc Martin.” Needless to say this has had the effect of attracting thousands of tourists, most of whom understand that the village is not solely a film set.

Hmm, tight!


There are however who, well let’s just say don’t understand and wander aimlessly around blissfully unaware that business and life is still happening.

In other words “Get out of the way!”

Fortunately, Harls rather meaty engine exhaust note has the effect of drawing attention to the fact that they are standing in the middle of the road…

Once the visitors were avoided and the food was stowed in one of Harls’ panniers, it was time to ride off and find some good coffee.

Can you spot Dookes???


A hundred miles later a very happy Dookes arrived home.

Yeah, it’s not the Alps, but it’s not half bad round here either!

Catch you soon.

Dookes