Slowlycatchymonkey

Today is ferry day. Theres not far to go and forecast is warm/hot and sunny, slight cloud no rain.. apparently! I dress accordingly, light summer clothing and a mesh jacket, the forecast soon becomes very wrong. It’s a torrential downpour that just doesn’t stop, well maybe it does briefly when you’re so high in the mountains the zero visibility cloud shrouds you and can’t see more that 2 feet ahead. Had a nice little stop before the shitstorm hit at a garage that sold one of my favourite road snacks- Conguitos. Spains much loved cringey illustrated chocolate covered peanuts, then the heavens opened. So so wet and cold with only a waterproof jacket over the mesh and no waterproof trousers I can’t feel my hands or feet that are sloshing around in boots filled to the brim with rain water. Then the inevitable phone thing happens “liquid detected” and charging stopped but that wasn’t all that stopped. So did the navigation, although completely stopping would have been a blessing over the strange conniption that kept directing us up the mountain away from the port. The Brittany ferry website telling us its clearly signposted couldn’t have been further from the truth, there were no signs, zero. Mr Slowly thinks they must have changed the layout and not replaced the signs. After several loops in among many other lost vehicles we are separated. I eventually stop in a side road despairing at the satnav trying to direct me back up up the mountain again so I sit in a bus stop looking at my phone willing it to work and hoping the incessant rain will stop. It didn’t, it got a lot heavier and by now I’m so cold I can’t stop shaking. I briefly consider giving up and finding a hotel before a sudden wave of “fuck you sat nav” washed over me and I let my phone know “youre a piece of shit, its a fucking ferry, its going to be at sea level not up a sodding mountain” and headed back to the seafront. Five BMW riders who had passed me 15 minutes earlier whilst sat in my bus stop funk suddenly appeared behind me looking as pissed off as I was. We went our separate ways as they were clearly still trying to follow sat nav and wouldn’t make it, eventually somehow I found my way in to the heaving port to find a relieved Mr Slowly. Mr Slowly shows his true feelings and I manage a smile of relief before resuming a resting bitch face He’d had an angry man in a spanky new range rover shout out the window at him “ARE YOU GOING TO THE PORT? RIGHT IM FOLLOWING YOU” to which he replied you can mate but I can’t find the fucking way in either. He went puce and left He then spied a policeman and rode up a pedestrianised part to ask him how the hell to get into the port, the policeman replied its almost impossible, he should ignore the restricted access signs and to ride though the pedestrians until he reached on the other side of the road, can’t imagine that happening here! Eventually the understandably stroppy BMW riders turned up and we all whined about the lack of any signage and crap satnav. We quickly destroyed the calm clean cabin with wet clothes hanging everywhere and got a couple of bottles of Chablis from the piano bar, purely medicinal you understand, my pruned feet and fingers were unhappy at the fast change from a blue freezing cold to a raging red hot and needed a dose of painkiller. Wannabe trench foot and chilblain fingers The bay of biscay is known for rough seas but the previous crossing lulled us into a false sense of security and we weren’t prepared for what was coming next My favourite anti-emetic (chocolate coated stem ginger) hadn’t faired well in the heat and had the appeal of a dog turd so we just settled for laying there feeling sick. Yum yum We dock the next day and everyone departs for the passport control queue in Plymouth. This is the smaller bike parking side the other side of the boat is even more packed. Ah warm sunshine again We head back home in the long forgotten horrible traffic of the UK both of us having close encounters of the blind cage driver variety, grateful to see our front door a couple of hours later. We now have just one day to unpack and repack before the Adventure Biker Festival which I plan to spend mostly asleep

Stop reading it you wally.

The next day is gloriously uneventful, the temperature had dropped to a pleasant 28 degrees and the route was again short. Leaving earlier before the sun switched on its full beams made for a pleasant ride. Madrid can be a difficult spot to navigate past as all roads lead there, all signs direct you to it and road numbers are shared, 5 or 6 of the same road numbers either side of a split in the road is normal! Most of it makes sense but theres so much information on their gantry boards its hard to take it all in before theyre gone from view! Its sunday and as is the way the in Spain supermarkets are shut. The food flasks pay dividends and the experimental kitchen dehydration bent I went on meant back up food was available, the food flask Jambalaya tasted good! Blue Peter style heres some stuff I dehydrated earlier. Vacuum packed into flask sized portions with rice n stock needs just a bit of boiling water. I can imagine you all excitedly rushing into your kitchens right now We arrive at Motel Emporio in good time. This is one of the weirdest places I’ve ever stayed. Its cheap, about 39 euros a night. Your bedroom door literally opens onto a garage where your bike is securely parked. You see no-one, the reception is shielded in the same prison mid grey of the rest of the building, you put your passport into a metal post office style parcel exchange box. The food is served through a hatch hidden in your wardrobe which you sign and pay for seeing no more than a hand! When I read the menu I realise this perfectly convenient well reviewed stop is a bit seedy... total anonymity and the room has a strange huge wooden cabinet in it filled with dvds you can pay to watch, many mainstream films, many not.. hot thing takes a lot of lovin’ etc, the hotel supplies menu includes many normal items, toothpaste, toothbrush, soap.. lubricant, condoms.. oh Yes Six you can have the address.

Bikes packed, oil topped up, chains lubed, tyre pressure checked and fuelled up for the off just carrying food supplies and a small case for the ferry leaving enough room for my Pops duty free order All good to start with until the real heat hit us, the wind was so hot if you opened your visor your eyeballs would dry out immediately. It was like riding into a fan heater. The bike temp gauge rose 36, 38, 42, 44, 47, 50, 52… this temp is effected by the engine heat but as I’m sitting on top of this blazing hot engine it still counts! If you were sweating you didn’t know about it because in the hot wind you were being desiccated in a fan oven The roads were empty- everyone else had wisely heeded the warnings and stayed at home. We stopped for a break and I poured water into my clothes. I felt just a moments relief before the water heated up too but it probably helped when riding more than I could tell. A vehicle appeared along side both of us for sometime, I assumed he was viewing the bikes as sometimes happens but no he was concerned we were alright and took some reassuring we were fine.. we’re British and accustomed to making dumb ass moves like this I try to ignore the plumes of smoke I can see billowing off some industrial looking site and the motorway warnings saying ‘Risego Extremo Excendio’ but still find I’m constantly checking the direction of the wind at each change in direction! We arrive exhausted hours later than anticipated at Casa Tio Lola in Puerto Lápice to a friendly welcome and.. what’s this gift from the gods.. aircon! Unusual accommodation all facing into a cobbled courtyard. I loved the roof tiles, bet @Grasshopper's Ride would have been able to take a pic that does them justice! Quickly stripping off for a shower before heading to the bar next door for an icey G&T revealed the heat had swollen my hand into a vile sausagemeat and Spains fan oven had started the cooking process! The next day the aircon (plus my superpowers ) meant they had largely recovered! The towns library is opposite the accommodation, it’s a large proud building in a town with nothing much in it. It’s also known for a butchers selling “the finest suckling lamb in Spain” but standing over a hob cooking with my own fingers already fried wasn’t on my agenda so I’ll never know!

Now short on time there’s much packing cleaning and handing over of stuff to the lovely Juan who is going to store our stuff while we’re home for the summer. We still manage some riding and for one last bimble head out on the coastal road to Almeria. Great road, smooth empty tarmac and warm sunshine. Too warm! We stop in La Rabita in search of a cold drink. La Rabita is down in the dumps, from a coastal tourists point of view its in a no-mans land, too far from Malaga or Alicante with nothing there to bother travelling for. But its hot so we sit for a while in the tatty chiringuito with the locals busy anaesthetising themselves in the sunshine and enjoy a cold drink with a nice view. We’d left the ride a bit late, it was getting too hot so we head back via the supermarket for supplies. I got fed up carrying my lid round but wanted to avoid that bike wrecking disease - peterstopboxisjumbanormasitis This unlikely supermarket find fell into my trolley, being open to kismet (and still shaking off the fear from the jelly tyre escapade) I reluctantly moved into this century.. which I expect to be unreliable, break and cause me to curse On the way back someone steps out in front of Mr Slowly without even hinting they were going to move, they were staring at some sort of iPad and without even looking up strode out. Mr Slowly braked hard and managed to avoid them but at the cost of himself and his bike having a slide! Mr Slowly who had very reluctantly donned his mesh jacket that day is now a convert! Unfortunately his bike then wouldn’t start so we pushed it to the side of the road and left it for 10 mins but it still wouldnt start Meanwhile back at home.. my son rings to say he needs some advice, the shopping had been delivered along with some chaos. As my son and the driver were both green behind the ears what should they do? Seems such a big deal when you’re young, when you get older its hard to elicit any response above “oh dear” With that sorted we wondered WTF we would do if the bike having a long rest wasn’t enough and it got stuck in Spain while MOT expired?! Theres no way you’d make that 1300 mile journey undetected! We hatched a plan to wait til the evening when it would rested long enough for any jumbled fluid to settle and if it decided not to start it would at least be cool enough to push it the half a mile the the garage.. it fired into life and saved a lot of aggravation, big relief. Is time to get ready for tomorrows departure The Himalayan chain wasn’t a pretty sight so I tried out Petes favourite pastime.. I can see the appeal but its pretty powerful and this is an Enfield so I kept the washer away from the rest of my chocolate teapot! Didn’t understand some of this sign, think says don’t be a tit with the pressure washer. Google translate wasn’t a lot of help, its been having a bit of a laugh lately, when Juan was trying to tell us about the storage its said I was Venus and do I like pizza, flustered the poor guy a bit The weather forecast wasn’t good. They were advising people to take precautions for extreme temperatures, stay indoors, stay hydrated etc. Where we were was all fine and dandy but on the other side of the mountain we would be heading directly into the heatwave. We would be exposed out on the Autovía’s tarmac and the predicted 39 degrees would feel a lot hotter in direct sunlight. To avoid heat-stroke I split the journey into smaller hopefully tolerable sections. The first just over 3hrs (not including fuel and breaks) would take us to Casa Tia Lola in Puerto Lapice. We would take iced thermos’ and plenty of water. This wasn’t something to attempt in one stint. The first leg If you look closely towards Baza you can see Google have included a new landmark. Hopefully the two stops and extra rest will compensate for the heat

Warning- skip this if you dont like lots of words. I’ve split it up into different posts but theres a few! Not for Buck or Six or anyone with something interesting to do Packing up and heading home Eventually after missing two flights due to Covid doing me wrong I caught the third flight I’d booked and arrived in Spain painfully lighter in the pocket on a completely packed flight. The empty airport days of Coronavirus are well and truly behind us (at the moment at any rate ). Repeating a very positive test doesn’t alter it even if you will it to?! I was fearful the bad google reviews I’d read about the airport parking were true and I’d arrive to find my bike with a flat battery, ravaged by sandstorms with my new Schuberth helmet I’d left on the bike in tatters- if you don’t read the small print (ahem) and request indoor parking your vehicle can be parked at another site left exposed to the elements I needn’t of worried they arrived in five minutes with the airport transfer bus (its over the road from the airport but theres no pedestrian route to it) and the bikes had clearly been looked after, the optimate later confirmed the batteries were in good nick. I loaded up a mammoth suitcase on the back of my bike. With the panniers also full I knew I was at the top of the weight I could handle on tip toe and the initial riding might be a bit sketchy. Mr Slowly checked the tyre pressures with the steampunk stethoscope gauge I’d brought along, a bit bulky tbh but sometimes the heart wants what it wants and I like analogue stuff that doesn’t need charging. To my amazement he says they’re ok but “we’ll stop at the first garage we see and top them up” Sketchy didn’t cover it! I get to the first roundabout and discover there’s no way the tyres are ok.. unless tyres are supposed to be made of jelly! Mr Slowly is taking his turn navigating, his bike is a lot lighter and that bit faster, chasing him down is fruitless, he just doesn’t stop.. Eventually he pulls over in a garage and my front and rear tyre take in 10psi.. each! Who wudda fort that could transform the bike handling?!! The rest of the ride was uneventful, the usual bright sunshine and heat you expect in Andalucia in June and then the enormous gratitude you feel when you’ve been up since 2am and find previous you stocked the fridge/freezer with beers and pizza that you consume while a sea breeze makes the palm trees wave and induce bliss

Really lovely

We need a courier bike for emergency document returns so I'm test riding a new fangled electric thing next week, looking forward to it. On paper the Livewire sounds good.

I have just the snack for this thread

Scheisse better get the keys to the gun cabinet... yes @Tym I have one

aaw curlylocks youre still here..

aah you my favourite skin disease

hehehe just the one.. or two million

Evening all. Soz so long, the slog went on a bit longer than anticipated (not all bad slog), how's my favourite crusty minger losers doing?

Really like the posh looking pegs even if they mean a mallets required. Nice to see the joy brimming over.

Good luck, hope your pills are as blue as the sky

Genital mutilation was a big deal back when the NHS was trying to stop it being offered for non medical reasons and the things we still have to look out for today with female circumcision is so much worse it'd bring your breakfast back up! If it was possible to be able to unsee or unknow things that stuff would be near a top spot... but it still ranks under that pic of a Welshmans ginger mange

He said earlier he doesn't have one. Its an American thing over 80% of them have no helmet. Every year a percentage of these poor babies will become infected and suffer deformity or worse.. and yet they continue with it, the idea is its cleaner. Even if it prevents a minute percentage of children from getting a urine infection (which is easily treated) this does not offset the risks. Plus a baby can't consent to it which is quite a big thing when you consider it causes a loss of sensitivity. Bet you weren't expecting that answer

A bar?

They want you back, want you back for gooood

Hehehe. They're as close to money shots as a woman in her 40's is to being a girl

Good god 27 in man years is about 14. Unless they've attacked life from all angles, in which case we'll be needing to see the talent testing clinic results

Don’t forget the occasional guest appearance from the Aussie.

Just HOW do you know these things? Won't be long before you realise this being an equal opportunities forum the girls on here are varying types of reject too.