Toasting the end of the 2013 foreign riding season with Champagne.

I often ride with the Chelsea and Fulham (C&F) Chapter of the Harley Owners Group (HOG). September this year saw the conclusion of my 2014 foreign riding season with a four-day C&F HOG trip to Reims, in France.

The night before we left, we stayed just five minutes from the Channel Tunnel rail terminal in Folkestone. However, this closeness didn't mean all of our group would make it onto the train. One scallywag, who will remain nameless, had a problem with the visa in his passport and knowing the immigration people didn't always check passports on the way to France, he decided to chance it and see if he could travel anyway. He didn't make it as the eagle-eyed immigration officer spotted the error. Gavin (oops) is now going to make sure he gets his visa up-to-date.

Those that did make it were missing Gavin badly.…

The trip was organised by C&F Road Captain Nick Deal. I never knew that Nick was quite so organised. In the weeks before he led the C&F ride to Reims in France, he produced a briefing note, a short lesson on French road signs (I have ridden in France a lot and I did learn something) and gave us options where we could go while on the four day trip. It was impressive stuff, so hats off to Nick. This is Nick with his wife Jane….

The ride down to Reims was in two parts – a blast on the French motorway system through less interesting parts of northern France, followed by great back roads in the afternoon. Under blazing hot skies, we cruised along twisting roads through farmland and seemingly deserted small villages. It never ceases to amaze me when riding through rural France were the people go. Just occasionally we glimpsed a person tending their garden or working on their house, but for the rest of the time, nobody could be seen.  Where do they all go?

A break was needed and we rumbled into the town of Bohain-en-Vermandois, famous for being the place where painter Henri Matisse grew up. The quiet ambiance of the town soon became a little louder as we parked our motorcycles in the centre of the town square and re-arranged the café furniture so we could eat as a group. After lunch, the C&F Chapter flag was unfurled, the bikes aligned and a shot of the group taken with their Harleys….

188 miles later on day 1, we arrived at our base for the weekend, in the city of Reims, which is important in French history as it was the traditional site where the kings of France were crowned. More importantly to us however, is its location at the very heart of the Champagne region.

It was a Thursday night and the place was buzzing. Street cafes, bars and restaurants were full with people. It was a good job that Nick had made a reservation at his favourite restaurant, the Grand Café, for our group.  Nick and Jane come to Reims often, as evidenced by the warm greeting they received from the waiter (hugs all round). By now, Janet (the partner of the errant passport owner) had arrived having left Gavin to sort out the mess with his missing visa. It would have been wrong to ignore the regions local products, so we tucked into a few bottles of Bollinger champagne as we ate a good meal on the warm September evening.

The next morning, after the obligatory visit to the local Harley-Davidson dealership, we were in for a treat. Between 1926 and 1972, there was a major motor racing circuit called Reims-Gueux and we went to see what was left of this historic place. Built on public roads with permanent facilities, Reims-Gueux hosted 14 French F1 Grand Prix, with the likes of Juan Manuel Fangio, Lorenzo Bandini, Stirling Moss and Mike Hawthorn all having raced here. This video gives a taste of what the circuit was like in its heyday....





A lot of the track, the pits and main grandstand survive today and that was where we chose to park our motorcycles….

I liked the look of the old BP pavilion, so later parked my custom bike Amelia there….

The Chelsea and Fulham HOG Chapter is centred around Warrs, the London Harley-Davidson dealership. Les Channing, from Warrs parts department was on the ride and proudly posed in front of one of the old pits at the circuit…

Les, along with Ken and Dof decided to use the track for the purpose it was built and went for a blast along the main straight. They roared past at just over the speed limit (!) and flashed past the pits just as Geoff Duke would have done in 1955 when he won the 1955 French motorcycle Grand Prix.

On their return run, they came past us a little more sedately and it made for a great picture….

The afternoon saw a change in pace when we went to see what must count as one of the most oddest visitor attractions in France. Situated 140 miles from the sea, Phare de Verzenay is a lighthouse perched high on a hill, surrounded by the grapevines of the Champagne region. The lighthouse is flamboyant centrepiece of a museum built to celebrate the Champagne produced in the area….

Photo by Keith and Susie

We then rode along some fantastic twisting and fast roads through some glorious French countryside. We passed a few immaculately kept war cemeteries with their neat rows of headstones. These bring powerful feelings, as the sadness of all of these men that died is a very strong emotion in me. I am also very proud of those men. They fought and died for our freedom from an evil tyrant, and for that I am forever grateful. I like to say a silent thank you to the men that lay in those cemeteries every time I pass one.

Photo by Keith and Susie

I have often stopped and walked around the graves of different allies nations. I can recall being in British, French, American and Canadian World War I and II cemeteries. On this day when we were out riding through the French countryside, we stopped at a German cemetery, a first for me.

This was the Fort-de-Malmaison cemetery which contains the graves of 11,841 German soldiers who fell between 1940 and 1944 in France. Many of them were killed during the liberation offensive of the Allied forces in 1944. With their simple black crosses, the graveyard was a sobering sight.

I was born just 12 years after the end of the second World War and the memories of those dark days were still engrained in the minds of the adults around me. It was understandable therefore that as a small boy, I learned the German soldiers were bad and were the enemy. It wasn't until I stood in that German cemetery that those feelings finally left me as the sadness of the German men that died really hit me for the first time. They were only doing what their deranged leader had told them. They were just following orders. As I read the leaflet from the cemetery, I discovered that just under one million German soldiers are buried in France. I had no idea it was that many….

The next morning, we had planned to go on another group ride, but not until 10am. Being an early riser, this was way too late for me and I discovered the same applied to Ken and Dof as well, so we did what any keen biker would do and went for a pre-ride ride. It was only for an hour or so but there were very few cars on the road, so we headed east, found some deserted roads and, well, blew the cobwebs away. This was hardcore riding at its best and both Ken and Dof can ride pretty darn fast. It was as much as I could do to keep up at times, as while Amelia is fast in a straight line, her long forks means she needs to take the bends a little slower. We did hit some amazing speeds though and our bikes must have sounded incredible to anyone that was awake.

After the rest of the group finally got out of bed, we reformed and went riding again. We went to see the monastery in Hautvillers where Benedictine monk Dom Pérignon lived. He did much to improve the process of making quality champagne and of course, one of the most famous champagnes is named after him. Across the road from the monastery, we went to taste the champagne and at 10.30am, the one glass we each had really hit the spot….

In the afternoon, we left our motorcycles at the hotel and went to see another great champagne producer, Taittinger, or more precisely, one of their cellars where they keep their wine during the manufacturing process.

During the French Revolution, the Abbey that used to stand on this site was destroyed, but the caves underneath, once a chalk quarry, are now used to store 3 million bottles of Taittinger champagne. This is the smaller of the storage cellars and the other holds an incredible 16 million bottles! Each bottle stays in the cellars for between three and seven years while the fermentation process happens. The tour of the cellars took about an hour and covered all aspects of making the champagne. Of course, we had to try some….

Our time in Reims ended with a visit to the magnificent Cathedral. It is easy to see why French kings were crowned here….

Congratulations must go to Nick and Jane for organising such a terrific long weekend away. They made everything work so well and all the rest of us really had to do was turn up and do what they said.  Many thanks also to Les, for being Last Man the whole way.  A great foreign ride all round!

Read More

How to fix luggage to a custom motorcycle

When designing my custom motorcycle Amelia, I knew two things for sure.

1. I would be touring long distances on this motorcycle.
2. I needed to be able to fix luggage to the bike, but I didn't want an ugly rack to spoil the look of the bike.

Good looks and practicality don't always go well together, so, it became clear that we needed to be quite innovative in devising a solution for fixing luggage to the bike.

This is what we did.... it works a treat....

Read More

Amelia Bike – Latest Pictures

Work on my custom bike, called Amelia, continues. Now only a week until final assembly is complete, here are a few pictures taken over the past few weeks....

Engraving of all of the parts is now complete....

The build is complete. Here are a few partial pictures....

The bike was then dismantled and all parts are now being painted or chromed...

Parts in the paint booth....

In just six days, I should be able to ride the bike. I can’t wait!

Read More

We went to lay a wreath

Each year on Remembrance Sunday, the H-D dealer I use, Warr’s, organises a ride out to honour the war dead.

I had never been before, so I thought it about time I did.

That was last Sunday and we were blessed with a warm and sunny autumn day.  About 35 bikes had arrived at Warr’s for the ride.  As usual with most H-D ride outs, there was the obligatory pre-ride safety briefing beforehand and unlike the last ride out, I was there in plenty of time to get a cup of coffee and to listen to the briefing before we left.

If you have never been on a H-D ride out before, it is an impressive sight.  By some standards, this was not a large gathering, but 35 Harley-Davidsons riding along any road is an impressive sight and it turns many heads. Lead by Scottie, we rumbled through the busy roads of south-west London and some waved to about the same number of scooters heading in the other direction as they rode into the capital for what was probably a scooter meeting of some sort.  The familiar smell of two-stroke engine exhaust wafted through the air, reminding some of us of our earlier riding years.

Soon, we reached the leafy scenic lanes of Surrey and encountered some slippery steep downhill roads that needed more attention than usual.  I was riding three bikes back behind a guy I didn’t recognise and he was being more careful than most as he made his way through the twisting winding roads and his slightly slower pace meant we were falling back from the main group a little, not that this mattered.  It wasn’t until later I discovered he had only taken his bike test three weeks earlier and this was one of his first long-ish rides, so my full admiration goes to him!

We stopped for a break and a coffee at a place called Forest Green and re-assembled for the traditional two minutes of silence at exactly 11am to remember those that gave the ultimate sacrifice for their fellow countrymen.  We bowed our heads and stood still as a mark of respect of those soldiers from around the world that fought on behalf of others.

11am is the time chosen in many parts of the world to remember the war dead as it was the "eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month" of 1918 that the Armistice signed between the Allies and Germany at Compiègne in France,  took effect to formally cease the hostilities of World War I.  Remembrance Sunday has of course gone on to remember the war dead from all wars, not only WWI.

The ride continued to Elstead where there is a small war memorial and we laid a wreath.  Our group of 35 or so were from many different nationalities as so it was appropriate that a few words were said that we should remember the dead from all countries.

Nearby is the Mill at Elstead, a pub and restaurant , where we stopped for lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Marvelous!

Wikipedia tells me that Elstead Mill, was occupied by Oliver Cromwell’s ‘roundhead’ army during the English Civil War of 1642-1651, but subsequently burnt down. The present structure is therefore thought to date back to the 17th century.  The river flows through the mill at can be seen from inside the building.

We broke up as a group and made our own way back from there and as I rode, I thought about what a good day it had been.  I promised myself I would go on the same Warr’s ride next year.  After arriving home, it didn’t take me long to fall asleep on the sofa....

Read More

Adventure before Dementia

It was very foggy on Sunday morning when I awoke.

I was looking forward to joining the Chelsea and Fulham Harley Owners Group on their 'Last Gasp' ride out to the south coast. There might not be many other days this year for a long-ish ride, so I wanted to go if possible.

Hmmmnn, the thermometer showed just 4 degrees C (39F) but the forecast showed it would brighten up later. I thought of the song by The Clash, ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’

If I went, I would need to wrap up to keep warm in the first part of the ride, but that would mean being too hot later. I am going on a long trip next year on my red custom bike so I wanted to take that on this days HOG ride in order to get used to riding it long distances once again, but that meant I wouldn't have anywhere to stow my gear later if I took off my cold weather riding clothes.

My decision was to go, so I tucked into a bowl of porridge, brushed my teeth, threw an extra tee shirt on and got the red bike out of the garage.

Starting the bike was a bit of an issue due to the amount of moisture in the air which meant the two huge carbs were sucking fog into the engine. It was still early and I am sure my sleeping neighbours didn't appreciate me having to crank the engine a number of times before it burst into life, with the full force of the big twin cutting through the still cold air and shattering the morning silence. I tried to ride away as quickly and as quietly as possible, but of course, those things are not mutually compatible.

I nursed a spluttering bike through the country lanes, avoiding those stupid geese from the big house that are allowed to wander freely on the road. George and Mildred as I call them, really do not like the sound of my red bike and as they often do, they charged towards me in a frantic attack to try to scare away this noisy beast that dares to come near them.

I turned onto the motorway which resulted in two things, one good and one bad. To my relief, the spluttering stopped as the engine of the bike got hotter. To my frustration, I realised the jeans I was wearing, the thin gloves and the lightweight jacket were in no way going to stop Jack Frost from attacking me. Shit, it was cold and as ever in those conditions, it was a toss-up whether to ride fast to get there quicker but definitely colder, or slow down for a longer but slightly warmer journey. I looked at my watch and realised I was late and didn't have a choice. I opened the throttle more and the 110 inch / 1800cc engine blasted me forward faster as Jack did his work.

Thirty-three cold miles later, and after stopping to fill up with fuel, I rolled late into the London based Harley-Davidson dealer, Warrs. I was greeted by a grinning Rob Warr, who repeated the often-heard mantra "No brief, no ride". I know Rob well and have ridden with him plenty of times, including in more than one country. Knowing he was joking, I ignored his comment and sought out a warming cup of coffee instead. "Too late Gary, the coffee has all gone and we are leaving in a minute". I turned around and saw about fifty bikes, their riders pulling on helmets and gloves. I groaned inwardly with the realisation I would set off with the group on a seventy mile ride without a customary warming drink first.

I enjoy these Sunday morning ride-outs. They happen about once a month and other commitments mean that I usually manage to join about two or three a year. When I go on my own rides that I plan myself, that planning is done in a lot of detail although I acknowledge this is it as a trait that some find peculiar. I think I enjoy these Warrs ride outs because I don't have to do any planning at all. As we set out and fifty Harley's were thundering through the streets of west London, it occurred to me that I wasn't even sure where we were going! I was pretty sure we were going to be heading south towards the coast somewhere, but I was happy just to tag along.

The route was mainly on back roads, little travelled by many others on a Sunday morning. We took in Box Hill, the A272, Bluebell Railway country and we crested the South Downs to be treated with glorious views of the English Channel, glistening in the October sunshine.

Box Hill is different today than when I used to go there as a young boy on a family outing. I remember my Father driving us up the hill and admiring the splendid views of the English countryside from the top. Today, we rode into the car park at the bottom of the hill which is one of southern England's most popular biker meeting places. Our fifty Harley's created quite an entrance.

When surrounded by so many bikes in a car park, I usually spend time walking around to see what is there. Today was different as I had one important mission to accomplish - getting a coffee plus a bacon and egg sandwich. Yum.

Our ride leader for the day, Andrew Papas, guided us with ease along his pre-planned route and we arrived at our destination of the Roedean Cafe overlooking the sea. The sun had burned the fog away and it had warmed up significantly by the time we were drinking our afternoon tea as we watched boats slipping in and out of the marina below us at the bottom of the cliffs.

I did chuckle at a patch I saw on a fellow rider. It sort of sums up how I feel about me motorcycling at this point in my life. Whilst I hopefully have some time to go before this particular syndrome might strike, the slogan on the patch fits well with my current frame of mind. "Adventure Before Dementia" reflects the fact that my motorcycling is an adventure I want to enjoy while I can. Who knows what the future might hold and so being in my early fifties now, I want to make the most of whatever opportunities I can. Travelling on my bike is a big part of that.

At the Roedean Cafe, many including myself didn't want to hang around for too long though. A long 100 mile ride home faced many of us and we wanted to get back before the temperature plummeted. There was just time to ride into Brighton and to snap a picture of its pier.

Back roads were mainly abandoned for the homeward ride, which I regretted. Fast roads get you there quicker but are boring and on my custom bike, make my back ache. By the time I got home, it was quite sore from sitting in the same leaning-slightly-forward position for so long.

Overall, a really enjoyable ride of just over 200 miles. It didn't take me long to fall asleep on the sofa!

Read More

The First Time on a Bike. How about 304 Miles?

I think 304 miles is not too bad for an eleven year old, on the back of a bike for the first time. Here is the story of how that happened.

Last week, I was in the Seattle area to collect my step-grandson, Talon, and bring him back to the UK to spend a few weeks with Jackie and I. He has been to London a few times before to see us with his parents, but at eleven years old, to do it on your own must be more fun because he didn’t mind leaving them at home at all.

The only direct flight between London-Seattle-London is British Airways and something rare happened. I got upgraded on the flight out from economy to premium economy and the two of us were upgraded to business class on the flight to London. So an eleven year old boy, gets to sleep in an airplane bed on the way to London for a few weeks. Not a bad start, I would say!

So Talon is here in London and we have been going out to see places just about every day.

A few days ago I met up with friend Ian Solley and he asked if I wanted to join him on the HOG Meridian Chapter ride called HogsLegs, in France and Belgium. I said yes and asked Talon if he wanted to come along as well. It was only going to be a single days ride, so not a problem for a young man that hadn’t been on a motorbike before. We rode down to near Ian’s house the evening before so we could be within striking distance of the Channel Tunnel as we had to get the bike and ourselves on the train very early the next morning.

We woke early at 5am and met Ian and two of his friends Paul and Simon and the five of us blasted down to Folkestone on four Harley’s where we boarded the train to Calais in France....

You stay with your bike (or car) as the train goes through the tunnel....

The train takes just 35 minutes to travel under the sea and we arrived in France to a glorious sunny day, making our way to a local petrol station where the riders of 50-ish bikes met and received the usual safety briefing before setting off....

Warrs Harley-Davidson have two dealerships. One is in Chelsea in London where I bought my Road King and they have another in Mottingham in South London. The Meridian Chapter is based out of the Mottingham dealership.

The ride through France and Belgium is a gentle one, and perfect for just riding and admiring the view, with a few friends. We did about 130 miles in the two countries, stopping for morning coffee in Beruges where Ian set off on a conquest to buy cheese and wine.

We arrived in the town of Veurne in Belgium where we stopped for lunch in the town square, a picturesque quiet place, where the people of the historic town were enjoying a peaceful leisurely lunch....

That was of course, until 50 Harley-Davidsons turned up and part-filled the town square with gleaming bikes....

After lunch we wandered around the town, trying to find an elusive bottle of excellent wine. We found a good-looking wine shop, that was sadly closed, but I liked the scooter sitting outside....

At the appointed hour, the riders began to re-assemble in the square, ready to resume our ride in Belgium....

Talon next to the Leading ladies....

The ride culminated at a place called the Bikers Loft, a bar, hotel, museum and gathering place for motorcyclists. Some of our group were going to stay the night in the sparse surroundings of the hotel, but our smaller group left early, hoping to catch a train back under the sea at a reasonable hour. We rode alongside Belgium canals, which were straight but contained few cars. Reaching the French border, we resorted to using the motorway, for a blast back to Calais and the tunnel.

On getting back to the UK, Talon and I had further to go than the others and pretty soon, they would have been home, while we carried on a long loop around London on the M25, the last hour of which was in the rain.

We arrived home late-ish, having done 304 miles in one day. Tired. Wet. Cold. But, with big smiles on our faces. Especially Talon.

Read More