Anyone interested in going to the Honda stepthru run in Ballyjamesduff, Cavan, Ireland on 25th October? The Culchie Festival is on at the same time. Entry fee for Honda run is 40 Euro.
http://www.honda50run.com/index.php?opt ... _year=2009
http://www.culchiefestival.com/
Ferry info: Holyhead - Dublin return for motorcycle is about £100.
http://www.irishferries.co.uk/
http://www.stenaline.co.uk/ferry
Liverpool - Dublin is £147 return for 7 hour crossing.
http://www.norfolkline.com/ferry/SelectFare.aspx
I am taking the last week of October off work and also Friday 23rd. Aiming to leave home Fri 23 and return to UK Tues 27/Wed 28 then dropping into see a mate in South Wales on way back for a day or two. Will take camping stuff but will use hostel/bunkhouse for convenience if required, eg arriving late in Holyhead to catch ferry early next day.
Anyone wishing to weave in and out of my adventure is welcome. Not going to be a cheap trip but should be a hoot. BCP expressed an interest in coming along, is this still so?
Culchie Festival / Honda stepthru run - Cavan, Ireland. 25th
-
Saltysnax
- Posts: 280
- Joined: Thu Jul 02, 2009 10:35 pm
-
Saltysnax
- Posts: 280
- Joined: Thu Jul 02, 2009 10:35 pm
Re: Culchie Festival / Honda stepthru run - Cavan, Ireland. 25th
Part 1
Culchie Festival Road Trip 2009
DAVE
The plan was to meet Blackcountry Pete at the award winning Midway truckstop at Whitchurch by the A41 / A49 junction. Twenty minutes and 14 miles out from home my rear tyre goes flat. Patched two holes but tube kept going down. Then found two more that wouldn’t take a patch so fitted spare inner tube, which was the smaller one for the front wheel. (2.25 – 2.50 size tube in 2.75 rear tyre. Don’t know if this matters much???) The puncture was caused by thorns from hedge cutting and one of them was nearly an inch long. Three motorcyclists and a bloke in a van stopped to offer help. I text to Pete that I’ll meet him at the ferry port, shame to miss the truckstop.
To make up time I took the A50, which by Stoke on Trent had become two lanes of solid stationary traffic for miles and miles and miles. A road was blocked somewhere and the tailback was enormous as it was Friday night home time. Trickled between traffic for about half an hour and avoiding the town centre, which was also full of traffic, eventually found my way out of town albeit on the wrong side. Then headed for Nantwich but was diverted via Middlewich, arriving in the Merseyside metropolis after dark but thankful for the streetlights.
Looking for ferry signs the only ones noticeable were for “Merseyside Ferries”. Followed these and ended up in the tunnel to come out in Liverpool, the other side of the river to Birkenhead where the ferry was. Parked the bike by an office near the tunnel entrance and a policeman comes out the office and asks what I’m doing. Telling him I’m lost, he directs me to the ferry port, so back through the tunnel again. Only just saw signs to docks and eventually found Pete wandering about looking for a chip shop. Gave him a blast on the hooters to make him jump and found where he was parked up.
PETE
My trip to the ferry port was quite uneventful apart from plenty stops for cigarettes.
While sitting on the grass next to the bike smoking a very nice bloke pulled up on a Goldwing and asked if I was okay and could he help. I assured him all was well and he showed great interest in where I was going with the Jialing all loaded up. He was quite surprised when I told him I was heading for Birkenhead to catch a ferry for the Emerald Isle. I explained that I was attending the great Honda run and Culchie Festival. He wished me well and told me to ride safe.
After climbing back on the bike and heading into Birkenhead, I managed to pick up signs for the docks and felt happy that I would soon be there. It was not long after, that all signs disappeared and I was heading for the Mersey tunnel, luckily bikes go free so under I went and appeared the other side. Round the island and back under the river I then arrived back at the tollbooth to which I was told YA DON’T HAVE TO PAY !!! Explaining that I was lost and needed to get to the ferryport I was told directions and soon picked up signs again. Arriving there amongst a jostle of 44-ton artics I found the parking bay and was waiting for Dave.
As the daylight started to fail I saw a 90 heading towards me and I was waving franticly, only to find that it was not Dave but a bloke who worked at the docks. It was at this point that I noticed people walking round with bags of chips and the decision was made to obtain a bag. God only knows where they got them from but I walked about a mile and half and thought, “bugger it” and headed back for the port. On my way back, now in complete darkness, I got a loud hooting and turned expecting to see a large truck passing and there was Dave waving. After shouting brief directions to him he carried on into the port where I was parked.
Part 2
Culchie Festival Road Trip 2009
DAVE
We got the bikes checked on to the ferry and lashed them down securely even though the crossing was going to be light. As part of the ticket price we should have had a cabin each, but none were available. Evening meal and breakfast were also included in price. Headed for the bar and a few Guinness until things got underway and the queue had died down in the restaurant. We both had a monster meal of soup, roast beef & trimmings, followed by bread & butter pudding and custard. Another couple of pints and time for sleep. Ha, sleep!!! - usually taken in dark, quiet places. We pitched down on the floor best we could in a brightly lit place occupied by few others. A flat screen telly above our heads was babbling out its insane ramblings until Pete managed to reach the off switch high up on the wall sometime in the middle of the night. Sleep was patchy between intervals of walking on deck to cool down, as the ferry thermostat must have been set at tropical. The engines and vibrations of the ferry were not helping too, their rhythm unable to induce pleasant slumber.
The ferry was due to dock in Dublin about 5.30am and after a quick breakfast, we were off the boat and stopped to fill up at the first petrol station. Here we watched the lorries disgorge themselves in to the early morning Dublin darkness. Highlight of this was watching the Turkish lorry driver’s grand prix, racing round the port trying to find their way out. Glad of keeping out of the way of these roaring leviathans with crazy drivers, we set off, out of Dublin following signs for the N3 which was motorway for the first bit then became normal main road. At one roundabout Pete asked me if his rear tyre was flat, but looking at it, it seemed fine. Stopped at a petrol station after about half an hour for coffee, then just as the sky was lightening we set off again. An easy route really, just follow the N3 until the turn off to Ballyjamesduff, about 60 miles further on.
As dawn broke the rain increased from a drizzle to full-blown downpour. Water whipped round the screen and soaked my gloves. Pete was luckier as his screen kept the rain off better for some reason. Taking the turn off for Ballyjamesduff after about an hour and a half of rain and N3, we found ourselves hunched in a shop doorway sheltering from the wet, deciding what to do next. It was about 8am. Pete noticed the nut on his rear wheel spindle had come loose as the threads were non too good, the chain was slack and the wheel wobbled about, with just the chain adjusters holding everything in place. He’d just ridden 60 odd miles with a loose back wheel, no wonder he asked if his tyre was flat! After a quick rummage through our toolkits the nut was gently tightened up, not too much as we didn’t want to strip the threads, but at least the wheel was secure.
People started to appear and we soon learnt that the designated area for camping was the town sports field at the GAA club. We found the field but the gates were locked. Then three young boys appeared from nearby houses, showing much interest in the bikes and asking what we were up to. Upon telling them the gates were locked to the field, one of them said, “ my daddy has got the key” and they rushed away. Next thing is a lady came and told us it wasn’t a good idea to camp on the field as the fair was in town and stuff might not be safe in the tents. She told us to camp in her back garden and exchanged phone numbers with Pete. She also phoned her mother who lived with them and told her that two strangers on Honda 90s were about to use the garden as a campsite.
We found the house quite easily and knocked on the door. An oldish lady in white dressing gown and walking with a stick opened it. “Hello” I said, “I believe your daughter Jackie has just phoned you.” “Yes that’s right and welcome to Ballyjamesduff, would you like a cup of tea?” she said. We agreed to tea but elected to put the tents up first. There was not room for two tents so it was Pete’s we used.
For those of you who remember, at Rhayader this year Pete who is one of the tallest of us brought the smallest tent, which he eventually sold to H the Dog for fifteen quid. Tall Pete and small tent…not good. So Pete had bought a gigantic tent he can stand up in, a bargain apparently as it was half price. This tent as you will see from the pictures, closely resembles the great dome of St Pauls Cathedral or the Taj Mahal, with plenty of room for two of us and our assorted stuff.
The tent blended in perfectly among the swings and kid’s toys in the garden. Next stop was the cup of tea, which had now turned into a cup of tea and breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs and tomatoes with piles of bread and butter. Completely flummoxed by this act of generosity, we enjoyed the meal and offered to wash up. Nothing would be heard of it, we were to leave everything as it was and go and carry on with our day.
We wandered around the town to get our bearings and went for a pint or two in a bar called The High Stool. Only a few punters were in there and we quickly struck up conversation with a bloke called Alan who was sat at the bar. During our conversation Pete asked him if there was anywhere to avoid. There was only one pub that could not be recommended for a visit and I forget what it is called. Alan told us of a big bloke he knows, a twenty stone plus gentle giant of a man who wouldn’t normally hurt a fly, who when he goes there comes out with his knuckles bleeding after having had to knock someone out. Alan assured us that we would not find trouble in the town as long as we avoided this place.
Part 3
Culchie Festival Road Trip 2009
PETE
After taking the waters and this advice, in the afternoon the only sensible thing was to get a couple of hours kip. After this we were up and on the beer again and at 4 euros a pint it was going to work out quite expensive, never the less we had come for a good time so it wasn’t all bad. After meeting more locals and people who had travelled from all over Ireland to attend the Honda run, we found ourselves in a curry house with internet access and dropped you all a line or two about events so far.
After finishing a chicken fal with extra garlic we made our way to the village hall to the Culchie Festival and to see the first round of the selection process. This in its self was something to behold. Firstly contestants have an interview with mammy and pappy who are trying to find a good country man for their daughter Ilene who is 35 and we are led to believe is quite a handful. Needless to say some of the entrants were very entertaining and after the interview they then had to milk a cow and get the most milk from it in 10 seconds. After the first round of contestants there was a disco and more drinking. The next night would see more contestants and then the crowning of the new Culchie King. We headed back to the tent and turned in about 1’o clock and were woken at about 3am by the sounds of smashing glass and fireworks all of which seems to be the norm.
The next morning we were up and about with no headache which all considered was a godsend. Then to be treated to yet another full Irish breakfast after which we went for a look around town to the start point of the rally. As we wandered up the road past an endless sea of broken glass, we came across Aidan and Noel. They were camping in the car park of a local fencing merchant and we made our plans to get to the start point. On arriving at the local cattle market which was playing host to the great Honda run there was a scene of total madness with one guy trying hopelessly to get these Honda’s into some sort of line up which could only be likened to trying to round up cats. While waiting to get going we were looking around at some fantastic bikes and some, which would not be allowed on UK roads. Never the less they were all there to participate in the wildest bimble I’ve ever had the misfortune to be caught up in.
With a police escort we set off to streets packed with onlookers all waving as we started on the 26 mile route. Stopping half way for tea and buns and then off again, through more packed streets to the Virginia Pumpkin Festival to salute the pumpkins. At one point Elvis was in front of me complete with 70’s jump-suit and a large stereo between his legs and a mic in his hand, singing viva Las Vegas at the crowd. He was one of many with no crash helmet on as the police didn’t seem to bother, some of the participants didn’t even have a number plate. As we came back in to Ballyjamesduff there was a camera crew from a local news channel filming, the trouble was he was in the middle of the road with bikes travelling either side of him. It was then that one rider decided to wheelie at him and lost control of the bike which narrowly missed the cameraman as he dived for cover.
After the run out Aidan said he had found a top local bar and at a little after 3pm we were on the beer again. The bar he had found was half hardware shop, half pub, and we were soon making ourselves very comfortable even though it looked like something out of Father Ted. The only thing I can say about it is that it looked like Arkright’s shop in Open All Hours complete with till and 5kg tins of lithium grease and sink plungers, nuts, bolts, screws, paraffin lamps and bath plugs. If you needed it the chances are that this bloke had it somewhere among the broken glasses that he kept knocking off the shelves as he was serving. But in all fairness he keep the best pint in the town and came up trumps the next day when I was after a washer to lock the back wheel on with.
After about 5 hours drinking we headed for the Royal that did good food, only to find that they stopped serving at eight thirty. This didn’t seem like a problem to Aidan who went running in to the kitchen to speak to the chef in charge, who was only too happy to help us out with steaks and chips. Aidan tells us that in Ireland you always speak to the man in charge so others don’t fob you off. After this we were off to the second half of the selection process of the Festival and to see the new king crowned, followed by more drinking and as the disco started we headed of back to the hardware shop. With a quick knock on the window we were ushered in again and took even more of the local waters. After the clock struck 2 we headed back for the tent and bedded down for the night.
Next morning we had yet another full breakfast and decided that we needed to get our hosts a parting gift for all the generosity they had shown us. So off to the shops for bottles of red and white and a big tin of Roses for the kids, which is the least we could do after the way Jackie and her family had looked after us. After packing up and loading the bikes we said a big thank you and our goodbyes and were told if we ever pass through BJD again we must call in and say hello. Then of we went dodging the broken glass from the night before and back on the N3 for Dublin. As before we had a little trouble locating the docks. With 15 minutes to spare we arrived and boarded the ferry for home. With bikes strapped down it was off to the dinning lounge for steak and ale pie swilled down with pop, as neither of us could face another beer.
On arriving at Holyhead, a quick trundle up the road to the Travelodge and tea and a nice hot shower and a night in a proper bed. Got up about 8 and headed for the Macdonald’s over the road for a bite to eat and then off again down the A55 to Bangor services for petrol and a smoke. Dave was heading to a friends and I was off home. I stopped off in Rhyl to have a brew with a friend and then back on to the A55. Got down to Chester and with all the vibration I realised that the handlebars had come loose. So after a quick stop to bang the nut back round with a screwdriver and a brick, I was about an hour from home. And there the tale ends with me happy to be home after what seemed to be one of the strangest weekends ever. Many thanks to Dave for travelling with me, he is a true gent and I look forward to many trips in the future.
DAVE
Of course there is loads and loads more to tell but we have to end somewhere or it’ll go on forever. Things like: As well as Elvis, Evel Kinevel, Zoro, Michael Jackson and Moses, (who couldn’t turn water into wine, but assured us that he was able to turn wine into water); Pete nearly having his eye poked out by a big wooden fork, the beer barrel fuel tank on Aidan’s trike leaking halfway round the run; me putting my elbow on the table in the hardware shop and upsetting all the glasses; my tools & spares being mistakenly put in a rubbish bag at our host’s place, with me searching everywhere until they were found just before we were to leave for the journey home; sleeping with wet gloves at night to dry them, the wind nearly blowing the tent away, the bloke in the Range Rover “fair play to yer son” and the Cannonball run through Dublin. We hope this gives you an idea of what went on and can highly recommend this trip. Save up first as it ain’t cheap, but it is worth every penny. Cheers for the inner tube Aidan and a big thanks to Pete for being such a good bloke on this crazy adventure.
© Pete & Dave 2009
Culchie Festival Road Trip 2009
DAVE
The plan was to meet Blackcountry Pete at the award winning Midway truckstop at Whitchurch by the A41 / A49 junction. Twenty minutes and 14 miles out from home my rear tyre goes flat. Patched two holes but tube kept going down. Then found two more that wouldn’t take a patch so fitted spare inner tube, which was the smaller one for the front wheel. (2.25 – 2.50 size tube in 2.75 rear tyre. Don’t know if this matters much???) The puncture was caused by thorns from hedge cutting and one of them was nearly an inch long. Three motorcyclists and a bloke in a van stopped to offer help. I text to Pete that I’ll meet him at the ferry port, shame to miss the truckstop.
To make up time I took the A50, which by Stoke on Trent had become two lanes of solid stationary traffic for miles and miles and miles. A road was blocked somewhere and the tailback was enormous as it was Friday night home time. Trickled between traffic for about half an hour and avoiding the town centre, which was also full of traffic, eventually found my way out of town albeit on the wrong side. Then headed for Nantwich but was diverted via Middlewich, arriving in the Merseyside metropolis after dark but thankful for the streetlights.
Looking for ferry signs the only ones noticeable were for “Merseyside Ferries”. Followed these and ended up in the tunnel to come out in Liverpool, the other side of the river to Birkenhead where the ferry was. Parked the bike by an office near the tunnel entrance and a policeman comes out the office and asks what I’m doing. Telling him I’m lost, he directs me to the ferry port, so back through the tunnel again. Only just saw signs to docks and eventually found Pete wandering about looking for a chip shop. Gave him a blast on the hooters to make him jump and found where he was parked up.
PETE
My trip to the ferry port was quite uneventful apart from plenty stops for cigarettes.
While sitting on the grass next to the bike smoking a very nice bloke pulled up on a Goldwing and asked if I was okay and could he help. I assured him all was well and he showed great interest in where I was going with the Jialing all loaded up. He was quite surprised when I told him I was heading for Birkenhead to catch a ferry for the Emerald Isle. I explained that I was attending the great Honda run and Culchie Festival. He wished me well and told me to ride safe.
After climbing back on the bike and heading into Birkenhead, I managed to pick up signs for the docks and felt happy that I would soon be there. It was not long after, that all signs disappeared and I was heading for the Mersey tunnel, luckily bikes go free so under I went and appeared the other side. Round the island and back under the river I then arrived back at the tollbooth to which I was told YA DON’T HAVE TO PAY !!! Explaining that I was lost and needed to get to the ferryport I was told directions and soon picked up signs again. Arriving there amongst a jostle of 44-ton artics I found the parking bay and was waiting for Dave.
As the daylight started to fail I saw a 90 heading towards me and I was waving franticly, only to find that it was not Dave but a bloke who worked at the docks. It was at this point that I noticed people walking round with bags of chips and the decision was made to obtain a bag. God only knows where they got them from but I walked about a mile and half and thought, “bugger it” and headed back for the port. On my way back, now in complete darkness, I got a loud hooting and turned expecting to see a large truck passing and there was Dave waving. After shouting brief directions to him he carried on into the port where I was parked.
Part 2
Culchie Festival Road Trip 2009
DAVE
We got the bikes checked on to the ferry and lashed them down securely even though the crossing was going to be light. As part of the ticket price we should have had a cabin each, but none were available. Evening meal and breakfast were also included in price. Headed for the bar and a few Guinness until things got underway and the queue had died down in the restaurant. We both had a monster meal of soup, roast beef & trimmings, followed by bread & butter pudding and custard. Another couple of pints and time for sleep. Ha, sleep!!! - usually taken in dark, quiet places. We pitched down on the floor best we could in a brightly lit place occupied by few others. A flat screen telly above our heads was babbling out its insane ramblings until Pete managed to reach the off switch high up on the wall sometime in the middle of the night. Sleep was patchy between intervals of walking on deck to cool down, as the ferry thermostat must have been set at tropical. The engines and vibrations of the ferry were not helping too, their rhythm unable to induce pleasant slumber.
The ferry was due to dock in Dublin about 5.30am and after a quick breakfast, we were off the boat and stopped to fill up at the first petrol station. Here we watched the lorries disgorge themselves in to the early morning Dublin darkness. Highlight of this was watching the Turkish lorry driver’s grand prix, racing round the port trying to find their way out. Glad of keeping out of the way of these roaring leviathans with crazy drivers, we set off, out of Dublin following signs for the N3 which was motorway for the first bit then became normal main road. At one roundabout Pete asked me if his rear tyre was flat, but looking at it, it seemed fine. Stopped at a petrol station after about half an hour for coffee, then just as the sky was lightening we set off again. An easy route really, just follow the N3 until the turn off to Ballyjamesduff, about 60 miles further on.
As dawn broke the rain increased from a drizzle to full-blown downpour. Water whipped round the screen and soaked my gloves. Pete was luckier as his screen kept the rain off better for some reason. Taking the turn off for Ballyjamesduff after about an hour and a half of rain and N3, we found ourselves hunched in a shop doorway sheltering from the wet, deciding what to do next. It was about 8am. Pete noticed the nut on his rear wheel spindle had come loose as the threads were non too good, the chain was slack and the wheel wobbled about, with just the chain adjusters holding everything in place. He’d just ridden 60 odd miles with a loose back wheel, no wonder he asked if his tyre was flat! After a quick rummage through our toolkits the nut was gently tightened up, not too much as we didn’t want to strip the threads, but at least the wheel was secure.
People started to appear and we soon learnt that the designated area for camping was the town sports field at the GAA club. We found the field but the gates were locked. Then three young boys appeared from nearby houses, showing much interest in the bikes and asking what we were up to. Upon telling them the gates were locked to the field, one of them said, “ my daddy has got the key” and they rushed away. Next thing is a lady came and told us it wasn’t a good idea to camp on the field as the fair was in town and stuff might not be safe in the tents. She told us to camp in her back garden and exchanged phone numbers with Pete. She also phoned her mother who lived with them and told her that two strangers on Honda 90s were about to use the garden as a campsite.
We found the house quite easily and knocked on the door. An oldish lady in white dressing gown and walking with a stick opened it. “Hello” I said, “I believe your daughter Jackie has just phoned you.” “Yes that’s right and welcome to Ballyjamesduff, would you like a cup of tea?” she said. We agreed to tea but elected to put the tents up first. There was not room for two tents so it was Pete’s we used.
For those of you who remember, at Rhayader this year Pete who is one of the tallest of us brought the smallest tent, which he eventually sold to H the Dog for fifteen quid. Tall Pete and small tent…not good. So Pete had bought a gigantic tent he can stand up in, a bargain apparently as it was half price. This tent as you will see from the pictures, closely resembles the great dome of St Pauls Cathedral or the Taj Mahal, with plenty of room for two of us and our assorted stuff.
The tent blended in perfectly among the swings and kid’s toys in the garden. Next stop was the cup of tea, which had now turned into a cup of tea and breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs and tomatoes with piles of bread and butter. Completely flummoxed by this act of generosity, we enjoyed the meal and offered to wash up. Nothing would be heard of it, we were to leave everything as it was and go and carry on with our day.
We wandered around the town to get our bearings and went for a pint or two in a bar called The High Stool. Only a few punters were in there and we quickly struck up conversation with a bloke called Alan who was sat at the bar. During our conversation Pete asked him if there was anywhere to avoid. There was only one pub that could not be recommended for a visit and I forget what it is called. Alan told us of a big bloke he knows, a twenty stone plus gentle giant of a man who wouldn’t normally hurt a fly, who when he goes there comes out with his knuckles bleeding after having had to knock someone out. Alan assured us that we would not find trouble in the town as long as we avoided this place.
Part 3
Culchie Festival Road Trip 2009
PETE
After taking the waters and this advice, in the afternoon the only sensible thing was to get a couple of hours kip. After this we were up and on the beer again and at 4 euros a pint it was going to work out quite expensive, never the less we had come for a good time so it wasn’t all bad. After meeting more locals and people who had travelled from all over Ireland to attend the Honda run, we found ourselves in a curry house with internet access and dropped you all a line or two about events so far.
After finishing a chicken fal with extra garlic we made our way to the village hall to the Culchie Festival and to see the first round of the selection process. This in its self was something to behold. Firstly contestants have an interview with mammy and pappy who are trying to find a good country man for their daughter Ilene who is 35 and we are led to believe is quite a handful. Needless to say some of the entrants were very entertaining and after the interview they then had to milk a cow and get the most milk from it in 10 seconds. After the first round of contestants there was a disco and more drinking. The next night would see more contestants and then the crowning of the new Culchie King. We headed back to the tent and turned in about 1’o clock and were woken at about 3am by the sounds of smashing glass and fireworks all of which seems to be the norm.
The next morning we were up and about with no headache which all considered was a godsend. Then to be treated to yet another full Irish breakfast after which we went for a look around town to the start point of the rally. As we wandered up the road past an endless sea of broken glass, we came across Aidan and Noel. They were camping in the car park of a local fencing merchant and we made our plans to get to the start point. On arriving at the local cattle market which was playing host to the great Honda run there was a scene of total madness with one guy trying hopelessly to get these Honda’s into some sort of line up which could only be likened to trying to round up cats. While waiting to get going we were looking around at some fantastic bikes and some, which would not be allowed on UK roads. Never the less they were all there to participate in the wildest bimble I’ve ever had the misfortune to be caught up in.
With a police escort we set off to streets packed with onlookers all waving as we started on the 26 mile route. Stopping half way for tea and buns and then off again, through more packed streets to the Virginia Pumpkin Festival to salute the pumpkins. At one point Elvis was in front of me complete with 70’s jump-suit and a large stereo between his legs and a mic in his hand, singing viva Las Vegas at the crowd. He was one of many with no crash helmet on as the police didn’t seem to bother, some of the participants didn’t even have a number plate. As we came back in to Ballyjamesduff there was a camera crew from a local news channel filming, the trouble was he was in the middle of the road with bikes travelling either side of him. It was then that one rider decided to wheelie at him and lost control of the bike which narrowly missed the cameraman as he dived for cover.
After the run out Aidan said he had found a top local bar and at a little after 3pm we were on the beer again. The bar he had found was half hardware shop, half pub, and we were soon making ourselves very comfortable even though it looked like something out of Father Ted. The only thing I can say about it is that it looked like Arkright’s shop in Open All Hours complete with till and 5kg tins of lithium grease and sink plungers, nuts, bolts, screws, paraffin lamps and bath plugs. If you needed it the chances are that this bloke had it somewhere among the broken glasses that he kept knocking off the shelves as he was serving. But in all fairness he keep the best pint in the town and came up trumps the next day when I was after a washer to lock the back wheel on with.
After about 5 hours drinking we headed for the Royal that did good food, only to find that they stopped serving at eight thirty. This didn’t seem like a problem to Aidan who went running in to the kitchen to speak to the chef in charge, who was only too happy to help us out with steaks and chips. Aidan tells us that in Ireland you always speak to the man in charge so others don’t fob you off. After this we were off to the second half of the selection process of the Festival and to see the new king crowned, followed by more drinking and as the disco started we headed of back to the hardware shop. With a quick knock on the window we were ushered in again and took even more of the local waters. After the clock struck 2 we headed back for the tent and bedded down for the night.
Next morning we had yet another full breakfast and decided that we needed to get our hosts a parting gift for all the generosity they had shown us. So off to the shops for bottles of red and white and a big tin of Roses for the kids, which is the least we could do after the way Jackie and her family had looked after us. After packing up and loading the bikes we said a big thank you and our goodbyes and were told if we ever pass through BJD again we must call in and say hello. Then of we went dodging the broken glass from the night before and back on the N3 for Dublin. As before we had a little trouble locating the docks. With 15 minutes to spare we arrived and boarded the ferry for home. With bikes strapped down it was off to the dinning lounge for steak and ale pie swilled down with pop, as neither of us could face another beer.
On arriving at Holyhead, a quick trundle up the road to the Travelodge and tea and a nice hot shower and a night in a proper bed. Got up about 8 and headed for the Macdonald’s over the road for a bite to eat and then off again down the A55 to Bangor services for petrol and a smoke. Dave was heading to a friends and I was off home. I stopped off in Rhyl to have a brew with a friend and then back on to the A55. Got down to Chester and with all the vibration I realised that the handlebars had come loose. So after a quick stop to bang the nut back round with a screwdriver and a brick, I was about an hour from home. And there the tale ends with me happy to be home after what seemed to be one of the strangest weekends ever. Many thanks to Dave for travelling with me, he is a true gent and I look forward to many trips in the future.
DAVE
Of course there is loads and loads more to tell but we have to end somewhere or it’ll go on forever. Things like: As well as Elvis, Evel Kinevel, Zoro, Michael Jackson and Moses, (who couldn’t turn water into wine, but assured us that he was able to turn wine into water); Pete nearly having his eye poked out by a big wooden fork, the beer barrel fuel tank on Aidan’s trike leaking halfway round the run; me putting my elbow on the table in the hardware shop and upsetting all the glasses; my tools & spares being mistakenly put in a rubbish bag at our host’s place, with me searching everywhere until they were found just before we were to leave for the journey home; sleeping with wet gloves at night to dry them, the wind nearly blowing the tent away, the bloke in the Range Rover “fair play to yer son” and the Cannonball run through Dublin. We hope this gives you an idea of what went on and can highly recommend this trip. Save up first as it ain’t cheap, but it is worth every penny. Cheers for the inner tube Aidan and a big thanks to Pete for being such a good bloke on this crazy adventure.
© Pete & Dave 2009
-
Saltysnax
- Posts: 280
- Joined: Thu Jul 02, 2009 10:35 pm
-
Newtsalad
- Admin & site janitor.
- Posts: 17624
- Joined: Fri May 01, 2009 8:30 am
- Rides:: XL1200c, Cali III, C125,GS750,XV535,XL350,BN125,C90's,C200's,CT200,Little Cub's
- Location: Essex boy loose in Suffolk!
Re: Culchie Festival / Honda stepthru run - Cavan, Ireland. 25th
A great read chaps! Many thanks for posting it up and sharing it with us! Great stuff!
-
Saltysnax
- Posts: 280
- Joined: Thu Jul 02, 2009 10:35 pm
Re: Culchie Festival / Honda stepthru run - Cavan, Ireland. 25th
It really was a hoot of the first magnitude, well worth the time, effort and expense, as it turned into one of the most bizzare weekends of my life. I can highly recommend this trip especially if you want to cram a mad adventure into a long weekend.