Aaron, or "Mojito Man" as he became known, is American and lives in Tampa, Florida. But our little mini-adventure didn't start there, instead it started in deepest, darkest, wettest, South Wales. Lucky Aaron is shortly to undertake another trip with our friends from Globebusters, as he rides with them from London to Bejing. But first, he needed to come over to the UK to check his bike was ok and to hang-out with his brother, Dustin, who is in the military and stationed in Germany. The original plan was for Nick and I to join Aaron and Dustin on a short European jaunt. Only that didn't look like it was going to work, so we skipped to plan-B, which was a hastily arranged trip up through Wales and across to Ireland.
So it was that on Good Friday I loaded up my bike and headed off to Wales. Initially the weather was ok, not too cold but at least not raining. Then I got into the hills and it started raining hard. Determined to make good progress and to try and get to Globebusters' HQ before everyone had got bored and left, I kept up my pace, revelling in once again riding my bike further than to work and back. I arrived just after 3pm, some 4.5 hours from leaving home. Not bad, but it's only 190 miles. No sooner had I pulled up in the car park at the back of the unit than I was engulfed in a bear-hug similar to the one in Ushuaia as Aaron expressed his pleasure at seeing me again. Nice. Soon I was surrounded by those oh-so-familiar faces: Nick, Kevin, Julia, Jeff and Richard. And reminiscing over the good times. I also met Dustin, who had ridden up from Germany on his 1998 Honda Fireblade. Boy, was he in for a shock over the next few days!
We hatched our plans and then changed them again to allow Aaron to get a new exhaust for his bike so he could fit his Metal Mule panniers (same as mine), which meant Nick had to return home to get his bike and then set off early in the morning to collect the exhaust. Dustin also needed a new rear tyre, so Saturday morning was already accounted for. Friday evening naturally included some fine pints of Brains bitter and some mojitos at Richard & Karen's house, where we also had some excellent Mexican food and a damned good chin-wag. Aaron and Dustin stayed in the pub whilst I got the spare room. The following morning we congregated at the unit and Nick arrived with the exhaust, which we left Jeff to fit whilst we went across the road to annoy the guy at Touratech, and when Dustin arrived we were good to go. Once again saying our goodbyes the 4 of us (Aaron, Dustin, Nick and me) set off on our little adventure. I'd planned a route up through the Brecon Beacons and into North Wales on some varied roads (the really narrow, bumpy ones being a particular favourite of Dustin's as his bike was not really suited to them). The weather was glorious and the scenery the match for anything we'd seen during the Trans Am, with the rolling hillside a golden brown in the early afternoon sun.
We rode on and up to Betws-y-Coed, one of my favourite biking destinations, and enjoyed a (very) late lunch of fish and chips in the cafe. Aaron avoided the mushy peas - his experience of them in Columbia seems to have failed to develop his taste buds. Once refreshed we rode the last few miles to our overnight stop. I'd booked us a night in the fantastically named Welsh town of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch which is just over the bridge on the Isle of Anglesey and we arrrived in good spirits around 6pm. The receptionist at the hotel obliged our curiosity by recounting the name of the town (and no, I still can't say it properly!), and then it was a quick shower and into the bar for some well earned refreshments. Also staying in the hotel was a group of 4 Irish Harley riders (from the "Celtic Thunder" chapter of the Harley Owners Group) who turned up resplendent in Harley-branded clothing from head to toe and who were still in the bar when we called it a night.
The following morning over breakfast we learnt that one of the Harley riders that he has the only complete collection of 150year-anniversary Harleys outside the Milwaukee musuem (including the Ford F150 pick-up)... and most of them have never been ridden... I've nothing against people collecting things (after all, I have an original Fireblade that won't get ridden much!), but sometimes you have to wonder whether the cynical marketing machine has duped people into considering some things real investments when they probably aren't (anyone want to bet there's a 175-year edition Harley available in 23 years?).
Sunday dawned bright and cold as we rode out of the hotel car park and immediately got lost. The main road we'd crossed onto Anglesey on went directly past the hotel, but there was no slip road onto it. Eventually the sat-nav came to our rescue and we were on our way, now behind the Harleys instead of in front of them. The short run to the ferry at Holy head was uneventful apart from a bit of wind (not THAT sort!), and soon we were checked in, then riding on board and leaving the bikes to be strapped down. We'd managed to get the faster ferry, so the crossing was mercifully short (just 2 hours) and we managed to while away the time doing very little. Once off the ferry at Dublin City port we rode the very short distance through the chaos of Dublin traffic to the hotel (Best Western Ashling, and very good too!), where we put the bikes in the underground car park and went exploring. On the ferry Aaron had asked if we'd tried to contact Finn, the Irish journalist (and production editor of the Irish Sunday World tabloid) who'd joined us in Santiago. I'm more than embarrassed to say the thought hadn't occurred to me, so while we were wandering round Dublin Aaron managed to get his number and arrange for him to join us later.
After a spot of sightseeing we found ourselves in a bar on the outskirts of the Temple Bar area supping Guinness and watching the wierd life come and go (weird as in goth-like - it was like stepping back into the 1980s).
Finn turned up with a couple of mates all carrying crash helmets... he'd been out test-riding the new BMW S1000RR sportsbike for his paper, the jammy git. His mates were on bikes equally as exotic (Aprilia Tuono and Ducati 1098S). We tried to hide our jealosy but failed miserably...
While Finn went to drop the bike off and get changed, we went to another pub he'd directed us to, where Nick and I enjoyed some more Guinness, Aaron giggled like a girl (he'd been on the rum again) and Dustin went to take some photos. When Finn arrived we gave up the drinking and went to a lovely bistro for some food, which was accompanied by some mojitos and red wine. Well, we can't stop drinking for too long, we are in Dublin, after all! From there it was one more bar before old age and alcohol got the better of us and we crammed into a taxi back to the hotel. Naturally Nick and I had to have a nightcap, and realised we were talking complete crap so quit and called it a night.
The following morning's full Irish breakfast was most welcome, and soon we were back on the bikes and following some rough directions Finn had given us to some great biking roads. I'd programmed the "route" into my sat-nav and soon found myself leading our small group down a single-track road covered in loose gravel. Woo-hoo, Ruta 40 all over again! Then I remembered poor Dustin who was at the back of the group trying to keep his overladen Fireblade on the road. He really does need a GS...
The rest of the day was spent riding great roads down to Blarney Castle so the guys could kiss the stone (I declined, having done it in 2006 when over here with Colin). It was blustery and getting more overcast as we turned back North and rode to Limerick, where I'd found a hotel for the night, thinking Limerick sounded like a good place to stay overnight. It wasn't, as the town itself isn't very picturesque, but the hotel was superb. As we pulled into the underground car park, though, we noticed a strange noise coming from Nick's bike. It sounded like the gearbox was on its way out, clunking and grinding as though it had a terminal case of metal fatigue. Oh dear. A few phone calls and he decided to leave to the morning before calling Emergency Rescue (the BMW equivalent of the Thunderbirds). Fortunately the restaurant was excellent and took his mind off things, although I don't think he had a particularly good night's sleep as when I tried to go to the bathroom around 4am I found him sleeping on the bathroom floor (he said it was my snoring, I think it was worry).
Tuesday morning started with another good breakfast before Nick's recovery truck turned up and off he went to the BMW dealership in Cork, leaving Aaron, Dustin and me to set off to ride the "Ring of Kerry" a beautiful 280Km loop from Killarney round the west coast.
It took us a while to get to Killarney (Dustin doing a more than passable impression of Late Guy), and then we stopped for lunch about 25 miles into the loop when Nick called. The dealer had checked his bike over and concluded there was nothing wrong, the old "they all do that, sir" phrase being used to further placate him. With the reassurance his bike wasn't about to blow up, he said he'd set off and catch us up. Which seemed reasonable as it was a beautiful day and we fully intended to stop regularly and take photos. Which we did.
Then Aaron and I stopped at the top of one hill after a particularly bumpy stretch of road and there was no sign of Dustin. Not for 5 minutes. Or 10. After 15 we headed back down the road, fearing the worst. We found him riding out of the small village we'd ridden through and he explained he'd lost his gloves. Late Guy has a new rival. Once regrouped, we filled up with fuel and continued on our merry way, now convinced Nick would catch up with us very soon. We stopped again in Sneem for a drink and waited for Nick. He arrived eventually just as we were enjoying an ice-cream and re-united we rode on up to Moll's Gap as the weather turned worse and the rain came. Another beautiful, narrow and bumpy road to test Dustin's riding skills whilst the 3 of us on BMW's finest rattled along at a fair old pace. So much for sportsbikes... on roads like these, the GS (in any guise) is just about perfect. The views when the clouds parted were stunning too...
Back in Cork we made our way to the hotel as the sun came out once again. I'd lucked out once more with my hotel-finding, a large Edwardian country house for less than £40 each including breakfast... A taxi into Cork and some more Guinness followed by a decent curry saw the evening out pretty well.
Our final morning together was again bright and sunny as Nick and I said farewell to Aaron and Dustin (they were staying in Ireland until Friday). The ride from Cork to Dublin was pretty dull after the beautiful riding of the past few days, but I wasn't complaining. I'd dropped straight back into the routine of travelling once more, simply loving the feeling of riding from place to place and seeing the world change as I rode through it, even if it was only subtle changes in comparison to the changes I rode through last year...
Another short and pleasant ferry crossing deposited us back onto the mainland and into a massive traffic jam that spanned the whole length of the M56 from Chester to Manchester. At least we were on 2 wheels and could squeeze past the bored-looking car and van drivers. Most at least saw us coming and created a gap, and the few dickheads who tried to close the gap and prevent us getting past were soon frustrated as we got by then regardless. We parted company somewhere on the M56 as Nick headed home to Oxford and I rode on home. Great to see them, sad to see them go... must arrange something similar very soon...
Thursday and Friday were more "normal" as I didn't get out riding, but stayed at home and prepared some of the ingredients for Saturday's feast. Whilst I'd been travelling with Aaron on the Trans AM, I'd made the mistake of mentioning that I love to cook, Thai food especially. He immediately invited himself for a Thai feast, and naturally I was delighted to oblige. On Saturday he went to see Late Guy, so the invitation was extended further, and shortly after 4pm 3 bikes rolled up my drive and into my back yard. Once the guys were settled in their guest rooms and changed out of their bike clothing we gave Aaron the mojito ingredients and the evening got underway... the food seemed to go down quite well too, as I stuck to a reasonably familiar menu of Spicy Sausage, Son-In-Law Eggs, Tamarind Chicken wrapped in Lime Leaves followed by 3-Flavoured Fish, Chicken and Chillies with Basil and Thai Green Beef Curry... Tracy had cooked a couple of excellent sweet desserts to follow, after I'd told her about our American friend's unbelievable appetites and sweet teeth... It was a great evening....
Finally on Sunday I had to say goodbye to them again, this time riding part of the way South before sending them off with a good route plotted out for them to follow. Saying goodbye was just as hard as it had been in Buenos Aires... let's hope I see them all, and get to ride with them, again soon... and that Aaron returns safely from his London-Bejing adventure, which starts on Saturday 17th April from the Ace Cafe in London...