Bikers1 - Orkney BC - Ravin Mad Rally 2004

Putting the Black Isle behind us we struck up the east coast on the A9, not stopping till Golspie to don our waterproofs when the rain started, only to be told that mine had been seen jumping ship on the Kessock Bridge. Luckily I had had the presence of mind to put dubbing on my leathers, which is quite unlike me.

Up the road awhile you eventually come the Berriedale Braes, with a gradient of 1 in 4 to the power of 9 an’ a hairpin at the bottom with a run off strip to give you hope. But there ain’t just one, oh no no, there’s about five of the buggers. One of them has a hairpin halfway up, where Jay’s SV started to misfire because of the rain, he nearly dropped it as well. Scary!!

We hit Thurso at about 7pm and parked in Lidl’s car park. Spotting a campsite nearby, we dispatched Neil on a price reccey. It wasn’t looking good! The guy wanted 7 quid, EACH, to pitch a tent on a rain battered headland. He can kiss my root!!

A local man told us that we could rent chalets at the Weigh Inn which was just round the corner. So that we did. £29/room/night for four of us was only £14.50 each. Heating, coffee, TV, shower, dry clothes….you do the emotional maths.

	Thursday dawned bright and cold, nae rain, superb!! A 9.30am kick off with the plan being to head off from Alloa and take the scenic route. Instead of the A9 which is pretty boring at the best of times, we headed for the Trossachs and the A82. First stop was The Green Welly at Tyndrum for a coffee an’ a warm up before driving through the pass of Glencoe. To those who haven’t been to Glencoe, I would simply say, “Go!” Go to Glencoe, better yet, go on a bike and see it, feel it for yourself. It is a beautiful place, seeming at first forbidding as its heights loom over you whilst wending your way through, but this soon turns to a sense of wonder as the colours and the architecture of the place really hit home. Arriving at the village of Glencoe you feel elated, all I could say to myself was “That was fuckin’ brilliant”. Over and over again. From Drumnadrochit to Inverness is a great bit of road, recently resurfaced by the looks of it. The road was smooth, bend after bend, each feeling better than the last as you got yourself into a wee rhythm. After a quick stop in Inverness for fuel we were off again.
	Putting the Black Isle behind us we struck up the east coast on the A9, not stopping till Golspie to don our waterproofs when the rain started, only to be told that mine had been seen jumping ship on the Kessock Bridge. Luckily I had had the presence of mind to put dubbing on my leathers, which is quite unlike me. Up the road awhile you eventually come the Berriedale Braes, with a gradient of 1 in 4 to the power of 9 an’ a hairpin at the bottom with a run off strip to give you hope. But there ain’t just one, oh no no, there’s about five of the buggers. One of them has a hairpin halfway up, where Jay’s SV started to misfire because of the rain, he nearly dropped it as well. Scary!! We hit Thurso at about 7pm and parked in Lidl’s car park. Spotting a campsite nearby, we dispatched Neil on a price reccey. It wasn’t looking good! The guy wanted 7 quid, EACH, to pitch a tent on a rain battered headland. He can kiss my root!! A local man told us that we could rent chalets at the Weigh Inn which was just round the corner. So that we did. £29/room/night for four of us was only £14.50 each. Heating, coffee, TV, shower, dry clothes….you do the emotional maths.
	Good prices for meals an’ a good portion too, washed down with a foaming ale or two before bed and an early start. Morning found young Stuart face down in his own vomit, bless! Too much drink, too much smoke, nice one! Loading up the bikes Jay discovered his bike was still misfiring, reckoning it was a damp plug I went in search of some WD40 from Chris and his wife (whose name I’ve forgotten, sorry) from Cannock MAG. That sorted it was a headlong dash to Scrabster, a full 40 seconds away. Into the ferry terminal for our tickets we were told that we needed to have pre-booked and the ferry was full, as was the 7pm sailing. Not what we were told when we phoned the previous week. So we were put on standby along with another biker from Belfast who had received the same misinformation as ourselves. Five minutes before cast off, the ferry loader upper bloke ran towards us shouting “Get yer tickets an’ get they bikes oan that boat quick!” A scramble for wallets ensued as we replied “Nae bother”, “aye aye” and “A huvnae finished ma pie”. Four sets of tickets later, whoosh, we were leaving the bikes in the hands of the loading crew and heading topside. I love ferries me, I really do, splicing here, avasting there, fiddlin’ with me yard arm, bracing against the mainsail and pooping on the deck…anyone for salty dog??
	A well kept secret greeted us more or less as soon as we got off the ferry…what feckin’ great roads!! Well surfaced, light traffic, long sweeps and view gazing straights. It took about 15 minutes for the procession to reach the campsite at Brough of Birsay. Bikes, trikes and a standing stone…well stood, down the dirt track to the hall. Well suited for the 150 or so people that turned up. At one end, well kept toilets (with heating!), then the hall with en suite bar hatch and finally a small side hall that served well priced hot food. Major bonus on the free tea and coffee…juice of the gods following a cold start. The tents were pitched atop a gently sloping meadow with panoramic views that sucked the remaining cold air out of your lungs when you stick your head out of the tent first thing in the morn’.

	Once randomly thrown together and pit prepared for falling in, we went for coffee then a quick spin to get our bearings (we’re on an island, so not too hard to do, even for us!!) Back to the hall for cold weather fortification, good choice of local ale, beers, softs and spirits. Recommend Orkney Dark Island. At about 9.30pm ‘Tribe’ started their set. The floor erupted to tunes from the Proclaimers, Bryan Adams and sixties hits. Duracel must have had a look in as they were still going strong at 4am, well after I had slunk off to ma pit. After waking and making sure ‘Chunder Boy’ Stuart wasn’t face down in anything unpleasant, such as vomit or a large man, I was greeted to a promising day. Could go on and on about Maes Howe, Ring of Brogar and other places we visited that day but this ain’t no novel. Suffice to say “Go see!” History, scenery and lifestyle…something for all the family.
	No need for silly games ‘n’ stuff as too much to see and do anyway. And so, in a Scooby Doo fashion, fast forward to evening. The night kicked off with a ceilidh by ‘The Birsay Boyz’. They was rockin’ and so was the dance floor, damn good start to the night. They were closely followed by ‘Loose Change’. What can I say?? BRILLIANT!! Mat (drummer), Robert (bass), Andrew (damn good vocals), Graham (rhythm guitar), and Robert (the demon lead guitarist) came straight in with ‘High Voltage’, serious brownie points from Marty!! And my personal fave ‘Enter the Sandman’. No group was missed, or so it seemed in my fuzzy state. Darkness, Queen and if my pickled mind recalls…Abba!?! Between gaps the trophies were given out and cog (traditional warm fallover juice) was passed around.
	Prize Winners: Furthest travelled male – Werner (800 miles, Germany) Furthest travelled female – Susanna (800 miles, also Germany) furthest travelled kiddies – 800 miles, Germany – Susanna and Werner’s, funnily enough Best Classic – BSA Best StreetFighter – ‘Roadrage’ ZX6R Best Custom – Eddie’s Harley Worst Rat – Honda CB400 Best Bike – Suzuki GSX1400 – Willie Smith Team Best Club Turnout – Saints and Sinners Furthest travelled Club – Cannock MAG
	We would like to thank Orkney BC – especially Sam and president Bruce Scollay, for a stonkin’ rally. Sam and Bruce would like to wish June all the best following a smash on the way to the rally, a repeat of the previous year! (nae luck hen!) Finally…sorry for taking so long to write this, only just recovered. See yawl next year!! Words/Pic by Marty and Jay Attempts to resurrect Marty's drunken mishandling of the digital camera , Al
Wonder What they're singin?