Weekend Away

This Saturday past I dragged the Skorpion out of the shed and pointed it south for the annual MZ Riders Club National Rally, being held this year in the picturesque village of Dent in the Yorkshire Dales, a place which I have been going to for as long as I've been attending bike events.

The trip down was fairly uneventful, other than a few rain showers and the fact that I had to make a short detour to pick up a new sleeping mat from a camping shop after  discovering that I had left mine at home. D'oh!

One of the first people I met on arrival was Terry, who had also come down from Scotland on his Skorpion. We set up 'Scotch Corner' away from all the smelly two-strokes.

my bike in the foreground with Terry's behind it

As for the rest, there was the usual eclectic mix of folk on all sorts of different machines, both MZ and otherwise. I even had a short ride on Chucks’ new Moto Guzzi Nevada 750, a nice bike, if a bit physically small for my tastes.

Chucks and his Guzzi

By a happy coincidence, on another part of the site were a group from the BSA Owners Club. Unfortunately, when I went in search of some photos (for Bodger) most of them were out on a club run. There were, however, still some nice bikes left behind, as well as a lovely period BSA automobile. I'll post some more of these pictures later.

The rest of the day was spent catching up with folk who I hadn't seen in some time, mainly because I don't attend as many events as I used to in years gone by, before repairing to the pub where we indulged in those old rally favourites of talking rubbish while drinking too much beer (except, that is, for Terry "The Total Abstainer" who, while still able to talk rubbish with the best of them, doesn't drink).

Baghira, Skorpion Traveller & TS250/1

Next morning, when I woke up (far too early) my sore head and I were greeted by the sight of a cloudless sky and bright sunshine. How unusual. I even managed to get everything packed away in the dry for a change. After some breakfast in a local café I said my goodbyes and started for home.

military chic

Since it was a nice day, I decided to forego the delights of motorway travel and to stick to minor roads instead. I set my sat-nav accordingly and was almost immediately directed off the beaten track and over the moors northwards towards Carlisle.

somewhere in Yorkshire

This is where I feel that these gadgets are worth their weight in beer. While I had only the vaguest idea of where I actually was most of the time, I had no doubt that I was still heading in the right direction and that I would eventually get where I was going. In the meantime, I was riding over unfamiliar roads of the sort that I would probably have avoided had I been using a map.

so that's where I am?

When I did stop for petrol at one point a rather forlorn BSA Bantam rider came and asked me if I had a socket set as his bike had conked out on him. Sadly for him, I hadn't. Anyway, what sort of self-respecting Bantam owner doesn't carry his own bodyweight in tools when out for a ride?

Bantam in background

The rest of the run home passed without further incident, with the roads mercifully quiet until I hit Carlisle and took the A7 northwards where traffic picked up a little, but not enough to be considered really busy. It was a little more overcast this far north, but it remained dry and it never really got cold enough to be a bother.

crossing the border - no passport required

Eventually, after about five hours I reached home, by this time quite tired and looking forward to a shower and something hot to eat before an early night.