Mid-Life Crisis?

As anyone who knows me well knows, I am not a great fan of a certain well-known American motorcycle manufacturer. In fact, I have been known to periodically make the odd uncomplimentary remark about them, and those who choose to ride them.

However, a few of the lads that I have been riding with these last few years own them and have been nothing but complimentary about their performance and handling. Also, those big seats look really comfortable now that I have a bad back and old weary bones.

So, while not sure if you can have a mid-life crisis when you’re nearly sixty, I decided I’d try one on for size and booked myself a weekend rental of a Heritage Classic 114 to put through its paces. I thought that this would be a better option than just settling for a couple of hours on a test ride or a guided demo run.

The original plan had to be put on hold when I contracted Covid, so it got re-scheduled for the weekend just gone. I was running out of useable weekends, weatherwise. This is Scotland after all. Rain is our national anthem.

Friday morning saw me call in at the dealership to collect the bike, on a ’22 plate and having covered just over 6k miles in the six months since it was registered. Most of the paperwork had already been sorted, just a few bits and pieces to sort out, a brief run over the controls, and then it was time to get going. I put in into gear, CLUNK, and off we went.

First, back to the house to load up with camping gear, and then head north to Inverness for the weekend to the Bunchrew Campsite where I’ve stayed before.

I had a leisurely run up the A9, before taking a slight detour to photograph RuthvenBarracks, near Kingussie, and then an even gentler meander along some single-track back roads to Aviemore, before eventually re-joining the A9 and on to Inverness.

At the campsite I set up the tent on the shore of the Beauly Firth and settled in for the night with a book and a meal from the local chip shop. It had been a tiring day. Seems I’m not as fully recovered as I’d thought.

Up on Saturday and a decision had to be made. The original idea was a long ride up to John O’Groats and back, for no other reason that it was a straight road from Inverness and would give me a destination. The morning started rather grey and overcast, and there was a definite feeling that it might rain. That, and I was quite tired from the ride the previous day. So, as a compromise, I would start out towards John O’Groats and then see how the day progressed.

In the end I stopped in Helmsdale, about 50 miles south of John O'Groats, where I took some photos of "The Emigrants" by artist Gerald Laing (1936-2011), a statue in memory of those who were evicted from the land during The Clearances and who were then forced to emigrate to the far side of the world. 

Afterwards, I headed the bike south again, stopping off at the Tain Pottery and picking up something for the wife, who is a big fan of highland cows.

Before detouring to the Black Isle to check out another campsite at Rosemarkie, located right on the shore of a beautiful long bay. I may pay them a visit on a future trip to the area as it’s a lovely, well-appointed site.

And, although it often threatened, I encountered no rain the whole time I was away.

And so to Sunday, and the trip home. It had rained a lot overnight, and that coupled with a heavy blustery wind rattling the tent, meant that I didn’t get much sleep. On getting up in the morning I found that the rain had stopped, but it looked like it might start again at any moment. Deciding to quit while the going was good, I hurriedly packed up and got going.

Setting a steady pace, I managed about an hour before the rain made an appearance and it continued steadily till I got near Edinburgh. Much to my surprise, the bike handled really well in the wet, and the Dunlop tyres I had been a little critical of beforehand were as good as any I’ve had on a bike. Three and a half hours after starting I rolled into my driveway and that was that, the trip was over. 

Okay, but how was the bike? In retrospect, I was pleasantly surprised at how easy such a big heavy machine was to push around. Most of the weight is set down low and it felt very ‘planted’ and easily manoeuvred. It sat comfortably at 60-70mph on the motorway and never felt hurried, and on fast A-roads it could be hustled around quite comfortably. I had deliberately chosen to ride it on a variety of roads from motorways to single-track B-roads and the engine never felt taxed, unsurprisingly with such a huge capacity. It just rumbled away in whatever gear you had selected.

The six-speed gearbox is as clunky as you might expect. To say it felt agricultural seems too lazy a description, let’s just say that each change was very ‘positive’. You definitely knew that you’d changed gears.

Unfortunately, over the course of the trip I found the clutch very heavy, especially in town traffic. Finding neutral while the bike was running was all but impossible. I did try putting in into neutral with the clutch pulled in and coasting to a stop. Sometimes it worked, more often than not it didn’t. In the end I just sat with the heavy clutch pulled in and hoped the lights changed quickly. The rest of the time I switched the bike off and, rocking it back and forwards a bit, located neutral that way.

On the matter of stopping, only fitting a single front disc on the front is, to be honest, a bit strange. I would have expected a twin disc set-up on such a big bike. The brakes were another area where all was not well. There was only about 5mm travel between ‘Off’ and ‘Emergency Stop’ on the front brake, usually a sign that the caliper needs a good clean, and surprising on such a low-mileage machine, and the back brake on this particular machine wasn’t terribly effective either, being only really useful to stop you rolling backwards or forward while stopped. Overall, they didn’t impress and, even when hauling on them, it took a little longer to slow down than I was comfortable with.

The standard touring screen is very good and, while not as tall as that on my Triumph, gives good protection from wind and weather. Just as well, since I had an open-face helmet on for the weekend and riding in the rain would have been far more uncomfortable on a naked bike.

The seat, while comfortable, is still only good for about an hour/hour and a half of riding, so no better or worse than that on my current bikes, but combined with the footboards you do get to move around a fair bit to avoid cramping.

I’d never ridden a bike with footboards before and I wasn’t too keen beforehand, if I’m honest. I was mostly worried about grounding them, but. I needn’t have worried on that account. After the weekend away I’m sold. Only downside was that moving around on them can make using the forward controls a little difficult as your feet aren’t always in the correct position.

The Switch-gear had big chunky buttons which are easy to use with your gloves on. You can also toggle through the computer options on the tank console while on the move, checking mileage, fuel consumption etc. Only thing I found annoying was the separate right/left indicator switches, one on each side, which were supposed to be self-cancelling. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn’t. The only way to tell was to glance own at the tank-mounted console to see if the indicator lights were flashing. I really didn’t like having to partly raise my hand from the throttle to activate the r/h indicator as I felt it interfered with my control. Maybe this is something that you will get used to over time. For a weekend away it was just an annoyance I could have done without.

Lastly, the standard branded panniers fitted were very poor. Leatherette, non-sealing, so water got in easily, and with cheap plastic locks that wouldn’t last ten seconds should you apply a little force with a screwdriver, so not the most secure either. Also, for some reason they have cut-outs on the inside faces which reduce capacity by about a third of what the outer dimensions would suggest. But they look cool, so there is that. I’d want to look at seeing if my existing Givi boxes could be made to fit should a purchase be likely.

On that note, would I buy one? Perhaps. I do believe that I could be persuaded. I enjoyed the experience, and the problems that I encountered with the clutch and the brakes I put down to how the bike was set up, rather than the bike itself. It doesn’t inspire great confidence in that particular dealer, but it seems to be a familiar problem with dealers in general and is something that I’ve encountered regularly over the years.

In conclusion, while I might not be ready to splash out on a new machine, a nice low-mileage second-hand one might be on the cards. Only time will tell.

Under Canvas Again

I needed an early start on Saturday for an event I was attending in Inverness. However, as Inverness is a good three hour ride away, rather than being forced to set off at dark o’clock, I decided to work a camping weekend around it. I asked about and had the site at Bunchrew Caravan Park recommended to me. A quick phone call and I was booked in for two nights, Friday and Saturday.

Ready to Roll

Now, I haven’t been camping in over three years, for obvious reasons, so I dragged out all my kit, rummaged about to find what I needed, and loaded up the panniers that had been stacked in the back of the shed for the same length of time. All set for the morrow.

Highland Cow Sculpture, Ralia Cafe

As I didn’t need to be in Inverness for any particular time I had a bit of a lie-in, a late breakfast, and then a leisurely run up the A9, stopping just the once at the Ralia Café just north of Dalwhinnie for a bit of a break. 

How Much?

Filling up in Inverness once I arrived was another wallet-emptying experience. The joy of a bike with a 25 litre tank.

View from my tent

The campsite is located a few miles out of town on the shore of the Beauly Firth, and the area for tents is next to the shore giving you spectacular views out over the water. 

Feet up and relaxing

With no hotels or pubs nearby I had brought my own food and some whisky should I feel like it later. With the weather being bright and sunny it was nice just sitting and looking out over the water and reading a book. There are worse ways to spend your Friday night.

Kessock Bridge in early morning haze

Saturday was spent on a run up the east coast, and I’ll post about that separately later.

Back at the site it was more of the same, although the wind got up a bit in the evening forcing a few folk to rig extra guy ropes and dropping the temperature a bit. 

Sunset over the Beauly Firth

Sunday morning, all packed away and another gentle run back down the A9. This is actually a rather pleasant road if you’re blessed with warm weather and a Sunday morning’s lack of traffic. And all too soon I’m home and the weekend is over.

A smashing weekend away, I must get the tent out a bit more this year. A trip further afield may not be out of the question either. Pity there’s no guaranteeing similar weather.

The only downside to staying on a big campsite like this, however, is that you are at the mercy of whoever rocks up and camps next to you. An awful lot of people don’t seem to realise that tents aren’t soundproof, so loud (drunken) conversation into the wee small hours, along with radios blaring, are a nuisance if all you want to do is enjoy the tranquillity and/or get some sleep. I just put in some earplugs and tried not to let it bother me overmuch.

Under Canvas

I’m looking forward to going camping again on the bike at the weekend. 

However, the worst thing about that first trip of the year is trying to remember where you put all your kit from last year. I still can’t find my sleeping mat.

Eclipse

(From Facebook)

Over the Sea to Skye

I recently went camping with a few friends in northern Scotland. As well as catching up, it was also to be the first real outing for yet another new bike, this one a 2005 Aprilia ETV1000 Caponord.

My recent adventures on the Triumph TT600 had confirmed that I’m not really a sportsbike type of person, the Caponord is much more my sort of thing. Very like my Triumph Tiger 955 in many ways.

We would be staying at a campsite in Shiel Bridge in the shadow of the Five Sisters of Kintail mountain range, a rather dramatic setting, and just along the road from Eilean Donan Castle, probably the most instantly recognisable of Scotland's many castles. The site itself was a bit basic, but our needs were few, and the local hotel was only about a mile away for food and a few beers of an evening.

The ride up on Friday was a bit grey and overcast, but I missed the rain which a couple of the others were caught in. It wasn’t looking like the best of weekends, something the ever reliable weather forecasts agreed upon almost without exception.

 

at a viewpoint looking back towards Loch Duich

However, Saturday dawned bright and sunny and we decided to risk it and take a run around the Isle of Skye. Instead of doing the sensible thing and taking the bridge, we decided to take the small Glenelg Ferry instead.

not the biggest ferry I've ever been on

This is a fairly short crossing, but involves riding on some fantastic wee single-track roads on both sides of the water. Anyway, a ferry is always way more interesting than a bridge.

on board you are advised to remain with your bike in case it should topple over

Once on Skye we headed for the village of Elgol on the SW coast. Once again, a fantastic single-track road and simply stunning scenery throughout. We weren’t the only visitors, though, and the small harbour area was incredibly busy. We stayed only long enough for a few photos before heading back the way we had come, stopping off for a bit of lunch at the Blue Shed Café at Torrin. 

I’d highly recommend the cafe, not only for the food, which was excellent, but also for the views.

the view towards Blà Bheinn (the Blue Mountain), part of the Cuillen range

Then on to Portree, the island’s capital, where after a bit of confusion we located an ATM, filled the bikes with fuel, and headed north to Staffin and Kilt Rock. From there we took the Bealach Cuithraing road over the hills to Uig. Another single-track road which runs coast to coast, complete with a couple of tight hairpins thrown in for good measure.

at Kilt Rock looking over towards Wester Ross

Once in Uig we turned back towards Portree and headed for the bridge at Kyleakin before returning to the mainland at Kyle of Lochalsh.

heading into Uig

Just as were approaching the bridge it began to rain, resulting in a truly spectacular double rainbow as we crossed. The rain continued, getting really heavy for the next ten miles or so, before clearing up and leaving the air remarkably clear. Well, it wouldn’t be a trip to Skye if it hadn’t rained, now would it?

our route for the day

Back at the campsite it became apparent that the damp humid conditions had brought forth that scourge of the Highlands, the midge. For such a small insignificant thing they are a plague which drives even the hardiest soul demented, so off to the pub it was. And quickly too.

Finally, the walk along the shore of Loch Duich to the hotel as the sun was setting was the perfect end to an almost perfect day.  

However, I can't leave you without sharing this rather surreal roadsign spotted on the road to the ferry.

Who Needs Therapy?

Under Cover

Heading to North Wales for a spot of camping this weekend. Here’s hoping that the Weather Gods are kind to us. It’s a long way to ride in the rain for the chance of a pint or two with friends.

A Very Silly Trip Indeed

In 1997 The MZ Riders Club held their National Rally & AGM in Brecon, Wales. This was about 450 miles from my home on the east coast of Scotland. I was going, the only decision I had to make was which of my two bikes I would go on. The BMW R100RS, a serious touring machine which would simply eat up the miles, or the MZ ETZ125, my little runabout which would struggle to maintain 55 mph and which was not even roadworthy. The choice might have seemed obvious. I decided to take the wee 125. It was, after all, an MZ event, so it seemed only proper that I attend on one of their bikes.

This was my report for the club magazine MZ Rider immediately afterwards.

A Very Silly Trip Indeed

Well, no more excuses. Having spent the previous week rebuilding the top-end (easy), sorting out the electrics (difficult) and re-spraying the whole bike (not too bad, actually), I was as ready as I was ever going to get. The bike was taxed and MOT'd and Brecon beckoned (sorry, couldn't resist that one).

           

Thursday morning I loaded up and set off. Being on an ETZ 125 I had ruled out extended travel on the motorways and I intended to stick to mostly the quieter A-roads. The route looked fairly straightforward, that is if you discount the distances involved. A7 to Carlisle, A6 to Preston, and A49 towards Wales. I say towards Wales because I didn't have a map of Wales, but reckoned that Brecon was big enough that it would be signposted once I got near enough.

The A7/A6 parts of the trip passed without too much incident. I was familiar with the roads having ridden them in the past. Weather-wise things were quite favourable. Cloudy for most of the journey, and not too cold. Traffic was mercifully light. This I put down to most drivers using the motorways and, it being midweek, people were mostly at their work. The only really heavy traffic I encountered was around Wigan at about 5pm as people were, quite reasonably, going home.

If I make this part of the journey sound rather easy, then I have to admit that that was how I found it. I stopped a couple of times for fuel, and once in Shap for a sandwich. Beyond that I just got on with it, Zed numb-bum notwithstanding. I was "in the groove" and the miles were just eaten up. I must confess to enjoying the trip down. At 50mph you can spare the time to look around you. Everything on the roads is faster than you, so you just let them past and keep on going at your own, very slow, pace.

           

After Wigan I kept my eyes peeled for road signs leading to Wales. I knew that I didn't want to end up heading for Liverpool and in the end headed for Wrexham as it was posted as North Wales. Here I took the A483 towards Oswestry and kept the bike heading south. By now it was getting dark and I was getting tired, so I stopped for a rest and to get some fuel at Llandinod Wells. While here I bought a local map to try and orientate myself and see how much further I had to go. "Bugger", not only was I on the right road but I was only about 35 miles away. I could have saved myself the cost of the map.

           

Off I set on the final leg of my journey. I have not gone in much for the practice of riding to rallies during the hours of darkness, so the trip through the Welsh hills was....interesting. Top speed swung back and forth between 30mph (going up) and 65mph (going down). At one point I reached a marked 75mph and that is enough to put the wind up anyone on a grossly overloaded 125 in pitch darkness and on unfamiliar roads.

           

The last edition of MZ Rider contained directions to the campsite. Unfortunately, they assumed everyone would be approaching from the South, I wonder why? Still, I kept alert for campsite signs and spotted one when approximately the right distance from Brecon. I pulled in to investigate and as I sat in the car park a figure loomed out of the darkness. Not to worry, it was a familiar face. Relief, I had arrived.

Ten hours after starting out and just over 400 miles from Edinburgh. Being an experienced Rallyist I hit the bar before setting up the tent. A note of caution here; a long trip, very little to eat and two pints of Flowers Best Bitter can have an amazing effect on you. "Time for bed", said Zebedee.......

           

On Friday folk began arriving early. It looked like being a good do. I was dragged off to Hay-on-Wye, 'Town of Books', as a sidecar passenger, a novel experience, in a move to make me spend all my money. I'm afraid that I have a weakness for a good bookshop, and here there were hundreds of them. I could have went quite potty except that I wanted to conserve what little money I had, and that I had absolutely no spare room on the bike whatsoever. Oh, all right then, I bought six books. I'd worry about getting them home later.

           

A rally is a rally. If you've been then you know what I mean. Folk arrive, some you haven't seen for ages, some you've never met before. You wander around looking at the bikes and talking to their owners. You marvel at the modifications on some bikes and file the info away for future projects, and you wonder how some of the heaps made it the length of their streets never mind all the way to Wales. All in the entire turnout was splendid. A plethora of sidecars, a Trophy, a Trophy Sport, and all the usual MZ fodder. I was pleased to note how few non-MZs turned up over the weekend. I think about 78 people had booked in by this point

           

Remember that I'd said that there was no room at all on the bike then proceeded to buy things? Well, a man turned up in a van and proceeded to sell the contents of his garage. Mucho cheapo. How could I not help him out? I also managed to lay my hands on another dozen really early issues of MZ Rider. The proceeds from the sale were kindly donated to club funds, which was rather generous. That was Friday, more or less. Back to the pub (surprise, surprise), and thence to bed.

           

On Saturday more folk arrived, and today's expedition was to the Welsh Whisky Centre. Didn't know that the Welsh made whisky did you? Apparently they were one of the biggest exporters of the stuff until the rise of Methodism put an end to the whole trade in the nineteenth century.

Boring pub-quiz type fact, did you know that the Jack Daniels factory was founded by Welsh immigrants? Bet that pisses off a few Harley owners (I always like to insult Harley owners at some point in my little diatribes).

           

A couple of us toddled along to the visitor centre. I don't know if it's worth £2 to get in, but since we didn't pay (there was no one on the door when we arrived so we just waltzed right on in) the point is somewhat academic. The film show was quite interesting, and when we finished there was a free tasting. I must admit that I didn't hold out high hopes for a wee dram of "Welsh", but I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn't crap at all, in fact it was jolly good. One of my colleagues was rather taken by another of their products, "Taffski Imperial Vodka". Would I lie to you? He pronounced it good stuff. At least that's what I think he said, it came out as "whhrrrrgghhh, yeargh", or something. At least he gave it the old thumbs-up.

           

And so to the AGM where yours truly scooped a couple of rally awards. Even more stuff to try and get home. 'Best 125/150', for which I am well chuffed after all the work I put into the bike beforehand, and 'Long Distance'. I admit that I'd have been severely pissed off if someone else had got this. If anyone else from Scotland had come down I'm sure that they would have gone home with this. So, there you are, I'm glad nobody did. If I could make it on a 125 you could have been there a slight quicker on a 250 or bigger. I apologise for not taking the details of the other awards, I dare say it will be fully reflected in the next magazine. AGM over, to the bar, and once more to bed, albeit a bit earlier. I had a long day ahead of me tomorrow.

           

The trip home was pretty much a repeat of the trip down. I was pleasantly surprised at how well the little bike performed over the whole weekend. I arrived home tired and hungry, but with a great sense of achievement.

I did enjoy annoying a few colleagues at work the following week, people who constantly slag off MZs. Picture the scene as I swagger into work and enquire where they've been over the weekend. After listening to their adventures, nobody having travelled further than about a hundred miles, I casually announce that I've just returned from a 900 mile round trip to Wales. On an MZ. Oh, yes, and it was a 125. Great wailing and gnashing of teeth etc. What fun. Should have some peace, at least for about a week. Who needs a sports bike anyway?

           

My thanks to the organisers for putting on a smashing weekend at such short notice. It's not easy organising one of these as I know to my cost. The awards currently have pride of place on the mantel at home. I've never won anything like these and I'm going to show them off thank you very much.