Over The Sea

Crossing the border is simplicity itself. No barriers, no guards, no passporst etc.

A week or so ago I made my annual trip to the Republic of Ireland for the MZ Riders Club rally there.

MZ TS250s

ex-Belgian police ETZ250 with an estimated 350,000 km on the clock

As in previous years there were a goodly number of Royal Enfields present, as it seems that many of those who like MZs and Jawas also like the simplicity of Royal Enfields.

Continental GT & 500 Bullet

350 & 500 Bullets

military 500 Bullet

In addition there was a lovely little Jawa 350 and, my personal favourite, a Ural 650 sidecar outfit.

It wouldn’t be an MZ rally if someone wasn’t dismantling their bike on site. In this instance the rear shock on this TS250 decided to dismantle itself en-route. So, out with the spanners, and wasn’t there a huge selection?

The evenings sorted them selves out, as these things usually do, with music and the odd beer or two.

Mick & Sean providing some tunes

this doesn't sound quite so bad in Ireland

So, until next year then. Actually, this is one of my favourite things about motorcycle events. You can make plans for twelve months hence and no one thinks it odd.

beautiful Norton which looked like it had just rolled off the production line

Cuba

The wife and I had talked about going out to Cuba for years. The occasional travel programme and newspaper article had fuelled our interest, and we were finally convinced when we had word of mouth accounts from colleagues and acquaintances that had actually made the trip.

Cuba is not a cheap holiday destination, it takes 10 hours flying time to get there and prices for tourists are raised in order to bring in much needed money to the Cuban economy. After deciding not to go for a resort holiday (usually based in Varaderro on the north coast) we opted for a Ramblers Holidays package. This would take us from one end of the island to the other, with an internal flight to get us back to our starting point (in a Russian Built Yak 142). There would be a series of towns and sights to visit and some non-challenging rambles in the countryside or National Parks along the way. Sounded ideal, and so it turned out to be.

We landed at Havana and set off on a 3 hour coach drive to Vinales National Park. In the busy traffic on the outskirts of Havana it was immediately obvious that there were loads of interesting vehicles. There were hundreds of old 1950/60s American cars, but I wasn’t prepared for the number of Communist Bloc vehicles, thousands of them. There were Moskovitches of varying ages, some big old Volgas, a Skoda or two, but most popular of all was the Lada. There were no two-stroke four-wheelers of any sort that I could see. Thrown in amongst the cars were the trucks and light commercials, many of which I did not recognise, but included Roman diesel trucks (from Romania perhaps?) and a few IFA East German models. As to bikes, well again, a great variety particularly of two-strokes with Ural/ Dnepr flat twins making up the 4 strokes. There were a lot of sidecar outfits around, equally popular with either 250cc two-strokes or the larger Russian boxer twins. Looking at a street scene was a real time warp with a horse and cart or two, the old American cars and the large number of old traditionally styled motorcycles, and more so if there were a few sidecars around.

Over the next two weeks we travelled extensively across the island form west to east. We were able to see the real Cuba, walking through the countryside, having lunch on a farm, visiting a doctor’s surgery, and meeting and talking with villagers. The country is emerging from a very tough time dubbed by Castro as “The Special Period “. Cuba was always on the brink economically as the result of the US trade embargo and the pressure that the US could bring to bear on other trading nations. What really finished Cuba off was the sudden collapse of the USSR. Almost like throwing a switch, Cuba was cut off from its main export markets and its supply of aid, fuel and technology. The Special Period saw food rationing (still in place), planned power cuts and water supply cuts and very few road vehicles as fuel ran out. Even more serious was the collapse in mechanised farming as tractors; tyres, parts and fuel ran out. Agriculture had to go into reverse, using draft animals to replace tractors and using equipment last seen in Europe in the Middles Ages.

That was then. Today Cuba has been able to forge new links with trading partners who care little for the US, predictably the French, so new Peugeots and Renault cars are on the streets, along with Daewoo and Hyundai as well. Cuba now relies on tourism as its main money earner; most tourists are from Canada with the UK at No. 2.

I did go out of my way to photograph as many motorcycles as I could in order to give a slide show to the local Section of the VMCC and to write a MZ biased article for the MZ Rider mag. (written and submitted). My lack of Spanish hindered me from making any more than a passing contact with the bikes and their owners. I was delighted to see quite a few examples of the older ES models, both 150 and 250 versions. Most had been heavily modified over the last 30 or so years. Some had been lavishly chromed, swinging arms, side panels, side stands, brake plates etc. etc. All had been repainted, and there seemed to be a variety of after-market MZ name decals.

By far and away the city that had most motorcycles of any description was Cuba’s second city, Santiago de Cuba, and here the MZ reigned supreme, literally hundreds of them. The most numerous model was the ETZ 250, and there were a lot of smart bikes around with some really eye catching and tasteful paintwork.  Many bikes (Supa 5s, ETZs) had been tweaked or modified in some way. I can remember a Supa 5 with cast alloy wheels, an ETZ engine and a very smart alloy rear swinging arm all finished off in an eye catching mix of purple metallic and lime green! In Havana I saw one of the later ETZ 125 models fitted with what looked like a Russian engine, possibly a Voshkod. Basically anything goes.

Road behaviour appeared to be good, if rather chaotic, by that I mean that there was no blowing of horns, loud sporty exhausts and no cutting up of other road users. Everyone seemed to follow the basic rules of lane discipline and traffic light rules at a pace that was speedy but safe. We did see one accident between a Water Authority van and a truck, a rear end shunt in a town street. More common was to see broken down vehicles by the side of the road, some with spectacular problems like sheared axles or split diff casings! Fuel was again in plentiful supply, and it was quite something to see a garage forecourt busy with perhaps a 1950s car, four or five solo two-strokes and maybe two or three outfits. Oh, and the brand name of the fuel? Oro Negro - Black Gold.

If you can, save up and go to Cuba. It is a unique place, a time warp. The people are very friendly, the geography is fascinating and the architecture is already recognised as being of global interest. UNESCO is pumping in millions to repair, restore and repaint the colonial style street frontages in several cities around the island, and not a moment too soon. On average three buildings a day collapse in Cuba. It is still a Communist/Dictatorship regime, but appears to be a distinctly Caribbean interpretation of the doctrine rather than the austere and threatening Soviet model. The political murals and elevation of Che to deity status just all add to the colourful mix of the holiday.

(The above tale is courtesy of my friend Jim, and was first published in the Thistledown newsletter in 2009)

Springbank

On a recent holiday I came across the Springbank distillery in Campbeltown. I think I’d driven past it a couple of times already before I spotted this small sign on the wall of a fairly narrow alley.

A wee bit of investigation, and it turned out that the white building you can see on the right at the end of the lane is the actual distillery. 

  
And next door was the whisky bond and bonded warehouses.

Up a lane in the centre of a town was not what I was expecting. It’s all very low key.

Unfortunately, as it was Sunday, the place was closed, otherwise I would have been tempted to take a look around further and I might even have been persuaded to purchase a bottle or two.

Anyway, this is what all of the fuss is about. Lovely stuff.

Horsing Around

Outside Murray's Motorcycle Museum on our first trip to the IOM (1993)

Really Cheap Beer 2013

On our first proper day in Chambery on our trip to France last year we were debating about what we were going to do over breakfast at a small café in the town centre. The owner, who’s BMW was parked outside, got talking to us about bikes etc. and recommended a couple of routes we could try while we were there. ‘Other Terry’ (there were two of them on this trip) and I decided that riding the route around Lac du Bourget, the largest natural lake in France, looked quite interesting. So, that’s what we did.

Gareth, 'Other Terry' & Stuart at sidewalk cafe

Heading out from the centre of Chambery the road takes you around the western side of the lake before rising upwards in a series of tight hairpins with the lake visible through the trees as you climb ever higher. 

stopped at the viewpoint

Near the top we stopped beside a small café overlooking a viewpoint for some photos and to take on some much needed water as it was beginning to get rather warm again. 

 

view out over the lake

Whilst we were stopped, Norman appeared, said hello and warned us that a large camper van was heading in our direction, before shooting off to try and keep ahead of it. The camper van duly appeared and waddled past us. With visions of being stuck behind this behemoth for miles we were pleasantly surprised to see it heading back towards us a few minutes later.

Norman arrives

We soon found out why. It looked like the driver had taken one look at the road back down and decided it wasn't for him. This road became single-track, with loads of of even tighter hairpins, and all through a heavily forested area. I wouldn’t have been keen to drive his camper van down it either.

However, no such problems for me on the Triumph Tiger. This type of machine is ideally suited for roads like this, and I was throwing it about through the bends and having myself loads of fun. Other Terry, on the other hand, was finding it much harder work on his Kawasaki ZZR1400. The sportier riding position, with all his weight leant forward, and the bike's longer wheelbase meant that he had to negotiate the twists and turns with a lot more care and attention than I was doing.

All too soon it was over and we were back on level ground, much to Other Terry’s relief, I think. Soon after, we caught up with Norman again at a crossroads as he was working out his route for the remainder of the day. He was thinking on taking in another section of high passes and as our intended route would take us in the opposite direction we said our farewells and went our separate ways.

After a bit we pulled into a café located next to a small marina right on the lakeside for a bit of a rest. The temperature was still in the low 30s and the heat was taking its toll on us, even when riding along the air had a distinctly warm feel to it. The opportunity of a seat in the shade and a cold drink was more than welcome.

marina cafe

We stopped for about half an hour before heading off again along the eastern side of the lake this time. Not long after setting off, however, we got caught up in some almost stationary traffic and after creeping along for a few miles slipping the clutch and generally getting hot and bothered we took the opportunity to pull over onto a beach area for a bit of a breather.

it was a wee bit warm

The traffic didn't look like clearing any time soon and, as we were deciding what to do a couple of ambulances whizzed past. It looked like there might have an accident up ahead. That decided it and we sat down to wait it out a bit. Eventually the traffic thinned out and we headed back. It had been an interesting day, and it wasn’t over just yet.

  

Other Terry & his Kwacka

Back at the hotel we had a shower and got changed before heading out for something to eat with the rest of the lads. After pizza at a small cafe where the owner insisted we all try what I think was probably his own home-made schnapps we came across some sort of music festival in the town square. 

The Wooden Legs

We got ourselves a table in the square and took in the headline act, an Irish folk band called The Wooden Legs (it maybe makes more sense in French) who were actually French and who sang in a mix of French and heavily-accented English. They were quite good, and went down a storm with the locals, some of whom felt the need to get up and dance. We, being more reticent, satisfied ourselves by sitting and nodding our heads a bit in time to the music. A curious, and rather relaxed way to end our day.

really cheap beer

What about the really cheap beer, then? Well, when Stuart I went to get a round of drinks in from one of the bars around the square the barman apparently didn't have change of the 20 Euro note I proffered, so asked his boss what he was to do. The boss rather dramatically threw his hands in the air and started gabbling away in staccato French before leaning over the counter and grabbing a 5 Euro note out of Stuart's hand and giving it to the barman who shrugged and gave us our five bottles of beer and my 20 Euros back. We made a sharp exit as this seemed too good to be true. It was. When the others went back the next round came to nearly 15 Euros. I guess that they had sorted the problem with having no change by that point. So, my round was the cheapest of the trip and had the added bonus that Stuart actually paid for it.