Rallying

Many years ago we were sitting in the pub contemplating various run possibilities when Chris noted that 'Stormin the Castle' was due to be on the following weekend. This was a well established MAG (Motorcycle Action Group) organised bike rally based in Witton Castle, close to my parents house. A general nodding of approval followed this announcement and we decided we would go down.

In the end only me, Niall and Chris made it to the meeting point. I was on the X7, Niall on his recently on the road BSA 650 and Chris on a hellish Suzuki GSX250. We progressed steadily down the A68 and reached the site around 7 or so. This was all new to me - we were greeted by a massive field full of tents, bikes of all sorts parked everywhere and the strains of '80's heavy metal emerging from a large marquee next door. It was quite a weekend, the Hells Angles were there in force, they had a fight with the Satan's slaves in the nearby pub, we all got wrecked and we all made it home in one piece. Other occurrences of note - people revving the nuts off their bikes when they staggered back from the rally tent at 2am, lots of horrible burger bars; and lots and lots of bikes of all types, although dodgy lashed up choppers seemed the most prevalent. 

Over the next few years we returned. Our bikes were mainly old Brits which always caused a stir. We did notice, however, that as time went on, the number of dodgy lash ups vastly reduced with more and more modern machinery turning up. The show tended to feature what were more like art installations rather than motorbikes and the average age of participants went up. Of particular note was the year that The Stranglers performed!

A milder form of rally that became a regular feature was the various vintage vehicle rallies that went on around Scotland over the summer. Quite a gang of us went to these for a few years, becoming regulars (and lowering the average age of attendees substantially) and well received as we arrived on a variety of old nails, hard ridden rather than trailer queens.

Our furthest away event was the Simmer Dim Rally in Shetland, 2005. We'd been up to the Orkneys the previous year so this seemed the logical next step for midsummer trips. Getting there involved riding up to Aberdeen to get the ship to Lerwick. We all got there in plenty of time and Scott warned us not to drink too much as the boat would likely take a few rolls just out of Aberdeen harbour. We ignored his sage advice and had a few before said ocean swell did indeed lead to a few green complexions...

Waiting to disembark we'd been chatting to a few local bikers on the boat and they were all on Hayabusas, R1's, and Fireblades. Our expectation was the roads would be like the Orkneys i.e. fairly narrow and pretty rough so their bike choice seemed odd. As we climbed over the hill out of the town it all became clear. The road was like a race track - wide, sweeping bends, zero traffic, zero houses, zero animal concealing trees and zero Police.

The rally itself was ace - enough biker couture to be entertaining without it being too heavy. A lot of people attending were more hardcore motorbike riders rather than people making lifestyle choices. Best of all, the rally bar had Shetland and Orkney Ales on tap!

We had a few...

The hoon back was a laugh. Others went straight home, but me, Scott and Al got off the boat at Kirkwall, crashed in a very weird hostel on South Ronaldsay, got the rust bucket to Gills bay the next morning and then hammered the machines down to Ullapool and home via many ace Highland roads.

We returned in 2007, via Westray again - again, it was sunny!

After a few similarly fine days we got the night boat to Shetland. The weather was, again, fab. Arrivals from Aberdeen talked of torrential rain all the way up through the UK.



Further drunken mayhem followed with the rally standard heavyish metal bands and the spectacle of a bunch of middle aged blokes wearing slightly camp viking costumes singing a song worthy of Monty Python.

Heading further afield again me and a mate signed up for the 2010 Ariel National rally in Germany. Obviously I had to ride an Ariel to it, and I'd not long got one on the road - a fine rigid framed 500 VG, ideal for touring. Four of us thudded across the continent, my 71 year old bike being the oldest by ten years. The pace was slow, we saw all manner of things and the bike ran (mostly) flawlessly.

This was my first (and to date only) experience of foreign motorcycle travel. We took an easy route through Belgium, Holland and Northern Germany to get to and from the site plus did the mandatory 'run' round fabulously smooth and empty back roads. Much drink was drunk, lies told, and bikes scrutinised.

Every September, the Antler Rally takes place in Ardnamurchan and my thoroughly blooded machine was the obvious choice for that year. The weather was fine, I won a prize and the narrow, rough and twisty roads of the west were ideally suited to a simple rigid framed motorcycle with dual purpose tyres. Exactly what it was designed for.

I was riding with mate Keith on a similar vintage VB - same bike just a 600cc side valve lump instead of my 500cc OHV. Both bikes went and handled pretty much the same so this made for a fine run.

So ended an era, as my interest waned in the social aspects of motorcycling and occupied myself with riding every road in Scotland...