The Caladonian Shufflebums DO the Paddy Dakar
- Thread starter Steve T
- Start date
Steve T
Well-Known Member
Lutin said:Looks like you had a good time.
We did indeed Lutin
Thanks again to you & yours for your hospitality mid-week - a real bed a is a real treat after 5 days under canvas and rain
Got some pictures to sort out and some words to scribble - I could be some time doing both as I had such an excellent time, there is so much to scribble about.
Steve T
Steve T
Well-Known Member
Barftone said:
Thanks. And yes, the bikes remained upright throughout the days entertainment . . . . even if at one point I thought the old man was going to slither to rather a muddy halt
.By the end of the trip, the Greenest AT in the village was sounding rather "Ducati-esque", such was the clattering noise eminating from the clutch area.
But in the words of the irish, "Sure, it'll be grand", and it was, cos it got him home
Working on words and pictures, but still loads of words to single finger type and pictures to doctor
Steve T
Steve T
Well-Known Member
“Lets starts from the very beginning, a very good place to start” sung in a Julie Andrews voice, of course.
3 years ago, at my suggestion, the Inversnekian (Lowflyer) and I thought it would be good “craic” to wander over to Ireland and have a go at the Paddy Dakar (PD). Twas not meant to be, as the organisers had to slide the event forward by a week, which brought it into conflict with me & the Boss’s annual holiday in the sun time, an event that really cannot be moved as it’s based around our wedding anniversary.
Roll forward to the beginning of 2015, and I mention the PD in passing when I pop in to see the Inversnekian (and to steal some of his cake and biscuits). “Go on, go on, go on” says himself. And so it began.
The Caladonian Shufflebums 1st Paddy Dakar
As the year rolled forward, my plan for the trip / event grew a little, as another forums 2nd rally of the year was adjacent to the start date for my trip, so I encompassed that into my plan.
The Inversnekian, on the other hand, was busy changing jobs left right and center, which ended up with him unable to make a weeks trip of the event, just a long weekend.
The trip
I left home on Friday 18th September, picking up a passing stranger on his 1200GS on route to meet up with eldest son, and then onto and into the forests of Argyle
Here you see we three catching our collective breaths at Braemar, after torturing our machines tyres coming over the Lecht ski pass and it’s serpentine roads.
Glenshee took some more rubber off of our tyres as we wended our way up and done and round and round it’s hills and bends. This removal of rubber was, later in the week, too prove worrying for me, such was the wear rate of Mitas E09 Dakars on a fully loaded BMW F658GS!
Avoiding some road works on the road to Pitlochry, we took another break and the chance to fill ourselves and the bikes at Aberfeldy, now that the only fuel station in the village is open again! Fed & fuelled, we rolled ever westward, with me and eldest son taking a left at Crianlarich, whilst the stranger on the 1200GS went north to Glen Coe, Fort Bill and a very twisty route back home (is there any other kind up here?).
Eldest and I passed a few minutes on the side of Loch Lomond to rest our tired throttle hands and to stretch our legs – more ace bends had seen us grinning like the idiots inside our lids. After this we took in a small glen road leading from the Rest and Be Thankful
And so, after a short 200+ mile wander, we made the campsite, which was buried in what the tourist board calls Argyles Secret Coast. Not that secret – we found it
Great little campsite that only had us as campers, so all very peaceful and serene. Spent the rest of the afternoon and evening catching up with the folk that I’d met before. Austin about his travels, Tetley about his gleaming Red R100GS, and making acquaintance with friends I didn’t know I had.
Saturday dawned bright and chilly, but the heat soon burnt off the nights mists, so eldest and I decided to act as pathfinders for Craigs ride out, heading for the forestry trails south of Inverary, to make sure that the gates were indeed open. Off we popped up some devilishly narrow local roads when low and behold, an open gate onto some other forest trails was spied, so through the gap we went, and covered a few miles that provided us with some stunning views of the surrounding hills and sea lochs.
After what seemed like just a few minutes, but was more like 30, we headed for our original destination, enjoying the thoroughly entertaining roads that abound around that part of Argyle. And the sun was still shinning on us, so we must be doing something right. The entrance to the forest trail was found without a problem – that’ll be me practicing my navigation skills in prep for the PD – so up the trail we went, taking due note that there was a two way system in operation, something I’d not realised on my first acquaintance with this trail several years ago! As we neared the mid point and the fantastic views it offered, I thought I’d taken a wrong turn someway along the ride up, because staring at me from across the glen was a stand of wind turbines, with one still getting it’s rotating hub fitted as we approached the stop point. Fecking things are getting everywhere – just back in May of this year I’d been up here with a small group and there were none of the rotating monstrosities then. Progress my arse
After a refreshment break carried out whilst watching said rotating hub being fitted, we carried on down the other side of the forest, to ensure that the gate at that end was also unlocked – it was.
Whilst sitting at the end of the trail, listening to the bikes exhausts pinging away, I outlined a return route to eldest lad, then added the option that we just turn around and “do” the trail again. The latter it was , with him leading this time . Just before the halfway point we encountered Craigs group. Pleasantries briefly exchanged, they set off whence we’d come, and we set off for Inverary for some proper grub.
Once the obligatory fish supper had been consumed, we headed back to the campsite along some more lovely roads. No one at home at the camp site – surprise surprise, so we headed for Dunoon so I could get a ferry ticket for Sunday, fuel for the bikes, and take in the smashing little road that connected the glen we were camping in and Dunoon. It was newly re-surfaced – not that surface dressing stuff but proper new tar – and it just went up and down and round and round till I was almost dizzy Only a single track road with passing places, it was still ace fun, even when faced with multiple coach parties coming the other way, one after the other as we rounded yet another bend.
The return trip was just as much fun, and it left me looking forward to riding it yet again the next day as I headed for the ferry and ultimately Galloway Forest.
On our return to the campsite the other wanderers had returned, and so commenced a repeat of the previous night, but with most people blethering on about the days ride, the scenery and whatever else came to mind after a few whisky’s.
The next day, Sunday, saw me and eldest son packed and ready to roll by 0930hrs – a record early start for him I think! He was heading home, un-guided and alone, whilst I was heading for a full weeks riding and smiling, starting in Galloway forest.
And so ends part one of my trip, and parts 2 & 3 begin.
Steve T
3 years ago, at my suggestion, the Inversnekian (Lowflyer) and I thought it would be good “craic” to wander over to Ireland and have a go at the Paddy Dakar (PD). Twas not meant to be, as the organisers had to slide the event forward by a week, which brought it into conflict with me & the Boss’s annual holiday in the sun time, an event that really cannot be moved as it’s based around our wedding anniversary.
Roll forward to the beginning of 2015, and I mention the PD in passing when I pop in to see the Inversnekian (and to steal some of his cake and biscuits). “Go on, go on, go on” says himself. And so it began.
The Caladonian Shufflebums 1st Paddy Dakar
As the year rolled forward, my plan for the trip / event grew a little, as another forums 2nd rally of the year was adjacent to the start date for my trip, so I encompassed that into my plan.
The Inversnekian, on the other hand, was busy changing jobs left right and center, which ended up with him unable to make a weeks trip of the event, just a long weekend.
The trip
I left home on Friday 18th September, picking up a passing stranger on his 1200GS on route to meet up with eldest son, and then onto and into the forests of Argyle
Here you see we three catching our collective breaths at Braemar, after torturing our machines tyres coming over the Lecht ski pass and it’s serpentine roads.
Glenshee took some more rubber off of our tyres as we wended our way up and done and round and round it’s hills and bends. This removal of rubber was, later in the week, too prove worrying for me, such was the wear rate of Mitas E09 Dakars on a fully loaded BMW F658GS!
Avoiding some road works on the road to Pitlochry, we took another break and the chance to fill ourselves and the bikes at Aberfeldy, now that the only fuel station in the village is open again! Fed & fuelled, we rolled ever westward, with me and eldest son taking a left at Crianlarich, whilst the stranger on the 1200GS went north to Glen Coe, Fort Bill and a very twisty route back home (is there any other kind up here?).
Eldest and I passed a few minutes on the side of Loch Lomond to rest our tired throttle hands and to stretch our legs – more ace bends had seen us grinning like the idiots inside our lids. After this we took in a small glen road leading from the Rest and Be Thankful
And so, after a short 200+ mile wander, we made the campsite, which was buried in what the tourist board calls Argyles Secret Coast. Not that secret – we found it
Great little campsite that only had us as campers, so all very peaceful and serene. Spent the rest of the afternoon and evening catching up with the folk that I’d met before. Austin about his travels, Tetley about his gleaming Red R100GS, and making acquaintance with friends I didn’t know I had.
Saturday dawned bright and chilly, but the heat soon burnt off the nights mists, so eldest and I decided to act as pathfinders for Craigs ride out, heading for the forestry trails south of Inverary, to make sure that the gates were indeed open. Off we popped up some devilishly narrow local roads when low and behold, an open gate onto some other forest trails was spied, so through the gap we went, and covered a few miles that provided us with some stunning views of the surrounding hills and sea lochs.
After what seemed like just a few minutes, but was more like 30, we headed for our original destination, enjoying the thoroughly entertaining roads that abound around that part of Argyle. And the sun was still shinning on us, so we must be doing something right. The entrance to the forest trail was found without a problem – that’ll be me practicing my navigation skills in prep for the PD – so up the trail we went, taking due note that there was a two way system in operation, something I’d not realised on my first acquaintance with this trail several years ago! As we neared the mid point and the fantastic views it offered, I thought I’d taken a wrong turn someway along the ride up, because staring at me from across the glen was a stand of wind turbines, with one still getting it’s rotating hub fitted as we approached the stop point. Fecking things are getting everywhere – just back in May of this year I’d been up here with a small group and there were none of the rotating monstrosities then. Progress my arse
After a refreshment break carried out whilst watching said rotating hub being fitted, we carried on down the other side of the forest, to ensure that the gate at that end was also unlocked – it was.
Whilst sitting at the end of the trail, listening to the bikes exhausts pinging away, I outlined a return route to eldest lad, then added the option that we just turn around and “do” the trail again. The latter it was
, with him leading this time . Just before the halfway point we encountered Craigs group. Pleasantries briefly exchanged, they set off whence we’d come, and we set off for Inverary for some proper grub.Once the obligatory fish supper had been consumed, we headed back to the campsite along some more lovely roads. No one at home at the camp site – surprise surprise, so we headed for Dunoon so I could get a ferry ticket for Sunday, fuel for the bikes, and take in the smashing little road that connected the glen we were camping in and Dunoon. It was newly re-surfaced – not that surface dressing stuff but proper new tar – and it just went up and down and round and round till I was almost dizzy
Only a single track road with passing places, it was still ace fun, even when faced with multiple coach parties coming the other way, one after the other as we rounded yet another bend.
The return trip was just as much fun, and it left me looking forward to riding it yet again the next day as I headed for the ferry and ultimately Galloway Forest.
On our return to the campsite the other wanderers had returned, and so commenced a repeat of the previous night, but with most people blethering on about the days ride, the scenery and whatever else came to mind after a few whisky’s.
The next day, Sunday, saw me and eldest son packed and ready to roll by 0930hrs – a record early start for him I think! He was heading home, un-guided and alone, whilst I was heading for a full weeks riding and smiling, starting in Galloway forest.
And so ends part one of my trip, and parts 2 & 3 begin.
Steve T
Lowflyer
Well-Known Member
So far so good Steve
Did you get my photos ?
Suffice to say it was a brilliant weekend,had a hoot
I'll post some of my meagre photos once Steve has done his bit, really looking forward to reading this Steve.
Surprisingly, both of us didn't take many photos during the event, we were so hung up on finishing. As it turns out, we put in a pretty damn fine performance overall much to my surprise
So come on Steve, put the Kleenex's away and get on with the report you big girls blouse
Did you get my photos ?
Suffice to say it was a brilliant weekend,had a hoot
I'll post some of my meagre photos once Steve has done his bit, really looking forward to reading this Steve.
Surprisingly, both of us didn't take many photos during the event, we were so hung up on finishing. As it turns out, we put in a pretty damn fine performance overall much to my surprise
So come on Steve, put the Kleenex's away and get on with the report you big girls blouse
Steve T
Well-Known Member
Yep, just downloaded and copied them.Lowflyer said:
I am ill man, have some sympathy
I'll get done what I can get done.Take a look at the PD facebook page:-
https://www.facebook.com/Paddy-Dakar-25 ... /timeline/
There is a vid on there that shows some awesome bits from the afternoon - including some tree stump dodging
Steve T
Steve T
Well-Known Member
Ireland here I come
The ferry trip from Dunoon to Gouroch was thankfully short & gentle on my stomach – not a good sailor me.
Once back on dry land I took various back roads to keep me off of the main west coast of Scotland drag strip that is the A78 & A77, before finally entering Galloway Forests myriad of small roads and rocky trails.
Austin had mentioned a nice wild camping spot during one of our many conversations over the previous 2 evenings, so I thought it best to check it out whilst the light was with me and before I went shopping for supplies, as eldest son had virtually emptied my food stash over the weekend.
The spot Austin had mentioned did indeed seem idyllic, having its own picnic bench, a flat bit of turf for the tent and a nice stream meandering past it. Having recced the spot, I went off and filled up with food & fuel, but only returning to the spot after wasting even more rubber on the Queens Road that runs from Newton Stewart to New Galloway. That road, even when ridden with a fully loaded up machine, is absolutely AWESOME. Having obtained my bend swinging fix, I meandered into the forest, on the trails open to motorised vehicles, only to find myself straying off said trails, to find the idyllic camping spot. I tell you now, doing 35-40mph on a fully loaded F658GS on the type of freshly laid granite rubble they put on logging tracks makes for a good work out of yer Glutimus Maximus, and it puts a peak onto the seat cover fabric. A DRZ400 rider hooning the other way must have thought I was bonkers . . . .cos even I thought I was bonkers . . . . . but it was all good warm up stuff for the PD.
On reaching said idyllic spot, I reviewed the site and paid a bit more attention to its surroundings. The strand line of detritus that hung from the adjacent fence gave me an indication of how high the “stream” could get when enough water was shed from the sky, so being an inveterate coward, I looked a bit further “up-hill” for a pitch. And found this one . . . . .
The above picture was taken the morning after I pitched the tent, cos no sooner had I got the tent up and thrown all the sleeping stuff into it, than the rain started . . . . . . . and didn’t stop till light O’clock the following morning.
The little “stream” that had been recommended as a nice place to pop up the tent next too had been fed copious amounts of H2O overnight and had risen by approx. 3 feet, right to the top of the bank.
Needless to say that I was glad I’d gone with my gut instinct about the idyllic spot and found somewhere a bit further away & up hill from the stream.
Thankfully the rain held off for the rest of the day, which meant I had a dryish ride west to Cairnryan and the ferry to Larne in Northern Ireland. It also meant that I could dry the tent out whilst waiting to board the ferry, by hanging it on a fence in the carpark.
Being a really poor sailor, as already mentioned, I was really looking forward to the 2+ hour crossing – NOT. Suitable chemical substances where consumed in a bid to avert any “Mal De Mare”, but I needn’t had worried as the sea was being kind and stayed virtually flat the whole time I was on the boat.
Off track, but I must mention it – whilst waiting to be called forward to board the ferry, another bike pulled up behind mine – an old K75 Beemer. I’m thinking to myself as the rider comes to a halt that I’ve seen that bike before. I swear you could hear the lego bricks in my brain falling into place. And my suspicions of having met the rider before were confirmed as he took off his helmet . . . . . . 2 years ago, whilst waiting for another ferry, this time in Rotterdam, he and his brother had pulled up behind me in the queue to board the ferry back to the UK. Talk about it being a small world and coincidences!
Ferry crossing over, I headed north up the coast road, having looked at camp sites along it before I left home. The first one was a tad too close to the port and only took me 10 minutes to find, so I enquired about other sites further north. I elected to head a further 20 odd miles further north up the coast road, cos it was still dry, still daylight and I had plenty of fuel in the tank. Cushendall campsite got my custom that night, and at just a fiver, it was a bargain, even if the tent pitch was right next to the modern toilet block!
The next day, Tuesday, I’d set my sights on various touristy attractions along the north coast road, which, by the way, is absolutely brilliant, hugging the shore line for mile after mile, with some big climbs and inclines thrown in as well.
I never realised Scotland was so close to the Emerald Isle – Tor head, just 16 miles from the Mull of Kintyre
First of those attractions was the Giants Causeway, but what with the coach loads of tourists and the price beng asking for parking, no way was I going to wade through that lot, so I carried on riding west, with my next point of interest being the NW200 “track”. Did a good bit of it, at the posted speed limits, and can only imagine the cahoonas the riders must have to take the bends (read roundabouts) at the speeds that they do during the races.
Carried on rolling, through Derry and into Eire itself, heading for the Glenveagh National Park, cos there are hills there, and I likes hills, especially when they have sinuousy roads running through them.
Found my way onto the Wild Atlantic Way (WAW) more by accident than design, and thoroughly enjoyed the many miles of it that I did.
Next bit of hilly ground I was heading for and through was the Glengesh pass, on the road leading to Donegal. More hilly hills were seen, photographed and ridden around, much to my growing enjoyment and appreciation of what Ireland has to offer the two wheeled traveller.
Spotted this house as I rolled south along the WAW. Turns out it’s the former abode of Lord Mountbatton (information courtesy of Lutin, the font of all knowledge Irish)
This mighty massif drew my attention as I continued my way to my choosen stop off point, Strandhill C&C park near Sligo.
Lutin added to my growing knowledge of Irish lumpy bits by informing me that the hill is called Benbulbin
My pitch for the night hoved into sight, and once the meagre fee was paid, I was pointed at a nice sandy depression in the surrounding sand dunes.
Nice campsite, with the sound of massive surf crashing onto a shingle beach to lull me to sleep, after a wishy-washy sunset
That evening I had arranged via text to meet an XRV forum stalwart, Lutin of Galway, in Westport, so when Wednesday arrive bright and clear skied, I set off along more of the WAW, with Westport as my destination.
Noticed this most Irish of things as I rolled alongside a river – a concrete boat / ship? Go figure, cos I can’t!
Met up with Lutin at the appointed time and place, and once pleasantries had been exchanged, bikes re-fueled and route sort of discussed, we headed off onto Lutins mystery tour which, as it turned out, was virtually all of the route I had marked out on my Euro map of Ireland before leaving home.
I’ll let the pictures take you into & through some of the best scenery Eire has to offer along the WAW:-
Wednesday night was being spent in the lap of luxury – Lutin had offered me a bed for the night before I set off on this little trip and I gratefully accepted his offer, so a HUGE THANKYOU to Tony and his good lady for feeding me and putting a roof over my head for the night.
Thursday dawned and drizzle was the order of the morning as I got the bike out of Lutins yard, thanked my generous hosts, then waved them farewell as I headed yet again for the WAW and a few more touristy bits.
The Burran was on my list of hills to see and ride round, but I’d no sooner ridden into their mass than the heavens opened, so I cowered in the lee of a large guest house, donned my water proofs, then waited for some sort of “break” in the downpour. But here are a few pictures of the Burrans hills before the Irish weather tried to drown me
No break in the deluge seemed to be on the horizon, so I just mounted up and rode on . . . . . only for the rain to stop. Here are few pictures of some nice scenery that took my fancy
I’d been told that the Cliffs of Moher are a “must do” on any trip around Ireland, so they were in a box that had to be ticked. On the way there, near the village of Doolin, a took this picture of a nice Irish abode
The Cliff of Moher – WOW
I really cannot put into words the scale of these beauties, but you might be able to spot some tourist types along the cliff tops in the far distance, towards the visitors centre for the cliffs.
By this stage of the day I was fast approaching my destination, Doon, so I travelled on some of the more populated roads into and out of Limerick and found my way to Doon community hall, the gathering location for the 2015 Paddy Dakar – I had arrived
Steve T
The ferry trip from Dunoon to Gouroch was thankfully short & gentle on my stomach – not a good sailor me.
Once back on dry land I took various back roads to keep me off of the main west coast of Scotland drag strip that is the A78 & A77, before finally entering Galloway Forests myriad of small roads and rocky trails.
Austin had mentioned a nice wild camping spot during one of our many conversations over the previous 2 evenings, so I thought it best to check it out whilst the light was with me and before I went shopping for supplies, as eldest son had virtually emptied my food stash over the weekend.
The spot Austin had mentioned did indeed seem idyllic, having its own picnic bench, a flat bit of turf for the tent and a nice stream meandering past it. Having recced the spot, I went off and filled up with food & fuel, but only returning to the spot after wasting even more rubber on the Queens Road that runs from Newton Stewart to New Galloway. That road, even when ridden with a fully loaded up machine, is absolutely AWESOME. Having obtained my bend swinging fix, I meandered into the forest, on the trails open to motorised vehicles, only to find myself straying off said trails, to find the idyllic camping spot. I tell you now, doing 35-40mph on a fully loaded F658GS on the type of freshly laid granite rubble they put on logging tracks makes for a good work out of yer Glutimus Maximus, and it puts a peak onto the seat cover fabric. A DRZ400 rider hooning the other way must have thought I was bonkers . . . .cos even I thought I was bonkers . . . . . but it was all good warm up stuff for the PD.
On reaching said idyllic spot, I reviewed the site and paid a bit more attention to its surroundings. The strand line of detritus that hung from the adjacent fence gave me an indication of how high the “stream” could get when enough water was shed from the sky, so being an inveterate coward, I looked a bit further “up-hill” for a pitch. And found this one . . . . .
The above picture was taken the morning after I pitched the tent, cos no sooner had I got the tent up and thrown all the sleeping stuff into it, than the rain started . . . . . . . and didn’t stop till light O’clock the following morning.
The little “stream” that had been recommended as a nice place to pop up the tent next too had been fed copious amounts of H2O overnight and had risen by approx. 3 feet, right to the top of the bank.
Needless to say that I was glad I’d gone with my gut instinct about the idyllic spot and found somewhere a bit further away & up hill from the stream.
Thankfully the rain held off for the rest of the day, which meant I had a dryish ride west to Cairnryan and the ferry to Larne in Northern Ireland. It also meant that I could dry the tent out whilst waiting to board the ferry, by hanging it on a fence in the carpark.
Being a really poor sailor, as already mentioned, I was really looking forward to the 2+ hour crossing – NOT. Suitable chemical substances where consumed in a bid to avert any “Mal De Mare”, but I needn’t had worried as the sea was being kind and stayed virtually flat the whole time I was on the boat.
Off track, but I must mention it – whilst waiting to be called forward to board the ferry, another bike pulled up behind mine – an old K75 Beemer. I’m thinking to myself as the rider comes to a halt that I’ve seen that bike before. I swear you could hear the lego bricks in my brain falling into place. And my suspicions of having met the rider before were confirmed as he took off his helmet . . . . . . 2 years ago, whilst waiting for another ferry, this time in Rotterdam, he and his brother had pulled up behind me in the queue to board the ferry back to the UK. Talk about it being a small world and coincidences!
Ferry crossing over, I headed north up the coast road, having looked at camp sites along it before I left home. The first one was a tad too close to the port and only took me 10 minutes to find, so I enquired about other sites further north. I elected to head a further 20 odd miles further north up the coast road, cos it was still dry, still daylight and I had plenty of fuel in the tank. Cushendall campsite got my custom that night, and at just a fiver, it was a bargain, even if the tent pitch was right next to the modern toilet block!
The next day, Tuesday, I’d set my sights on various touristy attractions along the north coast road, which, by the way, is absolutely brilliant, hugging the shore line for mile after mile, with some big climbs and inclines thrown in as well.
I never realised Scotland was so close to the Emerald Isle – Tor head, just 16 miles from the Mull of Kintyre
First of those attractions was the Giants Causeway, but what with the coach loads of tourists and the price beng asking for parking, no way was I going to wade through that lot, so I carried on riding west, with my next point of interest being the NW200 “track”. Did a good bit of it, at the posted speed limits, and can only imagine the cahoonas the riders must have to take the bends (read roundabouts) at the speeds that they do during the races.
Carried on rolling, through Derry and into Eire itself, heading for the Glenveagh National Park, cos there are hills there, and I likes hills, especially when they have sinuousy roads running through them.
Found my way onto the Wild Atlantic Way (WAW) more by accident than design, and thoroughly enjoyed the many miles of it that I did.
Next bit of hilly ground I was heading for and through was the Glengesh pass, on the road leading to Donegal. More hilly hills were seen, photographed and ridden around, much to my growing enjoyment and appreciation of what Ireland has to offer the two wheeled traveller.
Spotted this house as I rolled south along the WAW. Turns out it’s the former abode of Lord Mountbatton (information courtesy of Lutin, the font of all knowledge Irish)
This mighty massif drew my attention as I continued my way to my choosen stop off point, Strandhill C&C park near Sligo.
Lutin added to my growing knowledge of Irish lumpy bits by informing me that the hill is called Benbulbin
My pitch for the night hoved into sight, and once the meagre fee was paid, I was pointed at a nice sandy depression in the surrounding sand dunes.
Nice campsite, with the sound of massive surf crashing onto a shingle beach to lull me to sleep, after a wishy-washy sunset
That evening I had arranged via text to meet an XRV forum stalwart, Lutin of Galway, in Westport, so when Wednesday arrive bright and clear skied, I set off along more of the WAW, with Westport as my destination.
Noticed this most Irish of things as I rolled alongside a river – a concrete boat / ship? Go figure, cos I can’t!
Met up with Lutin at the appointed time and place, and once pleasantries had been exchanged, bikes re-fueled and route sort of discussed, we headed off onto Lutins mystery tour which, as it turned out, was virtually all of the route I had marked out on my Euro map of Ireland before leaving home.
I’ll let the pictures take you into & through some of the best scenery Eire has to offer along the WAW:-
Wednesday night was being spent in the lap of luxury – Lutin had offered me a bed for the night before I set off on this little trip and I gratefully accepted his offer, so a HUGE THANKYOU to Tony and his good lady for feeding me and putting a roof over my head for the night.
Thursday dawned and drizzle was the order of the morning as I got the bike out of Lutins yard, thanked my generous hosts, then waved them farewell as I headed yet again for the WAW and a few more touristy bits.
The Burran was on my list of hills to see and ride round, but I’d no sooner ridden into their mass than the heavens opened, so I cowered in the lee of a large guest house, donned my water proofs, then waited for some sort of “break” in the downpour. But here are a few pictures of the Burrans hills before the Irish weather tried to drown me
No break in the deluge seemed to be on the horizon, so I just mounted up and rode on . . . . . only for the rain to stop. Here are few pictures of some nice scenery that took my fancy
I’d been told that the Cliffs of Moher are a “must do” on any trip around Ireland, so they were in a box that had to be ticked. On the way there, near the village of Doolin, a took this picture of a nice Irish abode
The Cliff of Moher – WOW
I really cannot put into words the scale of these beauties, but you might be able to spot some tourist types along the cliff tops in the far distance, towards the visitors centre for the cliffs.
By this stage of the day I was fast approaching my destination, Doon, so I travelled on some of the more populated roads into and out of Limerick and found my way to Doon community hall, the gathering location for the 2015 Paddy Dakar – I had arrived
Steve T
Thanks for the "thank you" Steve - it was a pleasure to meet another loon off the forum.
Do come again - seriously, as I can show you some more really out of the way places.
As for high sea cliffs, you missed out on Slieve League, up in Donegal - it's a bit of a detour, but worth doing. Sorry, I must have forgotten to mention them.
Austin - if you've ever the urge to organise one of your adventures here in the Emerald Isle, I'd be more than welcome to help - show you round the place, how to keep away from the grockles (the Wild Atlantic Way is getting noticed by the "hire car brigade" - unfortunately), some you some decent eateries etc.
Do it myself? I'm not that daft.
Do come again - seriously, as I can show you some more really out of the way places.
As for high sea cliffs, you missed out on Slieve League, up in Donegal - it's a bit of a detour, but worth doing. Sorry, I must have forgotten to mention them.
Austin - if you've ever the urge to organise one of your adventures here in the Emerald Isle, I'd be more than welcome to help - show you round the place, how to keep away from the grockles (the Wild Atlantic Way is getting noticed by the "hire car brigade" - unfortunately), some you some decent eateries etc.
Do it myself? I'm not that daft.
Steve T
Well-Known Member
As the 1st to arrive, I was greeted with open arms and big smiles. Part of the welcoming committee present was a 2013 Dakar rider, Frenchman Nicolas Boyer, who, once greetings were exchanged, proceeded to check out the BM, asking how far I’d travelled, was I doing the event with the luggage fitted? Proper nice bloke, as I will elaborate on later.
I wasn’t the only rider for long though, as a well specced up Africa Twin rolled into the halls car park some 15minutes after me. I introduced myself after the rider had extracted himself from the welcoming hugs from the organiser and community hall committee members present – turns out the rider, Rusty on the XRV forum, has done all the previous PD’s and has helped out in various roles on several of the more recent events. Rusty recognised my name from my XRV posts and threads, and we soon got talking Africa Twin’s.
Nicolas had to pop off to check out his B&B, but not before he got grabbed for a couple of selfies by those that had gathered. Me, I tapped him on the shoulder, gave a twist of the wrist and pointed at the car park exit to indicate that I wanted to examine the underside of his bikes sump guard. Anything to oblige
I had checked with the organiser before I left home that there would be camping on the Thursday night at the event, and was assured that there would be. But no one had told the farmer who’s field was to be used for camping, so we stood about chatting and eventually cooking our evening meal in the car park, waiting for the grass to dry off enough for the farmer to cut and bail it. It didn’t seem that any grass cutting was going to take place, so Rusty and I were encouraged by the organiser to set up camp in the hall. This included taking the bikes in as well.
But we’d no sooner picked a respective corner of the hall to kip in when Rusty got a call from the organiser – “The mans cut the grass and is bailing it now – get yer arses and yer tents into the field”
This picture was taken the following morning, as it was dark by the time I’d got the tent up and my gear stowed away on Thursday evening.
Once the camping side of things were sorted, I wandered into the village, as Rusty had wandered that way earlier, with the nearest pub as his destination, so I thought I’d follow suite. What followed was one of the best evenings I’ve spent in a pub . . . . . but that’s nowt special cos I don’t drink and thus don’t frequent pubs a lot. Great craic as the crowd of PD riders grew, all of whom knew each other from previous PD weekends. It was only when the Taffy Dakar (TD) crew rolled into the pub that things really got started.
Never experienced a lock in before
.As I stumbled in the dark back to my tent, I’d to navigate quite a few extra vehicles and tents from when I’d left the field. One Dublin registered van had disgourged a pair of Dublin plated 650 Transalps . . . . . . being ridden by a couple of HUGE Hungarians, who naturally offered me a beer at 01:30hrs on Friday morning as I wended my way back to my tent. Guess the party has well and truly started then!
Friday, 25th September 2015 and I’m in Doon, about to DO the Paddy Dakar
Having been assured via text on Thursday evening that Lowflyer had been allowed to enter Ireland and was safely ensconced in a pub in Dublin, after allegedly chasing down one sweet Molly Malone, I was happy in the knowledge that we would have a team for the event. John was expecting to arrive around mid day, so I set off into the local hills before he arrived to try and get an idea of what sort of ground we would be encountering and the sort of time it would take to cover it.
“Time spent on reconnaissance is never time wasted” was a saying an old boss of mine often chanted, so off I reccied.
Returning at mid day from my little wander, Lowflyer had arrived, after escaping the clutches of the cockle seller in Dublin. Is that fish I smell John?
As John was setting up his pitch, Nicolas wandered around the camp site chatting with riders and admiring bikes. He stopped by our little set up just as I was getting a brew going and says that it looks like I have everything I need to live on my bike, and takes this picture of me and my gear and promptly pops it onto his face book page.
Seems that not many participants actually ride their machines to and from the event, with bike transportation ranging from single bike trailers, through transit vans and single horse boxes to feckin huge horse transporters converted into sleeping accommodation cum garage cum bar cum disco. The latter was parked right opposite where Rusty, John and I were pitched.
Once I’d introduced John to the metropolis that is Doon and we’d obtained some supplies for the following day, we wandered back to the hall and waited around till registration started. As I wandered out of the car park late in the afternoon, still not registered, I was heading for the tent field, when Nicolas rode his bike off of the start platform, and I gave him a thumbs up as he past me. He screeches to a halt and asks me if I want to ride! “Want to ride?” I repeat. “Oui, ride my bike? Around zee field!”
“Oui” says I, hastely making my way back to my tent to grab my lid. Before I’m there, Nicolas has arrived, hopped of his bike and is standing there blipping the throttle. The worlds biggest grin has made it’s way to my face and has spread itself as far as it can from ear to ear! I’m about to ride a genuine Dakar bike – a Honda XR400 bored out to 440cc. John managed to grab a picture of me coming in from a couple of laps of the tent field, showing the grin still in place.
I kid you not, I was shaking with excitement when I got off of that bike. What a top bloke Nicolas Boyer is. He continued round the tent field, offering people a ride on his bike. AMAZING BLOKE and from here on in known as “The Passionate Pilot”
Registration was supposed to start at 14:00hrs, then it slipped to 14:30hrs, but was going to be more like 15:00hrs before it actually got going. We got our goodie bags containing our numbers and a few other bits and pieces. I couldn’t wait to adorn my bike with the stickers
In the background of the above picture you can just see the Hungarians van and a really hairy Hungarian! The picture was taken mid afternoon, and that was him just surfacing from an alcoholic slumber into the land of the living! Proper party animals those Hungarians (and fecking loud ones as well at stupid O’Clock in the morning).
Lots of different machines arriving, from the ubiquitous KTM whatever-its, to a Vespa scooters and a few C90’s. Check out the PD facebook page for a whole array of pictures of the bikes
https://www.facebook.com/Paddy-Dakar-25 ... /timeline/
Here are a varied bunch of riders rides
The riders brief was to be held at 18:00hrs, with the co-ordinates for Saturday’s event being made available at the same time . . . . . or so I thought, cos that’s what it said in the documentation that we had been sent! The briefing commenced after a set co-ordinates had been put on display, labelled as the “Night Ride Co-ordinates”. It soon became clear, from the content of the riders brief, that the list of co-ordinates displayed where for Saturday morning as well! If you wanted to, you could spend as much of the night as you liked searching for the locations provided by the co-ordinates and noting the code for each on your score card. Neither John or myself where prepared to wander off into the night trying to find the code tags – we could get lost in daylight, we didn’t need darkness to helps us. John & I spent the following hour or so plotting the co-ordinates on the maps that had kindly provided by the friendly staff of the community hall, and once done it was off to the pub for John and an early night for me. Not that I could sleep of course, with bikes coming and going till well into the small hours of Saturday morning. John was very good, only imbibing a couple of dark ones before returning to his tent.