The secluded camp site

Photo: Dave Jackson

The view homeward

Photo: Dave Jackson

It was a small and select group who signed up for this rally: myself, Chris Holland, Lizzie, Phil Loom and Peter. To minimise our environmental impact further, we travelled in three groups, or at least Peter went on a detour to take in some landmarks, Phil and Lizzie left earlier on the Friday and I arranged to meet Chris at 1:15 p.m. after he had got off work.
Chris' chosen route was a good one: M3, A303 then onto the A371 at Wincanton, through Cheddar and onto Weston-super-mare. Our elapsed time was almost exactly four hours, but Lizzie and Phil's must have been a good deal more because they rolled up five minutes after us while we were still checking in! The rally is held at the Weston Gateway caravan park, which meant a decent flat field to camp on and proper plumbing, even if it was a couple of hundred yards away at the other end of the site.
The tents went up just before the weather (which had been good) turned bad. We also got into the bar in good time and avoided the fate of later arrivals who walked in showing distinct signs of dampness. A few hours of classic rock (and a few beers from the bar) later, it was time to call it a night, all of us having braved the dance floor at least once.
Saturday morning started fine, but became overcast by the time that we were forming up to go on the organised run. So wet suits were donned and lo, the rain did fall before we had got very far down the road. The run leader made some "interesting" choices of route, one of which lead us down a narrow, pot-holed, muddy, gravel-strewn, twisty lane which taxed the concentration and probably sphincters of all concerned. Fortunately nobody lost it and we regained the proper road intact and relieved. Also by that time the rain had eased off.
This was just as well because soon after Lizzie's Tiger conked out without warning, leaving a bunch of the tail-enders, including myself, standing around it offering various degrees of help or sympathy. Chris and Phil had continued on obliviously to the "Castle Of Comfort" pub that was the objective of the run, but nobody in our group was sure where it was - or even where we were at the time! While Lizzie and others fiddled with wires and established that there was an electrical problem of some sort, the rest of us pondered the greater questions: where are we? how did we get here? and (with apologies to Douglas Adams) what time is lunch?
Happily a guy pulled up on a BSA, having arranged to meet a mate of his at that very spot for a run to Minehead. Having explained that we were attending a TOMCC rally, he volunteered that he had recently bought a Hinckley Adventurer and was not aware that there was a Bristol branch of the TOMCC! Anyway, he suggested that if parts were needed, we should try "Charlie's" in Bristol. As another passer by had given us directions to the pub where the rest had headed, it was proposed to fetch back Chris and Phil so they could lend their expertise (well, Phil's expertise to be truthful). No sooner had I started my bike to ride off there, than they appeared round the bend and pulled up. Phil checked the wiring and reckoned that the ignition box may have packed up, by which time we had got the 'phone number of Charlie's, and directions to get there, from the BSA rider's mate. We then called on my mobile to check they had the unit, after which Chris, Lizzie and Phil rode off to Bristol, leaving Lizzie's bike by a gate.
I bravely rode off the other way to find the pub and catch up with the others, despite some two hours having passed since Lizzie broke down. Stopping to ask directions once, (when I had lost count of how many villages I was supposed to have gone through), I arrived at the pub at the top of a steep winding road just as everybody was leaving. Being empty of stomach and parched of throat I opted to stay long enough for a pint and a sandwich, before tackling the issue of where I was and how to get back to the rally site.
Well, outside the pub was a sign to Cheddar and I had been told that was in the right direction so off I went... By this time the weather had cleared so the rain suit could come off. Following signs to Cheddar brought me to the top of the gorge and without planning to I had the good fortune to ride down through it in bright sunshine and light traffic, emerging at the other end to find myself more or less back on the A371 heading for Weston-super-mare. I could remember just enough of Chris' route to locate the caravan site again, there to take some photos in the fading sunshine and wait for the others to return. I also witnessed the lucky final goal of the England v Greece match and used the time to start writing this report! Details of the "silly games" will largely have to be skipped as I wasn't watching, although I did catch sight of a flying wellie at one point.
At about half five Lizzie, Phil and Chris returned and happily Lizzie was on her Tiger. It seemed as if the new ignition unit had brought it back to life but thoughts had now turned to food as the three of them had not stopped for any lunch. Not wanting to tempt fate we left Lizzie's bike there and Chris gave her a lift as we went a short way up the road for a pub meal at the curiously-named "Bucket and Spade".
A quick nosh later we were back at the site in time to grab one of the last few tables in the bar and enjoy the band, "The Worried Men". They played a mixture of blues and classic rock covers and by dint of having a frontman who could sing, crack jokes and play guitar very well, they served up some great entertainment for the rest of the evening. After the bar shut it was time to join the sizeable but well-ordered queue for the complimentary pork roll and cuppa which are provided by the organisers as part of the ticket price (veggie alternatives were available). Then some chatting around the fire (consisting of a modest wooden pallet, but it's amazing how long one will burn for), and off to bed.
Sunday started out overcast and gloomy, the former relating to the weather and the latter to Lizzie's bike, which was again not sparking. Swapping back to the old ignition gave a spark briefly which suggested that the original problem may have been unrelated anyway. All this investigation distracted us from the raffle draw and prize-giving which was being conducted at the same time. Suspicion now fell on the coils and a couple of people who had to go into Bristol anyway offered to get some new ones from Charlie's. Feeling that we were not going to be of much practical assistance, Chris and I decided to head off, wisely putting our waterproofs on in the expectation that it might rain a bit before we got back to London.
In the event it started before we had got to back to the A303 at Wincanton and the entire rest of the journey back was completed in gusting winds and driving rain. By the time we stopped at Fleet for a coffee we were both thoroughly damp on the inside with only the prospect of getting damper before we got home. And we weren't disappointed. Next time, as well as double-bagging my clothes inside my (non-waterproof) panniers, I will do the same with my camera, the case of which was worryingly moist on removal. I think it will be all right though. I'll also tape up the bag around my tent because it was split by the action of flapping around and when I went to take the tent out a cupful of water poured out onto the garage floor!
The discomfort of Chris and myself was overshadowed however by the experiences of Phil and Lizzie as they headed home. Their journey turned into an eight-hour marathon with Phil's T150 also giving problems along the way. Leaving aside the usual hassles of weather and mechanics though, it was a good rally at a well-appointed site with a friendly crowd.