I wasn't sure how many people were going directly to the Trumpettreffen rally and this uncertainty was compounded by my not being able to get down to the Pied Bull the preceding Tuesday. Hence by 8:30 on Friday 3 June, I was heading solo for the Dartford crossing, destination Harwich. Fortunately I had spent some time the previous evening writing out a comprehensive route plan across the Netherlands, just in case.
Making good time up the A12, I was unfortunately distracted both by a sign promising a Medeival Asparagus Fair (?) and then by the sight of a derelict Happy Eater on the opposite carriageway (not so happy now eh?) For these perfectly understandable reasons I missed the easiest turn-off in the world for the A120. The realisation dawned on me after a short while so having stopped to check at a garage, I doubled back about 7 miles. At some point on the right route it started raining lightly. Despite that I arrived at about 10:00 (a distance so far of 97 miles), filled up at the Morrison's petrol station, then joined a short queue of bikes and pushbikes in the ferry terminal. To my surprise there was no sign of other potential rally-goers, known or unknown, so I boarded with everybody at 10:30, noting that the ferry was far from full.
There was not much motivation to go for the all-you-can-eat buffet on my tod so I found a seat and settled down with a newspaper. The weather took a major turn for the worst mid-voyage: heavy rain and thunder but fortunately no swell. My spirits were revived though by a surprisingly good portion of pasta from the takeaway counter. The skies cleared at around 13:45 CET, although my relief at this was somewhat premature.
The ship docked more or less on time and having disembarked without incident, the first challenge was a diversion along the E30/N211 between Monster and Poeldijk that immediately confused my intricate route plan. Back on track on the E30, things looked good until I joined the E19 approaching Amsterdam... The traffic got heavy and it started to rain. This situation continued (with me making a quick stop for petrol after 107 miles) until Joure at the end of the A6. By that point even with my trusty Triumph one-piece waterproof I was predictably damp and longing just to get there. My summer gloves, selected according to my confidence in the BBC weather forecast for Europe, were like sponges.
The final mile's approach to the rally site was reminiscent of pre-2004 Trumpettreffens in that the rally-specific direction signs which I expected to see from the first turn-off from the main road were not exactly plentiful nor clear. I overshot one turning and had to double back to get the right road to the site, arriving about four hours after leaving the Hook of Holland.
The scenario there was, well... wet. Heavy rain in that area had made for a decidedly squelchy campsite. Once I had checked in, I was kindly helped by Chris Biggs and Ian Pocock to pitch my tent during a rare lull in the rain. Even my favourable-looking spot was prone to ooze water under the pressure of a footstep... and me with no airbed. Still I found the main shed where the bar was, bought some beer tokens and said "Hi" to all the Bexley members who had preceeded me (for details of how and why they were there already, see the forthcoming "Tour de France" write-up). It was not long before the Friday band had set up for their soundcheck... and frankly at that point they didn't sound too promising!
However the bar and stage facilities looked good and in case of a cold snap there were three patio heaters, but why was the one next to Bexley the only one glowing red hot? I never found out.
A few more beers and Captain Banana was in full form although the rain had started again. The band appeared and although they were formally announced as "Firebird - Rock'n'roll" (imagine your own thick accent in which that was delivered), they were more 60's garage/surf with occasional bursts of a punkish 70's sound. They were no stranger to the instrumental either (I detected Link Wray's "Rumble" and The Ventures' "Pipeline" at least) and played surprisingly tightly after a shaky start. As the evening wore on, Captain Banana bowed out, Kev went into suspended animation but those members of the Oswestry guys present were still very much awake.
Fortunately by this time rain had stopped although the late sun had no drying power. Sadly by 01:00 local time as I was squelching to my tent, the band performance had degenerated into a number of anti-social assaults on the classic works of Quo & Creedence. When I heard "Born To Be Wild" being played rather badly it was time to hit the hay.
Next morning I woke up and at least it was not raining. I had the full fried brekky then checked how soggy my stuff was. Late morning I gingerly rode back out of the field prior to joining the ride to Joure with Andy, Lee, Gary, Jackie, Ian, Julie and Chris. We parked the bikes up and had a leisurely walk down main street looking in the shop windows and wondering if it was always that quiet. We found a café for a beer or two plus lunch. During this time there was a brief rain shower which prompted Gary generously to fetch Jackie's boots from the bike, preventing them from getting another soaking. Ian and Andy stopped at supermarket for some drinks then we made the short ride back to site, parking in the yard rather than risk getting stuck in the field.
I had repaired to the bar for a quick libation and a chat with Kev when the heavens opened, leaving me trapped there. The missing Oswestry boys had finally all made it, their escapades too complex to mention in detail. The rain cleared after 30 minutes so I took the opportunity to go back to my tent for a bit of a kip, following the example of some of the others.
Before I knew it, it was early evening and the same eight of us were thinking about dinner. We joined the queue for the specially arranged taxi (a black London cab no less) that was shuttling people back to town. Somehow while the driver was not looking we all squeezed into what was space for 5! After another walk down main street we settled on chinese and to maximise the chance of everybody liking something we order eight helpings of their biggest set meal, so there was a lot of food! We didn't rush but we were mindful that the taxi service stopped at ten o'clock. When the time was getting near we paid the bill and used a special mobile 'phone number to arrange our ride back. Feeling stuffed we went outside to find there was a bit of a queue. Chris and myself shared with a group of three friendly Dutch rally-goers, so we were back at the site before the rest.
It was a slower pace on the beers that night, helped by our full stomachs and the tiny glasses being used - this year the main beer was draught and most people were buying jugs of it. Kev reported that the band had taken forever to set up and before long we were able to judge if it was time well spent. They weren't bad - a sort of generic Stones/US bar rock. The singer / saxophonist was getting on a bit, had longish grey hair and a navy jacket, and reminded me somewhat of Jon Pertwee-era Dr. Who. The rest of the band were of varying ages but they could certainly cut the mustard. Rather unfortunately though there were two power cuts - the first one lasting quite a time as people disappeared behind the scenes, lights came on and then went off again and the audience waited patiently. They had been going again for a while when the power went for a second, shorter time but Chris and I took that opportunity to head for bed at around midnight with band still going strong.
My good night's sleep was scuppered by a combination of my comparatively modest intake of beer and the willingness of our hosts to keep the music going quite loudly until about ten past five in the morning. This despite using ear plugs and having pitched my tent a fair distance from the barn end of the site.
Aiming at a prompt ten o'clock departure, we were all up at around eight, packing up, grabbing some breakfast and loading the bikes. Come the hour, we were missing Janet and Kev. Andy went back to check and they were in the barn enjoying a coffee with Kev carefully keeping an eye on what he thought was Andy's Rocket III in the yard so that he would know when we were leaving. Andy reminded Kev that there were two Rocket IIIs at the rally and his one was loaded up on the roadside. So with Janet and Kev mobilized we were off by 10:20. We had quite a fast ride back via A7, with one stop for petrol and another to don waterproofs as rain threatened.
We rode round Amsterdam and towards the Hague, in fact we turned off too early and found ourselves right near the centre of the city. Taking the opportunity to get more petrol, we also got directions back to the A4. Turning off onto the N211, we missed an early diversion round Poeldijk roadworks and then also missed a nearer diversion, so we had to squeeze past on the pavement before we were back on track. Almost within sight of the port the heavens opened in classic style, making me glad that I had kept my waterproofs on. We arrived at the usual café at one forty-five-ish, just as a coach party was leaving, allowing us a choice of tables. The rain eased off quickly and the waterproofs dried up enough to be packed away. Off to the ferry check-in and before long we were on board and making a beeline for the restaurant, where we sat and munched for a most consideable time. There was a technical delay of some sort making us half an hour or so late starting but fortunately we were in no desperate rush.
Midway across the rain started again, then cleared. What would the weather be like on the home front? Well when we got there it was clear so we had a trouble-free ride back to home territory.