Look - pictures!
This year marked the 50th anniversary of the Birmingham and Wolves TOMCC branch and to offer something rather special at their Thunderbird rally they had booked the world-renowned Royal Signals White Helmet motorcycle display team. This dictated that they find a larger venue than the Oswestry Rugby club, so when my ticket arrived it was accompanied by directions to the Stoke-on-Trent Rugby club, which is actually nearer to London by some distance. With the whole of Friday to get there I planned a leisurely route via the A10, M11, A14, M1 and A50, stopping off at the Silver Ball café near Royston for a late lunch.
Setting off for the Blackwall Tunnel, the weather was more than warm so I was not pleased to find a long tailback which could only mean the tunnel had been temporarily closed. As it is on my commuting route this is a rather depressingly frequent occurrence. Not wanting to sit in the heat for an unspecified time I turned off at the Greenwich peninsular and doubled back down to the A2 towards Dartford, where I joined another mass of slow-moving vehicles all heading for the tunnel.
Once through things got better and I was progressing anti-clockwise round the M25 towards the A10 turn-off, but on the approach to that junction I encountered the long-running road works which slowed everyone down again. Worse than that, I found that the exit to the A10 was closed on my side of the motorway and there was little alternative but to follow some diversion signs, which took me up to the next junction, around the roundabout and back on to the M25, only to join the queue of traffic approaching the road works from the opposite direction! However once at the A10 turn-off from the clock-wise carriageway I was able to leave the M25 and get back on track, the time getting on and my appetite sharpened.
Before too long I was pulling up outside the café and settling down for a fry-up and a read through a handy copy of "Trucking World" or similar (the actual title escapes me now but the current hot topic is poorly-trained Eastern European drivers). On returning to the bike the weather up ahead looked a bit ominous but I took the optimistic view, kept the waterproofs packed away and fortunately enjoyed dry weather all the way.
It's not much further from the café to the M11 and progress-wise I was going well until I hit the A14. Gary later explained that it's the main route to and from the port of Felixstowe, which explains the number of big lorries strung out along its length. With caravans in the mix as well, there were frequent slow-downs while one large and fairly slow-moving vehicle overtook another one with nary a space for a bike to squeeze through. I was glad to get on to the M1 for a comparatively short stretch before picking up the A50, which proved to be altogether a more pleasant ride. My map-reading skills served me well this time and after I'd stopped for petrol on the A520, it was a couple of miles down the road to the rugby club.
In contrast to the compact layout of the Oswestry club, the Stoke-on-Trent one has a considerably larger acreage, with two full pitches and an area which was designated for camping. There I met up with Gary, Jackie, Ian, Julie, Andy, Lee and Phil, all of whom had arrived some time before me. I got my tent up and joined them in the clubhouse where they were addressing the issue of dinner, not that I was yet feeling in need of more food.
Lee writes: "Andy and I made our way up there on our own this year as the others were not meeting up until later and originally I was taking my outfit, but at the last minute I decided to save Andy some cash. As it happened it was a good decision as the traffic was horrendous. We got caught in a bit of rain and I got soaked (wet t-shirt comp?) as Andy forgot I had no wet gear on (well now I did!). We stopped for a while and got petrol, had a snack and carried on to the Rally. We arrived after - cough, cough, mmmm - 4 or so hours, the site was a new one and there was a choice of places to pitch the tent so I opted for the middle of the field. We were putting up the tent when Little Phil arrived having done a Landmark Challenge before coming to the Rally (good on yer, Phil). Once the tents were up we decided to say our hello's, then went to have something to eat. The food was good, meanwhile Ian, Julie, Dave, Gary and Jackie arrived. They put up their tents and the drinks started flowing."
It has to be said that the layout of the clubhouse does not lend itself to a rally as well as the normal venue for the Thunderbird - half the seating space is in a separate room, the area for the bands was a bit isolated and the kitchen facilities were minimal by comparison (as assessed later by the hard-working catering team). Still the food was up to its normal high standard and the bar had a good choice - at least to begin with!
As befitting this special occasion, there was a band on the Friday night as well as the Saturday. I cannot recall the name of Friday's; they played classic covers and were competent but a bit dull whereas Saturdays - the Jalapenos - were a frenetic three-piece playing rock'n'roll classics as well as more modern stuff rendered in a similar style. They never stopped moving around - even the drummer - and it's rather a shame that only the people stood directly in front of them were able to see and hear well.
One distinct improvement we noticed on both evenings was that the bar did not shut bang on 11 p.m. so we were able to enjoy plenty of beers, at least while stocks lasted. This may have been the first bike rally that the Stoke-on-Trent club have hosted, so let's hope in the future they plan ahead better. By the end of Friday they were out of many beers including Newcastle Brown, so it was more or less plain Carlsberg or nothing.
Lee writes: "I had for a change decided to have some cider; it was in a box - 3 litres of strong cider! I drunk the 1st pint, 2nd, 3rd, 4th... just waiting for an effect. None! It was a waste of time drinking anymore, then the music started. The band and DJ were good, the Bexley Dance Team all got up and showed the rest how it's done. We had a lot of fun and could have gone on for hours, but the music ended!! So off to the tents we all went.
In the early hours I had a dream that I was going to be sick - at that moment I awoke and in reality I was going to be sick all over Andy, so I shouted 'get outta the way, let me out!' Luckily he woke up, unzipped the tent and ran.
I wasn't sick??
Never, never again will I drink cider!! Yuk!!
The following day, feeling the worse for drinking the cider and also because events were put on for rally-ists, we stayed on the site."
Next morning there was no rush to get up except to ensure a place in the queue for a good cooked breakfast (my second one of the weekend). There was no ride-out on offer because the highlight of the day was the on-site performance by the White Helmets. In addition the B&W catering team had lined themselves up with even more work by scheduling a barbecue for Saturday lunchtime.
So we hung around chatting until the bar opened, then watched the White Helmets arrive in a 50-seater coach and unload their separate, full-size articulated lorry into which they somehow manage to squeeze about 15 or more Triumph Tigers (Meriden 750's of course - and gleaming as you would expect), not to mention the odd quad bike, ramps and other props.
A line-up of Triumph bikes of all ages was formed along the nearer end of the pitch on which the display would take place. This eventually comprised almost every model from the Coventry to the Hinckley era including a drab olive WWII-vintage bike ridden by a former member of the Royal Signals who must have been nearly 80. There were people turning up in cars just to see the display and some of them even trailered in classic bikes to put on show.
By about 3 p.m. both the barbecue and the White Helmets' bikes were being fired up. The guys (and one female member) went through their routine which included split-second timed crossovers, single and group balanced formations on one or more bikes and many more impressive manoeuvres. A running gag was the ability of some riders to steer their bike round the arena in anything but the normal seated position, whilst reading the apparently riveting regimental magazine. The only part of their regular repertoire that they could not do in full was the fire jump, which was due to the rugby club management not wanting a substantial burnt patch on their pitch! They did mock up the jump without the fire just to give us an idea.
The main display lasted about 30 minutes and the riders were in no hurry to be off, in fact they took some brave volunteers for a spin around on the bike with the stepladder fixed on the back. Ian and I had a chat with one of the White Helmet guys, expressing our admiration for their skills and admiring the bikes, all of which apparently had been built from old stock only a few years ago. Ian however managed to slip in the question that must most irritate them. And I quote: "So, are you real soldiers then?" I took a casual but precautionary step back; happily this potential faux pas was deflected with ease and we were assured that yes, all the members of the team had a full role in the Royal Signals and all the training and experience that went with it.
Around the same time there was the concours prize-giving, the winners being picked out from the line-up along the pitch. One bike that caught many peoples' eyes was a custom machine owned by a local chap and previously seen in the pages of Back Street Heroes a few years ago now. Its unique distinguishing feature is that the motor is a single cylinder diesel from... a cement mixer. Finished in chrome and black paint, with a Triumph gearbox, very neat frame and running gear, the whole ensemble was much more attractive than it sounds, although the owner did concede that it wasn't very quick on the road!
After all this excitement there was time for a couple of hours kip to recharge the batteries for the evening. On the catering front there was a hog roast scheduled (all inclusive of ticket price) and when I re-emerged from my tent later a likely looking portable oven was cooking away outside the clubhouse already. In practice it was a couple of hours before dinner was served but we were happy sitting in the bar getting the drinks in. Several members of the White Helmets had also stayed on for something to each, chatting to rally-goers and enjoying some cold refreshment.
The rest of the evening was occupied by food, band, drinks, raffle and awards, drinks and so on. I think we drew a blank in the raffle and prizes, but as already reported, the band were good - Jackie got their details but as they come from north of Stoke it is unlikely we could entice them to a future rally of ours at a reasonable price. Near the end of their last set they played a very familiar-sounding surf instrumental (nothing to do with getting your whites whiter) which defied any of us to remember what it was called. Eventually when the band had finished I asked one of them and was told the title: "Wipeout". I went smugly back to our seats with the information, only to realise none of us could remember the group. Andy, I think it was, sought out the band again to put the anoraks amongst us out of our misery: it was recorded by the Safaris. Soon the evening wound down and we headed back to the tents.
Lee writes: "The evening's entertainment was not as good as the night before and some of us sat talking in the back room, drinking and eating. We had hog roast (they cooked whole pigs), also there was some beef; you were allowed 2 rolls each, the pork was tasty, the beef a bit too tough for me! Julie and Jackie got up and had a bop.
Sadly the rally was over as bedtime approached and I got wearier and wearier snore... zzzzzzzzzzzzz."
Next morning I was up again hungry for another cooked breakfast (number 3 if you're keeping up). It had rained lightly the previous evening and the weather was doubtful but we got our tents away and packed up. Having said our goodbyes we headed up the road, stopping at the same petrol station as I did on the way in.
Here things got a bit confusing: Phil and I didn't need petrol, so as soon as the others looked ready to go we rode out one way and waited on the main road (pointing up the route I'd arrived by). After several minutes it finally dawned on us that the others had shot off in the opposite direction! The sensible move was to stay on the road I was familiar with rather than double back and try to catch them up, so that's what we did. Comparing notes on the following Tuesday we apparently all ended up on the A50 but obviously not all together. Phil opted to stay on the M1 when we got to it but I had a pleasant ride along a much-emptier A14 and then the M11 etc. and with one stop for petrol was home in good time.
It is not known whether next year's rally will be at the new or the old site but if I can I'll certainly be going wherever it's on. The dedicated few from the Birmingham and Wolves branch had obviously worked even harder than normal to make this one a success so I hope it worked out OK financially as well.