Okay, let's start with the real adventuring, shall we?
The nice guys from the Ferry woke everybody at 0600 – thats over two hours before arrival – via the Intercom. For breakfast -.- Oh well, might as well take a shower and later go up to the sundeck. Which turned out not to be a good idead – boy, was Port Hull an eyepain.
When I returend to my Beloved in the morning, the situation had changed a bit.
Also, I found a very nice sidecar bike. The BMW R1100S is such a stunning beauty, esp. when she flies the black and yellow colours. Almost a shame to sidecar that one.
Furthermore, what had to happen, happened of course. I run as far as possible from home, only to meet hometown again. It was actually a group of middle-aged riders from all over the Erzgebirge, which did a 12-day-trip through Scotland. They were not able to speak one word of english! But that's what their Tourguide was for.
Kingston itself was a neat little, typical british town. I liked the flair of the small houses and the kind of sleepyness. However, I was not able to catch it on Photo, so I head on to my first goal, the Bempton Cliffs, making my first shots of left-hand-driving.
The Cliffs are a nature research, for obvious reasons, as you soon will be able to see. First it was time to settle down and have my breakfast. Next to a memorial stone for some commoner (I liked that approach. The family mourning & remembering NOT on the graveyard, but probably his favoured
place of rejuvination) and a sinkhole, where birds were nesting in.
There is something rather HOT going on between my legs.
Yummi, I like that. A lot.
Bempton cliffs. No need to loose any words.
Astonished, I set on to the York Air Museum. You have a lot of those in England. The Englanders really love ther RAF and why shouldn't they?
York Air Museum is done like an old Airforce Base, with barracks and a central tower, from which music from the 40s and 50s sonically seduced everyone.
The enthusiasts in the museum have really some big collection of warmachines, which they carefully reconstruct or even keep in perfect flying condition, like these Nimrod and Victor. If you are lucky, you can see them screwing around on the enginees during opening times.
Also, the got a Buccaneer here. Always wanted to see them in reality. And Meteors.
And an actual Halifax Bomber, carefully rebuildt. It shall resemble the „Friday the 13th“. Which I should like, 'cause these are my lucky days, but this very machine has run a lot of bombruns over Germany, „visiting“ the town of my university, Chemnitz, twice. Wee bit disturbing, isn't it?
Along with the planes, they have a special show dedicated to the bomber crews and then machine gunners. The MIA-quote was very high, in the fifties, as I learned. Wow. Also, sitting several hours crammed in such small of a guntower, at as cold as -50 °C...wonder whether the high loss quote was from enemy fire or, just like in the Alps, more weather-related. These were some badass guys...
I found it interesting they showed pictures of burning german cities, including Dresden. And the plate read something like „From London and Manchester to Dresden, civilians suffered...“
So, they acknowledge, that the terror we gave them was neither worse nor less than the terror they gave us. It was horror, period. I like that, speaking like this in Germany will lead you into trouble.
The same goes for this, even if you display it to despise it. We do not digest the topic, we do not discuss it, we disavow the topic and flagellate in collective, endless guiltiness.
Right besides that, they had „motivational posters“ of the WWII. I immidiately wanted one :-)
By the way, the last pictures are really crappy, 'cause my cam ran out of battery and I had to rely on my trusted Montana 650t. How am I glad to have purchased the version with the unneeded gimmicks...
When I returned to the bike, I found another marvelous four-wheeler. TVR Tuscan Speed 6. Damn, are those seldom. And damn, are those sexy.
Next stop: York itself. York...well...the town seemed nice, but kind like a tourist trap. Crowded. Made some photos and ran for it. I am here for the riding, am I not?
Skipton I kinda liked more. Gotta have to do with it having some motorcycles around and my late meal.
Who says bad stuff 'bout british food?
The area of Lancashire and Yorkshire is not totally flat, but full of soft hills and fare views. Agricultural area, mainly. The following pictures try to sum up, what it's all about and summon the spirit.
Oh yeah, anyone recognise my balls? Didn't know what these were. Some kind of radio telescope?
Now we are in Lancaster. My favorite author, Terry Pratchett, obvisiouly took some inspiration from Lancaster Castle (see the witches). Pterrys view of the world did change and form me a lot. So, I wanted to see some of his inspirations first hand. I had to go there and crossing England from shore to shore was tempting anyways.
Well. Lancaster Castle is not really a nice one and above all, it is still a prison (which is Castle Asperg in Schwaben, Germany, as well and has been this for a long time – prison for prisonersd of war, regular prison, psychatric institution, prison for 'special cases'...all such) and while Lancaster is not really disgusting, it is a city after all. I felt uncomfortable.
Hence I moved on. On the map, Barrow In Furness looked like a nice little town on the shore. Alas, when I got there:
Well. Ups and downs, are there not? I figured I could just as well do some more miles and move back to the Eastcoast, where I wanted to start tommorrow. After a while I thought to myself „why not rest?“ and pulled over at the very next B&B I saw. As I did regullary during this trip. No planning, just tagging along.
We do not really have B&Bs here in Germany, not in such numbers and with the regular evening talk with your hosts anyway. I liked that alot, but about midnight and after about 430 km, I hit the mattress.
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I almost forgot, some ranting about riding in England and english drivers in general:
Riding in UK is EPIC! Twisty roads, but more like swinging, not hectic. A bit bumpy at times (long waves) but the tarmack is great. Except for the lightmarks on Motorways and A-level-streets… they tend to ruin tires.
English drivers seem to ALL be motorcycle drivers (despite one barely sees MCs). Speed-Limits are the law-which-one-obeys. But in the understanding of “when I am allowed to go 80 miles, I WILL go 80 miles at least, no matter what.” At the same time, they are very safe drivers and very friendly. Without so much as a wink from you, they let you pass on lights, when making a turn, when in a jam or even when in a snake of cars. With oncoming traffic, they all make room for a third, a bike lane just for you.
Are they in front of you, they drive fast not to hidner you – are they behind you and you are in cruising mode, the keep their distance and wait patiently to safely overtake. I was astonished.
Nonetheless, you will learn driving in the UK – simply because they have prolonged twisties virtually everywere. It's 5.000 km of driving lectures for me, even with my hog of a bike.