Best-Laid Plans

Murder Hole Beach

daVid BLeVingS and friends headed off on the Wild Atlantic Way – what could go wrong?

Summer 2020 suited this Robert Burns saying to a tee: No matter how carefully a project is planned, something may still go wrong with it. And for me it did, on numerous occasions.

Like many members, our plan to tour Europe during summer 2020 was cancelled due to the Coronavirus. Not to be beaten I rang my mate in Devon and suggested we do something closer to home. Mark had plans to visit his mum in Northern Ireland and we agreed that he would travel by ferry on his GS and we would plan to do the north coast of Ireland anti-clockwise, to include the Antrim Coast and the Donegal section of the Wild Atlantic Way.

With the plan in place I took my R1100S out for a spin to make sure all was good ahead of the mini tour. Well, that’s when the plans started to go awry. The bike is a ‘04 RS which has never let me down in five years, but that evening I hit the start button after stopping at a mate’s house for a brew and... nothing, not even the click of the starter motor. The fuses were all good, but at 55 years young with a hip screw, I decided against a bump start. Thank goodness for recovery assistance and it turned out to be a dead starter motor. Great, the trip was still on!

After collecting the bike complete with new starter, I felt something wasn’t right. Power seemed lacking and it stalled at a set of lights. Maybe a good run would sort it out before our tour the following week. But next day it was worse, farting and banging like the morning after a feed of beer and curry! Back to the bike hospital and the diagnosis was a dodgy hall sensor, it was not going to be my week – the mechanic promised to get one ASAP.

I was doubtful if it would be in time for the tour. I looked in my garage at my second bike, a 1988 Ducati Paso, but with 16in wheels, drop bars and questionable electrics I was slightly ‘concerned’ at its potential for the Wild Atlantic Way. It’s a nice bike to run down to the coffee shop as long as it’s within pushing distance of home (apologies to Ducati owners).

Buy One...

Then I had a brain wave – why not buy a bike for the tour and sell it when I get back. Brilliant! A BMW was of course my first choice and I did see a K1200S at my local stealers, but reading about them online did not fill me with confidence as so many owners had major issues with the 1200. There were two other options close by – a Blackbird and an Aprilia Futura. Hondas have a bullet-proof reputation and this one looked nice, but the gaffer tape around the rear indicator stalks and general tardy look put me off.

So the Futura was next. The style appealed, it was kept in a heated garage and after a quick test ride I was hooked. I fitted a new battery and a 12v connection to the bars for the satnav and we were ready for the trip. I managed a quick run the next day with my local BMW Club and it performed fantastically, comfort level on par and dare I say the saddle was more comfy than the R1100S.

As planned, I met Mark and Graham (two BMWs) outside the McDonalds in Ards. The run up the coast was excellent, and if you have never travelled the Antrim coast road from Larne to Ballycastle you should. It is a fantastic road with the hills on your left and the sea on your right, a mixture of fast straights and hairpins with the odd rock tunnel to drive through, really picturesque.

We arrived in Portballintrae for a quick lunch and Graham said his goodbyes before heading head back to Belfast. Mark and I planned to travel to Castlerock and via Benone to Magilligan for the ferry for the short crossing to Greencastle and into the Republic. Rain greeted us as we rode towards Letterkenny but let up slightly while we sheltered at a filling station, so we continued via the N56 through Termon, Creeslough and into Dunfanaghy. I am fortunate enough to own a small holiday cottage in this village and we agreed to lodge here for a few nights and take day trips as many B&Bs and hotels were not taking guests due to Covid.

We arrived wet and quickly lit a peat fire to dry the wet gear. I had booked dinner at the local hotel, and what a different experience that was. You were not allowed to go to the bar, escorted to your seat and told you had 90 minutes for your dinner. No problem, this is the new ‘normal’. And the food was excellent. Back home, opened another bottle of red and fell asleep in front of the peat fire!

Let Down

The next day beckoned dry and bright. Today’s plan was to visit Fanad Head Lighthouse, a popular local landmark on the Fanad Peninsula between Lough Swilly and sandy Mulroy Bay, a headland with fantastic dramatic scenery. After lunch Left: Banter in Roscommon Above: Artist’s impression of Mark’s incident

at Rathmullan with an old school friend we rode up the R268 coast road to the lighthouse and took in the excellent scenic views. From there we travelled via the Harry Blaney Bridge to Carrigart and then up and around the Rosguill Peninsula, taking in the stunning views including the famous Murder Hole beach.

From there I had the bright idea of taking Mark on a scenic run around the back of Muckish Mountain. We took what I thought was the correct road out of Creeslough but quickly found it was a single-track road which started to sprout grass within the first mile. Not to lose face and admit I had made a mistake I ventured on, the tarmac turning to loose stone and gravel with added potholes. Muckish was still on our right so the direction of travel was correct and I could see the ‘correct’ main road up ahead about a mile away.

I looked back at my mate, now standing on the pegs and riding his GS like a trials bike. He was enjoying himself while I was fighting with the Aprilia! I persevered with its belly pan bottoming on many a pothole as we traversed what had become a field track surrounded by peat bogs.

At last we emerged on to the main road, where I nearly got down and kissed the tarmac. But within two minutes my steering went very light and I knew immediately I had a puncture! No great surprise given the route we had taken. This is normally not a big issue with modern tyre seal products, of which we both had a tin...but we’d left them in our luggage at the house! Another lesson learnt.

Options were call for assistance which could take several hours or nurse the bike to the nearest town and buy another tin of sealant. The second option was the best in my opinion as it was a rear puncture – a front would have been a different prospect. So sitting high up, nearly on the tank, and a 15-20mph

ride to Falcarragh ensued. Here I bought another tin of sealant and watched as the foam oozed out of the small puncture marks in the rear tyre. A quick boost with the air hose and we were off again to Dunfanaghy to review our next move to find a puncture repair and/or a new tyre.

The next day dawned very wet and a quick visit to the local garage confirmed that they did not work on motorcycle punctures – someone in Donegal might be able to do it.

So after breakfast and with the weather improving, we started down the Wild Atlantic Way (N56) via Falcarragh, Gortahork and Glenties, then the R262 towards Donegal town. We were met by a road worker setting up a detour, but he allowed us to continue and said that we should get through before the work started. This is where it got interesting (again).

After about three miles of twisty rural roads we rounded a corner to find about four cars in various stages of U-turns. The road works had started and we were too late to get through. A trench had been dug halfway across the road, so a bike could get through. Picture the scene; a car stopped on nearside and another car alongside it on the other side of the road facing forward, about to reverse. Mark took one look and decided to pass the car on the right-hand side. As he pulled alongside the car it started to reverse and the gap began to close. He went to dab his right foot to the ground but, as these small rural roads are built on peat bogs the ground fell away. I watched in amazement as he continued to fall to the right until both he and the bike were horizontal in a peat bog!

Fall Down

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My first instinct sadly, was to get my phone out and take a picture. But I knew Mark would be furious so I parked up and ran to see if he was OK. He was, and only his pride was damaged. The bike was actually lying at about 110 degrees due to the fall of the ground and what a bugger it was to lift! If you ever have to raise a GS from horizontal you will know where I am coming from.

Mark was ready to spit fire at the car driver but realised very quickly that the fault was his. After he calmed, we got back on the bikes and turned back to find a side road into town. A tyre dealer inspected the tyre and said, “It looks grand, sure it will get you home.” But a quick check online said that sealant is only good for about 100 miles and I was already over that!

There was no motorcycle shop in town, but the internet revealed one in Athlone so we decided to head there as it would sort my tyre issue and get Mark closer to Rosslare for the ferry back to Wales. We ventured further down the coast via Bundoran and Mullaghmore Head in Co Sligo for the excellent views at this famous surfing headland and then across to Athlone, checking into a hotel and enjoying an Indian meal.

Early next morning the rear tyre was flat as a pancake! So much for getting me home. The bike shop was two miles away but fortunately the hotel came up trumps with a compressor and air tank - within two minutes the tyre was inflated and I was ready to go. Better still, the bike shop was open and the chap had a new tyre for me, great news!

With that done, we headed off south east for Mark to make Rosslare. We were surprised at how quiet many of the small villages were until we realised that many of them were dependent on the tourist trade which was virtually non-existent given the pandemic.

At Clara in Co Offlay we went our separate ways, Mark for the ferry and I had the pleasant run back to Newtownards up the N52 which is a very enjoyable run rather than slogging across the motorway and up via Dublin. Back home and the next day a call to the motorcycle hospital revealed that the R1100S was still not fixed. Yes, the new hall sensor was fitted but an intermittent electrical fault still plagued it. How disappointing.

I told my wife the saga that night and her memorable words were, “Why don’t you sell all those old bikes and buy a nice new one?” I had debated keeping the Aprilia as it was a very nice machine but I went and had a test ride on a new S1000R Sport. I was hooked. The Ducati and Aprilia were on eBay the next day and away to lucky purchasers in GB the following week.

As I write I have just taken delivery of the new S1000R sport (or S1KR as those in the know seem to say) and am loving it. Weather has hampered play to date but I will update on adventures in due course. The R1100S is due back from hospital soon. I don’t really want to sell it as despite recent faults it is a really comfortable mile muncher, It’s OK to keep both isn’t it? I can tour on the R1100S and keep the S1KR as a summer toy.

This article first appeared in The BMW Club Journal – our thanks for permission to reprint it.

great roads in donegal – puncture apart, the aprilia did well