Events Report

After Craters, I picked up the TAT again, with the intention of wild camping somewhere along the trail. My campsite was picked a little earlier than expected, just as I got to Challis national forest, the CB felt ‘off’. Pulled over and found I had a flat rear tyre. Found a huge fence staple right in the middle of the tread. So, out with the Safety Seal plugs and compressor. No drama So set up camp, right by the cattle grid entrance to Challis. There must be a fire somewhere nearby as there was ash falling all night, along with the ever pervasive smell of smoke.

2nd August Set off at 7am to climb over the mountain pass. Stunning views on the way up, and the trail wasn’t too challenging. But the views all the way down the back, to Ketchum! Amazing! Rode from Ketchum along the TAT, on route 227, passing the road closed signs, to Smokey Bar Cafe. Got an update from Rick, a local, to say it’s still fubar, so played it safe and dropped down to Fairfield. I know others have gotten through, in a group, to help carry their bikes. But I’m on my own and lugging 400lbs through washed out roads in 90f has ZERO appeal to me. So stopped at the convenience store in Fairfield, downing Gatorade and Cliff bars. Fortunately I decided to just chill here, as for the first time on the trip, I left my wallet at the checkout! OOPS! Rode the tarmac up to Featherville, ID and found a hotel for the night. Wasn’t too hard to find, as there’s only one hotel. And one bar, one diner, one shop, one gas station with one pump… Yes, it’s a small town! and basically for sale!

3rd August. Rode over the mountains from Featherville, Idaho,

to Idaho City this morning. Another great ride. Very tricky in places, with long drops if you weren’t paying attention. But once down the far side, the trail followed the Arrowrock river all the way to the Arrowrock dam with stunning views round every corner. Met up with two New Z ealand visitors, while riding this section of the trail. They’re also riding the TAT on their KTMs, before turning south and riding the Great Divide route south. And then I met two more TAT riders from MO at the gas station in Idaho City. Good to know I’m not the only one out here, though we are infrequent ‘bikes that pass in the night’ (or, day). And then, without any real fanfare or a stateline sign, there is was. Oregon. And it hit me, this was the last state. My TAT was nearly over. I found a spot to camp, next to the Snake River, looking back at Idaho on the far bank, and experienced both sadness and relief that the trip was nearly over. In a day or two I would be at the Pacific Ocean.

Editor: And this concludes another section of Tim’s epic saga.

Chris Johnson

I pick up the event reporter's quill again after nearly 18 months of idleness with nothing much to show for it apart from a distressingly increased waistline. Total mileage for the first pandemic year was about 250 miles! Normal Social Rides started up again on 23rd May but I was otherwise engaged and it wasn't until Sunday 20th June that I had to make the big decision; would it be Colin Digby's Full Member ride or Mick and Alan's more relaxed one? Since I now had difficulty in clambering onto the KTM, much less remembering how to ride it, it was not a hard choice to make. I decided that Colin's run to the Hemel Hempstead Garden Centre might be nastily progressive for my current skill level and chose the relaxed ride to the La Hogue Farm Cafe instead. Details are a bit hard to recall now. I think there were about 15 bikes in overcast but dry conditions. The route? Forgotten! The lunch venue? Not actually forgotten but, since I cannot remember what I ate, as good as. There was a lot of social distancing kerfuffle. It was a pleasant run but, despite the preliminary outing I had made 'down South' before it, more miles were needed.

A month later the situation was similar. On the 18th July Colin had a run to the Camargue Café, Woodbridge, and Mick and Alan were riding to Walk-

ers, Thetford. I chose the easier ride, but felt a bit sorry for Colin. He only had about 5 bikes whereas Mick had around 20. It was a very hot day. There was a nice choice of roads and Walkers was hummimg. I threw dietary caution to the winds and had their largest, greasiest burger. Couldn't quite finish it. On the journey back I was starting to enjoy leaning the bike into corners and was quite pleased with myself by the time we arrived at the Regiment Way McDonalds. After downing a large Diet Coke to re-hydrate I set out at about 3pm for the 50 mile ride home. I arrived home at 8pm! It appeared that the M25 was closed just south of the river and, although there had been no advance warning, I had to filter a dozen miles through near stationary traffic to get to the Dartford bridge. On the bridge the traffic was even slower and, since drivers were trying to change lane for no good reason, normal filtering became impossible and I switched to proceeding, at a walking pace, just inside the white line at the right of the carriageway, This was progress, although lamentably slow, and was interrupted when a driver I was level with decided to move right. What possible advantage that could have given her I do not know. I moved over to the crash barrier, stopped and, to avoid contact as she continued to move out, had to lean over the barrier. This was thus technically not a RTC, and when she noticed me she reversed back a little and was most apologetic. No harm done to anyone, but I had no purchase to straighten up the bike, and the lady was not strong enough to help. Most embarrassing. Fortunately a lorry driver a couple of vehicles ahead saw what had happened, left his cab (stationary traffic has its advantages), pulled

me upright with no difficulty, nodded, and returned to his vehicle. I could then proceed, still at a walking pace. over the rest of the bridge. When we had to leave the motorway there was too much congestion for filtering, and I then made things even worse by a series of bad choices of turning which led to me travelling north again through the tunnel. The old spirits were at a pretty low ebb by this time.

I turned to head west on the A13. This, too, was completely congested, very little filtering could be done, and you were lucky if one car could move ahead at the numerous traffic lights. The bike thermometer was registering 44.2C, two degrees more than the hottest I had experienced before in a jam across the Hoover Dam, and I was wearing a much lighter jacket then. I realised that I was becoming dangerously dehydrated and should ride no further. I cut off the road a mile or so short of the Blackwall Tunnel, found a patch of shade, parked the bike, sat down on the pavement, and considered my options. Eventually a young boy stopped to ask me if I was OK and directed me to a shop 'at the end of the street'. It was a bit further than that but I dragged my weary body to it and bought a 2 litre bottle of water, which I then drank over the next hour whilst sitting on a wall. Back at the bike, and coupling in my SatNav, a Chinese woman whose flat I was outside decided to come out and help. She was most solicitous and it took 20 minutes refusing offers to put the bike in her car space, stay in her spare room etc. etc. before I could get away. The traffic was still badly jammed, and it took the best part of an hour to get to the Blackwall Tunnel. Things were OK after that but I arrived home well over four hours late, and promptly consumed a further quart of water.

Another month, another run. Colin's Full Member ride on Sunday, 15th August, to Old Buchenham Airfield. Richard never took us there, I thoroughly enjoyed it. 16 bikes, 2 with pillions, and quite a few roads previously unknown to me on the outward leg; the return was a little more conventional apart from the stretch of goat track south of Needham where we met the Tesco van. We had the predicted short band of light rain, but the weather otherwise was OK to good. The airfield lunches were quite acceptable despite Spider walking back to alarm everyone in the queue by declaring that they had no food when he was too late for a Large English;

there was in fact a good selection with fairly prompt table service as we sat outside and watched someone getting a flying lesson No accidents or mishaps, although when we got to the Regiment Way MacD's a little after 5pm most people could swap near-death experiences about the patches of gravel just short of Wethersfield and Finchingfield. I didn't find the Finchingfield one too alarming and, in truth, at the earlier one I scarcely had time to vocalise "Oh, Shite!" to myself before the bike decide to settle itself rather than crashing. Total distance 194 miles.

On 22nd August John and Audrey Tipper held their annual Cotswold run. This always used to be to Bourton-on-the-Water, but apparently a recce the week before showed Bourton to be 'heaving', and unsuitable for a genteel and fastidious group of bikers, so the destination was switched to the Cotswold Foodstore and Cafe at Stow on the Wold (the same as on the last run two years ago). There were 15 bikes (two with pillions) and two groups led by John and Audrey. Stephen Green swept for Audrey and John had the questionable backing of Yours Truly. John and Audrey always research their routes meticulously, so it was a cruel fate which dictated that very recent road closures turned the first half of the outward leg into a magical mystery tour which led to John's group arriving an hour late at the Buckingham Garden Centre coffee stop. One of them also led to our being misdirected along a short-cut which terminated in a set of bollards. Most of the bikes could squeeze between them but Joe Johal's fully kitted GS was too wide, and ended up having its rear lifted over a steel pipe by strong arms. The Cotswold scenery is, I am told, delightful but I have had the precepts of advanced riding drummed into me so thoroughly over the years that even the shortest glance at it whilst