Everywhere Virtually

I’m sitting down to write about the Touratech Travel Event and all I can do is smile. With a few false starts at various bike events and meets I was beginning to wonder if I would find a bunch of friendly bikers.

I was not disappointed this weekend.  I managed to get away from work early and get packed up relatively quickly. Now that I’m a seasoned biker after my trans continental trip last month

Anyway I set off on a mild and sunny Sunday evening. I knew that I would arrive around 10pm so decided to stop for some supplies. Namely a snickers, a can of red bull, a peppered steak slice and some cheese and onion crisps.

I noted that the mileage on the bike was 6660 and chuckled to myself that it was an omen… an ‘Omen’, get it? OK never mind. Anyway I walked into Hilton Park services and watched as the lights fading in and out and then bam… the whole place shutdown. It’s one thing when the lights go out at home but when you’re in a shop with 60 or so other people it is a surreal experience. A few kids started crying and then the lights were back on. I discovered it was not the Devil leaving his calling card but local workmen digging through the mains supply as only local workmen can.

I forged on to South Wales and made good progress. The only real surprise of the trip down was the temperature drop. It went from 18c to 5c when I was passing the Brecon Beacons. I was in my summer biking jacket and freezing my nad’s off at that stage. Before too long though I had arrived at Touratech just outside Swansea.

I was apprehensive that everyone would be settled down for the night but I needn’t have worried. There were people still arriving and marshal’s all over the place.  I looked at my watch and  thought if I was quick I could get some pints in at the local pub and pitch my tent. I managed to get it erected in 20 minutes which I believe is a personal best. Doubly astounding considering it was pitch black.

I walked into the local and ordered two pints figuring that it was close to last orders and I needed to hurry. The pub had an unusual mix of clientèle. One half was BMW clad bikers and the other side karaoke singing locals. It was hard to strike up a conversation because groups had been formed and I was the latecomer, the outsider.

After drinking up I headed back to the tent and tucked into my Ginsters peppered steak slice, washed down with red bull. I retired to bed after that. It was a cold night but my trusty down sleeping bag did the job.

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