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Bought a ticket for this event that I'd always fancied attending months ago so the day arrived. I was meeting my mate Titus who was coming up to Oxford from Reading while I took the A40 route rather than the M4. Most of the photos are Titus's as I ended up taking loads of them for him when he was posing around the place. I stopped here for a brew somewhere near Burford I think as I was way too early as usual, as is my want. I then went to a McDonalds on the ring road to meet up as we were far too early for the 1700 opening of the event. I was only about 45 minutes too early at this time. Having checked in at the gate we got the tents up the same as everybody else. Then after some wine it was up for an explore around the site. There was a recorded video from Ted Simon who couldn't attend as the Covid travel regulations were all a bit too much for a ninety year old. His bike however was there. After a few more beers talking with some guy from Northern Ireland it all got a bit vague and it was time for bed. Woke up to accordion music. This guy had been busking at some time, and thought it a great idea to stimulate hangovers at some ungodly hour. Fred might remember Titus's morning garb from the Moon Rallies. Quite chuffed with this somewhat surreal photo. There were several speakers. We attended I think four, it might have been more but it interfered with the drinking, besides many of the people we met had interesting travel tales to share. Besides, a good excuse to go again. I think the first talker we listened to was Elspeth Beard. This is her bike that she rode around the world, and had ridden to the event. Until recently the first recognised woman to do the RTW. Also listened to Mary Sievier. I seem to have unfortunately lost the photos I took so the link says it all. She was absolutely brilliant. I hope she gets a book written. There was also Mark Holmes who shared an extremely personal tale of his circumnavigation on a Triumph Rocket! I'm reading his book at the moment. He also did a talk on some research that he's doing on how many people have circumnavigated the world on a motorcycle. At present 303 I think. The last talk I think, as I probably have these all mixed up, was by Ian Coates from Hebden Bridge who roamed the world for I think fourteen years.. He must be one of the most. entertaining speakers that I've ever had the pleasure of hearing, and I was in stitches most of the time. Brilliant. I got photobombed while photobombing! I forgot that this was hanging off the pannier frame in line with the exhaust. Oops! A few more random photos.

The new scoot. Deailim S3 Advance. 250cc.....25bhp....top speed 85mph....so will happily cruise at motorway speeds. 2015.....3200 miles...full MOT Keyless ignition.....looks like new, not a blemish or spot of rust on it, main stand rust free...take the number plate off and it looks new, a few stickers to remove.....very pleased for the price. You can all get on with the laughter now!.

After our ad hoc late lunch we headed up and over the Conor pass, the view from the top was stunning. and crossed back to the east side of the peninsula over the Caherconlee road- which was especially nadgery with a lot of loose gravel. In fact the road was effectively a river of gravel, which made for some very exciting descents. With just one short stretch that had enough grip to stop and put feet down.

Me , Paul , Austin , Lois and Charlie . Trail riding in Wales back in the day........................

Oh to be young again My girlfriend and I were walking up the yard behind her parents' house one dark evening, probably checking the chickens/ducks were locked up after a fox attack previously, her mum and dad would have been in the house. We saw a caravan as were were walking up the yard, looked at each other and opened the door and went inside. I think her dad had just bought it for selling on. A few key items of clothing were off, but then we must have moved off centre because it suddenly tipped up a fair bit, one end hitting the ground with a tump. No jacks down, just resting on the two proper wheels and the jockey wheel. Ruins the moment when you are trying to find clothes you put down in total pitch darkness before her parents come to investigate.

After @MooN report on Verdun and others expressing an interest in the D-Day beaches I thought i'd bung up some photos of my trip in 2019. I had been trail riding down at my mates in the Lot area of France and on my way back up to the ferry at Cherbourg I decided to visit the beaches and that area. The morning started out dry but soon turned to rain which sort of added to the sombre atmosphere of the various sites. At some point I would like to go again sometime and spend longer at some of the memorials. Anyway, here are some photos........................

It was late 1973 and this bird I was going out with said her mother was going to be away for the night and did I want to stay? Well it would have been rude not to. Anyway.....about 8 am the following morning I woke up and heard the front door go. She looked outside and said her mother had got back! The bird said to grab my clothes and get in the cupboard, then make a break through the front door when the coast was clear!! So in I went.......bollocks naked holding all my clothes. Her mother came in the bedroom to take a look and I'm in the wardrobe trying not to breathe in case I gave myself away. Then her and her mother went downstairs towards the dining room and kitchen at the back of the house. In a blind panic I ran for the front door and straight out onto the pavement.......completely forgetting that I was carrying my clothes not wearing them! So there was I.....on the street bollocks naked in front of a bus stop full of people who were waiting for the bus to go to work. Even worse was that it was a rather cold morning.......so I wasn't physically at my best!

Bike trip to Verdun. 30th August to 1st September 2021. Having visited the 1st war battlefields of the Somme with their British and commonwealth cemetery’s and memorials and the American memorials and cemetery’s of the Meuse in Chateau Thierry (some of you will have seen those ride reports on previous incarnations of this site or similar) I have been trying for a while to organise a visit to Verdun and the French front of the 1st war. I’d been planning this trip for a while but struggling to find 3 days on the trot where no other obligation interfered with my being absent from either work or home. When work decided at fairly short notice that I could have 10 days holiday, I cleared it with the Mrs and fitted t in between a weeks hols (at home) with her and the kids, and the kids return to school. I dug the tent out of the shed and checked it wasn’t mouldy or rotted (I don’t use it very often…) and that all the poles and pegs were there. That being done I booked a spot in the municipal campsite in Verdun for a couple of nights and organised my kit for a couple of days away by bike. Sleeping bag and mattress in the plastic bag at the back. I reckon I won’t even need a tank bag. Loaded Just needed to update the GPS and away. Verdun is just sufficiently far from home to make it not doable in a day, at least not time wise if you want to actually visit any of the sites, but it’s not a full days ride to get there either so I left after lunch on Monday and as I was on my own purposefully planned a route via back roads and small villages, having all afternoon before me to cover the distance with the only constraint being the campsite sign in before 19:00. I usually stop after ½ hour or so of leaving home to have a quick check of baggage etc., just to make sure nothing’s come loose. To be faire it’s not really necessary with this set up as I only have the tent which is not inside the panniers, but old habits die hard and I still had a repaired rear left indicator that I needed to keep an eye on as repairs numbers 1 to 3 hadn't lasted ore than about ½ an hour. This repair seemed to be holding ( and indeed held for the entire trip). the weather was overcast but not cold which was almost ideal riding weather as I didn’t overheat immediately upon stopping. Le Lac du Foret de Lorient, north east of Troyes. No comment… I rolled up at the campsite about 18:00, signed in and paid my dues (19€70 for bike and tent for 2 nights) and was attributed a pitch right next to this guy Needless to say it didn’t take long for him to come over and say hi. A brit who left home 5 years ago and on his way to the ferry home having covered 49 countries and 230,000miles in the meantime. Campsite I ate at the campsite restaurant and retired early. I probably snored loudly throughout the night but it didn’t disturb me and I woke the next morning surprisingly free of aches and pains. I made coffee on the wee primus gas thingy, which was my only concession to proper camping, having decided and budgeted for not having to try and cook stuff or carry the necessary gear. Most of the morning passed in a pleasant chat with the guy next door about his travels and I eventually got moving about 11:00. stopped at a supermarket for some fuel and a sandwich for later and headed out to Vaux fort Fort Vaux “speckled Jim”? The message carried by this pigeon reads (my translation) “We’re still holding out but are under gas attack and the smoke is dangerous. It is urgent to get us out. Send immediate visual message via Souville who are not replying. This is my last Pigeon.” reading this bought immediately to mind the scene from the Lord of The Rings in Moria, where Gandalf reads the last lines left by the dwarves as they were overrun. “Souville” was one of the secondary underground forts further back, and I will come back to this later as I found another unequivocal reference from LOTR… The fort de Vaux is up a dead end and on the way back to the main road, I saw a fingerboard sign pointing down a side road saying “fusillés de Tavannes” so I followed it. the white plaque at ground level in front of the hole reads (my translation) “mass grave where were found in December 44 the mutilated bodies of 16 patriot resistants massacred by the Germans” This was a 2nd war memorial and kind of made me realise that this area was geographically and therefore strategically pivotal and heavily fought over in both wars. I found a nice quiet shady spot to eat lunch, which had an almost rotten picnic table for me to use. I was sat quietly reading a book and chewing a sandwich when I realised that the quiet and calm was REALLY quiet. I don’t know how much of it is imagination and autosuggestion but it is a commonly repeated tale that in places such as these where death and horror have been prevalent for a period of time, nature remains silent and even the birds don’t sing. True or not, that was the impression I had, not of horror, or of fear but just of calm and complete silence...not even birdsong. Then I heard a tap-tap… taptaptap...tap-tap… and caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. I reached for the camera and that scared him off but sitting still for 5 minutes saw him back again a Nuthatch I think. @Specs? crap image cos I was almost on full zoom. Back at the bike I saw these go by, again 2nd war stuff, odd to see them out during the week, especially so late in the season when tourists are thin on the ground. this camera is really slow between shots and not good a shooting “from the hip” as it were. I rode from my lunch spot towards the fort de Douamont, which is along much the same lines as the Fort de Vaux but I wanted to properly visit one of them, the inside as well and old that Douamont was better maintained. Had I realised that the 4€ entrance fee gave entrance to both forts I would have done both… Before I got to Douamont I saw a gravel / dirt trail off to the left with a sign reading “Souville” This was a forest trail, clearly not frequented by hordes of tourists cars and certainly not any camper vans or buses. A quick look at the map suggested that it would be possible to cut through this track and come out to the other side and simply loop back north to Douamont. About ½ a kilometre along this trail I came across this The fort de Souville Fort souville was a communications centre and underground fortified tunnel network which managed to hold out even after the fall of both Fort Vaux and Fort Douament. There was heavy fighting here and daily bombardements between june and september 1916 with a ferocious german attack on 11th and 12thJune. This is the rear entrance I think and despite being forbidden to the public due to the dangerous state of the maconry and the colonisation of the ruins by a protected species of bat, there are absolutely no barriers or physical interdictions. I regretted having left my torch at the campsite in the tent cos it was absolutely totally black in there and when I approached the doorway I nearly jumped out of my skin when a couple of bats flew out and back in again. As I was alone and nobody knew where I was more precisely than “Verdun” I wasn’t about to go in there blind. I switched the camera flash on and took a pic into the passageway looking carefully at the pic I took I could just make out a large hole in the floor about 15 feet in. Bloody good job I didn’t go in there! “The way is shut. The dead keep it and they do not suffer the living to pass. The way is shut.” 2nd LOTR reference… Having bottled out of lying in the dark alone with a broken neck... I carried on down the track and came out into a layby on the road to Douamont. The look on the faces of the 5 or 6 camping car occupants having their picnics in the layby when I came out of the track was priceless. I turned Noth as planned and headed fro Douamont fort, passing the memorial to André Maginot and the Ossuary/ Necropolis, which I would come back to later. Douamont Fort I paid the 4€ entrance fee to visit the interior of this one. I probably should have accepted the offer of the audio guide as the signage was sparse to say the least but I got the gist. Underground and under heavy andprolonged attack and bombardment this place must have been a living hell compounded by the apparition of gas shells and the first “ flammenwerfer” used to great effect inside the tunnels by the besieged Germans during the French counter attack and eventual recapture of the fort. Dormitory access tunnel to a machine gun post Once outside again I walked around the Fort and came across the 3rd LOTR reference, a tapping sound made me look up and there was this thrush on the rock face… From the top of the fort looking east they had this gun turret that could be raised mechanically from below ground and rotate like a ships gun turret, one set of winding handles to raise and lower it and another to turn left or right. This is in the raised position. To the right in the photo is the lookout or spotters turret with it’s 4inch thick steel protective “hat” The spotters protective turret top obviously took some hits… In memoriam of the regiments of “Tirailleurs” from north Africa fighting under French colours. From there I went back to the Ossuary and cemetery The Ossuary it contains the mortal remains of 130,000 soldiers both French and German. The cemetery in front of it has a further 16,000 individual graves, each marked with a name, rank and regiment. From there I went a couple of km’s further down the road to the “Tranchée de Baionettes” (the bayonet trench) Here, legend has it, that the advancing germans came upon a line of bayonets projecting upwards from the ground and on investigation realised that it was a French trench buried by earth thrown up from an exploding shell and the soldiers had died, buried alive standing where they were, bayonets fixed and ready to go over the top. The general consensus of opinion is that this is fairly unlikely in reality and a more realistic tale tells of dead soldiers having been buried in hastily dug shallow graves in a line and their batonets stuck in the ground in guise of grave markers. Legends being far more romantic than reality, it is the legend that captured the public imagination and this line of semi mythical bayonet wielding soldiers dying upright armed and ready. A wealthy American subscribed to erect a monument to their memory and protect this mythical trench. The Inscription on the entrance reads: “To the memory of the French soldiers who sleep upright in this trench weapons in hand Their brothers from America” The 12th June, 2 battalions of French infantry held these slopes when the Germans began their attack supported by heavy artillery. 3 times they were repulsed. On the 14th June the remaining French positions, exhausted, starving and out of ammunition were overrun. 1 officer and 1 soldier made it back to HQ. The 137th infantry regiment lost 37 officers, 133 NCO’s and 1387 soldiers. Before the war, both Fort Vaux and Fort Douamont had the villages of Vaux and Douamont nearby. Both these villages were totally destroyed by bombardment and today in each place there are 2 villages. The villages were rebuilt nearby and the destroyed villages left as they were, remaining as real places with a mayor and village council but taking the names “Vaux destroyed” and “Douamont destroyed” respectively. I went to have a look at the village of “Douamont detruit” expecting to find ruins amongst bomb craters. There is, quite literally nothing there but hummocky grass slopes. This is destruction on a biblical scale (Matthew 24 verse 2) “...not one stone will be left upon another, every one will be thrown down.” This pic is taken from the village square where the high-street enters. You can just make out a couple of foundation stones buried in the earth but otherwise only craters. I started to head back towards Verdun, which was only about 15 minutes away and that brought the realisation that the war was so intense and so destructive in this part of France that there are literally hundreds of memorials and relics and sites within a few miles radius of the town (which was itself almost completely destroyed). Riding along a forest road and looking at the woods on both sides something seemed odd and it took me a while to figure out what it was. There are no big trees. Tall yes, but no girth. NONE of the trees here are 100years old! Not one! And the forest floor isn’t flat, or level, or evenly sloping, it’s tortured and hummocked and cratered over every single inch of terrain. That odd looking ditch alongside the road… it’s not a ditch, it’s a trench… men fought and died here, in their hundreds. It’s not a question of there being hundreds of monuments in the area, the ENTIRE area, every single square inch of it was a war zone and was bombarded into oblivion. This is an ariel photo of Fort Douamont before and after the battle of Verdun. At the beginning of the German offensive on Verdun they had 140,000 troops, 1,200 artillery pieces equipped with 2,5million rounds and had 1,300 ammunition trains to supply them further shells. The German air force also had 168 planes in the area. This was the largest scale attack in history. Facing them the French had a number of poorly equipped and ageing forts manned by 30,000 troops. On the 14th February 1000 German artillery guns opened up along a six mile line. 100,000 shells an hour for 10 hours. The battle of Verdun lasted for 300 days and 300 nights and by the end of it somewhere between 6 and 700,000 people had been killed. Much of the general terrain is still recognisable as battlefield due to the shell craters that overlap and run into one another leaving no ground flat or level but some of the trenches have survived and some are maintained as memorials but if you look closely they are everywhere. i went on from here to the Verdun Memorial Centre and was about to cough up the 16€ (!) for the tour when the girl behind the desk said that the tour lasts about 2 hours. That was going to push me beyond 7pm and I wanted to get back to the campsite, have a shower and a beer before feeding time, so I gave it a miss. I rode back to the site the long way round and arrived back in time for a decent shower and a beer and chin-wag with my neighbour before going back into town for a restaurant. -------------------- The next morning I was slow to heave my carcass out of the sleeping bag and by the time I’d got organised with coffee on the go my neighbour ( who, to be fair, has been doing this tenting lark rather more than I) had already nearly finished packing all his stuff away onto his bike and was ready to leave on his last leg to the ferry and home after 5 years away. We had a quick natter over more coffee and wished each other safe riding before he left. I packed my stuff up slowly, being in no particular rush and having no particular timetable or plan for the day except to get home, preferably before dark. I had read many years ago about the Saint Mihiel offensive of September 1918 which was the first to be made by the American 1st army under general Pershing, supported by the French on the western flank. Here Patton made a name for himself with his aggressive tank tactics and saw the first majour use of the United States Army Air Service. On the way there I saw a signpost to “ Eparges”… How could I have missed that in the planning stages of this trip? My mother in Law had given me a book for Christmas written by Maurice Genevoix all about the battle of “Eparges” and she had said to me that “Grandpére Gauthier” (my wife’s great grandfather) had died as a soldier in that battle. So I forked off and followed signs for Eparges and then “ Monuments” and came across the military cemetery. Having done various military cemetery’s in the Somme and Meuse areas I know they usually have a file or book somewhere listing the names of the soldiers buried there and a grid reference for each grave. This can avoid hours of searching in what can be huge cemeterys with thousands of graves. the book was behind a metal door set in the back of this pillar There was only one Gauthier listed. I rode up to the monuments, and back down. On to Saint Mihiel where I didn’t really find anything interesting so I must have missed something there. I stopped at a supermarket for fuel and picked up a sandwich. Phoned the Mrs to let her know what route ( ish) I planned on taking home and set off. Got home at 17:30 and went straight into the shower cos I’d been riding into the sun for the last 3 hours and was all hot and sweaty with the temps up in the high twenties. Overall I’d done 650km and the entire 3 day jaunt had cost me 160€ which includes fuel, camp site and food, despite restaurant feeding on the two evenings. The bike was, of course brilliantly faultless. My indicator repair had held up and I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of aches and pains following the nights in a tent.

This might work.........................

I can remember hiding under a girls bed in a pub on Gloucester Road, she thought her mum was busy pulling pints downstairs and we got a bit of a shock when we heard her coming up the stairs. My eventual escape was down the fire escape at the back of the pub and climbing over the wall into Bristol North swimming baths

Top of the morning to ye!! 7am and blue skies, no dew - everything is bone dry. Coffee made and waiting for 8 and the local Lidl to open to go buy breakfast. Croissants and so on. I think we will head for the Dingle peninsula today, zumo tells me it’s a 38 mile ride, so nothing too intense - a very easy and relaxing day in store (famous last words) and see where we end up. view from the tent of the mountains peeping through the trees.

In 2013 I worked with Gabe who was going to open new premises for his fledgling company Zen Overland. He got an old railway goods shed and we spent 3 months doing it up . Here I am up on the forklift trying to sort out some electrics, not a lot of health & safety going on here .......... a and Gabe cleaning the flourescent lights........... Things are startting to take shape................. Gabes XR400 , his supermoto and my KTM950................... Gabe on the phone taking orders.................. and my personal tea mug ............... This was at the opening day, Sam Manicon and Graham Field have there backs to me as they set up their stalls..............

This much he told me; retired from the army in 2015 after 31 years service having entered at 19 ( mostly active service in the gulf, Kosovo, serbia and afganistan). Mortgage paid off, wife but no kids. Wife died in 2016, he fucked off on his bike, originally to france for a few days to sort himself out but then just kept on going. He says he was lucky to have a full military pension and his sister in the uk organised renting his house out, so that while he lived frugally, camping mostly and eating from supermarkets he was ok financially, on a budget sure, but ok.

I bought one of his DVDs a while back, Mondo Sahara, the theme tune is very catchy.

It will cost me nothing as I have 4.5 litres of semi synthetic oil in the shed. Only a 10 minute job, and I have a centre stand which helps.

Revolutionary Ride, it’s very good

I preferred Bill and Ben.................

How much are the Irish charging for camping and B & B these days? I could be interested in a trip down memory lane. More to the point how much is a pint of Guinness now?

Better than Gingers Loncin.

Got one mate

Plenty of personality on those bikes, nice pictures!

There maybe some parts on Ian Coates bike that I gave him. I sent him some stuff after meeting him at a Horizons Rally when I was working with Gabe from Zen Overland.

The Martini racing stickers and the prancing horse may be a bit optimistic, but it looks clean enough. I'm guessing that it runs OK?

All I can add is.......Thank fuck the Piaggio has gone!.

That Africa Twin is still cleaner than mine ever were despite all its hard work.

Glorious day on the Dingle peninsula. Doing a figure of 8, currently stopped for a late lunch at a garage cum deli before heading over the Conor pass. Dingle itself was a tourist hell. So a very brief pause. Had a look at the Blasket islands and passed the most westerly bar in Europe (apparently) map shows where we were for the photo opportunity.

@boboneleg......great bit of film!

I did the beaches back in 2019, I've put a small report up here................

I haven't heard of that, but it's entirely possible. Most of the houses were built as part of the giant council estate. I think it's an anniversary soon. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Becontree Looked up about bomb damage and found this reference, this is only a small area, you can walk across it an hour, they got off very lightly, barring the suit of course. During the Second World War, there was a total of 426 fatal casualities, and 1178 seriously injured people, while 1297 properties had to be demolished and a further 12743 properties were badly damaged across Barking and Dagenham.

When I was in the first year of my apprenticeship we were in the training school, which was an old building in what they called the mill on Trundley's Road in Deptford, south London. At lunchtime we would shoot over to the works canteen in the main factory and bolt our dinner down and then head to a small park nearby to kick a football around. Some of the older guys from the main factory also used to get over the park for a game of footie, so it wasn't long before we were involved in daily matches of the apprentices v the guys from the various other departments. One of the guys, Ken, was the senior shop steward for the site. Everyone called him Hippo, but he was pretty light on his feet for a big guy. He was pretty fearsome too and the management at the factory hated dealing with him, because most were scared of him. Anyway, after one lunchtime footie match, we got back to the training school a little late. Shortly after we got back the training manager stormed into our training room and started ranting about how he'd seen us get back late. So he told us that from then on we would have to clock-out at the clocking station when we went to lunch and clock back in when we got back. We did this for a day or 2, when at one of our lunchtime footie matches we suddenly grabbed our stuff and said we had to get back. Hippo said "come on lads, let's finish the game. There's no rush" But we said that we had to get back to clock-in after lunch. "You fuckin' what?!!!" he said. We then explained what had happened a couple of days earlier. "OK lads, leave that with me" That afternoon we saw Hippo and a couple of the other shop stewards heading towards the training school. A while later we heard shouting from the training manager's office. It eventually went quiet and the door of our training room opened and in walked Hippo. "You don't need to clock- out at lunchtime any more, Lads, and if that cunt tries anything like that again let me know" We didn't see the training manager again for a few days after that, but he was very sheepish when we did see him!

This is a story told to me by my late Mum about my Dad. Both my Mum and dad lived in the same road as children, Goresbrook Avenue in Dagenham, not far from the large Ford factory. Apparently when my dad was little, say 3 or 4, his much older brother was due to get married. It was late in the war so rationing was going on and a second hand suit had been purchased and was being lovingly repaired, ironed and prepared in the front room. My Grandad had cycled off early in the morning to the newsagent at The Heathway to get his Sunday paper. As he was pedalling back there was a large explosion that blew him off his bicycle, possibly a V1 or V2 nearby on the green. Unhurt he got back on and pedalled back home only to find the houses, including his, all missing their windows and doors. My Nan and my Dad were both still in bed when my Grandad left so he was in a panic that they had been hurt by the flying glass. When he jumped off his pushbike to run into the house he couldn't get up the stairs as the front door was wedged half way up and jammed at an angle there. He was calling out as he wrestled with the door to get past it before finally running into the back bedroom where my Dad should have been. He wasn't there so he went into the front bedroom and found my Nan and Dad in bed with glass all around them, but unhurt. There was a piece of metal buried in the wall just above the headboard. My Nan used to tell my Mum that my Dad had saved her life because he had come into the room complaining of belly ache whilst she was sitting up in bed with her head where the metal fragment would have hit. She had let him into the bed and they had both laid down in the hope he would go back to sleep not long before the explosion. My grandad was relieved until he checked out the rest of the house ands found the suit for the wedding had gone. He was convinced a neighbour had been in and stolen it whilst he was upstairs sorting everything out and clearing up glass so my Nan and Dad could get out of bed without slicing their feet up. The suit's location was revealed when the first fire of of Autumn was lit and smoke filled the room choking everyone. The pressure from the blast had sucked it up the chimney. Goresbrook Road today, the green (and the Gore stream) it faces is on the right.

Chemin de Souville, Verdun.

Now at Killarney and we’re going to stay here until Thursday morning, came over Mills gap and it’s pass, that’s the road from kenmare north into the national park, which was really nice. But obviously a Sunday so a lot of trippers. Normal workday tomorrow onwards so should be much better. Probably Dingle peninsula tomorrow, Ring of Kerry on Tuesday and Ring of Beara on Wednesday. Back of an envelope plan. More photos from tomorrow as today was mostly about getting here. One of the lads got to stand in the Atlantic!! Exciting. Anyway 18:45. Tents are up and shortly a walk to the pub/carvery along the road. We’re a little way out of Killarney. Quiet campsite, set back from the “ring of Kerry road” - I’m tired. 551 road miles from my front door, a lot of the roads today have been quite nadgery, narrow lanes with grass up the middle. It’s been fun. Despite the damp start.

Woke up feeling normal, today, and went for a ride to check out the RARET. Even though this didn't create the photo content I was looking for I have just recently found about this bit of history and it interested me, so here it is. RARET is short for portuguese RAdio de RETransmissão (Retransmission Radio). At the time Portuguese leader (dictator) demanded that this station only retransmitted content created elsewhere, and no person worked there that wasn't a sympathizer to his party, the Estado Novo, to do this his political and censorship state police went through every worker with a fine tooth comb. (PIDE - Police for Investigation and Defense of the State) Portugal wasn't really a place of free speech or liberty back then, which is quite ironic since this station started to retransmit the american "Radio Free Europe / Radio Free Asia" mostly trying to convert people on the other side of the Iron Curtain. Salazar's phrasing very roughly translated by me, it's a difficult speech to convey in English: "A big number of European countries, threatened in their life and liberty, are now counting with the aid of the United States and with the help of each other for the defense of divulging their patrimony. It seems difficult, in such circumstances to be absent from this." The content transmitted would in languages very much foreign to most portuguese residents, so people from the Eastern block were in charge of monitoring them to make sure they wouldn't be retransmitting Russian programes. Mr Pasqualino (an Italian), a guy who was fluent in 12 languages was the master linguist, often pointing out they were receiving the Russian transmission which arrived here in far stronger signal than the American. It's very recognized that without him this station would frequently be transmitting the Russian signal, and that would be most inconvenient. He would receive transmissions from Germany in Vila Franca de Xira, record them, and then drive them over to Glória do Ribatejo for broadcasting those recordings. Strange times. Eventualy, this was streamlined... The engineers brought from the armed forces to work the radio and electronics eventually got into a groove and found themselves with plenty of free time, hence they were put to use in a Technical School that was built in Gloria do Ribatejo (name of the town translated to Ribatejo's Glory). This school was open to whoever intended to enroll, and was responsible for a big increase of kids from this village to get a quality education and a substantial increase in their progression to Universities, not much of an occurrence before that. The RARET obviously had a medical facility to care for it's staff, this was quickly put to use and open to the community, their ambulance and maternity ward made a big difference in the lives of those people back then. The RARET transmited from 1951 until 1996, which quite surprised me. Upon shutting down, some building were donated to the community, some were converted to the local council management, some modified and converted for community groups to use. All the now obsolete radio equipment was dismantled and donated to the local council, who having no alternative use sold it for scrap. The whole thing was a big positive influence in the quality of life of this village, and it stopped with the best impact it could have. The main buildings are currently abandoned just a couple of kms out of town, and I went to have a look. Unfortunately I couldn't really get a close look at the thing, I rode around the entire compound searching for an opening but it would have involved climbing over a fence or forcing a gate, and I wasn't going to do that. Main entrance: A glimpse at the compound homes, now unused, apparently 70 homes used to be occupied by people working here. The main building in the distance, Typical local broken road around the fence, plenty of houses around though. Rear entrance, also pretty shut On the edge off the Village, a few posters with period pictures were posted this year, celebrating the 70 years of the first transmission in 4th July 1951. Popped to the village for a pick me up expresso, old builders' homes converted to a new community building and park, named after the Radio Free Europe president: During this RARET operation, Portugal went into war in Africa and Asia over it's colonies independence, the last country in the EU to have colonies is not the proudest moment in our history, but even worse is that the way we left was very damaging for those countries's future. A small memorial to a couple of local soldiers who died overseas. It started getting warm, and I headed home. I was a little disappointed that access to the buildings wasn't easy but I did stop on an abandoned crumbling building for your delection So here: Exiting, the property owner stopped by me on his pickup and was apparently very irritated that I took a couple of pictures of his crumbling building, even though it's door was wide open and I didn't go in. As I asked why he was getting so aggravated he started to get more and more irritated, and proceeded to move his pickup a few meters forward to write down my plate number, which he did over a thick cloud of dust when I got on my merry way, what a twat he was. A brief stop over my favourite bridge on the way home, Ponte Rainha D. Amélia: Plan was to pull some weeds in the afternoon, but it's too hot and I'm not feeling that right now. This report turned into too much of a history lesson for my taste, sorry about that, but if you're up for more here is a link to a page with some old pictures of the radio station: https://restosdecoleccao.blogspot.com/2014/07/raret-radio-retransmissao.html

Yeh.......nothing is certain any more! We've been going through this Covid shit for nearly 2 years now, and I don't see any end in sight at the moment!

Same here cos my father was on the D-Day landings.....Gloster Regiment!

Awesome report, MooN. My ambition one day is to visit the D-Day beaches.

We had a day out, (escaping the rain in the Eifel) and went to the ossuary, I was trying to explain to the lads what (from memory) happened at the battle of Verdun) it wasn’t a battle in any kind of a traditional sense. It was about killing as many french soldiers as possible - there was no other aim. There are areas that are so polluted with ordnance they can never in our lifetime be farmed. And everywhere there are bodies or parts of bodies… the graveyard and ossuary are one thing, but the entire area of the battle is and will remain one huge mass grave.

Out early......but still quite humid and sticky! Not sure where I went exactly because none of this is on Google Maps.......the devastation is getting harder to track now! After a while of following a road full of trenches it turned into a trail......and in the middle of nowhere I found a block of abandoned houses. They were all sealed so no access, but I followed it round the end of the block and there were more...... And there was access to these! Bad state though......plus I had to be on guard against 3 foot Dago Sodomites as per @boboneleg's advice! Fortunately there were no such rectum-stretching horrors to endure......this time! But in the future who knows what dangers I might face trying to add quality content to this site - while the rest of you languish in the house with only pitiful excuses to offer! Then it was back on the road (of sorts) to try and find my way back to civilisation. Of sorts! It's now coming up to a year with this bike, and I'm still very happy with it. No thoughts on changing it.......because for the riding that I do it's a perfect fit. Waiting for temps to get down to early and mid 20's then I'll be going further afield! Because for me, the riding season is just about to start!

We’re here having a break and taking in the view. Bantry then onto Killarney where we will be staying a few days.

Yes, county cork. No internet till today. Current heading west in the wild Atlantic way. Sun is shining and it’s lovely. Some rather nadgery roads, my abs engaged, which was quite exciting.

'tis. but the point ia that I don't OWE it to anyone . if you think that's massive, wait till you see the ride report, the more I write the more pompous sounding and long winded it gets

Had a great ride today but only took a few photos Stopped here waiting for the rest of the group to come back as they went the wrong way. I done this lane a few months ago and thought it was for the first time That was until i got to this barn, once i saw the dummies in the windows it all came back to me but it was probably 12 years ago the last time i done it No idea what the the story is about them or if there is a story Only other photo is of Yoshi fixing a front puncture he done it in 10 minutes unfortunately it went flat again towards the end of the ride. There was plenty with Gopros on so might get some videos later

when I was a teenager, 13/14 I was given a radio with a short wave band and used to really enjoy listening to these stations from (to me) exotic locations. Radio Moscow, Voice of America. Radio China. My favourite was definitely Radio Tirana. As their rhetoric was anti EVERYONE. I loved it when they described the hell of living in the UK. But, the most interesting stations were the 'Number Stations; and the most recognisable of all of them. The Lincolnshire Poacher. Apparently it was supposed to be broadcast from Cyprus and was sending coded messages to spies on the other side of the wall/curtain. so weird though.

I stopped on an open trail, walked 20 meters over dirt uncultivated farmland, which was unmarked and open, and took a picture from outside a crumbling building. I told him to call the cops with a report before going away. I do understand some of these guys around here are a little too protective of their land, but fuck him, now his clean car is full of dust inside, which thinking about it didn't do much to appease him