Pedro

@Saul, @Sofia, @Clive, @Renegade, get in. @Sir Fallsalot, how about rejoining? Clean slate and all.

I'm curious about this, they seem to have gotten a little heavier from the 1200 to the 1250 by adding the shift cam weight. Now they make a big revolution all about loosing weight and 26 pounds is all they get? Hmmm

I'm honestly jonesing for Morocco, dry and dusty, and also with cheap meals and petrol ...

Submit your pictures for September BOTM here, please. Due to the short notice I'll run this thread until tomorrow night at 21:00 UK time and then voting will be done until the 01st October 21:00 UK Time. Submit more than one picture if you want, for the vote I will only consider the last one you post in this thread of your bike, taken in September. @Marcel, @Skippy, @MooN, @XTreme, @Buckster, @boboneleg, carrying on from Buckster I can consider the pictures he picked, below, if you prefer you are welcome to submit any others maybe not on a patio being washed? Lets all just get along...

The last night in the little pub was a nice way to say goodbye to the UK, people were as nice as they could be, great sense of humor, good happy vibe inside, great food, all the right things and that made us happy. Riding from there to Plymouth was but a 20 or 30 minute ride, we had plenty of time and took a little detour, rode through lovely little valleys and past hidden streams, entering Plymouth through residential streets. Stopped at a pet shop to buy a pair of toys for the puppies waiting at home and just like that we were in the Port. We were asked to be there at 12:00 or sooner, and we were the first bikes to arrive at little past. Nobody in sight and only a couple of cars there, this was going to be a long wait. Check in eventually opened and by 12:50 we were in the proper port, still no boat in sight and quite an empty parking lot, I struggle to find a reason they try to make people arrive early if it's just to sit around for hours. A very interesting group of bikes showed up, a BSA4, an old BSA and a new BSA, first time I saw one of the new ones in person. They look alright. I found it funny that the new one had canvas luggage while the old one had a plastic top case By 14:00 it looked like a boat full of bikes in the parking lot Eventually we did board, and being one of the first bikes on board, we made it to the cabin in time for a quick shower and then a walk around the ferry while cars were still driving in. We did have a little sunshine on the port, but the winds were picking up substantially when we were leaving, the sea looked sloppy and Sofia, 2 pills into her sea sickness management wasn't looking too happy. The rugby was on, Scotland vs Toga? I don't really know anything about rugby but it gave me an excuse for a couple of pints. Sofia retreated to the cabin, as laying down helps with the sickness. After a while I felt guilty and joined her, outside it was looking very different to the blue skies and sea we had sailing here, the wind was really very strong and I had to hold onto my phone with both hands to take a picture. By dinner time we did brave it to the restaurant, I went and picked a couple of salads and a couple of pieces of bread, it was a little bit of a challenge to carry that tray without bumping into stuff, the boat was rocking a fair bit. Sofia quickly regretted her visit to the upper decks and ran to the cabin to throw up, leaving me with a vast amount of salad. Again, the one with the burrata is the only edible thing in this boat apart from the breakfast croissants, there had to be an advantage of sailing on a french company and it surely wasn't the friendliness of most of the staff. While I'm eating, a huge amount of plates crashes in the kitchen, two or three people tumble and drop their dinner plates, and people were all walking crooked. Back in the cabin, I hear the announcement that outer decks are to be closed until the morning in Spain, I can't go outside and look at a stormy sea in the dark of night, judging by the way that cabin rocked through most of the night I don't think I would want to either. In the morning all was better, we were up and about, breakfast was consumed, everyone feeling better and relaxed. We had clear blue skies in Spain, and it was supposed to be warm too. The boat started unloading cars at 14:00 Portugal and UK time, and that took forever, then they signaled for bikes to go, it was only by 14:40 that this mayhem was going on: In chaotic situations like that I usually take it calmly and let the chaos dissipate instead of joining in, having been the first ones to go in my bike was parked at the corner the farthest away from the ramp outwards, we were amongst the few last ones to leave the boat. Exiting the port was another long task, but at least here they had 4 people checking passports. I was a little miffed they didn't have a clearer path for EU passports though. Out of port we were straight onto a gas station to fuel up, a little chat to acclimatize to being on land and we were off. I had booked a little room in a small rural home next to the restaurant we both had dinner in when leaving Portugal. The plan was to make it there on that same day, enjoy dinner back in the homeland and then ride to my parents' home through smaller country roads the next day. This meant jumping on the motorway and cruise down with just one break, which we did. Bugs were all in force, bikes and helmets got pelted with them, here I'm waiting with an already low sun for Sofia to return from cleaning her visor. 19:30 and we're exiting the motorway to the last 30 or 40km to our destination, nice roads there, for the first time ever I felt like going a little fast at night time, I didn't as Sofia was having visibility issues, plus a deer had just showed himself as we were moving off after taking the picture above. Home for the night, in rural Tras os Montes: We were tired but happy, the room we were staying in was like what you would have if you went to visit your portuguese grandmother in the countryside, a very comfy bed with heavy blankets and a simple but cozy house. I loved it. Dinner was magnificent, a simple coal grilled beef chop, salad, fries (a portion for a family of 4), and their special treat to me was their vegetable rice, with sweet Tras os Montes cabbage, it was what I wanted for coming back home. Total including wine and a 7up, and coffees, 25€. It isn't, but it felt cheap after Britain. I was very happy: We only had a 2 minute walk to bed, should have been more as it was a lovely night. Next morning, we get up earlyish and make way home, my mom's 71st birthday was the next day and Sofia wanted to spend some time with her before going home, so we were to arrive today. Not many pictures were taken, although the northern Portugal scenery did call for it. Better grip than it looks: We were enthusiastic about using a little bit of an A road to cover 50 or 60km and thus gain some time, the deserted road with nothing but the odd car, the absence of speed camera warnings (they do hide them here, to trap you!!) after the control in the UK, and we might have been a little too fast through there. Arriving home after riding most of the Douro valley, I ignore a closed road sign only to find a road closed for construction ahead, usually they forget about these signs. We were turning back but the guys in charge of the works eagered us use the gravel footpath circling the construction. It was a bit of a tight squeeze for the GS but all went well, they did that out of just wanting to help and not worrying too much about regulations and stuff, it was a stark contrast, maybe somewhere in the middle we would be able to find an adequate balance. This concludes my report about our trip to the UK, it was a culture shock for me in many ways, but a culture shock that I did enjoy. You grow when you see how other people live, I think I did as just this morning I was listening to traffic outside and people beeping horns while stuck in a minor 10 car traffic jam, and wondering if they couldn't be more patient, like the brits when they cope with such stuff.

We left James and Diane's home heading to Beaulieu as an entry to the New Forrest but also to stop by the museum. First, why is Beaulieu pronounced buelly? Why is Torquay pronounced torquey? Makes no sense, it's like you're trying to mess with my brain. Getting to New Forrest and I see horses everywhere. Nobody told me there would this magical woods with horses roaming around, why do you keep this to yourself? I just stopped the bike and stood there for a while, horses just couldn't give a crap about my presence and that is very cool! After a while, I started acting like an adult again so we got to the museum. It's inside an estate with a rich family history of adventurers and of significance to the WW2 since there was where the final stages of training to the sabotage and under cover agents sent to France took place. They had a very interesting exhibit and it feels like the people writing Allo Allo visited the exact same museum as the characters are the same, with the british guys that lived under the old lady's bed, or the woman that said "listen to me, I shall say this only once". All of them real people. We were there for cars and motorcycles, His "secretary", I love it! Class: A very special Norton, direct drive with no clutch or gears Love the brakes: Great, to mix of the Ducati with the Royal Enfield. As we were contemplating exactly that, and looking at the throttle grip all torn to shit by Troy Bayliss after a single race, an older gentleman came over to talk about the bikes and explain certain curiosities. He is fan of Ducatis and has met Bayliss a few times. After a little talking he opens up to his own road racing career that took him all over Europe racing an RGV500. Me, I love that he owns a few bikes including the RGV and still takes his Ducati 998 around on sunday rides sometimes. The real highlight to this museum visit: He is the one that recommended we should visit the Sammy Miller museum, we hadn't remembered but it quickly made it to next morning's priority. I enjoyed looking around the house and the property, pretty place. A few minutes on the road and I get distracted with more horses, this one having a good scratch against a bin. Quick stop in Burley for mailing a postcard to my mum, that hasn't arrived yet, and we were suddenly in 50 years ago: the young girl at the store was super nice, old ladies buying meat and having a laugh with each other, a eccentric looking farmed dude came over to us to talk about our bikes and to ask where we were from, all of it made such a strong pleasant impression. I noticed a café and decided where to go for breakfast the next day before the next museum visit. I never visited as many museums in my life! There's no way I can not stop for this: Overnight was at Lyndhurst, we checked into a nice hotel and went to have a walk around town searching for a place to eat. It was a great evening in a very nice little town, I was surprised at the amount of traffic at rush hour though, but it soon disappeared. Dinner was in an equally nice restaurant, I decided on a fancy take on a British classic, can't go away without a beef and ale pie. I enjoyed it very much. Sofia quickly pointed out that this dough isn't the proper one, I conceded but it tasted very nice. Walking back to the hotel, and it's starting to get chilly out, maybe Autumn is finally arriving. We have a nice quiet night again, and get ready for our last full day in the UK. Morning sees us packing the bikes in sunny weather, we are to have a short ride for breakfast in Burley, then another short ride out of the New Forrest and into the Sammy Miller Museum, and then after taking a few fast roads over to Dartmoor to find a place to sleep not too far from Plymouth, the ferry people had sent a message asking for people to arrive early as it'll be a busy boarding. Lovely forrest, what a cool place it is, I'm surprised I never heard of it but considering all the animals around the speed limits aren't that high so maybe it doesn't attract motorcycles. Breakfast was gorgeous, sautéed mushrooms with a nicely poached egg on toast. Burley is a cool place. We arrive at Sammy Miller Museum and I ask that we do it with a stylish pose: Sammy's daily trials bikes, he's 90 and rides a minimum of 15 minutes a day in the woods nearby to not lose practice. Inside, it's a very special place for old bikes. There's plain old bikes, really old bikes, old race bikes, a trials section as that's what he was famous for, a lot of them restaured by themselves, and also a few very very special bikes. I selected and deleted all poor pictures, and now have just 149 pictures of the few hours spent there, I'll post quite less to make the thing viewable. The ladies models, with the step through frames. Two WW1 dispatch motorcycles: Over there, in the blue overalls you see Sammy Miller giving Allen Millyard a private tour. What a cool thing, the Moto Guzzi V8 Serious stuff now! Sofia, kindly invited to grab the handlebars of the AJS the won the first world championship in 1949. Me not expecting to see another TV icon: Pretty sure that Made in England sticker wasn't there in 1929, though. One of the three BMWs present, I think the sticker was the only way it was getting displayed Out of nowhere comes this small puppy with a toy and wants to play, turns out he's running away from people that want to not let him be himself, we have fun for a while before his responsible human (he's Sammy Miller's dog) comes to take him and he runs away to find another person to play with. I'll stop, but really, you should go as you can easily spend the best part of a day inside. We rode off and onto Dartmoor. Went on main roads to make progress and beat the sunset there, only stopping more to enjoy the pretty area near our destination. The River Dart And then some amazingly pretty views over hills. Proper road, this: Again, I had to stop, this time for Dartmoor poneys: This was about to be the last interesting bits of riding in the UK, and I think it was very memorable. The last two days, here and in New Forrest had been really great. We had booked a room in a pub, I wanted the nice homey small town pub, and that's what we had. A quick shower and a walk around the village. Room was not big, the mess I made makes it look even smaller, but the beds were very comfy and we would sleep very well. When we came back inside it was starting to rain outside, poor bikes! I had a great time in this place, lovely friendly people running the place, all of them. The next day the nice man in charge of breakfast suggested I should try the proper breakfast, it's included in the price so I couldn't say no. This was not a trip in which I lost weight. The front door doesn't look like much, but if I'm ever in Plymouth again that's where I'll be staying. The forecast was for the weather to improve, so even though it was drizzling I rode to Plymouth not wearing rain stuff. It was the correct choice, style matters! A quick ride and we're there and wait for the ferry. Tomorrow it's the final installment.

Tell you what, @Sir Fallsalot, if you´re having it with coffee I will prefer your bacon baps than our ham sandwiches. It oddly works with a hot beverage.

It's not bacon! You come over and have a nice smoked prosciutto sandwich in proper bread, along with a nice cold beer, and then we'll discuss merits on both.

I trust there is a lot more to see, but I couldn't ride around for 2 months. The last two days, which I'll post next were quite nice too. I am commenting on your country but not as an overt criticism, I did enjoy most of the culture shock and looking at the differences. Twats and rude people you can get in most countries, that wasn't the norm and I did come back with friends I didn't have before going. I am genuinely sorry I didn't get to meet a few people from this forum, but there just wasn't enough time and I wanted to tag along with Sofia, to me the main point of this trip was to see the UK through her point of view, if it wasn't for her I would have spent September hard at work.

nice baps there

We left feeling a little sad, all three family members enjoyed our stay and would have had us over for longer, mostly Sofia as they really missed her. It's so good to have friends missing you like that. We were to ride over to another couple´s home to stay with them two nights, but first a stop over John Whatkins's house. John was one of Sofia's bosses when she moved to the UK and she loves him dearly. He's now retired, we popped by his house and chatted for a while with him and his lovely wife. Then they took us out for lunch at their favourite pub, a Golf GTI is a proper fast car in Portugal, but that's what this older lady drives, I smiled as she pulled strongly out of every stop light. That lunch was the best pub lunch in the trip so far, a proper countryside pub with great food. I didn't ruin the mood with taking pictures of food but had the plowman's for a typical thing, it was very nice. John put me to shame and put down an impressive fish and chips. One thing I had been noticing over the previous meals in restaurants and pubs is that although food in restaurants is overall quite expensive, people order it and then send back a big part of it. This is something that doesn't happen often in Portugal so I noticed it. Maybe because me and Sofia were the youngest people in this pub at the time, but I noticed everyone on our table cleaned their plates, and looked around to see other tables did the same. A nice place, if you're in the neighborhood go and try The Swan On The Green, near Maidstone. After that delightful lunch and a little afternoon chat sharing stories from driving fast in the old days, and life overall, I think John was getting a little tired and we also had some ways to go before our destination for the night. A rain storm was coming in and we might be facing it, our destination for the night was Lee on the Solent, and rain was forecasted. We were stubborn at first, mainly I was stubborn and insisted on good luck with the weather so set off on jeans and dry weather stuff, but on the motorway with a long way to go we could see the rain starting to fall a few meters in front. The sky in front of us was dark as night, so under Sofia's protests against our unlawful behavior we did stop under a bridge to put on rain overall. I put my boot covers, plastic pants and winter gloves, and decided to try my jacket for rain as I never did before. As we rode off from under the bridge a heavy storm hit us instantly, it lasted a while, the kind of rain that I think challenges most rainproof gear. Traffic was suddenly very slow with frequent flooded spots on the motorway so we weren't able to maintain a steady pace. Eventually Waze warned me for floods and traffic and advised to get out of the motorway, which I did and it turned out for the best. We rode the last 40 or 50km on small country roads that were still clear and smooth traffic, as we were going over the last hill before Lee on the Solent, already well in the dark I noticed that the A3 was packed full of stopped cars as far as I could see. We made it to James and Diane's safe and sound, Sofia fully went from the waist down, my jacket failed and I started getting wet from the sleeves up and onto the torso, I did enjoy the ride though as it wasn't cold. It was cool to finally see proper rain on UK roads. They were proper stars and had dinner in the oven waiting for us, so after a warm shower I enjoyed English cider as a refreshment, and then sat down for a lovely comforting dinner, the day couldn't have ended better. The next day the weather was a little better in the morning, we went for a short stroll on the seaside close to home. It quickly turned though, and suddenly it didn't look as nice. We were to go out to meet Tim and Barbara for lunch, another one of Sofia's friends, a very special one since he was instrumental in pushing Sofia to start her small vet practice in Portugal. I was stubborn again and set off to dry my jacket with it open, closing a wet jacket on dry clothes isn't fun. A little into the A3 and it starts pouring down as I'm answering a call from a client, said client is also a biker and proceeded to laugh as I told him he wasn't really catching me in the most fun of moments. We stopped, I suited up and made it there sort of dryish. Tim and his lovely wife are stars, we got along very well since they share all my main interests, I loved talking track cars and the Nurburgring with him for hours, all while throwing balls as far as I could for the tireless Jack Russell to fetch, with every throw he just kept asking for more. Eventually he started getting tired so delegated on the furry one to fetch the ball and then give it to him so he could then deliver it back to me, I loved playing with that little dude! Back on the bikes, this time we were wearing our plastic stuff to come back home, those 40 or 50 miles on the A3 was the only distance I rode in the UK where people drove in a similar fashion to Portugal, maybe even faster as several cars were maintaining a steady 130/140kmh, it was refreshing and we used that to make sure we got back home in time to go out to dinner early, and also avoiding the rain to come. Dinner was had at a turkish place, mostly bbq things, I liked it a lot as a lot of these ethnic stuff is not really common in Portugal. The next day, we were riding off and this was our last stay with friends. The next couple of days would be the last of our UK trip, but some of the most enjoyable.

Nice top box rack, too!

I have met a one dude from Yorkshire previous to this trip, met him several times in Germany, and he's a very nice man. For some reason I expected people from up there to feel friendlier than the south, but that was not the case.

When I said in the previous post that staying in people's homes doesn't happen in my Morocco trips, that wasn't really fair to Morocco. Indeed they are a most hospitable people, it doesn't happen to me a lot maybe because I'm not a sociable person, all of these people are people Sofia got to meet through motorcycling when she lived in the UK. One after the other they all connect and are still friends after all these years. To have that with people that you've met because you dropped a wallet and they came after you to return it, or such coincidences is both a testament to the quality of these people and Sofia as well. Anyway, being a celebrity, I was quickly made to feel at home too Simon and Carol, and little Aubrey, were legends, we got to their place, had a shower, and were quickly out for a proper Indian. I don't know what the dishes were or their names, but a couple were ultra tasty, something with what looked like spinach pesto was my favourite, and I pooped green for two days. The first morning there we went to visit @Sofia's old flat in Sunningdale from many moons ago. It's a lovely neighborhood that I know she misses a lot along with the life she had at the time, it was a little teary eyed moment. I gave her some space as she was on the phone with an old friend who lives next door but wasn't in country. ("In country" sounds like he's in the SAS, he was just on holidays). Then, we made our way via small pretty streets to Windsor's farm shop, where they sell groceries, of which some are grown within the property, others are grown in Chile, Spain, Holand, etc, the butcher part of it looked really good like most butchers do in England. Every cut of meat neatly organized and proficiently displaced, if you go to a butcher in Portugal you better know what you want or else you're screwed. Next to that shop there's a café, which is were we went to meet the legend that is Pat Creagh. Pat is an Irishman who teaches motorcycling stuff, and somehow got to be a good friend of Sofia's back in the day, he has very good jacket taste and we hit it off instantly, I call this picture the binary code. The Irish and the Portuguese have a lot in common as a people and particularly the northern Portuguese have a similarly colorful language to the Irish. We became friends since our sense of humor is similar, plus we both enjoy giving Sofia a hard time for motorcycling things. I think we were meant to go out on the bikes to go somewhere, but it started to properly rain so we went inside and had lots of coffee, along with a bacon bap for lunch. I can see the merits of bacon baps and coffee now, it's very wrong but feels right. It was a good day so far, nice time was had and he's a cool dude. On our way back, after all the heavy rain the streets were a little slippery for the Speed Triple's now bald sport Pirellis. Pirelli is a brand of tires, Sofia likes them because they're Italian... Stopped by Windsor, the man wasn't home: That afternoon was ended with some wine back home, and then going out along with Carol and Simon and Aubrey to meet up with Nick and Less for dinner in a Chinese place they like to go to. I had a lot of beer that night, a good time was had, I could also get used to be driven to and from restaurants. As always, I was charming and everyone loved me. We got home, and stayed up late chatting on the sofa. The thing these people have with having a group of proper friends who share this one thing in common is pretty nice. We went to bed during a thunder storm on the 17th, I didn't feel like sleeping so ended up trying to take pictures of lighting: Monday and we woke up a little late I think, or woke up early but only got out of the house late, something like that. First order of business was heading over to Triumph West London, Sofia was looking forward to visiting the former Jack Lilley dealership where she bought her previous bikes, including this one. There the Speed Triple would have an oil and filter change, a new chain, and a much needed set of new tires, Michelin this time to me make it more rain and Portugal friendly, still sport tires though as one can only compromise on style so far. I looked around and found a Denali horn on display, just what the the Triumph needed to warn me against being on the wrong side of the road! They were missing matching tires for the front or rear as we hadn't warned them in advance, so the bike was to stay in until the next day, no worries. I had a sit on a few Triumphs: I quite like the Rocket on paper, but it's huge in real life. The Speedmaster felt nice and comfy, it's a classy looking thing too. The Bonneville was something I never even considered owning but does feel like a nice bike. We arranged a test ride on both a T120 Bonnie and a 900 too, Sofia was keep on trying something maybe more nimble than the Speed Triple at very low speeds. I can see how she missed dealing with people in this dealership though, the guys at the Triumph places in Portugal are mostly sexist twats, with a hint or two of incompetence thrown in. She went and talked to the mechanic handling her bike like a long lost friend, and the fact he remembers her is why she missed this place. Off on the Triumphs, the 900 felt like sitting on a toilet after getting off of my tall GS. After a few miles we stopped to change bikes by the riverside: I have to say the T120 is a sweet bike, I didn't ride it on proper roads and at speed but it's got an ultra smooth engine, slick gear change (anything is after a GS), nice and torquey, nice and smooth over bumps, the brakes are pretty shit though. I liked it, felt like one could just through a bag on it and ride to wherever, good bike! I did find the front odd on roundabouts, but with an 18 inch wheel and weird suspension it was bound to. From there, we both got on the GS and went over to visit Brooklands, I was curious to see a life sized banking. Brooklands is mainly run by enthusiasts, they've got volunteers (mainly older dudes) eager to share stuff with you, really nice place. I love me an old Bugatti racer, very few things cooler: Senna's car with Senna's steering wheel might be cooler, though. I have to admit that touching that steering wheel felt special, I did it under supervision and encouraged to do so though, not disrespectfully. You see these cars sitting there all clean and shiny and quiet, and then read what they used to do and it brings you a sense of respect, they're beasts not delicate museum pieces: Like I said: The downpipes, @XTreme: It's hard to imagine the racing that happened here by looking at it. I wonder why they have fences. We did have a look at airplanes, they're not really my thing but everything was done in a very respectful way towards veterans and the war effort. British adventurers at their best, taking this around the world: Brookland is worth a visit, you can easily spend a few hours there, very cool place. Better plan on staying a few hours to make it worth the entry price, too. Next morning we were both on the GS as the Triumph was at the dealership waiting for the missing tire. We went to see MotoLegends, it was an expensive visit as Sofia ended up being encouraged (by me) to replace her helmet with a new one, taking advantage of their fitment thing when they replace inner pads for different thicknesses makes a difference for someone that is between sizes. This is the face of being happy to be in England. A brief visit to a very smart vet who makes dog legs out of digital printing, and we continued on back to collect the Speed Triple, stopping for breakfast at a cool looking pub / restaurant. With the Speed Triple wearing new shoes, we came back home to find Carol starting to prepare a middle eastern feast. The smell of spices and freshly chopped coriander sent me up for a quick shower in a hurry, to come back and open a bottle of red wine, sit back and enjoy the smells of good cooking and the talking to friends. A really great evening was had. On the following morning, we would be riding on.

They paint tanks by hand and have a guy doing the lines on the paintwork by hand. Also there are 100 year old lathes that are still used to make prototypes of some engine parts. The tricky measuring machines were in climate control environment as well as the R&D, locked way to protect secrets. I did find it amusing, but was a cool place to visit anyway. Thanks, for the compliment and the hospitality offer!

You're right, Chatsworth. It's really a pretty area all over that region. Peasants always ruining things!

Morning, and again I wake up well rested from a night spent in a silent home. I love silence during the night. We pack and today there would be no scenic roads, after an emotional goodbye to Barbara, who is a class act and just lovely, we get on a the M6 and go to Hinckley to visit Triumph. It takes maybe 1,5 hours to get there and again I have a chance to see motorways. There is this thing you guys have which is a smart motorway, it puzzles me. I'm from a country where we have dum motorway with a safety area to stop if you break down, it makes no sense to me but then I see some of the sheer volume of cars trundling along and realize it's a real problem and someone must be trying to come up with imaginative solutions for it, I've never seen so many cars all going down the same road as on this day, 3 or 4 lanes all packed with vehicles doing more or less the same speed. You have to respect the way people do that in a very controlled non latin way, with way more respect for other road users that what I have at my home country. We make it to Triumph. We had nothing booked, but Sofia talked to the very friendly girl at the cafe and got us in for one, happy days. You´re not allowed to take pictures inside the factory, I did take one before the guy told us that but I felt guilty about it so won't post it The tour went on for a couple of hours, and was interesting, the enthusiasm the man had for the place was cool to see. During said tour Sofia learned that her bike was built / assembled here and not Thailand, this made her smile from ear to ear but there are no pictures because it was inside the factory. After said tour, we had a pretty crappy sandwich for lunch, and a walk around the small museum they have there. A few very cool bikes, but one particular one really left me star struck. How pretty is this? Me, star struck: I would have preferred if it was uncleaned and still with grass and mud all over it, but it's still pretty cool! From Hinckley we would get on the motorway again and head over to West London near Woking. We would there meet up with Simon and Carol, some more of Sofia's dear friends, and stay with them and they son for another couple of days. I have nothing like this in my Morocco trips, showing up to people's homes and be given a bed is nice. Before leaving, someone had to strike a pose:

So, to prevent it from sliding into a discussion about Brexit, I'll carry on with the report. Woke up after a very nice nights sleep, and I'll tell you something really nice about the UK. The way houses are made, along with the way the towns and neighborhoods are spread about mean that you can really have a nice nights sleep in a very quiet location even if it's very close to a main road. It helps that traffic doesn't move too fast but it really is a contrast to what I am used to. And today I would realize something totally different between the landscape in England and all other places I was on before. Barbara had a thing to do in town and while she was away I took her bike out, her trusty Triumph Street Triple, and got it ready to go. Also gave the bikes a wipe from all the rain, and we were on. Sofia was super enthusiastic about this day, she used to ride around here a lot when she got her previous Speed Triple, we headed to the Cat and Fiddle for a morning tea. First a pose: And then heartbreak. Turns out her much loved pub went bankrupt a few years ago and it's be resurrected as a distillery, they now serve their our Gin and Whiskey, not any kind of tea or coffee. It was a little weird to be told that they don't serve any hot beverages in a pub that's next to a road. The point of it eludes me, but then again it is not a pub anymore. I did have a cold sparkling water, and we were directed to the room where we could sit, told where we could and couldn't go, and asked to log in out license plates before sitting in order to use the parking lot. A little too weird. Sofia was disappointed, but we moved on in high spirits: Then headed to Cromford, and shortly visited what might be the world's first factory and arguably the birthplace of the industrial revolution. An interesting place, a lot of the original place is gone, it was 7 stories tall, and changed the world if not only the region. We had a sandwich, instead of slaving away at a weaver. And on and on, through Bakewell Estate (I think), with a short stop to take a quaint picture And then I followed my nose and navigation through Hope Valley, where I ignored a closed road sign and much to the displeasure of a couple of Range Rover driving people came across a lovely spot, where I proceeded to have a few phone calls with people from Spain and Portugal. Somewhere we had another tea stop, and while chatting this dude that rocked up in a Super Duke came to gently offer his helmet cleaner and cloths. He was a class act and how you only have to gain from treating people well. Sofia was very happy to see some of "her" loved England reaching out to her. My joy, dealing with work, is transparent: and onto Macclesfield with another stop for looking at scenery And from here back to home is how I realized how much different England is to Portugal, Spain, Morocco, Germany, etc, I look at google maps in most of the places I have been to before and can pretty much guess what it is like before arriving, hence picking scenic paths between places. Here, I looked at the map and it all looked like an urban cluster of towns and villages, such a highly populated place would be ugly in Portugal, here you do get the people moving about but it feels like pretty countryside. It surprised me and is one of my favourite things in England. Granted I stayed out of big cities, but still it is something I appreciated. Back home we had a few very high quality cheeses that Barbara had bought for a party a few days later and were not eaten, we got to work and helped her a lot with that. Her hotpot complimented the day perfectly, and I was a happy dude after touring all over with two women following me. I liked this too: The next day we would leave.

Never mind, the next day it was me, Sofia and Barbara and a plethora of men were very friendly. One very nice fellow even showed up and offered his helmet cleaner to share with all of us. He was both a nice man and could also do math

Something is wrong with a male motorcyclist who isn’t nice to a woman motorcyclist travelling. We did have more good than bad, though.

We woke up early and bikes were packed before we sat down for breakfast, looking out of the window to Douglas bay at little past 7, it was a beautiful day. By 8:00 we were on board the ferry and waiting for it to sail off. We weren't returning back to Liverpool but instead going to Heysham this time, out of heysham we would ride through the Yorkshire Dales, have a look around and then get on a motorway to meet up with Barbara, one of Sofia's dearest friends with whom she shares a strong bond. Barbara lives east of Manchester near a small place called Wincham. The boat doing this ferry is vastly superior to the one doing the Liverpool cross, it was originally built to the US military, then sold to the company that does this and converted into a civilian ferry. Inside it's leagues above what the other one and the one from Santander is, everything is nice and well thought off, there's sofas set up like an enormous living room, a really nice way to do a ferry. Sadly I was unaware of this and we sat down in a cafeteria sort of area, only to see the living room like cafe well after it was fully taken in one of my enthusiastic ferry exploration walks. Sofia couldn't care less about nice sofas, two sea sickness pills and there she goes off to dream land, leaving me alone. Sailing away from the Island, on a beautiful sea: Boarding the ferry we got to talking to a couple of dudes riding around the UK only on dirt roads and green lanes, they were two curious people as one is a tree surgeon, we don't have that in Portugals. Trees here are chopped and killed, I would like to know what the majority of people would think about tree surgeon being a carreer. Further on leaving Heysham we ran into them again leaving a gas station: On the previous day's visit to the supermarket we were too enthusiastic and bought too much food, a pair of vacuum sealed smoked salmon filets in some sort of salsa were untouched, so the plan was to buy fresh bread and have that for lunch on the side of the road. I liked that plan, a sandwich by the motorcycle is my favourite kind of lunch. We found a baguette, and I proceeded to find a suitable place for a picnic. Now, picnics areas are something that is severely lacking in the UK compared to Portugal and France. Spain is equally lacking, what is wrong with setting up a few picnic tables and benches all over the place, in nice shady scenic locations? Sofia was not optimistic about finding such a location but I managed to do just that and a more perfect place does not exist in the UK! It's in a small place called Burton-in-Lonsdale. I enjoyed that a lot, and went for a wee sheltered from street passing people by the creek right next to where we were, as I was finishing I felt observed and sure enough there it was, a big furry cow gazing at my privacy. We don't get furry cows in Portugal, it was surprising. I enjoyed riding into the Yorkshire Dales, it's very pretty in a farming sort of way. And it's got grey sheep, I find this amazing that you have sheep that are already grey naturally, makes it easier to make grey sweaters! Hawes is a tourist attraction, Sofia tells me a lot of bikers head there as a destination when riding around this area. We stopped for a warm drink and see what it's all about. It's not a common sight to see foreign plated bikes in the UK now, at least not when we were over. I only really noticed one other foreign bike in the full trip, so what happened in Hawes is something that I as a motorcyclist (or just a citizen of a country) can't understand. I got distracted and either went away taking pictures or stayed behind talking on the phone, but Sofia went ahead to the bikes that were parked amongst a lot of others: As she was putting on her stuff a couple of guys in their 50s were pointing to her, and one came over and pointed at our plates and muttered "polish?", she replied that no, we were in fact from Portugal, and he just grunted away and proceeded to talk to his friend pointing his finger at her before walking off. Now, regardless of whether we would be from Portugal or Poland, or Russia, that not cool. I cannot understand how a motorcyclist doesn't get a smile on his face when he sees a bike that's on a trip far away from home and visiting his country, to me motorcycles are all about going places and the excitement of getting on them and riding off. @Sofiatells me that this area was one of the most important brexit supporters, I still can´t see how one motorcyclist dislikes another that is on a trip. That sort of atitude that we sometimes felt made her really sad as she was so happy to be amongst British people again after so long. Anyway, you shouldn't empower a twat, and allowing one to spoil your mood would be doing just that. We rode off, looking at the bucolic landscape, the term I used at the time was "fucking bucolic", as it really is. With the Yorkshire Dales behind us, we headed south, stopped by a little cute cafe / diner sort of place to have a sip of water and put the navigation to Barbara's place on the phone. From here, somewhere north or Burnley, we were to take a motorway or two and give the rush hour near Manchester a pass. I had heard horror stories about English motorways and congestion, and was quite enthusiastic about looking at that for myself. We were lucky with the traffic, it was sort of heavy at times but the M6 (?) didn't stop on the way we were going. Poor people in cars on the other way weren't so lucky and must have been hours stuck in there. An hour or so of that and we arrived to Barbara's, where we would spend two full days. First day would be off the bikes for the girls to spend time together, mostly visiting people, being shown around places, etc, it is a treat to spend these days off the bike sometimes, more so when the weather isn't really nice. I woke up to rain soaked bikes, so wasn't too sad to be shown around in the car that day We had a nice time looking at quaint English places, going to a proper wine shop, visiting her family, etc. As we were casually driving past Oulton Park we noticed that the place was quite busy so went in to ask, BSB was arriving and setting up, and we were waved in with a smile when Barbara smiled at the man in charge of the gate control. It was cool to have a look around, because racebikes! I cooked dinner that evening, peas in a Portuguese style with chorizo and poached eggs inside. The result was not really to my liking, the chorizo betrayed me as did the salt compared to the one at home. The ladies were very gracious and ate it with a smile. Went to bed late after talking for hours, the next day we would all go and see the Peak District.

We woke up to a rainy forecast. All around the island was supposed to rain heavily but the next day supposed to be sunny again, the forecasts had been very accurate so far, and we did have some stuff to do like laundry and visiting a bank there to check on some stuff. With the bikes safely parked in the hotel's garage, we took a day off from motorcycles and went about out day. Left the clothes to wash and dry by a self service laundromat and went on a little walk for an hour, to see a bit of Douglas. A nice chat with the lady running the laundromat helped pass the time as the drier was running, my expert tshirt folding techniques impressed them greatly and somehow the conversation turned to women's panties in an effort to embarrass me, they did not succeed. Good times! In the afternoon, it rained quite a bit. We had plenty of coffee, went to the port to complain about my stolen leatherman, went to look around the streets and a proper real life supermarket in the UK, riveting stuff. I do enjoy looking at supermarkets and what people in different places buy and consume. Your ready meals blow ours out of the water, but your fruit and vegetable sections leave a lot to be desired. Also, wine and stuff is way too expensive. We bought some white wine from either South Africa or New Zealand and some cheese and bread, and had a picnic in the afternoon. Dinner was going out and going to an Indian place. I wasn't too impressed so didn't take pictures, decision was made to buy some more supermarket stuff and have dinner on the balcony next day. Went to bed happy, the next day would be for riding around the Isle of Man. It's not a big place, the Isle of Man, you can take a leisurely place and enjoy stopping as much as you want, and you'll have time to go wherever you want to go in a day. We were lucky with the weather, it was a beautiful day. First we left Douglas and went to Castletown, briefly stopping there and then to Cregneash to the end of the road. It was a gorgeous destination, the wind was blowing a bit and it was a little cold, but such a pretty morning. I think it was the prettiest place we visited, that edge of the island. I loved it. The grass you have, probably because it's always growing from all the rain and constantly being trimmed by animals, feels like a thick carpet. Grass in other places isn't like this, I love it. I had never seen wild seals before, didn't manage a proper picture of one but was super enthusiastic when Sofia pointed their heads popping out of the water. Seals are very cool! We rode off. There's so much grass for animals to eat here, in Portugal you rarely ever see a cow or a sheep just laying down going about digesting her meals. Back home animals rarely get full enough to do that, I'm told that's why your cows are super friendly and relaxed and why cows in the Alentejo are mean and vicious. Don't go hanging around cows in southern Portugal! Next stop was Peel, which is a lovely small town. What's with the crochet covering of lamp posts and street stuff? I don't have anything against it, but find it curious. Me going to extra lengths to take pictures: As we were getting off the bikes in Peel someone told us about the small motorcycle museum there. This turned into a highlight, not really because of the bikes, it's a tiny tiny museum, but because of the enthusiasm of the people hosting us. If you have the change do make it to the Leece Museum in Peel, most of it is composed by bikes from the collection of a guy called Wobbly Bob. It's great stuff. And a couple specially for the 2 stroke fans here who used to ride them when they were new: Sofia knows of a fish and chips place in Peel which is supposed to be the best there is. Simon, our friend who advised on the welsh roads also stated this, but said shop was closed. We weren't in a rush to eat and honestly I think fish and chips is a little too much fried stuff for a motorcycling lunch. We moved on and by now started riding on the roads that are part of the TT course. Traffic in the IOM is probably like it used to be 20 years ago in the UK, you do have cars but not a massive amount, and the absence of speed limits outside of residential areas is quite fun, it probably also means people behave better where they have to. I am in awe of the fastest guys racing the TT, the road surface there is less than ideal, to put it mildly, perfectly fine for riding around but not at 300kmh. There are almost no speed cameras or cameras of any sort, which were my main shock in the rest of the UK. Speed cameras dominate the roads in most of the UK, but the amount of CCTV cameras for traffic control shocked me even more, you're constantly being watched. They park those silly automated temporary stoplights before and after roadworks and construction sites, more often than not with no work being carried at all, those then cause traffic jams and you're constantly being threatened to being caught on CCTV if you disrespect a sign. That's no way to treat a people, in my opinion. Getting back to the report, we rode from Peel to Ramsay with a brief stop for a little jump over a famous bridge, but said little jump wasn't caught on camera, blame the photographer: There was a little bit of traffic in that village, so we moved on to not bother people. Stopped in Ramsay and I had my favourite UK lunch, a true smoked Isle of Man Kipper's bap. Absolutely loved it. A little walk around the place after a delicious lunch, and we were off to see the mountain course, or the mountain part of the course, not sue how you refer to it. Now, in most of the Island there is some sort of traffic except maybe right after dawn which is when the hardcore guys go for a more spirited ride, we were now at almost 15:00 on a week day so there are cars about and people not doing motorsports, we rode up the hill and Sofia waited a little bit for me to try and find a gap in traffic, and maybe stretch the GSs legs a little. I rode back down, taking a client's call on the way, and as I talked to him I saw cars passing in a pretty constant rhythm. Then there was a short gap in traffic, for a minute or so, then 3 cars all the same time and then no cars for a little. This was my chance, the phone was now off and I went up the hill, there's a tight bend (tight on a race, just a bend if you're riding along the road), exited that in second gear and properly went through second, third, fourth, into fifth and by then it perfectly matched with catching up to the three cars without needing to lift, passing safely while almost on the limiter in fifth, and into sixth for a little while. The bike was feeling quite happy getting past an indicated 220kmh on a long sort of right hand corner but sort of a straight too, and as the next batch of cars showed up in the distance it was now starting to all feel a little bit wavy, my suspension is set to soft and it shows at higher speeds. This is nothing really special but it did feel nice doing it legally and in such a mythical bit of road. I went past Sofia who took a couple of pictures of me at the top slowing down to corners, and that was it. I felt like doing it a few more times but that would have been silly, did continue ahead of Sofia to then stop and catch her go past, which she did in style. Not really giving John McGuiness a run for his money but still fun: The nice view from up there: And @Sofiagoing past: As I took her pictures and walked back to the bike noticed a reminder how how dangerous it can be: Nice place, I wouldn't dare treat it like a racetrack though. A stop shortly after at the famous cafe /pub, for a coffee and to quieten down the adrenalin watching some cars and bikes go past. From there to Douglas is done in the blink of an eye, I would have preferred that mountain section to be 4 or 5 times longer, it really is a cool place to be on a motorcycle, granted that it's more because of the mystique than the road itself, but still exciting. After a shower we took a longish walk on the promenade to make time and then go to the supermarket for dinner supplies. It had been a beautiful day of enjoying motorcycles on a motorcycle kind of place, loved it and the place gets two thumbs up from me. It is also a lot more relaxed than the "mainland" England and Wales that I saw, friendlier people, just a nice quiet vibe to it. Next day, to catch another boat back to England.

I knew you would, there's going to be more