Got my tent, sleeping bag etc loaded onto the Speed Triple late on Friday, ready for an early start the next day. Woke up to rain, as expected, on Saturday morning, and after meeting up with my pal on his 1050 Tiger, we left South London at 06.45. After battling quite high winds on the Reading section of the M4, we pulled up for our breakfast stop at Dotty's cafe, in Swindon Old Town. Suitably fed, we togged up and set off proper for our first destination, Betwys y Coed, North Wales, where we would receive the whereabouts of the camp ground for this years Dragon Rally. This rally is always held on this weekend due to being historically the worst weekends weather of the year. A poor mans Elephant Rally in fact, having first started in 1962.
We departed on drying A and B roads taking in the Cotswolds, skirting Worcester to the south, before picking up the A44 to Leominster, and finally the A5 north and then west. We stopped at our traditional coffee and cake stop, just outside Corwen, before rolling into the hotel carpark at Betwys where we would obtain our wrist band, sticker for the bike, and importantly, directions to the camp ground, which fortunately was only a few miles further down the A5 at Capel Curig.
On arrival, the number of bikes parked on the pavement outside the field, gave a fair indication that the camp area would be muddy to say the least. Many people camp locally on the Friday in order to bag the better camping areas first thing Saturday morning. With 298 miles on the clock, we certainly would not be spoilt for choice as regards where to pitch a tent. After plenty of wheelspin and pushing and pulling by the marshals we were ushered, somewhat involuntarily, to our parking spot. Then it was a matter of finding a patch of suitable real estate for two tents.,That done, tents up, a quick change of clothes, and off to the marquee to get our rally badges and traditional commemorative Welsh slate drinks coasters. A quick catch up with a few regular attendees, then it was off to the bar at the other end of the marquee to sample some of the local Welsh beers. The marquee soon filled up with people, driven inside by a tremendous cloudburst. A good selection of heavy metal biker music was played whilst the band set up. Personally I'd have preferred the DJ to have carried on, but I'm sure that's more of an age thing/ taste in music on my part.
We drew the line at seven pints, as neither fancied the idea of a banging head in the morning, and just before the band's finale, made our way back to the tents. However in total darkness other than headtorches, the tents seemed to have moved. Our landmarks were a huge frame tent near to the portaloos, a dark red Goldwing and a yellow Suzuki. All of which looked totally different in the dark. Eventually we found "home", and cranked up the stove to get the kettle on.
After turning in, the nights sleep was punctuated between torrential rain hammering on the tent, and a fellow camper who snored like a sawmill. I must have dropped off at some point as was surprised how late it was when I woke at eight. The moment the stove was fired up, was the signal for the hailstones to put in an appearance. It's the Dragon Rally for God's sake, what do you expect.
We put off digging out the bikes for long enough. We needed to get them turned round in their muddy parking spot, and then slip and slide onto some firmer, more level ground. A guy on his own had the same task, so between the three of us we got the Speedie turned round and fired up. My trail riding/enduro days came in handy negotiating the muck and mire to get to the hard standing. Unfortunately, my pal was not aware of what a muddy roostertail can do if you're too close, as he'd followed on foot in case I lost momentum. He got filled in from head to toe, fortunately still wearing the disposable clothes from the previous night. He took it in good spirit, sorry matey. Eventually all three bikes were parked on firm ground ready to be loaded up. The hailstones managed to put in one last appearance just before the last Rok strap was clipped home. Then, it was A5 east bound.
The first few miles were taken very easily in order to clean the mud from the tyres,before getting our heads down, destination,the Lazy Kettle transport cafe at Chirk. It must have been around elevenish when we got there. The full Sunday lunch looked very appealing, but settled for the all day breakfast. After a quick spray up with chain lube and the tanks brimmed, it was down the A5 heading for home. Our good progress came to a halt as the A44 to Stow on the Wold was closed. We carried on down the A46 until the first garage where coffee and a scan of the map was called for. One of the two girls running the garage rode a bike and put us on a good B road up to Stow to get us back on track. Thanks for that Debbie.We made use of the very light traffic and pressed on. Another fuel stop just after Lechlade and we were on the M4 heading east. Almost immediately coming across a Mercedes happy to cruise around the 85 mark, so that was our pacer sorted until he turned off at the junction before ours. The M3/M25 junction was a carpark, but managed to filter through, and it was soon behind us.
My pal and I said our goodbyes at a set of lights in Morden, and 25 minutes later I was rolling onto my drive with 595 miles on the clock for the weekend. The old Triumph,25 years old next month, never missed a beat.
This was no doubt my last Dragon Rally, my knees are too old and creaky for rough camping where you need to set up/take down quickly. They've all been great fun in a twisted,macabre brutal sort of way. Maybe next year I'll just do the ride to get the badge, like last year when there wasn't a blade of grass left, that wasn't under water, so we just rode back home. That was something like 620 miles all in the rain, but was quite rewarding in a warped sort of a way. Thinking about it ,it would save having to sort out all the camping stuff. Mmm there's a thought.