Raised {See above} so far for Make A Wish

Up long before the lark, and it was a quick blast along the Prom at 4:45am to the historic Tower Ballroom, Blackpool.  It was boarded up.  Above it soared the magnificent Tower itself, theme of a million postcards.  That was boarded up too.  Seaward was the pier, largely boarded up, and the beach, not visible because of a continuous line of boards.

We were off, in something of a ramshackle way, leaving me, BigNoseBry, Princess Twinkle and Neil to follow along behind at a steady pace in an effort not to have the nail in Bry’s rear go pop.  It was five hours to when a bike-shop would open: let’s make some progress.
 
M55 and M61 to Stockport dispatched, then up the A6 and into the Peak District, looking beautiful as ever.  Right hands were slower than left for Bry given where the nail was, and neither were very fast for new-rider Neil who was braving a completely un-faired Bonneville and on the Chapel-en-le-Frith bypass, I thought a spin to Jelly’s would be in order.  Quick text from the back of the bike to Sharrie at central comms to see if Alistair could sort out a tyre on arrival, and up the hill to Sparrowpit then through Peak Forest to the Yonderman at 07:01am.  It opens at 8 on weekends, so leaving 50 bemused looking competitive walkers in the car-park, we set off to Chesterfield and the long chug to London on the M1.  First a text to BTBloke for tyre ideas in Northampton, then Sharrie again for Luton but the nail just stayed where it was so that we got all the way to London Gateway services before I could ring FWR Tyres in Kennington to sort out some new rubber for Bry.
 
We arrived at the Ace to meet the pit-lane dollies laid-on by Make-A-Wish a bit after 10 to join Nev and Baz (Rocketman).  Stuart, winXPmaster, pale-rider and Barrowload arrived, as did jolly Tim, the Colonel and the Boss (riding a big BMW with skill and ease), Raymo, MIKETHEBIKE (also known as Alex to some!!!), stageonesimmo, DoctorLaw, Barkinmadscot and others.

About a dozen of us headed into London via Hyde Park, Marble Arch, Park Lane, Wellington Place, Birdcage Walk and the Palace, the Mall, Horseguards’ Parade, Parliament Square, Westminster Bridge and then the tedious and long drag out via the Elephant, Lewisham and Lee to the A20 and Folkestone.

 
I’m a bit spoiled sitting behind a huge fairing, but I was very satisfied with the weather which was mainly dry and with some lovely phases of sunshine.  And so ended the first phase of the journey, leaving the English Shuttle terminal at 15:50.
 
Out at Coquelles and straight into the services where Stageonesimmo’s satnav asked if he meant Dean Street, Birkenhead.  NO!  
 

James 691 and Barkinmadscot led as we headed down the lovely D1001 towards Montreuil, Abbeville to Beauvais where the Bulldog Cafe awaited us.  The wind was shocking and from the back of the pack I was able to see different strategies of leaning riders, leaning bikes and the occasional violent swerve as the weather gods showed their determination for us to visit Belgium rather than Paris.  

At the heart of the storm sat Raymo, never needing fuel (his tank holds the yearly petrol output of Libya) and looking more comfortable than a not very tall man sitting on a millimetre of foam on an AT has any right to.  Brian & Mike looked similarly phlegmatic; DoctorLaw’s thumper farted away unaware of the fact it sounded close to death two years ago; James691; Baz’s Rocket III looked as gorgeous as only it could; ADVTim and Nev only needed a bit more lift off their huge boxes to take off on the wind; James691 and Barkinmadscot were manly and decisive at the front (albeit wholly reliant on their satnavs as the sun told me once we left Abbeville) and I mucked about at the back.  If it was wet I didn’t notice, but it WAS lovely drying weather.
 
So to le Bulldog Cafe and they do things differently on the mainland.  A reasonably smart small hotel, they did indeed welcome bikers so slightly bemused, we took a well-earned coffee in delicate cups, with Speculoos biscuits and little chocolates.  The Colonel and the Boss were just leaving and we left just as BigNoseBry, Princess Twinkle and Neil arrived, preceded by jolly Tim and his crew.
 
On to Paris and as an urban rider I admit to some impatience about the immaculate manners of the majority of the group who rode in an Indian file.  Luckily I was not on an intercom with anyone as I spent my time nipping about the back trying to bunch us up to get through lights, swearing roundly!  But get through we did, including the Arc de Triomphe roundabout (fancy driving right infront of a bus and see it obediently stop?!) then all going to Hell at the Tour Eiffel itself!  Our leaders nipped off sharpish at the front but a combination of weariness, opportunity and people-power meant that eventually about 50 bikes gathered just where we ended up, by the left-hand leg on the river.  Othernev was there with a knackered reg/rec (though Honda in the UK had told him to get another battery which would have been expensive), as were Speedy Sue and other Norfolk types; four Welsh lads turned too early (one on a sports bike) and were shepherded back once I’d run across the river after them; some Britishers on French-registered bikes were in evidence; GOG appeared as a sight for sore eyes and it was a fair old gathering.

Then?  Well there was the run through Paris at midnight; the split group; GOG tripping over some staggeringly-badly designed street furniture; losing Baz; the flop-house; several pimps trying to buy or steal a Rocket III; a parking attendant with no conception of customer-service; the ride out to Charles-de-Gaulle; the blessed etap hotel and the very welcome lock-in.
 
To bed 23 hours after I had woken up and for all the chaos, a great day and a cracking adventure.
 
Thanks to all the people I rode with for making it so interesting and such a pleasure but most particularly to Barry and Mark (and an honourable mention to Russ on artwork, and to Sharrie at central comms) without which it simply would not have happened.