The first of two rideouts planned for this weekend. Rustled up a few local friends for the start and a some more from the Curvy Riders group would be meeting us a Matlock Bath on Saturday. The forecast was a bit iffy, but only a bit, so we decided to take our chances.
One of our friends brought his Himalayan, a bike that is alledged to be able to pull the skin off a rice pudding and able to reach over 75mph as long as no one’s sitting on it. As it wasn’t to be a particularly quick ride I dragged the old Street Triple out the garage, peered up at the cloudy sky, squinted at the chain and decided all was well enough. The temperature called for a couple of layers, leather jacket and jeans. Classic.
First meeting point in Holmfirth brought five of us together - our friend Alison was already waiting with her shiny Tiger when I arrived.
The Enfield rolled up soon after, as did @Tigcraft himself, who appeared to be setting off around the world judging by the amount of storage bolted to his unsuspecting R9T. He could have crossed rivers with that much buoyancy.
There are a few routes to Matlock Bath, all good. Today we went via The Strines and Hathersage. Lots of bikes were out, criss-crossng the countryside. One had obviously found it all too much and was having a lie down at the roadside. We stopped, because that’s what you do, and helped the bike to its feet. Other then a slight dent to the crash bars and another to the rider’s pride, everyone was fine.
We set off again having got our good deed for the day out the way early. A mile later I was starting to wonder why the Royal Enfield wasn’t in my mirrors. We stopped again, waited a few more minutes, then I doubled-back to locate our missing rider. Found him where we’d stopped to help the downed biker, unable to get his Himalayan to start. Evidence suggested all was not well with the fuel pump. Much fiddling and theorising ensued but with no tools available we were about to call the RAC to retrieve the dead motorcycle when it inexplicably leapt in to life with one last speculative stab of the start button. Typical.
With the clouds overhead it was proving to be a pleasant enough day for riding. When the sun came out it felt like summer. A glance at the horizon showed no sign of the rain that the Met Office suggested may arrive. The ladies had pushed on while we dealt with the stricken Himalayan, to make the midday meeting time in Matlock Bath. The rest of the run through Hathersage and on to our first stop passed without further incident and we arrived in bright sunshine.
Matlock Bath wasn’t as full of bikes as I’d expected but there were a few interesting machines parked up.
Here we see a man who believes all things about bikes should be black aghast at the gleaming purple monstrosity confronting him.
And here is the he is again, warning Eric about the perils of water while waiting for a fresh batch of chips to be fried.
If you haven’t been to Matlock Bath before, it’s a bit like a seaside town without the sea. Schools of fish and chip shops and lots of badly dressed people milling about, dragging bored children in their wake.
I always take a stroll along the ‘front’ to see what Triumphs have turned up. Some nice examples were on show including this one. Rachel looking up the trade-in value for an old Ducati, there.
Meanwhile, Eric begins packing an entire small Derbyshire town in to his voluminous luggage.
It’s a popular biker destination but the appeal of Matlock Bath doesn’t last much longer than a bag of chips so, having refuelled, we set out on the second leg of the rideout - to Monyash, where it was rumoured impressive ice cream could be found.
And the rumours were true. Just outside the village is a dairy farm so popular that you have to queue for twenty minutes just to enjoy one of their delicious icy desserts.
And delicious they are. Worthy of a picture for posterity.
Our final stop for coffee and a look at some more bikes was the picturesque village of Monyash. While it doesn’t have the numbers, I prefer it to Matlock Bath. Even with the bikes coming and going it’s a peaceful place with a pleasant atmosphere. It attracts a different type of biker, too.
We speulated that this cabinet style fuel can arrangement contained either essential bathroom accountrements, a selection of bottled real ales, or a neat rack of spanners for the experienced Royal Enfield owner.
Classic bike of the day went to this little Bantam, though. It’s probably awful to ride but it would make you smile every time you opened the garage door.
The sunshine had faded by the time we abandoned the village. Some went their own way home, we shot off towards Buxton for the sweeping roads and on towards Glossop and the Woodhead road. As we left Buxton our luck ran out. A few drops of rain quickly turned torrential. Cold water began seeping in to places cold water has no place to be. Boots became buckets. It was was a cold, British ride home where the kettle was gratefully boiled and clothes left to drip, drying in time for Monday, hopefully.
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