Saturday was to be my last day. I was up with the lark, maybe just before and got ready to leave. The final few bits were packed and I made my way out, as quietly as possible, with the luggage, to the bike. I closed the door on my ‘home’ for the past week and fired up the Bandit. It was another lovely morning, sunny if a little chilly. I’ve got used to chilly since I’ve been on the island. Can be scorching in the sun one minute, freezing in the shade when a cloud arrives. Bizarre.
Once again, the mountain road was both open and empty. Just the way I like it. I could take or leave the other part of the circuit, with its speed limits up and down all the time, plus it’s two way but the mountain is fantastic. I’m not sure it would be anywhere near as exhilarating as it is, were it two way nor, from my recollections of 1982, when there are a lot of other bikes around. Needless to say, John McGuiness could probably learn a thing or two on how to hussle a fully loaded Bandit over the mountain. 3 figure speeds were, once again, attained. Having returned to more sensible speeds, I thought the bike felt a bit strange. It was difficult to tell, maybe just the extra weight. I thought no more of it.
I arrived at the port in Douglas in good time. Just about 6am for the 6:15 time stipulated on the ticket. Well, as it turned out, I was too early. Steampacket don’t have the capability to deal with more than one sailing at a time. Lord knows how long they have been doing this but to say it is a shambles wouldn’t be overstating things. ‘We’re still loading the 7am ferry’, I was told, ‘can you come back in 20 minutes?’ I was directed round to the front of the terminal building to wait with other 8:45 sailing punters. At 6:15 I joined an already growing queue at the check in booths. As we sat there, sun on our backs, I watched, as over the top of the hill, south of Douglas there gradually appeared a rainbow. It wasn’t long before it was a beautiful full arch, beautiful maybe but could only mean one thing. Would we be lucky enough to be boarded before the inevitable happened?
When the booth opened for check in, there was chaos. No control by anyone, just two people sitting either side of it, watching the ensuing mayhem. Some people were walking up to the window, some trying to weave their bikes to the window. In their wisdom (I jest of course), Steampacket had lined the bikes up to the right hand side of the booth. This meant, a pretty free run for the left most lane, whilst 5,6 maybe more were all trying to converge from the right. I managed to manoeuvre to the left hand lane and proceeded quite quickly thereafter. By now you would think that Steampacket would have some proper place to wait but no, we were shepherded in what was basically a couple of bays used for parking big lorry trailers. It was at this point that beauty turned to beast and the rains came. The dilemma, when just wearing leathers and your waterproofs are packed away, is whether you bother going through unpacking and struggling into the waterproofs or just sit it out. I chose the latter, despite is raining quite hard. I figured I had 3½ hours to dry on the boat.
Finally we were boarded and I found my way to my reserved seat. This would seem to be a waste of £3, as not many seats actually had a reserved sticker on then, yet they all filled up. Presumably those punters got one for nowt! I dosed for most of the journey, the early start catching up with me. I’d had in my mind I might stop off in Manchester on the way back and visit the Harley exhibition at the Museum of Science & Industry. I’d discussed this with my aunt’s hubby Roger on the way up. Whilst on the boat though, I decided I’d make the trip home, thus giving me Sunday free to get some shopping, etc. A text was duly despatched to Roger’s mobile.
We arrived at Heysham about 12:35, though by the time we’d actually been spewed out onto the dockside it was probably 12:50. The bike was feeling strange again and on hitting the M6 I was starting to wonder if I had picked up a puncture. I pulled off at the next services and found the air hose. Rule 1, when attempting to operate a garage air hose, ensure you have put on one’s spectacles, so one can actually see what the bloody hell you’re doing. After 5 minutes of squinting at a dirty gauge, I decided to put on my specs. Now, I could see the gauge, just about but more importantly I could see the instructions on the machine which said press the start button!! DOH! No wonder five minutes of attempted inflation hadn’t made a jot of difference. The pressure showing, was about 20psi. It should be 42. I must have a slow puncture. I re-inflated and checked the tyre, as best I could. I found nothing. I carried on my journey, the bike feeling better right away.
I had enough fuel to get me through Birmingham, so I pushed on, eventually pulling in at Corley. I fuelled up, had a quick drink/biscuit and prepared for the off. A quick text to Cath told her I’d be home in 2½ hours. The tyre felt OK but I thought I’d just check the pressure again. This time I remembered my specs and they straight away showed me that I would have to pay 50p for 5 minutes air. Stuff that, I continued on my way.
I made good time until the approach to the QE2 bridge. The queues there were 4 or 5 miles on the approach. I gingerly weaved between the cars. Not easy when the lanes are reduced size and your panniers stick out further than your mirrors, the usual gauge of if you can get through a gap or not. It was during this period that the bike began to feel strange again. Was it just the low speed, heavy weight combination again or that the tyre had lost pressure? Time would tell, I was now just 20 minutes from home.
I arrived home, dead on time, to an empty flat and a stack of junk mail. Oh well, I unpacked my stuff. The phone rang, it was Roger. They hadn’t got my text, the second time that had happened and were getting worried as I hadn’t arrived and they hadn’t heard from me. Roger was cool about it, I think but I got a telling off from my aunt Linda. Fair play I guess. On hanging up I decided to call Cath. Half expecting her son Alex to answer and say she was on her way up, instead she answered and sounded surprised I was actually home!! It wasn’t long though before we were re-united ;-).
Fuel stats:
Fuel: 16.70 litres
Cost: £23.70
Cost per litre: £141.9
Miles: 165.2
MPG: 44.97
Additional mileage to home: 142.9 miles
Estimated fuel usage: 14.44 litres
Estimated cost @ £1.34.9: £19.48
And that, as they say, IS THAT!
P.S. When I arrived back I left the bike on the side stand. This would ensure that there was weight on the rear tyre, so if punctured it should go flat. I didn’t check it Sunday and didn’t ride to work Monday. I checked Monday evening. Sure enough there is a nail in the tyre. Strange though, there was still 40psi in it. Not sure in that case what the situation is or why it felt so strange on that last leg home.
