Storm Karen promised so much but failed to deliver, we had anticipated a lifetime of trouble n strife over the course of a weekend, it didn’t happen, and that’s a good thing. We had a ball, as ever.
The future, in the shape of the weekend looked a bit bleak, rain, fire and brimstone. It failed to live up to expectations, as with so many things in life.
With the satnav set to Portsmouth we begin the trip in windy and wet conditions, the little 500s do suffer from being buffeted all over the place in anything more than a strong breeze. The wind is so blowy its pushing the handlebar mitt onto the front brake lever, so they have to come off. As we head south the weather improves and by the time we collect Jack at Northampton the sun is shining, a pit stop for us and the bikes and we’re at the port in good time.
As sure as night follows day, we’re on the boat handy and into the bar for a couple before retiring for the night to be bright eyed for the fresh French morning that surely awaits.
Our usual cafe, you know the one, the one with round windows at Alencon is denied, closed and for sale, we head out of town and find a suitable substitute, a former garage converted into eatery, most welcome. We thaw out over a butty and a couple of strong coffees. The last few miles to the circuit are dispatched in slightly warmer conditions, although we’re never going to use the word warm over the course of the weekend, it’s wrapped up clothing for the duration.
We book into the secure bike only camping just off the Moulsanne straight, bikes and helmets stickered up, these have to match to be allowed out of the camping.
With the tram station only a short walk away shopping trips are easier these days. Jack recalls the time the booze isle in the nearest Super U to the circuit was taken over by the hoards of bikers, drinking beers, eating snacks, the feds were called and just closed the place, actually allowing people to just push trolleys of contraband out, bypassing the tills!! Far more civilised these days tho.
Thursday night is compulsory night practice for the teams
There are support races all weekend, the GT Continental Enfields provided close proddy racing.
Race day and its raining, not much, not enough to dampen our spirits too much, but plenty enough to make it slippery on track for the riders, there’s over 200 crashes over the course of the race, with the most cruel crash with a hour to go, the lead Kawasaki went down gifting the win to YART.
Race over we adjourn to Vero’s, who isn’t there, she managed to beat herself up falling off a bike on her recent India trip, we made use of her hospitality in her absence tho, cheers Vero.
Meanwhile in a garage, hidden from view.
We follow the squiggly road button back up to Caen, taking in farmland France on empty roads, just the sort of back lanes the smaller bikes excel at.
We finish off with food and beers at the port before our delayed ferry home, another cracking drama free trip, but would want some warmer, drier weather next time please.
