The Three Peaks Rally at Horton in Ribblesdale

"Diary of the Three Peaks Rally or Sodden Rats Rally as it might be remembered !!
(Fri 8th - Sun 10th August 2008)"

There I was leaving off early at 15:00 on Thursday, quickly nipping up the road to get a new (hopefully warmer) sleeping bag. I ended up with that and a new tent, arrived home all excited, walked in and there was Paul doubled up in pain with a bad back and obviously going nowhere. He was gutted that he couldn't go as he'd been really looking forward to meeting up with everyone again. I was in two minds, still keen to go, but not sure about leaving him on his own, but he said he'd be ok, just needed to rest his back, so the following morning albeit a bit on the drag, there I was setting off on my own up to Horton. Realising how much of a drag it was, I stopped and called Steve to say I'd meet him there as I was still miles from our meetup point at Markham Moor Services. A few light showers and some hours later, after hitting peak traffic through Otley and Ilkley, I eventually arrived at the campsite late afternoon and met up with Phil, Gino, Dave, John, Jan, Steve and Mick, where I was promptly presented with a nice hot cuppa, a slate for my side stand and help putting my new spacious three man tent up. I talked to John nicely and he kindly blew up my airbed (again) with his electric blower while I finished unpacking the bike.

It wasn't long before the barbacue was lit and Gino was in full stride as head chef. Paul, Keith, Steve and Bob turned up and had a race to put up their tents in the fading daylight and the rest of the evening was just good old eating drinking and merryment, with the campsite host, Chris, providing fresh cherry tomatoes, crispy onion rings and all sorts of beverages for people to try, from fine Whiskey and Brandy to specialist bottles of Aspinal Cider from Suffolk. I'm guessing it was around midnight I turned in for a reasonably warm nights kip before waking to voices under the gazebo. It sounded like everyone was up already telling stories and jokes, I checked my watch and it was still early around 6:00, so not realising I would be missing the best part of the day I went back to sleep for an hour or so before emerging to another cup of fresh tea. I took a walk up the road to the post office/stores and brought some soup and rolls for breakfast while the others tucked into their fresh cooked bacon.

As the weather started to close in, little did we know just how much rain was coming. We set off on the ride and the heavens opened, so by the time we got to Devils Bridge there were puddles everywhere, soggy gloves and proof that very little 100% waterproof gear, was actually that. A few brought a cuppa from the kiosk there and I tried to take a few pictures without ruining the camera, not sure if it was to proove how brave we all were, or how daft. The decision was made to go back as there was no sign of the rain letting up, we didn't all want to catch pneumonia and we weren't getting the wonderfull views Phil had intended us to see when he'd planned the route. The consensus was that we'd just all have to come back at another date and do it again in the dry.

I stopped with Mick at the Chip shop in Settle on the way back only to find things even wetter when I arrived at camp 20 minutes later. John & Jan's tent was like a small paddling pool inside and quite understandably they packed up and were headed home to a warm dry bed and hot bath. Bob's looked like it would be next, so moved a few feet, while Phil relocated his to the top of the hill just in time along with the Gazebo. Lonewolf had arrived and set up camp in what looked to be puddle free, while the rest of us looked like we'd be safe staying put. We all congregated in the pub taking turns in front of a roaring hot fire trying to dry out when Lesley & Gaz arrived. I called the B&B Paul had reserved, thinking I might just take the room if they hadn't relet it, but unsurprisingly it had been taken, which was good news as he'd get his money back afterall. In dribs and drabs, we ventured back to camp next door and the barbacue was sparked up a little earlier as there was a 21st birthday BBQ who had dibs on the cooking facilities later on.

I'd put on what dry clothes I could find and as we did the whole eating and drinking thing again we had a wonderfull surprise as Terry & Dawn turned up. We all ventured back to the pub with Suma and just chilled out, warming up in front of the fire again. They'd called the Oast B&B on the off chance that there was a room available and ironically, had ended up with Paul's cancelled room, so at least they could dry out and get a good night's kip which was nice. After they'd gone back, I went back to the campsite and joined in with Bob, Keith, Steve, Gino and the three walking lasses we'd met earlier that day for an inpromtu quiz that turned into a very funny attempt at charades with memorable performances from Bob. The youngsters from the birthday party came back from the pub and joined in and we were all in stitches, laughing so hard I think we'd all completely forgotten about the rain by then.

It wasn't that late when I turned into a slightly damp tent using the wet clothes I'd taken off earlier to mop the small puddles inside. As dry as I could get I crawled into my new sleeping bag again and shiverred through the night with hardly any sleep. One reason was I was cold and the other was the wind that had got up and billowing the tent quite a bit. I thought to myself, well the worst that could happen is the tent rips open and leaves me open to the elements. I thought at least it can't take off with me in it. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke to the sound of running water. I knew the stream was the other side of the wall at the bottom of the field, and I wasn't moving so I couldn't have been swept down it. I put my torch on and checked to see if the tent was full of water, thankfully no, but as I put my hand down on the groundsheet I noticed that it had turned into a static water bed. My next thought was my poor old Drifter and would she fall over if the ground was that waterlogged outside. The guys had found me a good sized slate for the side stand so I thought she'd be fine and tried to get back to some sort of sleep pattern for the rest of the night.

It was another early morning and I heard voices and no rain. Mick was packing up and heading off early back to Portsmouth, so I ventured out quickly to say goodbye before sheltering back inside, trying to light my stove with damp matches. Now I know the importance of keeping them completely dry when camping! About half the pack later, I'd managed to get the thing lighted and had tinned hotdogs and a hot chocolate for breakfast. Having eaten something hot I managed another hour or so of sleep before waking again and slowly starting to pack up the bike. Surveying the campsite, it was clear that the wind must have been quite strong as there were broken gazebos, including Phil's, just a crumpled mess of bent poles from which I retrieved the two UKDOG flags and banner sodden and muddy but otherwise unscathed.

Everyone gradually packed up and went on their way, we'd survived the weekend and as Dave put it, it would probably be a more memorable one, because instead of arriving having a nice long ride and going home, we'd battled with the elements and as a result, spent more time with each other, chatting and entertaining ourselves. I took a picture of Max Tomlinson's daughter who was coincidentally camping there that weekend and called out cheerio to Lesley & Gaz who were still snug in their tent and as I waved to Phil and Jeannie, I waited, parked up on the side of the road waiting for Terry & Dawn. Then I thought I might as well head for Settle and catch them at the B&B or on the road, save them coming all the way back out to the campsite.I met them a couple of miles up the road and having safely tucked Suma in the tube trunk on the back of the bike, we both set off for the M1 home. Terry was concerned about a strange noise on his bike, which after a couple of stops and phone calls was identified as probably a front wheel bearing, which was certainly true as we limped to the next stop on the side of the road, with me riding gunshot. Fortunately the petrol station had a café, so I didn't feel quite so bad as I continued home after a welcomed cuppa, waiting for the big white van to come pick them up. Forgetting what the others had said about the A59 being closed, I continued along the road only to be diverted back down the original road I'd come in on, through Oakley and Ilkley where I got snarled up in traffic again, so took a slight detour back towards Harrogate and then the A1. Stopping only for petrol and a quick bite to eat, I legged it home, the last 100 miles or so being in sunshine, though still very windy. Another Rally done and dusted, the longest I'd ridden on my own and one I really would remember.

Thanks to all those who came and a huge thanks to Phil & Jeannie for all their efforts.

That's all me, Rocketdog, signing off

More piccies from the Rally

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