Ouch!
The fun from the night before left its mark. To be fair, the alcohol left the mark. The fun left its mark in our memory banks. When good friends are involved, there’s really no such thing as too much fun.
The morning started very slowly.
A spoonful of freshly ground coffee in the bottom of a cup. Add hot water. Stir. Drink. Slowly… carefully avoiding chewing on the grounds lurking at the bottom. Then a thick slice of homemade sourdough bread (thanks, Pete), toasted and slathered with butter.
We sat in the warm morning sunshine, listening to the birds sing while enjoying the promise of another beautiful day on the road.
Eventually, it was time to pack up.
We were meeting our friends Zoe and Martin for lunch at The Cow Shed, a popular biker hangout. After plenty of conversation and a delicious roast bap, we followed them over a scenic pass and back to their home near Leeds.
They had invited us to spend the night, share a few drinks, and enjoy the kind of quality time that simply doesn’t happen at motorcycle festivals. There, you’re always being pulled in a dozen directions. Here, we could just relax.
Behind their home was what they called the “Secret Garden,” and it was exactly that—a hidden oasis. A small office sat surrounded by herbs and flowering plants, tucked away in a peaceful woodland setting. Zoe assembled a beverage care package while Martin got a fire going.
It was perfection.
As the shadows lengthened and the evening air began to cool, Zoe announced that dinner was ready. A spicy chili was waiting for us. We filled our bowls and settled into the Secret Garden, eating beside the fire while the forest slowly slipped into darkness.
Before long, it was lights out and one of the most peaceful nights of sleep we’d had in quite some time.
The next morning, we were up bright and early. Our destination was the historic town of Haworth, only a short ride away.
Another friend from the overlanding community, Mark, owns a hotel there—The Black Bull Haworth. The hotel has been featured by the BBC as one of the most haunted hotels in the United Kingdom. Mark had offered us a room, and this time we were finally able to take him up on it.
There was only one small problem.
Mark was currently in Uganda leading a motorcycle tour.
His response?
“Stay anyway.”
Good enough for us.
Under brilliant blue skies, we set off toward Haworth. The ride should have been simple.
Then the GPS got involved.
Fucking GPS.
It had selected what it considered a “shortcut.” The lane was barely wide enough for a single vehicle, yet traffic somehow flowed in both directions. We were descending a steep hill toward an intersection. The pavement had deteriorated into loose gravel, with a strip of grass running down the center.
At the bottom, we needed to make a tight switchback to the right.
What we didn’t know was that the road to the right was completely closed about 200 yards farther down. There was a closure sign, but it was hidden in the trees beyond the intersection where it couldn’t be seen until it was too late. The intersection was a mess.
A car approaching from my left spotted me and kindly stopped, waving me through. Unfortunately, the intersection was blind from every direction. Tall hedges lined the narrow lane, making visibility almost nonexistent.
Halfway through the turn, a car suddenly appeared, climbing uphill directly toward us.
There was nowhere to go.
I grabbed the brakes.
Now, if you’ve ridden heavily loaded adventure bikes, you probably know where this story is headed.
Because of the steep switchback, there was no solid ground for my right foot to reach.
And then gravity took over.
Down we went.
The overloaded bike toppled into the ditch, taking us with it.
We’ll leave the rest of that story for next time, because several days later we’re still dealing with the aftermath.
Stay tuned.
Cheers,
2WANDRRs
2WANDRRs 
Recent Comments