This turned into what felt like a very long recovery period. The cost of getting into town was prohibitive, and I needed to keep my foot elevated and iced if it was going to heal properly. After our one trip into town to buy a battery and visit a couple of pubs, I was effectively locked in. We just kept extending the hotel reservation a few days at a time.
UBER became our best friend. With the push of a button, we could have groceries, medicine, cooked food, and alcohol delivered right to the door. Being an UBER Plus customer, the deliveries were even free. After searching for a while, I found a regulator/rectifier from a company near London. It was half the price of anything available locally and came with free next-day delivery. Perfect.
I kept telling myself that every two-day extension at the hotel would be the last one. Finally, after three extensions and a total of ten days, the time came when we had to leave. My foot had improved enough to squeeze back into my boot. It was like stuffing a bratwurst into a hot dog casing. The initial pain brought tears to my eyes, but once the buckles were secured and I’d rested for a few minutes, it felt manageable.
For our first day back on the road, we planned to push south of Edinburgh toward the coast. Hotels are outrageously expensive over here these days, but I found a pod near the beach for just $60 a night and booked it immediately.
After a couple of stops and a lot of rain, we rolled into the campground thoroughly soaked. At reception, they couldn’t find our reservation. That’s when I realized I’d accidentally booked the pod for the following week. The pods were fully booked for the current weekend, and Melanie sat down wearing the same expression Gypsy used to have after a rainy day on the back of the bike.
As I started searching for alternative lodging, the receptionist disappeared for a few minutes. When she returned, she informed us that she’d upgraded us to a beautiful new caravan worth three times the price of the pod. When I explained we couldn’t afford that, she smiled and said I didn’t understand—they were giving it to us for the same price. The kindness of people we meet on the road never ceases to amaze me.
We parked the bike, cleaned up, and headed for the pub. Scotland’s big match was that night, and excitement was everywhere. Kickoff wasn’t until 2:00 a.m., pubs had permission to stay open all night, and the atmosphere was electric. It almost seemed as though there were more Scots outside Scotland than inside it. The Tartan Army’s presence abroad has been impressive, and one thing was certain: these pubs weren’t going to run out of beer.
The Adventure Bike Rider Festival was only a few days away, and we also had another engagement coming up in Bristol, so we needed to keep moving.
On the second day, the morning broke cool and clear, with blue skies stretching in every direction. We packed up and rode south along the coast, making a quick detour for the obligatory photo at the “Welcome to Scotland” sign. We were heading out, but a quick U-turn later, the shot was ours.
Our next stop was something I’d been looking forward to—Lindisfarne Priory. It sits on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne, only accessible via a causeway that disappears under the tide. From their website: “The serene Holy Island of Lindisfarne is among the most atmospheric of England’s historic sites. It echoes with the memories of the monks and saints of Anglo-Saxon and medieval Northumbria.”
We arrived just after low tide, with only about an hour before the road would start to flood again. That gave everything a slight edge—just enough time, but not enough to linger too long. As we rolled across the causeway and into the village, we passed another couple on a Dutch motorcycle. They spotted us, turned around, and followed us into the car park.
We had a quick chat and a look around, sharing the brief window of calm before the tide and timing dictated the next move. Not wanting to get stranded on the island for hours, we wrapped it up and headed back across the causeway, riding out just ahead of the water reclaiming the road.
Next up was a stop at the Drift Cafe to visit some friends.
We know Matt and Reece—better known as The Sidecar Guys—from the overland community. They hold the Guinness World Record for the longest journey by scooter and sidecar and were the first people to circumnavigate the globe on such a machine. More recently, they’ve become the owners of the Drift Cafe.
Ironically, when we arrived, neither of them was there. Apparently Scotland’s match had kept them up a little too late the night before. A few pints have a way of doing that. We settled in for cappuccinos and dessert while enjoying the view and chatting with curious travelers who wanted to know more about our battered motorcycle, held together by dirt, stickers, and determination.
From there, we continued south into North Yorkshire and found a charmingly quirky guest house in Lucy Cross Guest House. Sitting at a historic crossroads that has served travelers for centuries, it seemed a fitting place to pause for a couple of days and explore the area.
More on those adventures as we continue south through England while taking it easy on my leg. It seems to be getting a little better—and a little less painful—with each passing day.
Cheers,
2WANDRRs
2WANDRRs 
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