Schoorl 2001 by Graham Carrick

Thursday 13th September - First petrol stop, South Mimms service station on the M25. The GB has performed faultlessly, despite a complete lack of maintenance over the previous few months. I’ve ambled inside for a wee after tanking up the half full 16 litre tank. I’m feeeling fine despite the hassle of negotiating the M25 during rush hour, my wrists ache a little and my head is spinning from the steady drone of the motor as I’d held it at 80mph all the way here. I think I’ll reduce the pace for the remaining 80 miles of the trip. What’s the time? That’s fuuny, my watch seems to have gained half an hour. Surely I haven’t really got just one hour to cover the distance to the ferry port? Shit! I’m running back to my bike, got to go!

M25/A12 junction - I’m leaving the madness of the M25 behind me and I’m taking the exit for the A12, a road that will direct me straight to Harwich. I’ve made good time and if all’s well I’ll just make the ferry. What the heck? there’s no lights! I’ve just plunged into a rain-lashed blackness. What’t that ahead? ohmigod, it’s a sharp bend covered in diesel. Gotta go now, I need to concentrate.

Harwich ferry terminal, 10.08pm - Here’s the queue for the ferry, I’ll just ask if I’m in time, my watch says I’m ten minutes late. What? still half an hour to go? Bloody hell man, I’ve nearly killed myself ten times over on that bloody road trying to get here.

Ferry bar, 11.25pm - Hmmm, that was a good meal, pie and chips... although the bolognese looked good, perhaps I’ll have some of that next. These freight crossings are great, all the food you can eat and cheap beer. Here we go, another plateful of food... crikey, a choice of four desserts, I could be here all night.

1.30am, ferry cabin - I feel a bit woozy, still I’ve got time for five hours kip before the free breakfast. These cabin loos are great, compact but sorted. Sitting here I can reach everything in the cubicle: glass holder, ashtray, bottle opener... bottle opener? in a toilet? bloody hell, these truckers get all the perks!

8.00am, ferry terminal, Hook of Holland - Right here we go, ride on the right, ignore all hand signals from irate motorists and we’ll be in Schoorl in no time. Whooah, first roundabout, that’s always a test, especially this early in the morning. Got to follow the signs for the Hague, mind you I haven’t seen any yet. I’ll go to Den Haag and see if I can pick up the Hague from there, it sounds similar so they can’t be too far apart.

10.00am, campsite, Schoorl, - So here we are... there are some SRX’s parked over there so I must be in the right place. I’ll have to talk to Rene about his directions, he didn’t mention turning onto a glorified footpath and having to dodge cyclists before getting to the campsite. Ah, here he is, the man himself and Gerard the boy racer. Good to see you guys. What’s that? you’re having breakfast? Don’t let me disturb you, I’ll just sit and chat, carry on.

10.45am, campsite restaurant - That was a very nice piece of ham, any more jam and toast? As I was saying, I had a superb breakfast on the ferry, as much as I could eat, it was great. Any more coffee in the pot? no? Well if it’s not too much trouble and you’re getting another pot anyway. So, you’ll be off for a ride now, to suss out the route, well okay, I’ll go and put my tent up and, er... just hang around I guess.

12.45pm, my tent - That’s yesterday’s newspaper finished, I wonder if the water in my kettle is still hot? I must say, the lads did seem very keen to get off on their ride this morning. They were so quick to leave that they forgot to say goodbye to the waitress... or pay their bill. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll get the money back later. What’s that? it sounded like a thumper changing gear. Hmmm, no, all I can hear is a steady drone. Perhaps I’m near an airport or something.

1.00pm - That drone is getting louder, I wonder what it is?

1.10pm - Jesus, what a racket! I’ve checked outsde the tent, but no buildings have fallen down and I can’t see any bombing raids going on. What the hell could it be? It’s nearly as loud as that bike that came to the Thumper Club rally ridden by that maniac Roger. It can’t be him though because only an idiot would ride a race-tuned SRX all the way to Holland.

1.15pm - Bloody hell! it is Roger! I can hardly hear myself think. And who’s that on the RD350? Oh heck, it’s Karen. Huddersfield’s answer to Posh and Becks have made it.

3.00pm - No it’s not my rally. That’s the third bloke to ask me if I’m in charge. Where the hell are Rene and Gerard? I’m fed up of directing people to their camping spaces. Here comes another one now, and surprise surprise it’s an SRX. I wouldn’t mind so much, but every time one of them comes over and looks at the GB, they all ask me the same question, ‘You have ridden this bike how far?’ Then they act all surprised as if they can’t believe I didn’t break down.

10.00pm, campsite bar - Rene has been telling me all about the Dutch custom of allowing a foreign guest to buy everyone a drink. They must really like me because this is my fifth round. Roger is trying to pull my leg by asking for a pint of sausages, as if anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that one. Here we go, that’s Rene’s drink, that’s Pascal’s, here’s yours Das, and Roger, here is your... bloody hell! it’s a pint glass full of tiny sausages!

3.00am, tent - Oi’m felling a liggle tired, andsh oi’ll be goink to shleep... in... a minu....

7.30am, Saturday 15th September, tent - Whassishwassat? brrrrr... oh my bloody head, oh God, someone’s started up their SRX. Pleeeease let me sleep!
11.15am, on the open road - This isn’t so bad, what was Jethro moaning about last year? these roads are fine. Hang on, Gerard has just crashed. No, he’s veered off into a tiny lane, I wonder if his brakes have failed? Oh no, they’re all following him and no-one’s slowing down. Ohmigod! Left, right, left, tighter left, christ that’s water down there! right again, whoah, hump-backed bridge, I feel sick, I want my mum.

12.45pm, Den Helder Naval Musuem - I’m on a submarine, or should that be I’m in a submarine? Hang on, Karen’s just found the button that makes the horn sound. Do you need a horn on a sub?

3.30pm, back on the road - I’m never going to make this corner... shit, shit, shit! That’s the last time I try and follow Karen on her RD. How much more of this can I take? I swear, if I ever catch up with Gerard I’ll kill him. I shouldn’t be so hard on the guy, he’s so wound up about making sure that we have a good time that he forgot to pay for his lunch at the naval musuem. Luckily I had some spare Guilders.

7.30pm, campsite restaurant - That was a good supper. Rene is a helpful bloke, he just offered to take my credit card to pay my bill, to save me the hassle. Ah, here he comes now... blimey, he’s bought everyone in the bar a drink, I really must make a point of thanking him. What a generous fellow.

2.30am, tent - oi’m feelink jusht a liggle tired agin, I canht ehsplane it. Oi’ve jush ben tellink Das andt Pascal that their Belgeen beer is crap andht not veree strong...

11.00am, Sunday16th, motorway - Oh no, the rain has reached my crotch. How bloody wet is this country? Got to speed up, got to get to the ferry. Lucky I filled up this morning, mind you that was doubly lucky because I nearly left my credit card behind. When Rene and I went for petrol he realised that he had kept my credit card by accident last night and had lost his. Luckily I paid for both our petrol and he’s promised to send me the money later on. What a great bunch of guys. Aha, here’s the turning for the Hook of Holland, it’s funny, most of the signposts are so good that I got to the rally with no hassle, but I didn’t once see a sign for the Hague.

5.00pm, Stena Seacat ferry - I think I’m going to be sick.