Elefantentreffen 2009 (long)

It was an absolute riot and anyone that thinks they want to go but
bottles it should be ashamed of themself.

The trip started well by us having to bodge the left hand silencer
back onto the R65 that Hog had purchased specially for this trip but a
drive to the local Halfords and 20 minutes on the drive saw it
repaired well enough to last the week out so that was ok.

Once my co-pilot had arrived we set off for Harwich with time a bit
short so we decided not to hang around on the A14 and try to maintain
a genuine 70mph all the way to Harwich. This was a mistake because
despite my efforts to sort out the handling on the outfit it still
handled like a pissed pig and was prone to randomly careering off
across both lanes. I'd never ridden it with it fully loaded and the
sidecar shock just wasn't up to the job so it wobbled up and down on
the spring with no damping at all. I'll buy a new sidecar shock and
new shocks for the leading links asap before it kills me.

We did our normal thing on the boat and got pissed then hauled
ourselves out of bed after about 5 hours and set off towards Germany.
Wednesday morning was about as cold as I could stand riding in because
even though the rest of me was warm enough my feet were absolutely
frozen by the time we stopped for a coffee and they stayed that way
until we reached the hotel.

We were taking it in turn to drive the beast and changing driver when
we stopped for fuel at 100 miles so I spent about 90 minutes in the
chair and amazingly enough quite enjoyed it. It's a bit draughty in
there but I was happy enough to sit smoking tabs and laughing at Platy
wrestling with the handling until lunchtime.

After the break I adjusted the rear shock to increase the damping and
load the spring a bit more and though it helped the same problem of
the bike rocking from side to side stayed for the rest of the trip.

We were on the last leg to the hotel and I'd had enough of drinking
beer and smoking so had started to doze off when I was slightly
disturbed by the sidecar mudguard bolts knocking lumps out of a car
which had cunningly hidden in the blind spot just as Platy was about
to overtake a lorry. We pulled over at the next services where details
were exchanged (witnessed by plod who were called by the car driver)
and then set off for the hotel in a slightly less cheerful mood.

The evening was fun with a large amount of alcohol and food consumed
before snatching a bit more sleep so we could be fully rested for the
weekend of fun.

Normal crap of alternating drivers got us to the site and we pitched
our tents on a fairly flat piece of ground close to a beer/food shack
before going and buying a decent stock of wood. We'd not been there
long before the sledge was brought out to play and I think that set
the tone because everyone came to watch the crazy Brits try to kill
themselves. We crashed a bit, drank plenty of beer, ate food and
retired to bed.

Cold? Apparently it went down to about -12c and I was not a happy
person. I'd got two sleeping bags but the outer one kept sliding down
leaving me a shivering wreck and things didn't get better all night.
There was a fair layer of hoar frost inside everyone's tent and the
first job in the morning was to get the fire going and drink coffee.

We all had a wander around the site in the morning and managed to find
a couple of British lads to say hello to before going back to drinking
and sledging until we went to bed at times ranging from midnight to
4am. I did try to amuse the Germans by playing Vera Lynn over my iPod
speakers and when we set the fire balloons off for the match against
the German rockets it was with The Dambusters theme music playing as
loud as the poor little speakers could manage.

Saturday was fairly quiet with fire and beer being the main things on
the agenda (and more sledging of course) before three of our finest
went drinking in what we'd come to call Mordor. I'll leave it to them
to describe it but they returned horribly drunk and were possibly
still pissed when we were packing up in the morning.

The ride back to the hotel went well and I was able to warm my feet
for the first time in three days before piling into the beer and food
once again. When I returned to my room I realised that my thermals
smelled so horrible that I needed to have the bedroom window open all
night to avoid dying but at least I slept in a comfortable bed with
radiators blasting out heat all night.

Sunday morning we left with Hog heading off to the local BMW dealers
to see if they could sort out his charging problems and that was the
end of him...

We were making good time towards the Hoek of Holland (according to the
satnav) and I'd discovered that I could ride through the weave and
cruise at an indicated speed of between 80 and 90mph but I was
slightly worried by the realisation that I was rapidly approaching
Antwerp. Not to worry because the satnav said it was ok so I battled
the ring road at 5pm and shortly afterwards we stopped for fuel and
coffee. We discussed the fact that we'd been to Antwerp and looked at
the only map we had to check things out. Being a single sheet showing
the whole of Europe it looked close enough but when we reached our
destination it finally became clear that there was more than one Hoek.

**** it.

Platy careered across southern Holland while I sat and cursed my
stupidity in the chair until we'd done the 100 odd miles and got to
the port before the boat sailed.

Beer on the boat (minus Hog who'd failed to make it) ended with us
deciding that we really need to go back next year even if it's only to
take a more robust sledge so we can goad the Germans into more
downhill racing.

The UK snow wasn't worth bothering with until I got to the end of our
road and the road was covered in heavily rutted ice so I gave the bike
plenty of throttle and did a few wheelspins until I reached home.

Everyone else will add their bit and you can buy Bike for if you want
plenty of photos. I really enjoyed myself and the only thing that
would make me miss it next year is doing something harder...

 

What happened to Hog in the end?

 

He missed the ferry.

 

[snip]

But those of us who've *never* thought that we wanted to go are OK, yes?

 

+1

 

Of course. Nobody was ever criticised for being a big girls blouse.

 

[snip]

but none of the activities you've described sound like any fun at all.

 

TFFT.

 

To be fair, I quite like a bit of "drinking beer" but not when it is
actually "drinking beer in the fucking freezing cold".

 

Gone AWOL. Damned bad show.

 

That's why I took a litre of brandy.

 

I assume so. Especially people like me who positively encourage other
people to go.

 

He engineered for himself an excuse to spend a night in Rotterdam. Like you
do.

 

Sounds? *Sounds*?

 

Copious beer: check
Camping in the freezing cold: check
Surrounded by people from the arctic wastes: check

Lets face it, it's just a three day BOSM.

 

And that's exactly why I've never done a *OSM either.

 

I wasn't cold camping and slept very well. I also stayed asleep - being
cold or uncomfortable would have woke me up after a bit, regardless of
how much beer (or schnapps for that matter) I'd shovelled down my throat.

...in the camping and clothing department the vast majority of my stuff is
used army surplus so it was dirt cheap.

British army cold weather socks £1 a pair, Swedish parka £18, German
boots £20, British army jumper £5, Danish work trousers £3, German shirts
£5 each - you do end up looking a bit olive but it's all warm and stands
up to fucking about on a snowy campsite. The sleeping bag I didn't pay
for but ex-army cold weather ones can be picked up for £20 or so. German
tank suit liners also come highly recommended by others.

My bike gear is of similar origin, certainly not top of the range Hein
Gericke - usual many layers topped by a 10 year old, much worn, much
crashed and much praised (by me) Bering textile jacket.

I wasn't cold riding - alright, I wasn't super toasty all the time but it
was all done without electrically heated stuff. Just layers (army
thermals, army shirt, army jumper).

I was certainly no colder than I've been in the UK and not in the kind of
agony that stops you using the clutch.

 

<waves>
I've got a tank suit. I don't tend to use the furry inner liner, because
it's - umm - shrunk, but the outer is fan-bloody-tastic as a pair of very
warm overalls.

Thinking about it, before it all - umm - shrunk, I rarely used to wear
the inner & outer together, since it was too damned hot for anything bar
standing around waiting for polar bears to find you.

 

I liked the ride, the camping, the drinking and it was all done in good
company so as a break from normal stuff it worked very well.

My concerns over the GT750's fuel consumption were swiftly allayed as I
discovered it would easily do 45 mpg with a monged out best of 58mpg.
Riding in a group seemed to make it better, riding with Burnt made it
worse.

I was super toasty and had done it on a cheapo budget - I also blended in
with the locals.

Beer with Schnnaps chasers in amongst the orcs then an invigorating climb
out of the amphitheatre through what would cause Hieronymus Bosch to shit
himself.

A picture I have no recollection of taking:
http://www.sweller.dynalias.org/images/mordorbarview.jpg

Burnt and I got lost in Rotterdam, fully loaded and on greasy, tram rail
lined roads - in the dark and at rush hour. Oh what fun. I hope there
weren't any gatsos on the red lights.

I attacked one high bridge at 90 but "luggage related crosswind issues"
saw me using three lanes and leaving the bridge much chastened and at
30mph.

I dimly recall something in the instructions not using the tank/tail bag
in the fully extended position on the tank.

Biggish pile up on the M23 this morning, filtering in the slushy bit,
tired and with full luggage was a bit tricky.

 

Indeed you did.

That Hein Gericke suit was a life saver. It's amazing how much of a
difference good kit makes, when riding. As for the camping thing: I was
fine with one decent doss-bag (£30 from Millets) and two blankets, plus
an air bed which was a bit too small to be comfortable.

Loads of themal undies as well.

The Doctor did complain that I whiffed a bit when I got home, but what
did she expect? Showers[1] and jacuzzis on site?

[1] There's a sick joke there somewhere.