The Isle of
Wight Scurry 2011
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photo to see a larger picture - then just click your back button
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The whole of the Scurry event is defined by the sponsorship that
the VMCC's IOW section get from the Wightlink Ferry company and this
year the company decided to restrict the free ferry crossings to Friday
out and Monday back which caused quite a bit of re-organising of the
event. Terry and Dilys with their 1931 Ariel and Jean and I with our
1925 Indian had entered and booked for ferries around the midday on the
Friday. The weather was threatening to be pretty awful for the drive to
Lymington but as it happened we seemed to be running before the storm
and made it all the way to the venue in the dry.
The event
was based at the Whitecliffe Bay Holiday Park with Terry and
Dilys staying in their motor home whilst Jean and I had booked
a
chalet, as we had done in the past. Things didn't get off to a good
start as we arrived at 3.15pm to be met with a proper 'jobsworth'
welcome. "You can't have the key until 4pm", we were told. I
remonstrated that we'd been on the road since 9am and that our
paperwork stated that the site was open from 2pm - didn't work, I'm
afraid, so we headed for the bar and a much needed coffee. 
There
was the option of a buffet on site that evening but having had a really
poor and overpriced one in the past we opted for the local pub and a
proper feed, which was excellent. We then joined the meeting back on
site, signed on and talked the night away with quite a few old friends.
Saturday
dawned and we had the option of a long or short route for the morning
before ending up in St Thomas's square in the centre of Newport where
the bikes would be displayed for a few hours. The local newspaper 'The
County Press' was to be in attendance and I was to look after the local
dignitary and help with the selection of - well, I must say
that
I wasn't sure - but it was not for concours and more for 'The bike I
liked the most'. Back at the start and the weather was not looking too
good as we all assembled:
The rain
started as we left the site and set off for Shanklin and then
Sandown. There was the option of taking a shorter route to Newport from
Sandown but I never saw the signpost, not that we were looking for it,
honest. Within 5 minutes of leaving the start my sooper-dooper new RST
riding suite decided to let the water in with consumate ease and by the
time we had reached Sandown I was soaked from the waist down - ughh. We
continued along the coast road with all it's marvellous views that we
couldn't see due to the low cloud and miserable weather. On reaching
Niton we turned inland and headed north towards Newport. We were met
with some heavy traffic from the outskirts of Newport and eventually
managed to get into the centre and St Thomas's square. First need, was
an over-priced coffee, accompanied by a tasteless bacon butty. Things
had to improve, I thought, as I sat there in a suit full of water - but
it was warming up, I must say. Next thing was that I had to find the
'local dignitary' and select one of the bikes to receive 'The County
Press Trophy'.
As
it happened the dignitary didn't turn up so the job was down to me and
as no one offered me a bribe I selected the 1926 Ivy, which was a very
nice bike. By now the sun was out and in no time at all I was nodding
off in the sunshine on one of the benches in the square.
One of
the local traffic police turned up and had a real go at the marshall
who was directing us into the square. He maintained that we were all
crossing a pedestrian only area and shouldn't have been there at all.
The marshall quoted chapter and verse on our permissions to hold the
display and the Policeman went off to check. Not much later, the
Policeman returned and said that it had been confirmed. He then asked
what the organising club was and when told that it was the Isle of
Wight Section of the Vintage Motor Cycle Club he said "I'm
going to
join". Now that's something for you.
At 2pm the bikes started to
move off, so Terry and I started our machines and we set off
into Newport's Town Centre traffic. We'd gone a mile or so and
then I realised that I had left my camera beside the bench in the
square. Jean was unceremoniously dropped off in a layby as I turned the
Indian round and headed back into town. The camera, of course, was
gone. Not a good day, I thought, as I headed for the local police
station to report the loss. Back at the layby I collected Jeannie and
we set off towards Sandown airport and the arranged visit to 'Airframe
Assemblies'.
As
we arrived, there was Terry holding my camera bag - if he was only a
bit prettier I'd have given him a kiss. Seems that a member of the
public picked the camera up and handed it to one of the
riders,
who passed it on to the event organiser and hence on to Terry. Being a
Canon SLR 300D it wasn't a cheap purchase when new and I was pleased to
be re-united with it - and darned lucky as well.
Airframe
Assemblies are specialists in re-building WWII Spitfires and had
several in house that were being worked on. I hate to think of the cost
of each one as it was very much a case of 'conserve' rather
than make new - talk about 'boys and their toys'.
Back
at our chalet it was a case of getting out of the wet but warm suit and
hang it all up in the hope that it would dry by morning. We ate in the
main site bar that evening with the food being more than acceptable,
after which we joined the other entrants in the main meeting room. A
quiz was laid on but I must say that it was not at all satisfactory.
Four boards with pictures pasted on them for identification.
The
problem was that after an hour, not one board had arrived at our table
and they seemed to 'stick' when on a table until everyone was fed up
with looking at the pictures. Terry and Dilys were the first to leave,
as Terry wanted to get to bed as he planned to get up at 4.30am to
watch Wales play Samoa. Jean and I soon followed.
Sunday morning
dawned and the day of the Scurry looked a bit better weatherwise. The
clothes had dried overnight, thank goodness, and I decided not to take
the camera - well, you can guess why. There were quite a
few more
bikes at the assembly point and at 10am we all set off. We
found
ourselves in the middle of a large gaggle of machines that were all
jockeying for position. To make matters worse there was a cycling event
on the Island and the road was pretty crowded with cyclists of all
shapes and sizes wobbling all over the place. However, the icing on the
cake, if that's what it
was, threw a double decker bus into the mix along with a few cars. I
stopped and let the whole convoy go as it wasn't easy trying to keep
the Indian on the move with a foot clutch and left hand throttle.
We
crossed the main road in Brading and were soon out into the country on
a very narrow road. Things stayed like that for most of the morning and
I was sure that our route had been given to the cyclists as well. No
sooner had they been directed away from our road than our route
rejoined theirs again just a bit further on. We just couldn't
shake them off all morning and it was made doubly difficult when
following an outfit as they couldn't get past the slow moving cyclists.
I did think at one point of changing the cycle route signs
around
so as to send them off somewhere else. After two and a half hours of
bumping along on very narrow roads with lousy surfaces I was completely
fed up - and we'd only covered 35 miles. Then came the oasis in the
desert as we came across Fran and Harry Wiles having a coffee outside
the Sun Inn in Calbourne. It was no contest, we stopped as well. The
sun was shining a touch and things started to look a bit better
with the world. The remaining 12 miles or so were a little easier and I
think that we were just about last as we rode into the lunch stop at
the East Cowes Community Centre. Terry and Dilys had been there for
quite some time as they had got lost earlier and so had headed straight
for lunch - very sensible, I thought.
The lunch was a
ploughmans and was quite satisfying as long as you wanted ham, ham or
ham. Outside, and the bikes were beginning to move off and there were
also a few drops of the wet stuff falling, so we soon got moving. The
route back was supposed to be easier - at least it was shorter, so that
was a plus. Firstly we made our way to the chain ferry that operates
between East and West Cowes and after crossing the river Medway we were
soon on our way towards Ryde via the back roads. Then the heavens
decided to open and dump bucket loads of water on us. We tried to
shelter under a tree and as I stood there with the rain bouncing off
the road and my RST motorcycle trousers starting to soak up the water,
things started to look bleaker and so we decided to carry on
and as soon as we could, head straight back to the finish. We
were
travelling along the seafront at one point where we lost Terry as the
Ariel motor decided to just cut out. I must say that I didn't notice
that he
wasn't behind us as I was concentrating on seeing through the
horizontal rain, avoiding the puddles and dodging the traffic calming
islands that made the
road more like a slalom course.
Back at base and it was a case
of yet again get the wet togs off and get into a hot bath. No sooner
had we got indoors and the heavens opened again - it sure did pour
down. In between the downpours I managed to get the bike loaded onto
the trailer and ready for the following mornings drive home. Later that
evening
we met Terry and Dilys in the main room used for the event and Terry
recounted the troubles that had stopped the Ariel. Seems that a change
of spark plug was all that was needed, thank goodness.
The
evening rounded off with a super buffet, which we had booked into this
time. Awards were made, thanks made etc, and the event was closed. I
suppose that it was a memorable weekend for all the wrong reasons. Who
can control the weather, other road users, bloody cyclists and the
£4.75 price of bacon butties. Not forgetting the Isle of Wight Councils
plan of leaving the roads in a poor state so as to act as a traffic
calming measure. We did have a good time though, really we did - and
I'll go back, for sure.
BP
Top of page
As
we arrived, there was Terry holding my camera bag - if he was only a
bit prettier I'd have given him a kiss. Seems that a member of the
public picked the camera up and handed it to one of the
riders,
who passed it on to the event organiser and hence on to Terry. Being a
Canon SLR 300D it wasn't a cheap purchase when new and I was pleased to
be re-united with it - and darned lucky as well.
