Day 5
May 17th, 2005
South Queensferry, Scotland
I slept like a rock last night, I mean I was tired. I logged over 400 miles on the VFR yesterday, and although it's a comfortable sport-touring bike, long stretches on the motorway are not its forte. The high speed wind noise and blast wears on a guy use to STs. Today will be much more suitable for the both of us-twisty roads in the Scottish Highlands.
Breakfast was toast and jam in the motel restaurant. I was missing my cell phone. I'm use to just picking it up and calling home or whoever anytime I want, but in the UK it's useless. There were plenty of pay phones but having the correct change handy is hard. The few that took credit cards were out of service, and when I DID find a unit that worked I had no idea what numbers to punch. I mean I didn't even know how to dial information, and I was not able to dial direct, because I didn't know the code for the U.S. I asked the young lady at the desk-
"hey sweetie, reckon, I can borrow ya phone book?" I figured it would hold the magic U.S. numbers in the front cover.
" A what?"
"a phone book"
" the telephone is over there"
"I know that, but I need the PHONE BOOK"
I could understand her Scottish brogue ok, but she was having trouble with my southern accent.
"A phone book?"
"yeah, those things with everybody's phone number in it"
She chuckled and said, "oh you mean the directory"
I found what I needed, but was still absent a working phone. There were no phones in the rooms.
We went downstairs to load the bikes, a nice sun but cool temps greeted us. The rally point to meet David is about 20 miles north on the motorway.
With a little shoe horning I shut the top box on the VFR and fired it up. We left the parking and headed out to meet David. The route took us across the Number 4 bridge (that's what they call it) a long, high bridge that starts the trek into the Highlands.
After crossing the bridge Uncle Phil took an exit. "What's up?" "Forgot my vest, gotta go back." We went back across the bridge to the motel and secured the missing item, and took off again.
Back across the bridge we went, then up the highway till we came to exit number 6, or as they say here, junction 6, at a place called Kinross. David advised there was a service station located here and he would be waiting. He brought an extra sweatshirt and glove liners, that I immediately put to use.
We were running late, so it was a quick fill up. We had a lot of miles to do today and we needed to get started.
It was a great of David to take a couple of extra days off to show us around Scotland. There is nothing like having a local show you the best roads. It saves a lot of time and you're sure to get in the best riding. I'm convinced this is the best way to tour a country such as the UK. Besides David is a good friend, and before we left the UK, had bonded with us more than he'd like to admit.
According to the VFR, the temp was 6 c, but I was ok. The extra clothes I picked up from Uncle Phil and David were working out nicely. The VFR with its limited wind protection was chilly, but I was making it.
I could see the hills and highlands we would soon be in. The landscape was green, and traffic was light.
Nothing at all like England. Shooting up the motorway at high speed I could see the disadvantage I had on the Viffer. On a ST 1300 85-90 mph feels like 50. Dial up the windscreen, and you're in a cocoon of still air and quiet. But on the VFR it was all I could do to stay on the bike. The wind blast hit me right in the head. But drop back down to 70-75 and the bike was fine.
Not seeing a driver on the left car interior was bothering me. Many times I looked there to make eye contact with the driver, only to have to find him on the right side.
David took us from the motorway to the roads and hills only he knows. He rides this area often, and is familiar with the ins and outs. We peeled of on A93 and began to climb in elevation. The temp gauge on the Viffer began to drop as we moved up.
The road grew twisty and narrow, and we began carving the Hondas in the many twists and curves. It was fantastic. Many sections of the road had no markings, you passed when you thought it was safe. That wasn't a problem because there was very little traffic.
In Greystone we went to B976 and then took A939. The Scottish villages were quaint, many nothing more than a few cottages, some sheep, and perhaps a stable. I found the pace of life much slower in the UK than America, and I'd say that's probably a good thing.
The large top box on the Viffer made the bike handle squirrelly in the twisties. It caused the rear to wallow around and was hard to hold in line. It was way too big for such a small bike. Despite that, the viffer handled really well. Clouds were forming around the mountain peaks, but for now it was sunny and the riding was good.
We changed routes often and as a result I was not able to keep up with the different route numbers but I will do the best I can.
The scenery was nothing short of excellent, and rides like this why we came to Scotland.
I had trouble keeping David and Phil in sight. The roads were irregular and it bounced the stiffer suspension VFR all around. Both are superior sport riders than I, as most of you know, I'm on the conservative side. I was more interested in taking pictures, and observing. David rides these hills often, noway I can ride with him, I know my limits. If I came home with a broken leg Debbie would kill me.
A few times I closed the gap on the STs, only to quickly fall off the pace, the concentration needed in the number 3 spot put me on edge. Instead, I was looking around at the small rivers, cottages, and hills. I feared my sightseeing would put me in a curve too hot, so I took it easy.
I saw a farmer on a lone tractor pulling some kind of wagon up a steep hill, a trail a sheep behind him. I wondered how he kept so many of them happy, and if he ate them or used them for wool.
Most of the morning I was poking along about 40 mph on the bumpy, narrow roads, too timid to go any faster.
A police car was situated on the crest of small slope coming out of a right hand curve. The officers were walking about the roadway with spray cans and measuring devices. Not a good sign. I slowly slipped by them. David told me later on, a sport rider was killed there over the weekend, when he ran wide in a curve and hit something. Not sure if it was a car or he left the road. The officers were on the scene documenting the facts.
Our first break of the day came at a place called Spittle of Glenshee. Not sure what that means. We took the Hondas in after some great riding.
The pub had a wood front with large timbers. A lazy looking black canine lounged around the door and looked to have the run of the place. He sniffed us on our way in, and then went about his business. Inside a large fireplace was host to a nice fire, and I stood in front of it for the longest. It felt good to knock the chill off. David told us just a few days ago the area was sunny and warm.