The plan for this one began as they normally do over either a beer or some heart attack inducing food. It was the latter in this case with a cold early November morning ride out starting at the midway truck stop on the outskirts of whichurch.
I turned up 10 minutes late but was immeditly able to spot the florecent yellow K1200 that belonged to Richard (I like to moan over the intercom) Edwards.
The plan is simple, has to be really for men of our age! we will ride down to Italy during the Easter weekend of 2015, tour the coastline of Italy, pop over to Scicilly on the Ferry and fire back to the UK before anyone realises we have gone.
So far we have signed up quite a list of adventurers for this particular trip, me and Richard! I am sure when other bikers latch onto our complete lack of planning, the intense heat we will see in southern Italy and the inevitable breakdown adventure (planning to complete the trip on an Italian made bike) they will be queuing to get their names on the list.
The breakfast at the Midway lived up to its reputation by taking a year off our already shortened life expectancy. Richard went up for seconds and was told "I think you have had enough sir". I was worried he might kick off but he just burped and said "I'll take my custom elsewhere then".
We headed out to the cat and fiddle, once famous for being the most dangerous road in the UK but now famous for being a fantastic road spoiled by average speed camera.
We stopped off at the Cat and Fiddle pub for a brew and a warm. This is the second highest pub in England and as such gets very cold up there this time of year. The real log fire is very welcoming and you really don't want to leave once you have settled down for a warming brew.
From there we headed out to Matlock Bath, Richard was still sulking over his lack of breakfast seconds or "pudding" as he likes to refer to it. I was worried about his collesterol and felt that without his wife here to look after him the role of dietician fell to me.
We were torn between Chip Shop A and Chip Shop B, both looked inviting but the decision was finally made for us when Chip Shop B's owner came out and told us that Chip Shop A was "sh!te".
Taking this impartial review into consideration we settled down for a couple of Chip Shop B's finest chip sandwiches, and fine they were too. Richard tried for seconds again but was appeased when I pointed out there was still some salty oil left on his plate.
Plate licked clean and we headed off home somewhat heavier but happy.
from the look of this route we will need a few dingy's
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