Work can wait...
Who wants to spend summer inside when there’s a Tiger 1200 to ride?
I’D ALREADY PREPPED the Tiger with a bigger rack from Alt-rider (£97.61, www.adventurebikeshop.co.uk). I’d even prepped my camping kit, packing it into the excellent Moto Fizz Camping Seat Bag (£159, www.nippynormans.com). All I needed was the chance to go camping.
But when? Every weekend was busy. There was so much to do in the week. Then I remembered the magic word: delegation. “Martin, could you just…” I
muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”
I had no idea where to go, so put a poll on Twitter: Should I camp in Norfolk, the Peaks, the North York Moors or the Lakes? In my head, I was just popping 60 miles or so to Wells-next-the-sea. Got home, fixed the huge bag to the back of the Tiger and checked Twitter… almost unanimously in favour of the Lake District. More like 200 miles. Gulp.
I shouldn’t have worried: the Tiger is great at demolishing distance. At first I stuck with the A1 to cover ground. The Triumph’s self-adjusting preload quietly compensated for the extra luggage and there was no wobble at all.
At Leeming Bar I dived off through the Dales: much better than motorway. I made it to the excellent Castlerigg Hall campsite (www.castlerigg.co.uk) with just enough time to pitch the tent and grab a shower, a pint and a burger.
Next morning the tent packed easily into the huge bag. I knew I should head south but it’d be a shame to come all this way and not ride any of the passes…
By lunchtime I was sitting outside the Bluebird Café on Coniston Water, having ridden Honister, Newlands, Whinlatter, Hardknot and Wrynose passes (and gone up to Wast Water for good measure). It was great riding, drawing out the other half of the Tiger’s character: the quick-steering, surefooted one. Even fully loaded it managed to dance through the corners. Third gear covered about 60% of the riding, only dipping down for the hairpins and rarely needing more speed than it could offer.
What was that magic word? Oh yes: delegation. I phoned the office. “Martin, about this afternoon…”