This is where I live.

I implied on FaceBook this morning that I might be bored. People had already blown the results of the two sporting events I recorded yesterday and I'd already washed the car. A biker mate of mine suggested I take my 'little' Blade out for a spin. He does have an R1, are they that much bigger?

Anyway, Jeanette saw it and said "Simon's right. You should go out on the bike"......................

Conditions are perfect. It's dry, not too warm and I'm on my own. Spot on. So I slung the compact over my shoulder, filled up and wazzed down the A38 for 12 miles and swung up onto Dartmoor at Ashburton.

This is Holne Bridge. Quite high over a quite shallow stretch of the River Dart. It was the finish point of the Dart Descent, an airbed river descent that took place in the dead of winter. The first time my brother and I completed it, the old hacks said we had to jump from the bridge as an initiation. They waited until we had, honestly, broken off the ice on the backs of our drysuits and were stood on the parapet before they told us it was a joke and that it was way too dangerous. Kevin and I looked at each other, shrugged, held hands and jumped anyway, then never bought a drink for the rest of the day.



Its a 90 left, 90 right, single track road, blind in both directions. Not a knee down spot.







It's also a stone's throw from Buckfastleigh. Yes Colin, that Buckfastleigh.

From there I started to climb the forested switchback up onto the moor proper and stopped at Poundsgate. I'd forgotten my paddock puck so balancing Bill on his sidestand was an exercise in faith. It was worth it though, in my opinion.









The thread title says it better than I can put the words to. I'm still less than 20 miles from my front door at this point.

 

In recent years, the National Park has instigated a blanket 40 mph on the open crown of the moor to protect the wildlife. The petrolhead in me balked a bit at this as it is where I learned to drive fast when I was a youngster and it seemed like sacrilege to me at the time, but they were right. Besides, on a bike, being that much higher up, 25 mph gives you a loads better viewpoint and more time to appreciate it. Plus you get to interact with these geezers on a much more social level...



This young lady was very attracted to both my camera and the bike...





...and despite her giving me the 'come hither' eye...



...she was massively pregnant........and tried to eat my gloves, and I had enough of girls like that in my youth.

I left in a hurry and went onwards through Dartmeet, a strange place at the bottom of a loooooong 1:4 twisty hill where every bend is opposite camber and really throws your equilibrium. By the time I reached the bottom I was doing about 15 mph just to stay comfortable. Back up out of the other side and on to Two Bridges with the prison on the opposite side of the valley then turned onto the B3212 for the, more or less, straight run back through the heart of the National Park. An SV1000 went past me with scant regard for the speed limit, closely followed by a two up SP2. Gawd know what the pipes were on it but it sounded like they'd been made by THX. I barely resisted the urge to tag along just to hear more of it. I stopped for one more picture rest, by the old powder mills, looking up the road to come then cracked on.





Once you come out of the blanket 40 mph zone you drop down into the wooded twisties and hills that pull your fangs down. 2nd and 3rd only, screaming at quite lowish speeds but rocketing up to the next anchor on, shift down two then start all over again. The last 10 miles back down into Exeter I never got into 4th, but...the evidence and detritus from constant redressing has ruined the road. loose grit on apexes, and scoured tarmac where the loose crap has ground out the surface. With Si's misfortune high in my mind I really had no faith in the front on most of the blind crests I was taking descending back home.

Still, that didn't spoil a cracking ride out and all of the above in a mere 53 mile round trip.

 

Thanks guys. I rarely take a camera with me as it doesn't fit in the 'boot' well. At motorway speeds the small camera case I use for it tends to slap a bit so its quite wearing. I only did about 10 miles on the dual carriageway so I could live with it that long. The place was relatively deserted though and anything that did get in the way was easy to pick off.

I do know now though that evolution has given non stinging insects a compensation for not being able to inflict pain. Open visors. For one glorious, kamikaze second they are granted hornet like powers. Nirvana for bugs.

The Tarmac up there is a mess though and I think every junction I could hear the front wheel trying to wash out, so I was being very girly. Sorry Jimbo. However, I just put Bill away and noticed that the fresh dust on the chicken strips are only an inch off the bead so maybe I was more upright in my head.

I do enjoy riding on my own though. The need for constant communication in a group does take away that 'Oh, I fancy the look of that turning' that really cheered me up this morning.

 

Love the pics

 

It's great following the old A30. It's a shame not more of it's left.