Day five: Stromness to Ullapool; Thunder and lightning can be frightening but it takes gusting Orcadian wind to scare me

On Wednesday, I awoke to another world. A world of Orcadian wind. The tent was whipping around me, the entrance sheet cracking as it was flicked back and forth above my cooking gear. So this was what the local lady had told me about yesterday. The wind that defines the character of those who make there lives here.

I'd already decided it would be too hard to spend another day on Orkney because I had a personal commitment to be in the Warrington area on Thursday night. I'd been enjoying the experience so much, I was tempted to try for an early ferry and do the journey in a single day. But I also felt I'd cheated myself out of a ride along the north-west coast of mainland Scotland. So instead, I'd already decided to spend the morning riding down to the southern tip of the island to St Margaret's Hope where another ferry company runs a vehicle catamaran to Gill's Head near John O'Groats.

My phone battery died around this time so I could not blog on the move any more or get weather forecasts.( I'm now writing this after the fact, also because I was straight back into the hurly burly when home).

The forecasts were grim though: hail, torrential rain and high winds throughout Scotland, moving West to East. No avoiding them then.

I got my tent and gear stowed just as the first big drops started to fall. Lucky. Then I made my way out of the Stromness camp ground around the town and out towards Kirkwall. The gusting wind was emphasized by the concentrations of rain sweeping across the road in front of me. Could this really be the same place as yesterday?

Trucks and buses bearing down towards me on the little A road created white eddies in the spray and sheets of rain as the came on. Ruby and I were pushed and pulled a meter side to side by the wind, judderingly buffetted by the wash of the other vehicles.

A tractor ahead, 10 mph and the rain hosing us down. Gloves leaking badly now. Two sponges rather than rain gear. Ruby rumbling along, unperturbed. I was purturbed. Clear road ahead, down two gears and leaping past staying as upright as possible to avoid wheelspin weaving. Past. Onward to Kirkwall. The lightning begins. Sheet lightning, flashing across the sky above us. It's twilight illumination at midday in July. Through Kirkwall, heading south now up a long long hill. Reach the top and it is now forked lightning. Brilliantly illuminated. Cracking down to my left at intervals. I've never seen anything like this before. And still the gusting wind and rain. But the intensity of the rain easing. And stops. The eye of the storm. Lightning left and right now. No hail yet. The wind is still strong but not gusting. Down the mountain. Rain again but lighter than before. Into St Margarets Hope. No ferry until 6pm. I'd misread the timetable. Typical me.

With four unexpected hours to spend, I ride further south to the tomb of the eagles. Managed to find a spot of charge in the phone for a couple of photos.

Looking back inland from the tomb site

Burnt mound site. Sauna, probably.

View from the tomb out over the north sea

Another astonishingly old site, early bronze age'burnt mound! And burial chamber. Three mist and wind added to the ancient air of the place. The little museum is very cosy indeed with artefacts that are talked through and can be held. Such nice people running it.

Late pub lunch, on to the catamaran ferry with the rain finally peering out. Bike lashed down, ready to leave with the west coast road firmly in my mind. The ferry wad sure in at 7pm. It would be quite a erode to Ullapool but that was what I'd set my heart on.

I met a wonderful woman on the deck who was on the look out for orcas. Found myself talking and talking about life the universe and everything. I must have been a horrible bore. The journey was lovely, for the company, the wild life and the scenery.

I got my ride across the north coast, filling up in Thurso. About 150 miles of beauty beyond words.I'm not even going to try to explain the primordial splendour of that journey. I arrived in Ullapool at 11:30, exhausted from the concentration and wonder of it all. Tent up in 30 mins, for only for the oblivion of sleep.

Day four: Skara Brae is 5000 years old and Brough of Birsay is Beautiful

On the fourth day, I was looking at the world with different eyes. I'd achieved my aim in effect: I'd ridden as far north as I could in the UK without taking a long sea journey. Shetland is a lot further north but much more traveling by sea is involved. So on this day, I decided to do no more than amble around, trading in the atmosphere, discovering something about the island and it's culture. It was a good decision.

Camp cooker brewing tea, under an Orkney sky

The weather wad just beautiful. I was hearing takes of impossible heat in England and elsewhere. It was perfect on Orkney. All the more perfect after getting soaked doing Loch Ness yesterday. So after breakfasting on fried egg sandwiches ascends a gain of tea, I saddled up and rode out of Stomness campsite with the simple idea of taking small roads north, towards Skara Brae and Birsay.

Isle of Hoy in the distance

Ruby is 25 years old this year. I am 50 years old. Skara Brae is 5000 years old. There's some kind of mathematical rightness about this.  It is a Neolithic settlement on Orkney. Ruby and I visited it yesterday. That label, Neolithic, makes it sound as though it is a crude mound of boulders. Not at all. It is a network of homes connected by covered walkways, with spaces for beds, hearths and even display shelves built in to their sides. The stone work is clean and neat, with slim interlocking blocks like modern dry stone walling. I was super impressed, needless to say, by this place. 

Orkney is a fertile place that belies its northerly location. Apparently the gulf stream does it's work up here too. I was told I'd come on the nicest day of the year, with unprecedented views out over the Pentland Firth and across Skapa Flow. My ride took me first down a dead-end set of tracks with views out towards the Isle of Hoy. After a lovely chat with a local lady, I retraced my steps back to Stromness and headed north. My northerly mission could hardly end without visiting the most northerly point on this island. So I meandered along single-track farm lanes to Brough Head.

Paddling at Brough of Birsay, towards the northern tip of Orkney, was an incredibly peaceful experience. The rocks are hard and craggy, sloping into the sea with their strata creating ridges like frozen waves. 

The Brough is a headland accessible at low tide by walking across a causeway over a stretch of these ridges. Each of them the creates long tapering rock pools, about a foot wide and may be as deep. I took my boots and socks off, stretched out my toes and plunged them into the sandy pools here.The water was reasonably warm, having stood in the Orkney summer sun for a couple of hours. Little hermit crabs wandering along beside me in the crystal clear water. A family with a couple of children, 18 months and 4 years old, were enjoying the same experience next to me. That's what I call peaceful: being a parent myself, I could appreciate the discoveries they were making and hear their utterances as a kind of twittering song. 

I continued to ride around the main island for about 50 miles, enjoying bright sunlight that only faded to black at 11:30pm. It is an agrarian landscape, a jewel of gently rolling fertile hills in the North Sea.

But my visit. I'm told, hides the nature of the place. It might be temperate haven but the winds are legendary. No trees can stand against them except some willows in a few relatively sheltered spots. I was to discover this the next day.

Day three: Stromness is a long way from Somerset

I'm pretty tired right now. I've seen some amazing sights today, riding in the Scottish Highlands. I've had literal goose bumps twice from the awesomeness of it all. 722 miles ridden since I filled up in Bath on Saturday evening. The last 200 have had it ask, mountains, desolate valleys, fertile valleys. Rain. Mist. Rain. Fog. Wind. A golden patch of sunlight high on a hillside in the great Glenn. The smell of bracken and pine.

And now I'm camped in an impossibly ancient isle.

Wonderful.

Day one: A mechanical spruce up and Going North(ish)

I've been wanting to do a really big trip for ages. It's hard for me to get time between September and June. I've built up quite a bit of leave. So the time is right! I'm heading as far north as I can feasibly go. I plan to avoid motor ways for the most part, for maximum exposure to the joy of summer biking. I have six days. Crazy to go so far when nearly all those days will be taken traveling there and back. Except they are what I have and traveling by motorcycle is holiday for me.

Ruby has been running well when warm but not starting with much enthusiasm. And occasionally coughing. I'd bought some carb inlet rubbers a while ago knowing that the originals were marginal. So I decided to change them before I set off. Close inspection shows they are perished but I could not see cracks all the way through. Better without cracks though so a pleasing job to have done.

Perished carb inlet rubbers

 And the valves were due to be checked.

And if I was doing a big tour and fiddling with the valves, I thought I  might as well fit the blue cams again.

Still riding, 60800 miles and counting

Ruby is still rolling. I haven't done any significant work on her for a long time so things have been quiet on my blog. I've made a couple of good trips though, mainly out west to the wonderful and ancient Wales. 

 New tyres will be needed soon; I've got a pair of Meltzer Z6 ready to go on. It's greeting harder to find options for the rear wheel in what is now an unusual size. 

A rack for going places, after a big trip to Norwich

Tim sent me a rack that was surplus to his requirements. Cool. I'd been on a big trip with my son earlier in the summer. We went to Norfolk for a weekend; a 500 mile round-trip from Somerset. It was wet but lots of fun, including a stop at an american diner. I'm guessing it was a relic or tribute to the American airmen of the Mighty Eighth in World War II.

Although I'm pleased to say Ruby revelled in the journey, easily settling into fast cruise mode, it was a bit of a squeeze for us. 

We managed with throw-overs and a tank bag. He was sandwiched between a tent on one side (blue package in the pictures above) and our roll mats (black package) on the other. The throwovers were OK but did rub on the rear indicators and it wasn't easy to secure the bungees for the bags without catching the paintwork. So I was really pleased when Tim said he had a rack going spare. 

The rack fixes to four sturdy points on the Triumph's rear subframe. These are all to M8 captive nuts: two intended for the grab rail and two for the tubular steel exhaust/pillion peg hanger.

I'd already made use of the right-hand exhaust hanger to mount my Scott Oiler so wasn't sure if I'd have to relocate it. No problem, as it turned out, because there is actually quite  a lot of space available behind the Mark 1 rear panels. 

Unfortunately, it was not easy to bolt the rack in place because it had to fit over the rear panels, but the rear panels restrict access to the bolt for the exhaust hanger. Nothing that patience couldn't solve but still, it was a fiddly business. 

Access to the retaining bolts was very tight

The rack is now firmly in place and I think it makes a tidy addition to the bike. As ever, beauty is in the eye of the beholder so your opinion may differ.

Six spoke wheels

I'd borrowed the hollow three spoke Brembo wheels from my Daytona, pending a posh polish and paint job on the original six solid spoke SNW Trophy wheels. Meanwhile, Tim decided he had no use for his six spokers so I thought I'd make use of them (cheers Tim) as a way of returning Streaky his wheels. First off, ditch the 20 year old rubber tubeless valves. For a few pounds, it just isn't worth trusting these critical components. I've seen the front tyre of a bike blow out on a motorway. Not pretty.

Tim's wheels were a bit tired but otherwise in decent condition. I decided to give them a simple tidy up with some steel coloured wheel paint I had for years. Literally. I went for a steel colour because I thought it would pick up the graphite stripe on the Trophy bodywork, rather than the aluminium colour these wheels came in.

After a good scrub with a nylon pad, degreaser and CIF, I could see the paint on the rims was very thin and flaking. So a went over the edges with wet and dry. Also, I treated the inner surface of the rims where they had suffered from tyre irons in the past. 

Tyre iron groove ...

... treated to a foam block and wet and dry ...

... until all is smooth again.

I had some grey primer so treated the wheels to a coat of that to start with.

Unfortunately, there was still some flaky paint around the bare ally on the rim and it didn't take very well. So more rubbing back, more primer - still not great but as I was determined not to agonise over the finish, I went on to the wheel paint.

Not bad ... at a distance

Rubbing back Simoniz steel colour wheel paint as it reacts again

Well, more reaction followed, more rubbing back, more wheel paint. I think they are pretty good now.

I installed a new 160/60ZR18 Avon Storm 2 on the rear wheel ... 

... and then noticed how the inner faces of the swingarm had suffered last winter. So more rubbing back - with steel wool this time - but special metals primer this time. Marvellous. Why didn't I use it on the wheels? No idea other than this time I wasn't thinking about a quick job. I was thinking of a sound one.



As a consequence, the paint took beautifully and no futher rubbing back was required so it was actually quicker anyway. When will I ever learn.

Good as new

With the rear wheel reinstalled, I can see that the rear of the bike sits higher now. Tim discovered that there is a difference in the length of the rear shock absorber for bikes with an 18 inch rear wheel and the later 17 inch rear wheel. That figures, with the difference in stance of my bike, back on a wheel it was originally spec'd for.

Better stance with 18 inch rear wheel and original shocker

I have not yet finished the front wheel but Ruby Trophy 12 is blasting around Somerset and Wiltshire again. Soo smoooth on the new chain and new rear tyre.

Ah,  Summer time

Red is the colour - Painting a cam cover

Sorting out scabby cylinder head covers

I've been disappointed with my attempts to repaint the original engine covers of my 1991 Trophy 1200. Although I did my very best to strip off all the old paint, I was unable to get every last spec of failed silver paint off of the clutch cover because the casting has some tricky recesses for its retaining bolts. The cylinder head cover (or cam cover, if you prefer) and crank end covers are not as bad but still quite a bit less than nice. Time to do something about it - but how without being off the road?

'No' to being without working wheels; 'no' to scabby covers for Ruby

Dirty scabby sick 2001 engine

Cleaned but no less scabby 2001 engine

The new paint I'd applied to my 1991 Trophy engine has not adhered properly over the old failed paint. Result: new failed paint. Also, the VHT Clear lacquer has gone yellow and started to come away in some places. I used this clear coat over the silver heat resistant paint to get a finish that was close to the original. I now regret trying to repaint this with rattle cans and am going to go for a powder coat instead. However, I don't want to be without my 'triffic Trophy any longer than necessary, especially as the weather has been getting better. So I've been in a quandry about hating the insult of scabby cases that currently adorn my beloved bike and hating the idea of being off the road. Meanwhile, I hadn't done anything with the sick 2001 Trophy engine I'd bought last year, since stripping the top end. So maybe there was a solution here to my quandry?

Borrowed covers

I decided to use the cam, right-hand and left-hand crank engine covers from the 2001 Trophy engine as a temporary measure, plus the clutch cover from by Daytona engine. Yes, another piece of Daytona is temporarily migrating to the Trophy! Even then, the 2001 covers are even more horrible - and would need refurbishing anyway sooner or later. I decided I'd start the process off by working on the cam cover. It is a large casting and, as the picture above shows, had lost a considerable amount of its original black powder coat. I thought it would be a simple matter to shift the rest of it.

Paint stripper is rubbish, wire wheels are harsh and hard work ...

Well I was wrong. I used two types of paint stripper with Scotch abrasive scourers (fancy nylon scrubbers). Despite multiple applications, even leaving the cover in a plastic carrier bag with stripper over night, there were still some patches  that just wouldn't budge. Also, I was left with pitting and quite a number of blotchy dark grey areas in the casting where corrosion had wormed its way into the alloy.

After a lot of work with scourers and paint stripper, most of the powder coat has gone but pits and corrosion remained

In the end I had to resort to a wire brushes and a rotary ginding wheel on a drill and minigrinder (cheap Dremel clone). It took hours. I wouldn't do it again - taking it to a blaster would have been the smart thing to do. Oh well.

Washed down with degreaser

Belt sanding ribs

Ultimately, I was pleased with the finish I obtained although to get rid of pitting I had to remove quite a lot of aluminium from the ribbing that runs across the top. I used a belt sander for that - very harsh but much more helpful than a rotary wheel for keeping the surface flat. A good wash down with degreaser and I was content to get the paint out again. This time, I decided to go red because I had a can in my garage and, as a spare, I am looking at the 2001 engine as an opportunity to experiment some more.

Shiney Red Cylinder Head Cover: Mission Accomplished

After the first coat of red, I could see that the dark grey areas were not covering over very well. I had a tin of VHT Black so I gave the cover a blow over with that as an even colour  - like a primer - to work with and then started again with the red. This time, the red enamel was covering evenly. I built up the coverage in thin layers, each time using a hot air drier to partially cure the paint as I went.



Finally, I decided to use up the last of my VHT Clear. Yes, the same lacquer that had failed on my other covers, Clear lacquer makes such a difference to solid colours I thought I'd risk it. Also, if it does yellow, the effect will be less noticeable over red than over silver. We'll see. 

Red enamel and VHT Clear - a bit of fun

The result looks good to me for now. So I'm ready to swap the cam cover over, maybe this weekend, and to take the originals to a local coater.