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First Landmark! Yahoo!
On St Patrick's Day 1997 I got my stuff to
gether, had the usual panics and crises, and ultimately set out to
Rothwell at twenty past twelve. I had a detour in mind.
At first I was riding with a couple of
Harleys, but they didn't leave the A505 with me. Still, it was nice to ride
in a sort of formation and gave the journey a good start. I got onto the
M1 and started heading North. It was chilly, a bit windy, but not too bad
at all.
I took the journey steady, and had my lunch at Watford Gap.
The service station food was incredibly expensive and poor quality - the
"jumbo" burger was lost in a slightly stale large bun with a pitiful
smear of relish - but it filled in
my own gap, and then I filled in Katie's gap and off we went again.
The traffic was reasonably light and I stopped frequently for rests and
petrol. I suppose I filled her up more often than was required, but I'd
rather do it that way round than run out! At junction 24, I left and went
to find Gotham, my first successful Landmark.
Gotham
I guessed which way I was supposed to go and ended up riding in pretty
rural Nottinghamshire. (The roadsign pointing to Gotham had fallen over,
but I remembered something of the lie of the land from the map, and thus
went the right way.) I also recalled the power station as a pointer. Before very long, I found Gotham, a relatively
sleepy and pretty village with not a bat or Goth in sight!
The problem, just like at Ducks Cross, was finding somewhere with the
place name on it! There was no place placard, and the school was full of
kids, playing. But, in the end, I found the church, and parked up on the
pavement in front of it for the photo call.
I felt absurdly pleased with myself even if my hands were
shaking - perhaps from the vibration of the journey,
tiredness, the slight feeling of silliness involved in taking
photographs of my own bike in front of a church... Who knows.
Leaving Gotham was entertaining as the signs for the M1 all seemed to be
facing the other way from where I was riding (as if you weren't supposed
to leave... Stephen King comes to mind...) . But I found my way back, and
carried on driving. It even became sunny.
I stopped just before the M62, as I wasn't quite sure how much
petrol I had, and also I was a bit cold and needed a break. In the end I found I
could have made it, but the risk wasn't worth taking. I reached Rothwell
just before the rush hour traffic got bad.
I had ridden 180 miles, probably over five and a quarter hours, and was
glad to be in a warm. house with tea and mugs :-)
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This document created 16 Sep 1998
Last update 07 Nov 2003
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