Writers block is starting to crumble, confidence is returning .

I am back to tell you about our adventure with the 2015 TT Race.

But before we board the ferry to really start our adventure.

Lets go down a few country roads, a highway, a few back-streets and through some villages with the most unusual names which The Organiser explained were real words and names of streets/villages, just written in Welsh,  and catch up with SOTO and her Hubby.  Now for those who don’t remember who SOTO is=Sister Of The Organiser, and her Hubby we first met them last year in Chester and felt instantly encompassed within a beautiful dynamic family.

The Orgniser is the younger brother and the ‘apple of SOTO’s eye’.  The dynamics between these two is something to behold.  They support each other, love each other fiercely and stir each other with cheeky smiles, twinkling eyes and always talk about their beloved parents.  This is a beautiful thing to witness as we have both felt that after a couple of hours encompassed within this beautiful family, Yellow Thunder and I have met, shared and felt the love this family has (from the stories of the family vacations and antics of their cheeky Dad and beautiful  Mum who have departed physically but are always close by).

SOTO has three daughters who are each spoken of with such pride, love and adoration by SOTO, her Hubby and their Uncle.  They are grown women with THE BEST names and girl could be blessed with- Emily, Verity and Christabel

Ok enough background for you to understand how honoured Yellow Thunder and I fell to be part of such a family.

So we pile into The Orgnisers beast (lucky it is very comfortable in the back) on a cool, brisk Wednesday morning remembering to wish my dearest friend a Happy Birthday, and head out of the driveway.

The Adventure begins and we are off to Wales.  Now for those who actually know me know that my directional skills, map reading skills,  and following verbal directions are all skills that I have never possessed and so I do not miss them.  So when The Organiser gave detailed directions, using words I had heard of and had a vague idea what they meant- we head in a northerly direction for three miles, turn left and ……..  He stopped talkng, took a look at the vacant look on my face and stated that it is just down the road to SOTO’s holiday house, naturally I thought that it was just down the road.


Just a reminder of what all the fuss and chatter was about.

We took off, armed with our cameras, excitement building with the journey ahead full of enlightening conversation, so I settled in the back of the Beast, listened idly as Yellow Thunder and The Organiser talked incessantly about bikes, bikes and bikes.  This is a lovely thing to witness for about 10mins, but nearly 4 hours it is better than any sleeping pill. wpid-20150603_120953.jpg

Miles slide past the car window, the view ever changing.  Homes built side-by-side, doors and windows backing onto the footpath, road narrow enough to fit one car going in one direction, open highways, glimpses of castles nestled on hills, tantalizing views of the sea as we keep travelling- heading for lunch and laughs.



As we head uphll, road narrowing, the beautiful scent of the sea wafting through the crack in the window, the end is in sight.

Tricked You.

We still have 2 hours to go.

Now we must back-pedal just for a moment.  Before we left Malaysia, Yellow Thunder had ined up two new job interviews.  These unfortunately fell within the two weeks of us being abroad.  He had recieved one call about a pending job whilst standing in a beautiful Italian Church and monastery.  There was a second call due today.  This meant that The Organiser and I needed to give him privacy so he could apply for another position.

As the hour drew near, still being on the road, The Organiser decided that if we could find a petrol station along the way, we could pop in and give Yellow Thunder some peace.  So we had 2 minutes left, and yes my bladder was letting me know that it was time to rest and take notice of it.

“Spoto a petrol station” was called from the backseat – first called by my bladder then my mouth.

We pulled over opposite the station.  Parked beside a crude wire fence and cobblestoned wall infront of a rickety wire gate that lead into a thick green lush meadow which although we could not physically see any inhabitants, we could smell them.

Doors unlocked, The Organiser and I left the beast as Yellow Thunder’s phone rang.  Thumbs up sign sent to him with my fingers crossed, we wandered over to the petrol station.  Refreshements bought, restroom sought, reading material  viewed we settled in to wait to be summoned back to the beast to resume the adventure.

An hour later, a frantic call to SOTO after realising that it was 3 hours since we had left the Hobbit House and we still had an hour to go, we were summond back to the car while a beaming Yellow Thunder related his call and how confident he felt.  This is the same response we had after the first call in Italy.

Back on the road again.

Hills flying past, beautiful lush meadows with shaggy inhabitants lifting their heads, more castles poking their spires towards the heavens, quaint homes blurring before our eyes, strange signs written in some form of language with the english interpretation underneath we made our way to SOTO’s house.


Up another hill, through another village a beautiful bay spreading out below us, we climbed along an extremely narrow road where perched on the top was a gorgeous home.  The front windows were interlaced into a beautiful cobblestoned wall which backed straight onto the road, the front door facing a small one car carpark.  SOTO’s hubby came out to greet us and directed us to park in the nextdoor neighbours driveway as they are currently away.

A huge clay lifelike representation of a seagull was perched on the gate.  Obviously this was to scare any intruders away who inadvertantly were carrying food, were a feline or canine or just wanted to pass.  It worked.  I took the wide berth and scooted past the gate-just incase it took to flight and pooped on me like so many other gulls have been known to do.

We entered the home- it had a gorgeous nautical theme running through each room, open planed rooms, steps that led to an alluringly soft couch that beckoned us to sit.  As I longingly gazed at the couch (Yes I had just spent 4 hours sitting in the car, and we all know how exhausting that is) a noise drew my attention to the left.

There she was.

SOTO’s sister, full of love, hugs, beaming smiles, genuine warmth and a chilled glass of white wine and a guiding arm to what lay aheaad.

Ascending a small flight of steps, two massive glass doors were opened revealling one of the most beautiful views.



Oh I can see why we would travel so long for such an awesome view.

A comfortable wicker and feathered couch lay waiting for bodies to lounge and drink in such an awesome view.  Behind us was a table straining under the weight of cheeses, meats, desserts, olives etc, all waiting to be consumed by hungry Aussies and our chauffeur.

After an hour of catching up, laughing, eating, drinking, being warmed by a glorious sun, some bright spark suggested a walk along the beach.  Now if you look back at the pictures I have posted, you can see the roof of the neighbours house and the bay behind it.  Now, take into account I have a full belly, a merry wine mind, my legs have blood circulating though them again, my tooshie has feeling, my bones are warm….and they want to make walk 500 miles and I will walk 500 more (singing it yet-I dare you not to) just to walk alond the beach??

And so off we went.



And yes I will concede that the view was well worth the walk.  Now I guess I should explain again that SOTO’s house was on a hill, at the top of a jill, perched on the hills crest.  Where is the beach?  Down the hill, down the 500 mile walk down the hill.  Walking past beautiful flowers, quaint homes, along a one car only road.  This was an easy walk.  I was enjoying the way, chattering and listening to wonderful conversations taking place around me and including me.

We walked another 500 miles along the beach, the wind dropping and a chill entering beginning to enter our consciousness.  Ok it was entering mine, The Organiser had once agin removed his shirt and stating how warm and sunny it was.  Lets get this moment into perspective, I am an Aussie living in Malaysia-it was cold.  These guys are Englishmen living where 15 degrees celcius causes a public holiday where everyone strips down to bare skin.

So we decide to head back to the house.  Now go back to the paragraphs written under the beautiful picture of the beach and a yacht.  Now reverse it and take out the cheery mezmorizing and fanciful descriptors and put in the pounding blood in my ears, sweat flowing down my back and forehead,  eyes growing dim as I stand at the base of the hills, looking forlornly up at the winding one car road to which I had decended and was to ascend again.

This was not going to be pretty where an amazing Amazonion woman was going to break out of this poor middle-aged body, sprint up the hill without so much as a curl out of place or a glimmer of sweat on my brow.  This was not going to be pretty.

Finally reaching the top, using the premis of taking pictures of flowers on the roadside, looking back at the beautiful views below, I was able to make it without looking like I had run a 500 mile marathon fully clothed.

After some more laughs, my heart beats almost returning to normal, we piled back nto the beast and headed off to Hells Mouth.  Ok it is not really Hells Mouth, it is a beautiful historical home nestled within a magical forest overlooking Hells Mouth.  This is the idealic resting place for The Organiser and SOTO’s parents.  It was the Organisers dream to sprinkle beautiful wildflower seeds around where a wooden chair had been erected and placed in the prime viewing area above Hells Mouth.  According to childhood tales related during the day, this was the main vacationing place where beautiful memories were created with a cheeky Dad who would encourage and challenge his kids to go swimming during Easter breaks where little toes, feet, legs and bodies turned blue and shook with cold.  While Dad would swin by, braving the freezing water to encourage his kids to join him.  Where fish and chips were consumed and the shop was still operating millions of years later.

Words cannot express the honour Yellow thunder and I felt being part of such a beautiful experience.  We parked the car and climbed a slight rise to where a beautiful old tree was overshadowing the chair.  The sound of a little brook gurgled past, beautiful native grasses, bushes, flowers, a murder of crows nestled amongst its branches casting a magically beautiful atmosphere in which we were granted enterance to.


Seeds were scattered, silence was granted, a magical moment created whilst a son remembered his parents with so much love and sorrow.


After returning to the beast, The Organiser smiling and reminicing about days gone by, we headed back to Liverpool, preparing to meet up with Aprilia Mille and Miss Sunshine for tea.

Gazing out of the window, watching the changing countryside slide past, I realised how blessed I am to be experiencing such an adventure with such wonderful characters.  Thank you for a truly beautiful day xxx