1. A Catalogue of Catastrophes

It’s not often Ten Tonne Taffy gets a mentioned in dispatches these days, but lately she’s had a rough time, doing nothing but being our home.

Firstly, I got up one night to go to the loo, one of the joys of getting older, and smelt that plasticky electric burning smell. I switched off the power and went back to bed after checking nothing was on fire and the next day took the fuse board cover off and found that the immersion wire had burned completely through and melted some other wires and fuses. A close call!

It turns out that the screw for that wire wasn’t done up enough and the wire had been presumably arcing for 17 years.

The local motorhome mechanic then told us our installation was no longer legal so he’d have to order parts from Germany. After about 7 weeks of him saying that he would know more in a few days time we asked a normal sparky to have a look.

He said parts would be here tomorrow, that it was legal and he could install 3 days later.

But poor Taffy’s ills were manifold. Her starter batteries had worn out and wouldn’t hold a charge for more than a few days. We had 13 computer errors on our dashboard and MAN advised us that changing the batteries would sort it. Naturally the local mechanic guy had said he could do it and when he was supposed to turn up he hurt his back so I ended up doing it with help from our wonderful hosts at our campsite.

Of course Taffy’s engine errors remained in situ and the tacho wouldnt work, so the Speedo wouldnt work either.

Time for a new tacho. As tachos are very pricey and need calibrating etc we asked our tacho centre if they could bypass it so the Speedo worked. Motorhomes don’t need a tacho, just commercial vehicles, but they wouldn’t do that and said the new tacho would be around £2k. Ouch.

A quick Crapchat (ChatGPT) conversation later and I’d found a Lithuanian company who sold bypass kits. £200 and it arrived the next day and Taffy’s dashboard errors all vanished and the Speedo came back to life.

This was all sorted a few days before our current tour departure date but on the Friday before our Tuesday ferry I noticed Tilly’s rear rim was bulging slightly around the valve.

Oh dear. I saw that in Thailand and thought I need to look at that when I get home. More senior moments…

So I sent a video to Gav, from August Cycles who incidentally make the most beautiful hand made bikes around, and he said oh dear, take the tyre off and remove the rim tape and you’ll probably see a crack. I did, and there was an enormous crack stretching for around 60cm. None of it visible on the outside as the crack was on the strengthening connector between the rim edges.

Gav ordered a new rim for next day (Monday) delivery, so Linda dropped the rims into Gav in Norwich on Monday morning as she was, conveniently in Norwich that day. By Monday afternoon we’d reached panic stations as the rim hasn’t turned up and the distributor said they didn’t know what had happened to it. Squeaky bum time.

Tuesday saw it arrive and Gav build it with me waiting for the ‘come and collect it’ call which arrived around 6pm. A quick 60 mile dash up the A140 (and for anyone who doesn’t know the A140 quick isn’t a word used for this road) and I was back at 9pm with a new rim and instructions to change the brake rotor as it was seriously worn.

Next morning I fitted both tubes and tyres, a new rotor and the wheels to Tilly adjusted the brakes and we set off for Harwich. Phew.

We always go to this great little pub in Harwich called the Alma and they let us abandon Tilly in the tiny beer garden. And of course they were so busy we couldn’t get in and had to go to the Millsoms posh pub which had more flies than atmosphere, which was quite surprising as the tables were so sticky I’m surprised they ever got airborne again.

At the check in at Harwich we got pulled by security, the lady asked us if she could look in our bags (brave!) and I said which one, to which she replied you choose. So I choose my front bag! I opened it and she peered in and asked if we had any knives. We’re allegedly camping so of course we have knives, just like every motorhome and cycle tourer on the ship, but I of course said no. She thanked us and we went on our way.  We keep our main chopping knife in my front bag and it was clearly visible!  I don’t see the point of these questions – they give you steak knives in the onboard restaurant anyway.

Next morning it was into the Dutch Mountains – the coastal dunes which stretch for about 50km north of the Hook of Holland.  These are fabulous cycling, at times bleak and remote, but the paths wind their way around the big dunes and constantly up and down giving you some lovely rolls.

For some strange reason we found the first 10kms really hard. We’re surely not that unfit are we? The wind was against us, but it wasn’t that strong. A quick spin of the rear wheel showed the brakes were stuck on, quite hard too. I adjusted them and off we went. Much better. But then we had our first puncture on the new Rim. Bother. Back on the bike after a now very slick tube change with our electric bike pump and again it was hard and again the brake was on.  This went on for about 25km in the end before I could get the brake to align properly after discovering our brand new rotor was bent in two places. So each stop involved trying to true it by hand. In the end I got it about right and we plodded on, but still found it hard work.  This was our first long cycle since Asia and our legs were putting letters in to the management about over use and incompetent brake adjustment and we were very pleased to get to Haarlem and our hotel.

By the time we had had showers we were too pooped to be bothered to walk into the town for dinner but the God of Cyclists had plonked a very handy Indian opposite the hotel so pigged out on multiple tasty dishes and were asleep by 9pm!

We did go for coffee in the square the next morning – another picture perfect town heaving with cafes and people and oozing prosperity.

The cycle out towards Amsterdam took us though some of the most expensive areas to live in the Netherlands. Eat your heart out Beverly Hills, these people have money and style and boy do they show it. Huge stylish houses with gardens that look like parks and have every blade of every plant manicured to perfection. And of course multiple luxury cars dotted around the tree lined cobbled streets.

We came a lovely route into Amsterdam through parks and countryside and somehow managed to end up near Central station before we hit the traffic (meaning the billions of cyclists) Even then we skirted the main centre and came in at the nine streets touristy section before we started to have to ding the tourists walking in the roads instead of the paths. Bloody tourists….

Our reward was frites at probably the best chip shop in the world. And vegetarian too. Yummy.

Then back out of Amsterdam to Naarden and a visit to our friends again for the weekend, where we all got out for a lovely cycle and  obviously again indulged in those delicious Dutch Pancakes…