The Thundersprint And Other Shenanigans

As far as I am concerned I have not slept a wink. The relentless wind, the flapping of the tents, the endless toilet requirements and that bloody ground mat have all conspired to rob me of my essential rest. The gf on the other hand has slept like a log and does not want to leave the warmth of the sleeping bag. That's my point of view. She however informs me I went out like a light and she has only dozed and drifted all night, cold, shivering and uncomfortable. I guess the truth lies somewhere between, but both of us did not sleep anywhere near as well as we'd like.

I was freezing last night. This is unusual. Once I am wrapped snug in my sleeping bag I am usually warm. I have camped in November and been warmer than I was last night. I can only assume the severe windy weather managed to suck all heat from the tent completely. The rest of the party has similar complaints. Stiff bones and tired eyes are the order of the day. Indeed it has been a less than perfect night. Our friends new tent has leaked and their new air beds deflated. Just as well us bikers are well hard.

I dine on Weetabix and make a brew while the gf sorts herself out. The weather is now grimly grey, the wind is harsh and the first spots of rain are starting to fall. I shiver. DD and his group have left for the Thundersprint leaving JA and DA, SL, the gf and I all sat on our bikes in the now tumbling rain as we head out for breakfast. It's grim, it really is grim. I don't think there'll be many at the Thundersprint.

Morrisons just off the A55 seems the best option. The cafe is warm and dry and so welcoming after last night's misery. The hand dryer in the toilets, chairs we can sit on, windows made of glass and hot tea all make the world seem like a better place. Outside the rain grows heavier while we dine on a light, slightly disappointing breakfast. Another group of bikers come in with the same idea as us, dripping wet, leaving puddles around where they sit. They too talk of how bad it is, it seems there is no hope.

The gf and SL making the most of the torrential conditions. Chin up folks!

It's properly nasty outside now. The wind is the biggest problem as it's gusty. The A55 is an open road and even though I keep the speeds down I'm fighting to keep on track. I wish it were warn and sunny like yesterday but I am relishing with delight in my fight against the elements. My biggest concern is not the elements, but how everyone else is fairing in these mad conditions, I'm used to them. As we pull off the A55 we're missing JA and DA on the Deauville. Further investigation reveals they've taken a battering and pulled over to gather themselves. I agree to meet them at the Thundersprint later, SL and I carry on.

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It is wet, very wet and windy, very windy. I know the BF well be happy enough. He will relish the challenge this kind of weather affords. I am not a rainy person. I am even less of a windy person. I like sunshine and calm still weather. However I live in England so one thing I have to learn is that if I want to travel and be out and about as much as possible then I better get used to all sorts of weather. I am not going to run around shouting hooray its raining but neither am I going to sulk and declare I am not leaving the tent. I am dry and snug in my bike gear, so I get my head down and ride.
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I expected the Thundersprint to be a fairly quiet low key event. I also expected the race track at Anglesey to be a small affair, like Wigan 3 sisters. I am proven wrong on both accounts. Marshals guide us from the road and down a lane. One guides me into a field, a field of mud. Cars are sliding around on the mud so I've no chance on the bike. Another marshal looks at us as though we're mad, it seems I've been misguided and I need help to get the bike off the muddy quagmire. It takes the gf and 2 marshals to push the spinning wheels of the Fazer back onto tarmac and concrete. I could have killed the marshal that sent me there but she's no longer around.

Bewildering lanes lead us down through buildings without obvious purpose, gravel car parks filled with bikes lead us to concrete tracks with more bikes everywhere. We finally find a patch of hard standing with a few spaces and park the bikes. There'll be no taking off and carrying the helmets, no stripping off waterproofs, not in this downpour! We trudge around the track fully kitted up, firstly in the wrong direction until we work out where we want to be. It's busy and bustling with thousands of waterproofed and be-helmeted bikers trudging and slipping along sodden grass banking around the track. The odd classic bike thunders around the track carefully, then a handful of sidecars splash by as we trudge towards the paddock.

Most watch from within their lids. It is bucketing down and I feel for the racers in their rubber gimp suits. The paddock comes into view and is awash with bikers, bikes, trucks and heavy rain. SL points to the horizon offshore, there is blue sky and there is hope. We're soon joined by another 2 bike club members who've come over for the day, PS and NC. We all ponder around an array of stalls, ancient racing motorbikes, vans filled with tools and racers in varying degrees of undress. PS suggests there's a lot fewer stalls than last year when the Thundersprint was held in Northwich, never having been before I can't agree or disagree.

We wander to the pit lane wall. The sun has made an appearance and we've removed our helmets, there's whisps of steam starting to rise from the track surface. To be honest the first race is somewhat of an anticlimax as only 3 bikes line up for a subdued start and a noisy couple of laps. I can hear the commentator shouting in excited tones but I've no idea of what he says. The second race involves more riders. I think to be fair I've been spoiled by watching Moto GP on the TV. We can barely witness a corner or two and the riders are hardly knee down. I'm not criticising, I could do no better, but this live racing isn't what I was expecting.

At 1500 it's time for the day trippers and SL to leave, they have work tomorrow. The gf and I watch some more racing from a better vantage point and the track is drying nicely. We discover that sitting where we are the bikes look like they're not even trying through the bends, from another angle we can see the obvious effort and finally I can appreciate that these gentlemen on their prized and much loved classics are still risking it all in the name of competition. That said, there's only so long we can sit and watch noisy old bikes slither and wobble their way around. It's time to go home.

Riding home in the sun is much better than the rain. We spot Rhosnieger beach with waves crashing onto the golden sands, the gf wants to go bodyboarding. That would be great but we're lacking bodyboards, wet suits and the means to transport them all. Still, it's a nice idea.

Back at the campsite we are all alone now. JA and DA never made it to the Thundersprint, they somehow managed to lose themselves in the rain so returned to the campsite. I expected them to still be here but they've obviously had enough and gone home. I'm wondering whether or not we should do the same. The warm sunshine that dried the track and made life worthwhile has been shortlived, the wind has picked up again and the skies are clouding over. I expect it will be another cold night but I have resolved to stop and stop I shall. I'm stubborn, even with myself.

The pub that had been the centre of all life on Anglesey last night is as empty as politician's promise. The vast pub has maybe 5 or 6 guests and an equal number of staff, we are overserved. What a contrast from last night when we had so many friends. I don't mind, in fact I rather like it. I'm chilling out and chatting with the gf but still lurking in the back of my mind is the thought of another cold night in the tent. I wonder how we will sleep tonight?

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