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Ride To The Wall 2013
Ride date 5 October 2013
I've seen patches and badges on various leathers over the last couple of years, "RTTW". I even asked what "RTTW" meant. Apparently it's short for "Ride To The Wall". On hearing this I was underwhelmed. Yeah, great, so you rode to a wall. I've ridden to countless walls over the years, admittedly the wall was not my reason for going. There's walls everywhere, what's so good about riding to one? There's one next to my shed, I don't even need to ride to a wall.
Then someone explained this is a memorial wall, filled with the names of those who died serving our country. Aha, I see. Logic dictates that some bikers ride to this wall as a form or act of remembrance and/or respect.
When a club member suggested we should attend the 2013 "RTTW" I thought OK, it's a ride out and a jolly with my friends. I have no problem showing respect to those who fought for my right to choose. To choose to ride a motorcycle and to choose which lying tosspot represents me in parliament. Democracy is far from perfect, but I'm free to moan about it on the internet and for that alone I'm thankful. I knew there'd be a fair few bikers riding to this wall and that the gf had registered us as attending but beyond that I had no idea what the day would involve.
The gf has to come on the back of my 600. She recently started riding her own bike but without a full licence she's not allowed to ride the motorways. So at the ungodly hour of 0600 I awake the sleepy gf and start the "hurry up" nagging process as I check the bike, make sandwiches, lube the chain and make sure my puncture repair is effective. Much to my surprise the gf is almost organised by 0700 and we're sat on the bike ready to roll by 0710. After filling up we set off to meet the rest of the club.
There's 10 of us today, including the gf and myself. 2 pillions makes 8 bikes and our motley crew starts the short trip to Knutsford services to join with the ride in from the North West. It should be a short trip.
About 3 miles before Knutsford services we're all split up. RB and his missus have stopped on the hard shoulder for reasons unknown, I'm at the back because I'm slow and the rest have scooted off at hyper speed. Then I find myself in a queue of traffic. This being 0820 on a Saturday morning I'm finding it hard to believe this is rush hour, the blue lights in the distance confirm it's not. For a moment I'm actually scared as I filter through the lines of traffic. Oh god no, what if one of the club has taken a tumble? I brace myself to the thought of what might be up ahead. I see several bikes at the front of the queue and spot a fellow member. It is a biker...gulp...but not one of our group.
What a strange emotion. Relief that my friends are all well, stood around me and talking. Relief and a distant emotional sympathy that another club and another bunch of friends are going through what might have been.
We all wait. It's a strange place to stand in the central lane of the M6 Southbound.
More and more bikers filter through to the front. There are a fair number who like us are trying to reach Knutsford and the RTTW. Out front is an ambulance and a few police cars. Among the hi-viz jackets a handful of bikers mingle, presumably friends of the injured party. The motorway is entirely closed. Behind a van someone is being attended too. We know nothing more than that we can see.
In the queue there must be now 50 bikes and bikers. We're all stood around in the warming day. It is a strange sensation being stood in the middle lane of the M6 surrounded by fellow riders. There is concern for what is going on ahead but also a relaxed and easy air. No-one is rushing or pushing and everyone is chatting in a casual manner. This confuses me. Up ahead someone's life may be in the balance, at the very least their life has changed and not for the good. I recall my accident. Actually I don't, I recall nothing at all of that day. I recall my recovery and what this rider may have to go through.
As the air ambulance lands on the motorway I sit alone on the central reservation for a while. I've been in one of those. Bloody amazing things. I'd probably not be sat here if it wasn't for that thing and the people in it. Then I think about the countless millions who did not die and get their name of this wall we're going to see but were injured. I know we're told those who die make the ultimate sacrifice, but what of those who pay the price day in day out? The injured, the traumatised, the families and the friends? I get a bit too emotional.
I shake myself. One thing my accident and other events these last few years have taught me is that life is for living, and one day it may be me lying there on the tarmac again. One day...so enjoy today. I rejoin the throng of bikers. I talk with my friends and make some new acquaintances. One lady has a CMX 250 and I talk to her and reminisce about the delightful dinky cruiser. Another chap and his wife talk warmly about their BMW.
We're due to leave Knutsford at 0930. We are allowed to proceed at 0915. What an odd sight to see, the whole M6 filled with bikers as the authorities release the 2 wheelers first. It's not far to the services and the entire car park is filled with bikes already. Those stuck in the queue squeeze in where they can and desperately rush off to the toilet. The gf's barely set off to relieve herself when a claxon blows and people start to move off. Oh pants...am I going to have to leave the gf here?
I reckon there's a fair number of us here, ready to leave Knutsford soon.
Thankfully the gf returns in good time. We don't ride in convoy. Thankfully. We all ride south on the M6 between 55 and 70 mph, mixing with the traffic and generally heading in the same direction. There's bikes ahead and bikes behind, car drivers look curiously as they pass by or get passed. Trucks flash lights and kids wave from back seats. It is quite a sight to behold. I was expecting maybe a 100 or so bikes, there must be 10 fold of that. If there's more rideouts coming in from other places in the UK just how big is this event?
The sun shines as we move south. A rider comes alongside me and waves. Oh how friendly. He waves more vigorously. I wave back, confused. He lifts his visor and points at his face. WHAT? Have a something on my visor, is he calling me an ugly pig, what is his problem for goodness sake? Oh...hang on...I recognise that bike, and that face. It's Iain from Rivington, our local biker hang out. Durgh, silly me. I hadn't thought with so many bikers here that I might know some. Muppet.
Curiously as we head further south I notice more and more people waving from bridges. First just a couple walking their dog wave as we pass underneath. Then a car full. Then a Union Jack hangs from the railings as 5 or 6 people applaud.
I'm worried about finding the National Memorial Arboretum. I don't need to though. As soon as we leave the M6 toll and pass through the toll booths without paying (thanks toll people!) we are guided by bright yellow marshals waving large rubber hands with pointy fingers at each and every junction. This is a big event. Far bigger than I expected. Far bigger than I could imagine. So many bikes and bikers.
The bridges get busier as we pass underneath. The road has more and more people stood alongside waving flags and clapping. By the time we're getting close to this Wall we are all riding to it's starting to look more like a parade. I get emotional again but this time I'm proud to be a biker and happy that people are happy for us to close their roads and cause mayhem for a couple of hours. It's good to feel wanted and good to feel part of a much larger community.
We're parked in a field. A big field. A big huge field that is already well over half filled of bikes. The ground is firm but a note for those who may attend in the future, take a piece of plastic to support your side stand. I hadn't expected this so I improvise with a drinks bottle. I am dumbfounded by the number of machines and the number of people. I'm also mightily impressed with the marshals, firmly but politely organising the bikes into row upon row upon row. Amazing.
Yes there are a lot of bikes...and this is only a portion of the total numbers. Wow!
The National Memorial Arboretum is designed for people wishing to pay their respects. It's a large place but it was never designed to handle thousands of bikers arriving all at once. That much is obvious but don't let that put you off one bit. Marshals guide us through packed gates. Everyone looks as tough and mean as any biker should yet everyone is polite, accommodating, friendly and courteous. There's no stampede just a patient queue for the toilets. There's no jostling and shoving just a shuffling queue for the cafe. The sun shines and the atmosphere is busily calm.
...and still they come...
The gf and I head straight to the wall in question. It's big. It comprises of 2 semi-circles and 2 walls within the semi-circles. And all around are names. Names upon names upon names. When you read so many many names it starts to become impersonal. Each name had a face, a family, a job and a personality. Each name was a person much like my friends and these bikers and these marshals. Yet there are too many here to comprehend, to understand, to make real. This happens to me at memorials or graveyards. I focus on one name and try to imagine who that person might have been. That name is just as important as any other here.
The wall in question. So many names, so many people. Impressive but overwhelming and tragic too.
It is a good job we went straight to the wall. Within 5 minutes we're being ushered out, slightly confusing as this is what the whole day is about isn't it? After a few daft phone calls we find our friends again and the reason for leaving the wall becomes clear. A troop of very young people in various military uniforms looking very smart marches by. This isn't just a gathering of bikers out for the day, we're are to be entertained.
The next hour or so comprises of the usual teasing and banter between my friends, dripping ice cream cones, tea in paper cups and the search for toilets. All the time young cadets demonstrate their skills, bagpipes wail, a parade of bikes pass by and the Military Wives ply us with tunes. To each his own, my highlight is the Spitfire passing overhead and The Red Devils falling out of a plane without hurting themselves. We're being treated to a show.
Wow...just...well...WOW.
We all watch and listen.
Of course at the end of this a few dignitaries have to make their speeches. Thankfully they're all kept to a dignified length. Martin Dickinson, the founder of the "Ride To The Wall" is completely in bits, overwhelmed by recently being awarded the "Queens Award For Voluntary Service" and the sheer numbers that are in attendance this year. We're told, in good humour and clear speech, a tale of airmen flying over the Bay of Biscay in search of German U-Boats. Their heroic adventures and their eventual demise. Then the Last Post is played.
I don't know if it is a minutes silence or maybe two. What I can say is that the silence is deafening. I'm surrounded by leather clad men and women, patches of all types and colour, tattoos over thick set arms and almost every rough, tough biker cliché you can think of. I'm scared to just look at the boots of some of the bikers here yet they all stand in silence. Some shuffle uncomfortably, some have tears rolling down their faces and others keep that thousand yard stare.
I must be very lucky. I don't know anyone who's died in a war. I don't know what it must mean to the servicemen and ex servicemen here. The families and the friends. I do know what it means to lose someone though and I can relate to that at least. In this silence I think about those people. The bugle at the end of the silence comes as a great relief, these are not happy thoughts.
That marks the end of the day. According to one speech at least 6,000 bikes and approximately 20,000 people all came to pay their respects today. That is an impressive figure. What I find more impressive is how so many people all managed to rub along so well. The only raised voices I've heard today have been marshals marshalling and old friends rounding each other up. Now all I have to do is get home.
We did not manage to ride down with the rest of the club, we got separated at Knustford services. As the gf and I are parked far from the gang I very much doubt we'll manage to ride back with them either. I'm not bothered, I can find my own route and ride at my own sedate pace. There's plenty of time.
After getting through the long slow queue of bikes that are leaving the RTTW we find ourselves, purely by chance, on the A38. We're heading North because the signs suggest we're heading to Derby. Cool. I reckon this is the same A38 that ought to lead us right through Macclesfield and back to the M60 ring road and home. It's just that Derby seems a bit...well...East rather than North. Not to worry it must be a winding road.
I follow the signs along dual carriageway and we're making good progress. Derby comes and goes and signs suggest Mansfield is the next port of call. Hmmmmm. That seems even further East. It must be a really winding road this if it comes back to Macclesfield. I'm starting to doubt my own internal navigation system. I really ought to look at the maps app on my phone. Nah, stuff it, it's a nice day for a ride anyhow. It's when we cross over the M1 that I realise that my self confidence in my navigation skills is built on shifting sands. In Mansfield the A38 disappears and I'm left with no choice but to follow signs for Chesterfield, the only place I recognise. I guess the A38 doesn't go to Macclesfield after all.
In Chesterfield we stop to eat the last of the butties and use Tesco's toilets. According to my map app it's the A34 that goes NEAR Macclesfield. I mean I was only 4 out OK...just 4...and about 70 miles. Thankfully it's warm, there's no rain and the roads are good. Otherwise I'd hate myself and the gf would hate me even more. I follow signs for Sheffield, I should be able to find the Snake Pass at least.
Nope. Nope Sheffield looks completely alien to me. I've been a fair few times before but today this could be Newcastle or Exeter for all I know. And I can't find the A57 either. I give up and stop to look at the map app again and I'm not far off. Soon enough we're in the beauty of the High Peak and heading for the Snake. To cap off a good day the skies are sunset red with clouds to offset the colours. The first hints of Autumn colours are in the trees and the Ladybower Reservoir is millpond flat. Even Manchester looks evocative in the distance, covered in a haze with just the tallest skyscrapers poking above.
Of course the motorway is the same as it ever is.
What a day. My thanks go to all those involved with making it such a day. The marshals, the cadets, the various military and associates providing the entertainment and the National Memorial Arboretum. It is important to remember the dead and the sacrifice they made. For myself, I believe it is equally important to remember the living too and the sacrifice they are still making. The scarred and wounded, physically and mentally, and those that support them.
The news on the grapevine about the biker that was injured and airlifted from the M6 motorways is that he had a broken arm, leg and ankle. I wish him and those who care for him all the best.
Reader's Comments
kath brooks said :-
Lovely details of a wonderful day
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Tom McQ said :-
So angry that I couldn't be there :-( But a great write-up Ren :-)
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Steve (Capt RE) - Rainhill said :-
I found your article after searching for details about the injured biker, like you me & my mates had filtered to the front a nd I've tried a few times to find out how he is. I glad he is on the mend thanks.
This was my first RTTW and you've summed up brilliantly the atmosphere and emotions of the day, I will be sharing your article with friends (military & none military but all bikers) in the hope they will join us next year. Thanks
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
A Member of Bikers of 75 said :-
I could not make this RTTW because of a commitment on the night before but I have vowed not to miss another one again. That write up and the emotions and recognition of what the ride is about was exceptional and brought the day to me as though I was there
Thanks Ren whoever you are
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Ren - The Ed said :-
Thank you. Although some emotions were "uncomfortable" I thoroughly enjoyed the day. A good ride there, a good atmosphere whilst there and a good ride back too, even though I was lost.
I'm glad you enjoyed it.
And I'm Ren - The Ed. I'm easy to find...I'm the one you can look at and still not notice I'm there...
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Julie said :-
Great pictures!! We find it a very emotional day. Ready for October 4th
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Martin Dickinson said :-
Thank you for your moving and detailed story. This is the first time I have seen it
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Ren - The Ed said :-
Thanks Martin. Are you THE Martin Dickinson? The organiser of the event? If so our thanks go to you sir. I once helped organise a small rally and it was a nightmare. Gosh only knows how much work is needed to organise this event.
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
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