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Home Travel StoriesSpain And The Faro Rally 2005 - By Ren Withnell

Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 8

I wake and it's already hot. The noise of bikes passing by, folks talking in many tongues and engines being bounced off the rev limiter is becoming all too familiar now. I have calmed down now. I still look to my left to make sure my "casque" is next to me. I also notice a distinctly sweaty smell coming from myself and the clothes strewn around me. I don't fancy the showers, they are cold and out in the open. I cannot smell like this all day otherwise no-one will talk to me. I get up and take the clothes to the taps and trays and clean them as best I can with soap and cold water. I return for my towel and prepare to brave the showers.

I'm not really body shy. I have a very average body, not fat or thin, not short or tall, not muscle-bound or stringy and my manhood is remarkably average too. Wearing my shorts I turn on a tap attached to a steel pipe that sprouts from another larger steel pipe. The cold water strikes my feet and I let out a little yelp. Those already in the other showers laugh in an understanding and sympathetic manner. I slowly dip parts of my body into the cold stream and make chilly noises that match those around me. I wash but keep my body out of the stream as much as I can. Eventually I remove my shorts and brazen it out by carrying on as though this is the most normal thing in the world, standing in front of hundreds of men and women stark bollock naked and yelping as the cold water touches my body. It finally crosses my mind the effect cold has on the male part of my anatomy and I look down at my shrivelled wedding tackle. I rush to finish and hide my pathetic excuse of a penis and put my shorts back on. I take a little comfort that others brave enough to go naked must be suffering the same effect...I hope.

people having a shower in public under pipes with sprinklers fitted People braving the cold in the heat

I go out and about on the bike again. I'm looking for a hardware store to purchase some glue to stick the glass back onto the speedo. I’m also going to treat myself to a McDonalds, I am in need of something tasty and recognisable to my pallet. Again I ride out into the hinterland of Faro, again into the dry, dusty, unfinished and deserted parts. I ride out towards Tavira, and a thought strikes me, hard. When I get home, what am I to tell people about this place? What am I going to write for my website report? The problem is it is not very interesting. The scenery between the towns is more of the same golden brown, dry, arid land. The towns are fairly non-descript when I’ve already described other towns. The roads look the same and the people look the same.

There is nothing to report. It reminds me of the cities I know back home. All the major cities I’ve been to in the UK look the same, feel the same and smell the same. Centres are full of tall buildings interspersed with older buildings looking somewhat overwhelmed. Near the centre will be a mix of derelict, run down housing estates and shopping areas then around the corner will be large houses and executive cars. Further out, normally on the north side, towns and suburbs filled with cheaper basic housing, and the south side will have the yuppie areas and homes for the wealthy. If I fell out of a spaceship into a big city I would struggle to tell you which one I was in. And the same applies here it seems. I would know I was in Spain or Portugal from the style and character of the place, but to say which place it was would require some identification such as a sign. I give up looking for something original and head back to Faro.

On the way I see a large shop in amongst run down houses and dry wasteland that has wood and bricks stacked in its yard. It also sells petrol! How strange and lucky, a DIY come petrol shop. I fill up, pay, find super-glue and gaffer tape, pay again then leave. Perfect, absolutely perfect. Riding back I think about how fortunes can change from one moment to the next. Last night my helmet went walkabout, this morning I had nothing to report and now I find a place that meets my requirements exactly.

I then go to the shopping mall I had visited yesterday. I don’t even bother to look for local food or some enlightening cultural experience, I head straight for McDonalds. Inside it looks slightly different from home but I order a hamburger, fries and a cola from a smartly dressed youth who speaks perfect English. I sit down to eat my meal and wonder why it looks different from the McDonalds back home, perhaps it’s got something to do with this shop being a Burger King? I laugh at my stupidity, they all share a common eating area, I’d gone to the wrong counter that was all. I don’t care and my taste buds cannot tell the difference anyhow. I trough my food and it tastes so good. If I ever travel the world, I’ll have to miss out countries that don’t have McDonalds, or for that matter Burger King.

A large car park full of bikes next to a shopping mall in the setting sun The shopping mall reserves this part of its car park for bikers only, such is the influence of the rally on the area

Back at the rally site I am directed by the ever-present police back into the site and by the ever-present Moto Clube Faro officials back to my pitch. I get out my tools, clean the area to be glued with the trusty file on my trusty leatherman and glue the glass into place. It’s not beautiful and the metal rim is discarded as unnecessary but it does exactly what I want it to do. I add a few strips of gaffer tape just in case the glue does not hold.

Full of the smugness of a bodge well done, I go for another wander. This time I look at the bike show. I’m looking for something original. There are the usual customs, choppers, Harleys and streetfighters, but nothing of note. I’ve seen enough magazines and TV shows to know the hard work, dedication and time required to build these machines. Yet I still do not find what I want, something that makes me go “WOW!” or “eh???”. I want to see something totally original, not an interpretation of old ideas.

Nothing of great note happens for the rest of the evening. I can’t find the stag do crew or the Scottish crew, some famous guy is on stage but I don’t know any of his music, octopus legs still smell, a lot, my helmet remains in my tent, thankfully and lots of people turn up who are not really bikers, just day trippers. The highlight of the evening is in the marquee near the pool. A local band is playing and they are absolutely excellent. Plenty of recognisable tunes belted out with energy and passion, a floor full of people bouncing around and then a moment of sheer exhilaration.

I had been happy singing along to the band for a while but I started to tire of this and wander off when I heard “Ba Dum Dum Dum…” from the bass. I freeze, surely not, I can’t be done live, not here. “Ba Dum Dum Dum Dee Dee Dee…”, blimey Charlie, it is! I struggle to make my way back through the throng of bodies to get to the dance floor. “Ba Dum Dum Dum Dee Dee Dee…” and I’m bouncing and dancing like I’ve never done in my life. This song is a long time favourite of mine and the gf's too, Rage Against The Machine’s Bullet In Your Head. It’s the first piece of real music, the first taste of home and normality, the first thing that has made me want to come here in 8 days. I dance so hard and sing so loud it hurts.

I leave, feeling pleased but oddly disorientated by the last 5 minutes. I’m in awe at how well this group of middle-aged rockers managed to play the tune. It’s late and I know this is not going to happen again now, the rally is all but over. I go back to my tent and settle in for the night. Outside music is still thudding away, bikes still pass the tent, voices speak in strange tongues and the ever-present noise of bikes near and far being revved mercilessly on the limit grinds into my ears. I reach the conclusion before I fall asleep that if you like big rallies and events then this must be amongst the best, but there is very little here for myself.

Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Preparation
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 1
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 2
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 3
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 4
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 5
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 6
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 7 The Portuguese coastline is not quite what Ren was expecting. Then there's the case of the disappearing helmet.
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 8
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 9 Ren has to brave the plastic portaloos of HELL at the Faro Rally. It's also time to leave the noise and chaos and get back on the road Northbound
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 10
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 11 It's another long and hot ride across the Spanish scenery. Still, every sweaty mile is a mile closer to home.
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 12
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 13
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Day 14
Spain And The Faro Rally 2005 - Aftermath

Reader's Comments

neil said :-
i went to faro this year aswell unlike most we rode down (me and the wife)
was bloody hot bugger all entertainment in the day. and complete noise the rest of the time.
france was plesant tho
stay safe mate
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
mark said :-
could u please tell me the dates 4 next year (2007) much appreciated as i have heard so much about it.
thankyou
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
ginnywade said :-
could anyone please tell me dates for bike meet in faro,portugal this year.
thankyou
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
gwyn said :-
our club are thinking of going to faro in 2008 but need to plan and save now, what date is it in 2008. cheers gwyn
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC
Raymond Elliott said :-
Brilliant record of your exploits, have considerd doing the same sort of trip and may attempt it this year, have gleaned some good tips and information, please keep on biking and hope to see more of your fables, cheers,raybo
01/01/2000 00:00:00 UTC

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