"The Cockney Rejects"

Danish International Rally

9-11 June 2006

Photographs this page from D Kenway

Photographs from A J and Paul Click here

Dedicated to the memory of Denise Burr.

‘Twas the night before Denmark, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, when all of a sudden, a terrible pain, “there’s water coming out of the ceiling” the wife did exclaim.

So, the curse of 06/06/06 did strike, although it did wait until 23:58 to happen, earlier that evening No. 1 son had come to reclaim his worldly goods, dutifully stored by Mum and Dad in the family loft space, being the careful considerate child he was brought up to be he stomped on a water pipe breaking the valve and the resultant waste of that most valuable and rare resource, (for Pete’s sake don’t tell the Water board) ended up washing our carpet and giving Ruth another shower she really wasn’t expecting or needing.

Still, a little work around midnight in the glass fibre filled loft in a dressing gown was just what the doctor ordered to set me up for a well earned break in the Scandinavian leisure park, known as Denmark.

Once the seat of Viking invaders the Kingdom of Denmark has evolved into a modern prosperous nation. It joined NATO in 1949 and the EU in 1973. It covers an area of 43,094 sq km 700 of which are water. The only foreign land border is the 68km it shares with Germany. With a population of just 5.5 million (10% of the UK) the place seems empty. An independent unified state since the 10^th century it became a constitutional monarchy in 1849. (OK history lesson over, get on with it) sorry.

The sun shone brightly on the glorious 7^th as we set off to Harwich and the 6pm ferry, an uneventful ride got us there in plenty of time and we were even boarded early, result. We were very nearly the first on board, shot straight to our cabin, and then without changing got to the bar, to find others already there in shorts and loud shirts. Bikers never cease to amaze me. “I’ve had me shower and a shag, what’s next?” brought laughs all round. A mellow evening followed with lots of kisses and cuddles for old friends, and even some of the girls, with a very good buffet style meal. Then time for bed. (Said in a strange spring like voice)

The ferry crossing to Esbjerg is around 18 hours so after a good night’s sleep, which was not shared by everyone due to a lot of noise from badly behaved non biker neighbours, we still had some hours to kill, breakfast was another buffet affair, not bad either. Then return to the bar to catch up with old friends and make new ones.

1pm saw us in Denmark, Kevin Hoyte had worked with the centre reps to take us across to Klinteborg, the Rally site, in three groups as traversing the country with 100 plus bikes was considered a little impractical. We were lucky to be allocated Dave Kenway as our leader complete with the latest in Sat Nav technology. Having lost him at the first turning outside the ferry port he finally caught up at the next petrol stop.

I make it a rule never to knock the guy up front if he makes a mistake, if you think it’s easy try leading a large group of varying proficiency riders in a foreign country. (Not so much a rule as a guideline so we did give Dave some stick)

Beautiful sunshine graced the journey East on the E20 to a stunning bridge combining arches and suspension. The toll of 104kr was a bit expensive but so is everything in Denmark it seems. Turning north we met up with the other groups to ride the last 25 minutes to the site as one. The Klinteborg locals came out to greet us, and we spotted a Thai restaurant which we decided there and then would be our evening meal choice. So much for sampling local cuisine.

Getting onto the site proved a bit of a mission and the downhill sand traps did catch out a few causing them to drop their rides, but no serious damage, except to pride, was done.

If you haven’t been to the site I cannot find words to explain just how lovely it is, we camped under some trees, nice and shady, less than 10 yards from the fantastic sandy beach looking out into a huge cove of crystal clear water, (no I’m not getting paid for this). The rally didn’t start officially until the Friday afternoon but the Danes had agreed to allow us on site early, they also opened a bar for us and put on a sausage barbeque, nice people.

Our choice of Thai proved a very good result although refusing extra helpings didn’t, if only we knew that the gobbledegook on the blackboard meant “all you can eat, fixed price menu” (*note to self, try learning some Danish) The owner was a fan of London Buses for some obscure reason and had 2 double deckers in her back yard, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that they were Bristols painted to look like London RT series, (this is getting a bit like train spotting)

The evening ended on the beach in a haze of wood smoke and alcohol, where did that fire come from? Oh yes, the German idea of kindling is to chop down the largest tree and set fire to it. The rest is vague so best left to others to describe, aren’t hip flasks wonderful………………

Another bright and sunny day, well not quite so sunny but bright and cloudy anyway, dawned on Friday. Most of the morning passed in a kind of self inflicted blur, thanks for the coffee, etc. whoever you were. Our hosts again came up trumps and provided breakfast. Did I already say these Danes were nice?

Later we decided to brave the sand dunes of death and road with Nick and Julie (chimp) into the nearest unpronounceable town. There we found a market in full swing selling the same stuff you would find in any market at about five times the price. Nick managed to convince chimp he needed a carabinier type led torch, so now we can see him from 1 mile away. No, I have no idea why that would be useful but hey, we’re on hollibobs. Then we spied a group of youngsters and realised that a local school was putting on a display of very well timed dancing, so sitting in 35 degree comfort drinking very cold drinks, eating Danish apple pie and ice cream (3 flavours) watching young girls dancing, does life get better?

So back to the site, down the sand dunes of death, no problem, we are after all double hard biker b****s. The site had really filled up now with the bike park very full of gleaming chrome, shiny paint, and the Ferris ratmobile, an old, high mileage and battered Virago that has never to my knowledge had so much as an oily rag waived at it, bearing the immortal words “chrome won’t get you home”.

Traditionally in the Scandinavian regions Friday is the big party night, I think due to the very strict drink driving laws. So it’s change time and off to the marquee to see what is occurring. The showers were awful and cold and only 3 for the boys. Food was disappointing, very hot chilli is not to everyone’s liking. So we agreed to go off site the next day for dinner.

What followed was a blast, the band started with some country numbers, and rattled through a very good retinue of music which pleased the crowd and soon got everyone dancing. Using beer as lubricant we danced the night away, kicking up the dust and generally having a great time. In the early hours I once again found myself on the beach in front of a furnace, which had thoughtfully been moved further towards the sea in an attempt to not set fire to anyone’s tent.

During breakfast, the usual continent ham and cheese affair, discourse on the state of the showers informed us boys that the girls facilities were far better. Smelling as I did of wood smoke and dust I decided to make use of them. They were a vast improvement, so good in fact that I lost track of time and came out to find that the games had already started, “never mind” said Ruth ”it’s time somebody else got a chance to win the slow riding contest.”

We spent the next few hours chilling out by walking on the beach, laying around in the sun, looking at the “shiny stuff” in the bike park and chatting, as you do, about old times. Lunch saw us back at the Thai restaurant where sweet and sour chicken turned out to be chicken in black bean sauce, (*note to self, start Danish lessons by learning food groups) but it was very tasty and we were soon full. Oops, now we find out that they only take cash, thanks for the loan Roger, where’s the nearest cash point? Getting back we watched the rest of the silly games which involved skilled riding, sausages, small hoops and lots of water. The scoring was on a Country basis and England finally succumbed to second place behind Denmark. (Rude to beat our hosts on their home soil after all)

Later we went along with everyone else to see what was for dinner without really being hungry due to our earlier Thai meal. The evenings spread was superb, barbequed beef, spuds, pasta and salad galore, so of course we had to be polite to our hosts and force some down. Entertainment was billed as “The Bulgarian Irishman plays his guitar” well, what would you think? He was great with a vast repertoire covering lots of music genres from Dylan to Elvis and taking in favourites (to us anyway) like Alice, who the f*&k is Alice? Some of our Dutch friends turned up in bright orange suits, which got a round of applause followed by a girl from the Outriders, (name withheld to protect my skull) who turned up in chaps and lace lingerie, which got a bigger applause and made the singer miss a beat or two and break his G string, no I am not making this up. Later she returned as pillion on a bike with even less on, as is traditional at these events, and I finally found a good use for the video mode on my camera. Well done Cass.

Awards were given out for the slow riding, silly games and best bike, Hog Slayer being the predictable, and probably deserving winner (yes I am jealous) and the raffle was drawn. No luck for me but Paul “the b*****d” Wells won a jacket which he immediately sold on for a tidy sum.

A second band took to the stage and tried hard but their set numbers, described to me as glam pop, combined with a poor sound engineer who did his best to prevent any talent showing through, didn’t seem to appeal to the gathered throng and soon the numbers started to dwindle, thoughts of riding the next day sent us tentwards and the day caught up putting us firmly to sleep.

FIVE O’BL**DY CLOCK !!!!! and the German group were playing reveille on plastic trumpets, they’ll be wanting to get going then I guess. No chance of more sleep so we started to pack up. After breakfast and with the bike all loaded we had decided not to take advantage of a generous offer from the Yamaha Custom Club of Denmark to decamp to their club site just north of Copenhagen as we had stayed there last year, so after goodbyes all round we headed alone south planning on seeing some more of the country and staying the night in Odense.

Odense proved to be an industrial town with little attraction, so after finding a roadside eaterie for refreshment, we moved on to Middelfart where we found a lovely B&B overlooking the water and got a room. An old town with a 17^th century church we walked and relaxed and found a bar. Enough said.

We left late the next day as it was such a comfortable place to be but knew we had to get back to Esbjerg where we booked into a hotel late in the afternoon. We found everything of interest already closed, but at night the town square lit up like a Christmas tree, a legacy from their millennium celebrations. The next day we did the “touristy” thing and visited the Water tower, great views, and the main museum which gave an interesting insight to Danish history. “Resting” on the porch of the Christian IX restaurant we were found by some fellow VSOC members, always worth wearing your badge.

On taking money out to pay for a meal I managed to drop a 500kr note, (about £50 and all I had left on me by this time) through the porch decking, an inaccessible place to say the least, ingenuity in terms of plastic rods, a roll of sellotape and some strange looks from the locals retrieved it so I didn’t have to wash up.

Time came for us to depart for the ferry which only took ten minutes to get to and found us in the queue with just about everybody from the club, good timing. Not so quick getting loaded, oppressive heat and melting tarmac gave a few nervous moments as fully loaded bikes leant over further than expected.

On board and into the bar meant much catching up to do, and it’s only been 2 days. A guitarist was playing and somehow he was convinced that playing Alice was a good thing, we all joined in with the chorus to strange looks from those not in the know.

Heat seems to drain me so tiredness soon had us heading back to the cabin where we went out like lights, apart from an announcement asking if a doctor was on board at around 1am we slept like logs.

We went up to the deck first thing and were told the tragic news that Ron Burr’s wife Denise had been airlifted to Hospital during the night. It was a very shocked and subdued group that greeted us that morning, Ruth did her best to comfort Ron whilst Ray (C15 Rep) rallied around organising transport to get him to the Hospital in the shortest time possible, I’ll not go into any further details, as I am sure that will be written elsewhere by better qualified people than me, but the generosity of our members when tragedy strikes is a testament to the good side of human nature.

Quiet goodbyes on the ferry were followed by the ride home thinking of a friend in need and knowing there was nothing we could do. A sad end to a great rally.

Alan (AJ) and Ruth (Dragonlady) Johnson

Centre 14

Denise, wife of Ron Burr, friend of so many, sadly passed away in the early hours of Friday 16^th June. We know we are not alone when we say we will miss her.