MINT SAUCE RALLY  by Anne Hodson

22nd-24th October 1999

The last VOC rally had well and truly been and gone and there wasn’t to be one for another seven months. God, did I feel dejected or what! It was only back in May that the whole rally season had stretched out for months ahead. Unfortunately we entered that time warp phenomenon whereby time passes at a rate which is directly related to how much fun is being had. Consequently it was over in just a few minutes. Needless to say that when I received an e-mail from Steve telling me about a non-VOC rally entitled "The Mint Sauce Rally" I leapt at the opportunity and asked for some more information about it. He told me that it was a basics rally to be held on the Isle of Sheppey and didn’t know a lot more. Well, what the hell, it was only a couple of hours down he road and I could soon come home if it was really bad. In the end just three of us, and Steve’s friend, were mad enough to go. And if you remember the weather conditions for that weekend you know why. Steve and I arranged to meet at the Medway services just after junction four on the M2 at 10.00am on the Saturday morning. It was raining and, of course, cold – but so what – we’re both hardened riders! And as such, Steve was sat on his bike puffing away on a fag – sorry, Freudian slip, cigarette – as I pulled up in the car park. A few others had expressed an interest in coming along, so we hung around for about half an hour to see if anybody else would turn up. Feeling brave, I let Steve lead the way. The truth is that I couldn’t be bothered to get my map out. Anyway, he took me straight to the rally site – and that’s the God’s honest truth! I must confess to being rather pleasantly surprised. Did this mean that our highly regarded and respected Centre Rep. had finally mastered the art of map reading? Well, I later found out that his mum has a second home just a couple of miles away, so I’ll let you make up your own mind! The road to the rally site at the edge of Leysdown was not much more than a very twisty and poorly maintained country lane which went on for about four miles. We rode into the Horse Ferry Inn car park and booked in noticing a fire burning in a large oil drum at the entrance which was kept alight throughout the weekend. We rode to the far end of the car park and briefly checked out the facilities. There were three portaloos, a large marquee and the Inn. Not much, but we decided that it would suffice. As most people had arrived the night before, we had to pitch our tents in the field furthest away from the marquee. Steve let me have the flatest bit of ground which I thought was exceedingly kind and selfless. Until, that is, I pegged out my tent and my arm sank to the elbow in sheep shit. Cheers Steve – I’ll do the same for you one day!

Some of the tents on site had obviously taken quite a battering and were already looking rather sorry for themselves. We decided to take a little bit of extra time and make sure ours went up properly and stayed up. Not that it did Steve a lot of good as we were to find out later!

Once the tents were up we decided to go for some brunch before visiting Steve’s mum on the other side of Leysdown. We hopped on the bikes and rode into town in search of feedings. As we rode down the country lane we came across a woman on a motorcyclist who looked decidedly uneasy. A few yards further ahead was her rather frustrated looking husband (presumably) trying to get one or two extra mph out of her, but obviously not succeeding. We carried on and found a real greasy-spoon type café – you know, the sort that looks really unappealing and that you wouldn’t normally dream of eating in. A full breakfast and coffee was called for and I must say that it was one of the best that I have had in ages – worth remembering about judging books and their covers in future. Just as the meals arrived, who should pull up but the same couple we had passed on the country lane earlier. They didn’t look any happier! One stuffing later and it was onwards to visit Steve’s mum, Jean. We rode down another little country lane where I was surprised to find her detached property set in it’s own grounds complete with security fencing, gates and all. I enviously took stock of the peace and quite and admired the fabulous view across the estuary. Jean came out to greet us both and made us feel most welcome. Trying to be on my best behaviour, I thought it best to take of my dripping wet clothes before going inside. As I bent over to take my waterproofs off Jean’s dog came over to say hello. All I heard was "schluuuurp" as a ten inch tongue came out of it’s mouth and slobbered all over my visor. I don’t know if you’ve seen the film K9 with Tom Hanks – well, it was just like that. Gross! Anyway, we were offered a cup of tea and a danish (cake, that is) and sat down to chat.

Well, Jean and I did anyway. Steve just sat and watched "Little House on the Prairie". Sad, very sad. Steve asked his mum where the nearest cashpoint was as we both needed to get some money. It was an amazing slight of hand that Steve used to turn the conversation round and get Jean to offer to lend him some money. I haven’t done that since I was seventeen. How old are you?!

After a quick drink in Jean’s local, we said our thanks and goodbyes and rode off to Sheerness in search of a supermarket with a cashpoint. We soon found one and bought a few bits and pieces for breakfast the next morning. By the time we got back to the site it was late afternoon. We unpacked our shopping and then wandered over to the marquee to see what was going on. It was here that we met up with Sue. She had arrived just after we had left for lunch but was now well and truly settled in. We also met up with Steve’s friend, Dave.

There were some pretty whacky games being played which involved marshmallows, space hoppers, chocolate sauce and flour. And most at the same time too. It’s probably best that I don’t go into too much detail here other than to say it was very messy but quite good fun to watch. After the silly games were over things got a bit quieter and we adjourned inside the pub in the search of beer in proper glasses and a warm seat.  Well, suffice to say that a few jars were downed and a good time was had by all. Particularly when we thought we’d outsmarted the bar staff. You see, they had this scam, sorry, scheme running, whereby they would charge 50p on top of each drink for the safe return of the glass. Of course, not being used to this, you either forget to take the glass back to the bar or the bar staff came round and collected the empties from you. So it was that the evening became a rather sad competition of who could find the most empty glasses to get the deposit money back. Who says we don’t know how to enjoy ourselves? Perhaps you had to be there.

After a while we went back to the marquee to check out the live band. They played quite a few good songs and coped surprisingly well bearing in mind that there were electricity supply problems from the generator which made them sound as though they had a permanent echo effect. While we were standing near the front of the audience a rather strange and sickly-sweet smell came wafting across. Judging by the glazed looks on some peoples faces, they were consuming something a little more unconventional than the lagers that were readily available. Still, everyone was enjoying themselves and all were in high spirits, so what the hell. Anyway, the late night before and having to be so nice and polite to Steve’s mum started to take their toll so I turned in about 10.30pm leaving Steve, Sue and Dave bopping away merrily. I made my way back to my tent and found that the sky had cleared and the winds had dropped. It was very peaceful and I enjoyed the view across the estuary for a few moments before going to bed. Tomorrow would be a nice day after all.

8.00am and my alarm went off. At first I couldn’t work out what all the noise was but soon realised that the wind had significantly picked up, rain was falling by the bucket load and I could hear the canvass of the tents around me being thrown around like linen on a washing line. I felt very smug and pleased with myself for bringing along my small alpine tent and for taking a bit of extra time putting it up the night before. I was still feeling warm and toasty although felt a slight pressure on my bladder from the half pint of lager I had consumed the night before.

I got up, put the kettle on and got the eggs and bacon out ready to cook breakfast. I could hear Steve moving around in his tent so I unzipped my tent door and peered out. What a sight! The tent next to me had lost it’s flysheet and only the inner was left standing. Other tents were leaning at angles of at least 45° and there were at least 2 tents that had completely blown away and were caught up on the barbed wire fence that surrounded the field. Steve’s, however, was still standing and in one piece – I was quite surprised!

Anyway, back to the business at hand, I thought, and having made our coffee, started cooking breakfast. I must have been about half way through when there was a crack and a shriek followed by some rather insane laughter. I looked over to Steve’s tent to see a piece of flysheet lying, still pegged out nicely, on the floor with a humanoid shape flailing around inside. Laugh? I nearly knocked the stove over inside my tent. Finally the tent thing found the zip and emerged through the gap like a newborn baby, (well, it was about the right size), and shrieking just as loudly. After Steve emparted a few words of wisdom to me, he managed to get his tent back up and obviously thought that he might as well stay outside and eat his breakfast in the rain, grass and all.

Dave and Sue came over to join us and both said that they had more or less finished packing up and would be on their way soon. Sue left shortly afterwards with quite a long journey ahead of her. She certainly picked the right rally as her first! People were still taking their tents down around the site and I have never seen anything like it. Almost everybody was dressed in full leathers and waterproof oversuits. They were even wearing their crash helmets and gloves in a vain attempt to keep dry and warm whilst dismantling the tents. Steve remarked that he’d even seen one tent which had completely collapsed but still had two people huddled together inside. It was quite a battle with the rain and gale force winds and some did better than others. By the end of the morning there must have been a good six to eight tents that had just been abandoned.

By now, and with two extra cups of coffee inside me, my bladder was close to bursting. I got dressed and made my way outside. It was freezing and about the only thing I didn’t have was a warm hat. Still, Steve came to my rescue and lent me his best Benny hat. Well, at least it was warm. Style was pretty low on my list of priorities right now. So, off I headed to the portaloos, fighting the elements all the way. Unfortunately the pub wasn’t to be opened until 11.00am. My foot sank a good six inches into a muddy puddle as I walked up to the door – thank God for waterproof boots that really are!

I stepped inside and nearly stepped straight out again – it wasn’t a pretty site. My bladder told me that I really couldn’t wait much longer. So, after placing most of my toilet paper over the seat, down came all the layers. As I was about to sit down there was an almighty gust of wind that hammered on the outside of the toilet and made it rock backwards and forwards like a pendulum. Suddenly I had a vision of the whole lot toppling over with me still inside being covered with all sorts of putrid substances. Speed was of the essence so I did what I had too and ran out before some nasty happened. I returned to the tent in a highly traumatised state where Steve and I took our tents down helped by Dave. Dave left and made his way home once we’d finished. We loaded up the bikes and went into the pub for a quick drink and warm up before leaving. Needless to say that by the time we walked out the rain had stopped and it was quite sunny. The winds were still as high as ever though.

As we left the site, we saw that even the steel framed marquee had collapsed in the winds – but the portaloos were still standing. One solitary tent had been thrown into the burning oil drum in disgust. We made our way down the country lane at about 15 mph which was about all the weather conditions would allow as it was so windy and had begun to rain again.

Fortunately, I have a small screen on my bike and can see over it. Steve’s, however, is like a plastic forcefield that rises up to about four inches above the top of his head and protects him from all the elements. Well, it didn’t work this time! Due to the low speed the rain was settling on his screen and he couldn’t see through it. Steve’s answer? To stand up on the pegs and ride the Virago like a trials bike. Well, it worked in Denmark and seemed to work here too!

We joined the main road and soon hit some very slow moving traffic. Assuming an accident had occurred ahead, we waited patiently until we got to the source of the problem. Would you believe that it was the same couple as we had seen the day before! The woman was stopped at the side of the road with her partner a few yards back. Steve stopped to ask if she was OK to which she replied that she wasn’t quite used to riding in weather conditions such as these and thought that she might just leave the bike there. Having said that, in true biker fashion, her language was somewhat more colourful and exuberant! We continued on our way and soon hit the motorway where we were lucky if we could hit 45mph. I knew every time I was going to be hit by a particularly large gust of wind as Steve’s bike would suddenly veer from one side of the lane to the other. It was amazing – I’ve never seen car drivers leave us so much room when overtaking – perhaps we should ride like that all the time? Anyway, we stopped just up the road for about 15 minutes to get some petrol and have a last cigarette before parting company. We hopped back on our bikes for the last time and rejoined the motorway. Bet you’ll never guess who was just riding past as we did? Yep, the same couple and still not going much faster! Still, all credit for sticking with it.

In all the weekend was, for us anyway, huge fun and a great success due to the good company and (mostly) reliable equipment. Would we go again? Most definitely. Unfortunately this was to be the last Mint Sauce Rally ever ironically with it’s huge success being it’s demise. It’s just too much for the organisers to take on again. Still, I’m sure that this is one rally that will be talked about for years.