Northern Harley Club
Rally, 2002
Words and pics: Rich

Hollingworth RC
Hollingworth Lake
Rochdale, Lancashire
5th to 7th July 2002.

Working on Friday evening meant I didn't get up to Hollingworth Lake until lunchtime on the Saturday so as I cruised past the lakeside cafes in the sunshine, ralliers were sat outside, Continental style, tucking into their steaks and pasta. Pulling alongside one such Bistro, I quickly gained instructions to the campsite, which was on a Rugby pitch, complete with licensed clubhouse, on the other side of the lake.

The field was looking distinctly deserted as I arrived, and I was just beginning to think I'd made a bum choice when I spotted my mate 'Harley' Andy leading a small contingent off of the site. The exchange of friendly obscenities made, it turned out they were just setting out on the poker run and, never having done one before and having absolutely no real idea what was meant to happen, readily agreed to accompany them.

We really hadn't gone too far before smoke appeared from the rear of Andy 'Ed's' Dyna. The affable editor of "Hog Dog" had just had a satellite tracker re-positioned, new-ish shocks installed and hadn't been two-up with the set-up until now. Sure enough, the expensive electronic black box was now rubbing on the rear tyre and, wanting Ed Andy to continue the run, his partner gamely volunteered to wander back the site. Next 'casualty' was Irritating Ian's Sporty, which was being ridden spiritedly by the previous evening's 'surprise act': the singer - Lynne - was a game girl from Warrington with a great (big) voice and a curiosity about Harleys. She'd always fancied riding a Harley and 'Irritating', wanting to booze on the run, had let her ride. She coped brilliantly when it lost its gear lever around a bend, pulling up safely, and a kind cottage owner let the pair roam around her house and garden, on a successful search for wire to temporarily re-attach the lever.

Oblivious, I'd hooked in on the Road King behind a guy on a Cagiva Raptor, while a guy on a big twin chop fell in behind me - the three of us had a great time thundering madly over the tight hilltop switchbacks, trying to hit the four-o-clock run end deadline. To be honest I think we were about five minutes late, but nobody seemed to give a damn: exploring the spectacular site later, the whole rally seemed to have that infectious laid back attitude.

Even I soon got the hang of the Poker run concept: follow printed instructions to one pub after another, through fantastic Pennine scenery and truly wonderful roads. Pick a card from the pack proffered by the handy club member at each successfully found pub until four cards are gained: the fifth and last to be picked back at control at the rally site. Best poker hand wins the groovy prize.

So simple even I understood it - and taking a look at my hand back at base, another reason not ever to take up gambling.

Back in the RC clubhouse, starving and thirsty, I grabbed a pint of bitter at a price to make Southerners weep into their halves and plumped for a cheeseburger cooked by noisy and friendly team members from their own well-appointed kitchen (uh-oh, hint of Estate Agent speak there - sorry). The burger was edible, not bad at all in fact, but little did I know of the lasagne or chilli also on offer until some Gloucester lads asked for some. Bugger! It looked really nice. Miffed, I watched 'Harley' Andy consume some reportedly delicious chilli, like a hungry hawk to put him off. Didn't work.

Rather than listen to the sound check that was in the offing, 'Harley' Andy and I took a stroll around outside, soaking up the vibe and take a look at the machines that were beginning to return, in dribs and drabs, from various hostelries dotted around this pretty part of South East Lancashire. We bickered amicably about this or that - was that ironhead meant to have a kicker? Was it a conversion? Was that a genuine Shovel Electra Glide? The usual crap everyone does.

Andy also was holding his special yellow ticket, which qualified him to take part in the 'Throw a steel 'boule' into the bent steel bucket' game. He was just as rubbish as just about everyone else. Though someone had reportedly actually done it and was up for the prize that evening. Mmm.

Not able to drink as I was unable to stay for the night, I bade my farewells at around eight and was pretty much gutted to have to do so: the rally had the makings of a really nice night, a fact confirmed by 'Harley' Andy a few days later. Nice one!