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Customs & Cruisers
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Issue 124 : August - September 2002The Farmyard PartyBiggest Ever!
Bikes - bikes - bikes and more bikes! How can there be this many bikes in the world? I hadn't noticed that many bikes on the road North to this year's Farmyard but once on the smaller roads I started spotting hordes of them on the route to Helmsley where the rally is held. Now the frequency of hand greetings was getting a bit out of order and I settled for a series of nods and grins to satisfy protocol. MAG is always telling motorists that they should climb out of their cars and ride bikes but if they do we'll probably all collide from waving as no-one will have a hand on the bars. This year the approach track to the site was solid with bikes and it took me over half an hour to reach the gate to the site despite nearly 5000 people having pre-booked, thus avoiding delays on the gate. I'd never seen so many people pouring into a MAG event at once which speaks volumes about the growing popularity of this event and the breadth of its appeal as more than half the bikes around me where sports models rather than the traditional chops rats and tourers that used to dominate the rally scene. Saturday morning and I made a rendevouz with Mick Tonks, the Editor of 'Biker' magazine who was accompanied by a right little cracker of stunning proportions by the name of Adelle.
We stopped at the idyllic village of Rosedale to take some pictures and then rode off leaving seven hundred quids worth of Cannon camera and zoom lens on the grass. This was not actually deliberate and caused me a little distress when I discovered the loss some hours later - 'how foolish of me' I said to myself, and then quite loudly 'oh bother.' For the time being however we were unconscious of this loss and tore across the moors, sweeping like low flying eagles as almost two and a half litres of motorcycle engine loped along beneath us.
After taking in Holy Joe's Cafe and a quick look at the Endeavour which was moored in Whitby, we returned to the site where the party was in full swing. I'd had a feeling it would be by the previous evening. judging by the crowds and general mood and I don't think anyone was disappointed. If you were looking for sombre chamber music or grim Gregorian chants you might have been disappointed with the music, but with a choice of rock bands on the main stage, blues in the blues tent and dance in the rave tent, most tastes were catered for.
One of the best things about the Farmyard that makes it almost unique is that you can have camp fires and people do. At a guess there were three or four hundred of them spread all along the valley which resembled a huge army encampment. The organisers ship in timber yard offcuts by the ton so no-one need damage the trees on the far side of the river. If you've never sat around a campfire cooking your own dinner and pouring beer down your face, go to the Farmyard next year, or MAG's Into The Valley rally. Take something to cook and get in touch with real camping. If you've ever seen one of those movies set in medieval times where the village scene is full of barking traders, street performers, saucy wenches and all manner of eccentric vitality then you will have some idea of what the Farmyard is like.
Outside, the smell of woodsmoke and cooking food of every cuisine scented the cooling night air as crowds of revellers skipped stumbled and staggered back to their tents and campfires or back to the bar. Another great thing about the Farmyard is that with such a crowd, and I have heard it was between 7 and 10 thousand, and with such a variety of people and culture and bikes, the overwhelming mood is one of total good humour, I swear I didn't hear an angry word or spot an angry gesture all weekend. Although the Farmyard is basically a giant outdoor party, there are some organised attractions which this year took the shape of some stunt riders on those little bikes that can climb walls and the option of clay pigeon shooting, while a bike show added interest to Saturday evening. The MAG products marquee was doing a great trade, the prime line being a book entitled 'Looking For America' about a trip across the USA by motorcycle available at www.magstall.co.uk. I'm told it's a hell of a read.
Words Ian Mutch
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If you've ever seen one of those movies set in medieval times where the village scene is full of barking traders, street performers, saucy wenches and all manner of eccentric vitality then you will have some idea of what the Farmyard is like.
The game plan was to ride the planned route described in the event programme. This is the only practical option now since the Farmyard has grown so big that a mass ride out is too much hassle to organise. The route was a humdinger taking us through fabulous lush country and up onto wild and windy moorland populated with sheep that sprung up at our approach and blessedly bounded away from the road as Mick's Triumph and my Harley Dyna rumbled toward them.
I checked out the rave tent with my remaining camera - sob - and found it full of nubiles frantically moving to the kind of thudding music that once had me hurling logs through my kitchen window to discourage my upstairs neighbours. In this context it didn't seems so bad however though I preferred the more traditional options.
When I trotted off about 2.30, the party in the blues tent was still going strong, with the crowd jumping feverishly to the disco which followed the live music.
Next morning I sat at the gate as the revellers left. I doubt if there was a single model of any manufacturer's product line over the last twenty years that didn't roll past my eyes. Good to see a marshal on the gate thanking every rider as they left, a nice touch that reinforces the intimate character of a show that has somehow survived the transition from modest traditional rally to mega sized bash. If you've never been, go and book early, it's got so big that organiser Pete Walker and team may consider making it a members only do. Watch this space.
ps. Oh my camera - a man out driving saw us leave Rosedale and spotted something on the grass verge which he handed in to the police! It fair restores your faith in human nature eh. Thank you Mr and Mrs Charman of Stokesley.