In 2025 four members of the Berkshire Branch rode to Northern Ireland and spent a week riding around the province. This article describes that experience and first appeared in Nacelle, the TOMCC magazine in December 2025.
When El Zorro first mooted that perhaps a tour of Northern Ireland could be on the cards for spring 2025, my first thoughts were, “I’d be up for that, I’ve got good waterproofs!”. In the previous 2 years he had arranged tours of South-west Ireland and the North of England. On each occasion, 6 Royal Berkshire branch members had thoroughly enjoyed themselves on tour. Ton-up Ted and I were both previous offenders and first to put our names down, but due to various reasons, there was only one other member available for the dates El Zorro had in mind; Steelie.
So it was that come the day when the 4 (El Zorro – Tiger 800, Steelie – Tiger 900, Ton-up Ted – Street Triple 765R & Bibendum – Rocket Roadster) of us set off for Scotland. Dumfries being chosen for an overnight stop, we left in dry but cool conditions, due mainly to the fact that it was 7:30 in the morning. Three of us being mature gentlemen on pensions, economy was paramount and the thought of paying over inflated prices for fuel on the motorways went completely against the grain. So, I had planned fuel/rest stops off the motorway network at the nearest supermarkets, thus: Gloucester, Stoke-on-Trent, Preston and Carlisle being the last before Dumfries. That meant we wouldn’t have to stop for fuel again before the Cairnryan Ferry Terminal.
The choice of digs, in Dumfries for the night, seemed a little strange as the rooms were in the basement with high windows, but eventually showed their merit as we managed to pass our luggage out of one of them in the morning, right outside where our bikes were in the car park. The location was an unfavourable distance out of the town, but only a short amble away, we discovered a busy pub with live music opposite an aromatic Italian restaurant. Booking a table at the Italian for later on, we snaffled the last table in the pub garden to enjoy the warmth of the evening sun and sample a few sundowners to quench a thirst from riding over 350 miles.
We were greeted on the Sunday morning by clear blue skies and a hearty breakfast before we lit out for the ferry to Belfast. El Zorro was fearful of being late arriving at the port, where my contrary approach was probably a little laid back for him. However, we arrived with time to spare, which afforded me ample opportunity to sunbathe.
A smooth crossing that arrived on time and we were out and on the lookout for fuel. After the false promise of a Tesco Extra (no filling station) we set out for our accommodation for the next 5 nights in Stewartstown, Dungannon. Now town, is stretching the imagination somewhat, as would village to my mind. A conversation with a local, later in the week, would confirm that Stewartstown was somewhere that you passed through on your way elsewhere.
The apartment where we were staying was a narrow construction, mid terrace and we had the 1st and 2nd floors. Both Bedrooms were on the 1st floor along with a lounge. As the organiser, El Zorro had first choice and took the room with the double bed. After complex negotiations and admissions of obstructive sleep apnoea (snoring) and being the youngest, Steelie agreed to take the sofa-bed in the lounge. Ton-up Ted and I would be in the twin room.
A quick check on Google maps revealed Dan’s Bar a couple of hundred metres away, so off we went in search of a wet. We received a warm welcome and settled into the atmosphere of the tiny bar and even the barman came and sat with us for a chat. I have to admit that at times I found his accent a little challenging during our conversation but got the gist of it all. After working up an appetite we headed for a Chinese takeaway, but first we needed to shop for some groceries. The only shop being the SPAR in the filling station, this would have to meet our needs, which it did.
I mention these places in detail because they appeared to be the only facilities in the village. There was a cafe, however that closed at 3pm, a fish and chip shop, closed as it was Sunday and there was a pizzeria, but that appeared indefinitely closed. Still, we had, most importantly, a pub, a shop and a couple of take-away options, so we were content. Little did we know, at that point, that Dan’s Bar would be closed for the rest of the week.
The Monday morning was cold, but thankfully dry and we headed for Old Bushmills Distillery. That’s the way to start a tour! I would heartily recommend the tour and of course the tasting at the end. A coffee and we continued on to the Giant’s Causeway.
Into the visitor centre for another drink and then we ambled off to explore “The Stones”. On the return leg, back up the hill, some of us cheated, shelled out the quid and hopped on the tourist electric bus. My excuse was that I’d never been on an electric bus before. It’s that right Sidi, it gives my little toe hell if I walk too far!
On the route south, homeward bound to Stewartstown, we took a detour and turned the ride into a pilgrimage to visit Joey’s Bar. I don’t know whether that’s over-egging the pudding, but it’s a “must visit”, if you’re anywhere near Ballymoney. This was, however, the 25th anniversary of Joey Dunlop’s death in Estonia in a 125cc race, that let’s face it, he probably didn’t need to do.
On returning to Stewartstown, we freshened up and with our glad-rags on set out for Dan’s Bar, only to find it closed. So a quick look on Google and we discovered that The Roadside Tavern was only a few metres from our apartment. On walking back to the digs I still couldn’t determine where the Tavern was, hidden in plain view, until I saw a small Guinness sign around the corner nearly out of sight; very strange. On entering an unmarked door, there was a small entrance foyer and a further door, through which revealed, beyond, a TARDIS like bar and like the TARDIS it had no windows. A long bar on the left and I guess about a dozen drinkers, either playing pool, chatting to the bar staff or watching the evening racing on the large TV screen. Under which sat a youngish man, apparently consumed by the horse racing and especially the odds because he was running a book. I don’t think in my 50 odd years of imbibing in various pubs and bars across the world, I’ve ever seen a book being run on such a premises. I remember books running in workshops of a Basingstoke Fork-lift truck company when I was an apprentice back in the 70’s, but this was an image that on the UK mainland was more like from a century ago.
Hunger started gnawing at us after a couple of drinks and it was time to seek dinner. The Fish & Chip shop was closed and when we walked to the Chinese Takeaway, so was that. We appeared to be in some twilight world where no business took place on a Monday evening. Our only option was a quick march to the SPAR, which was in the process of closing and purchase ready meals that we could microwave. Ton-up Ted offered to cook for us, but I had experienced his cooking in the past and declined his offer, advising the other 2 to follow suit. Two years previously, Ton-up Ted had managed to grill a home cook oven meal. We couldn’t understand, at first, why the food was burnt on the top, yet raw underneath! Well, none of us went to bed hungry, all looking forward to the next day praying that the fine weather would continue.
The forecast from BBC’s Carol K, in the morning, was for thunderstorms! We were going out whatever the weather and set out for Balleygalley and then to follow the coast north. A stop off in Carnlough at the Harbour Lights Cafe for refreshments, then carrying on along the Causeway Coastal Route, diverting off for Torr Head. Stopping for lunch in Balleycastle and ice-cream; Digger, you should have been there. Back out on the coastal road we pulled over to admire some stunning scenery at Magheracross. When we reached the Giant’s Causeway we had completed our coast run and headed south for Stewartstown via a “plan-a-thrill” sat-nav route, filling up with fuel in Cookstown; the cheapest we had seen at £122.9/l.
A walk out in the evening down to Dan’s Bar, again closed, however, we’d had a little exercise, so it was back to the Roadside Tavern to slake our thirst. A couple of rounds in and our appetites were growing. Looking towards the end of the bar I could see condiments and cutlery, so asked if they had a menu. “Oh, we don’t serve food, I’m afraid” replied Niamh, that evening’s barmaid, “but if you want to bring in a takeaway we’ll provide plates, cutlery, condiments and napkins”. With hospitality such as this, which we made full use of, we were all in agreement we could alternate Chinese and Fish & Chips for the rest of the week, such a healthy diet for us. Ah well, something’s got to kill you in the end. When we left the Tavern, we found to our surprise that it had rained, but we certainly hadn’t experienced any thunderstorms forecasted by Carol K.
In the morning there was a clear blue sky and the roads had dried with only a few small puddles in evidence. Heading south-west, our intention was to ride the Enniskillen Triangle, which was a circuitous route around Lower Lough Erne. Having reached Enniskillen we took the clockwise direction, stopping off in Derrygonnelly for a cuppa and fuel. After returning to the route around the Lough, we hadn’t travelled much further when Steelie, who was leading, took a right turn for Tully Castle where a maintenance-man kindly snapped us at the ruins. Continuing on to Belleek, we crossed briefly into the Republic before crossing back into the UK again where we sought out The Forge on Main Street for further refreshments. A further stop on Boa Island for a photo opportunity of the lough and we headed for home.
Our last full day in the province had us leaving a little later than we had on previous days as the other three had discovered the delights of the The Old Bank Cafe for breakfast. I was currently avoiding the Full (Northern Irish) breakfast, for health reasons, so it was Weetabix for me in the apartment. The weather was cool, overcast, but most importantly, dry. Our destination today was in the south-east, Newry and the route we had planned was called “The Hourglass”. Basically a figure-eight crossing the Mourne mountains. Stopping for lunch in Pawfect Paws by Zoey in Rostrevor, described as a dog (friendly) cafe, we fitted right in!
Friday came all too soon and it was time to pack and head for Belfast and the ferry terminal. Leaving Stewartstown at around 9:15, we were at the terminal less than an hour later. Our crossing was the 11:30 and running late, but the sun was shining and it was pleasant wandering around and chatting to other passengers. As with the first crossing, this was smooth and event free, albeit half an hour late arriving in Cairnryan. We planned to stop for fuel at the Tesco filling station in Dumfries, but first we would divert from the direct route, the A75where e took a left just after Newton Stewart towards New Galloway. Here we stopped for a hot drink and cake for some, at the New Galloway Community Shop where we had a very warm welcome.
Pushing on to our overnight accommodation in Kirkby Lonsdale, The Copper Kettle on Market Street. A “character” hotel, as Ton-up Ted, who had booked it, had described it to us. The forecast had been rain coming in from the west and as we had been heading east and now south, we stayed ahead of any precipitation. Arriving at the Copper Kettle at around 6:45pm, we had travelled well over 200 miles, interrupted by the ferry crossing, but it had felt like a full on day’s ride and personally I felt exhausted; I needed a drink!
The Copper Kettle was ideally situated in the town and close to all the amenities we were likely to need for the evening. It was indeed of character, some may say quirky, although I found the twin room that I was sharing with Ton-up Ted a bit rammed with furniture, it would probably have been better with bunk-beds!
As we set out for the evening it started to rain, but we had beaten the weather, now for a curry. A shaslick later (other mains were opted for) and a few beers in and Ton-up Ted was chomping at the karaoke bit. I’ll say no more, except he absolutely murdered Red Hot Chilli Peppers “Californication”. All present agreed that he shouldn’t forsake the keyboards and guitar for a microphone! Such a memorable performance.
When we awoke on Saturday to rain, it came as no surprise, as this had been forecast. The sky looked full of it, but there was nothing that could be done about it, so we breakfasted, packed our bags, loaded the luggage on the bikes and headed for the M6. With fuel stops/comfort breaks planned off motorway again, we made steady progress south. However, as we neared our stop in Worcester, we got separated. I was at the filling station, but the other 3 were nowhere to be seen. A quick phone call to El Zorro and he told me that they’d somehow missed the junction, but had stopped at the next services, Strensham. So, I made my way there and once they had rejoined their bikes after sampling the delights of said service station, we said our goodbyes, as we would not be stopping again before heading off in various directions to our respective homes. I arrived home safe and sound around 3:30pm.
The rain hadn’t come to much and we really only had a few showers on the run south, more of an annoyance than a soaking. But after my first thoughts that I’d need good waterproofs for Northern Ireland, I had been proved well and truly wrong. An excellent time had been had by all and we’d found the people warm and welcoming. Regrets? I’d have liked to have spent a day in Belfast, sightseeing, but I was voted down 3 to 1. All that did, though, was give me the perfect excuse to visit Northern Ireland again, I’m sure I’ll be back.
If you want to see more about this tour, there are a couple of videos of the tour here.