I'd never been to the Captain Cook before, even though its been around as long as our Thistle Rally, so when Frank Steel sent us a copy of his invite we felt obliged to go. Well almost obliged as there were about eight different rallies on that weekend. The closest was the Island invasion but we'd missed the tickets as it sold out fairly quick. Another was the Ogri which I'd decided last year I was going back to this year, but she with the tender arse thought a 450 mile run South would be too much to bear on the back of the RF.
So it was off to the Captain Cook.
We set off early (5 o'clock in the afternoon which is early for us) and covered the 240 miles by 10 oclock. Quite slow going but we knew it would be dark by the time we got there so there was no point rushing.
The book in tent was still open and we were assured we'd still have some time for a wee drink or two before the bar closed so we set off to pitch the tent. As it was pitch dark we picked the nearest spot we could see (about 10 metres inside the gate). We camped beside a pile of muck and some small sheds. Off to the bar for the well earned beers. The bar was well run and waiting time was minimum. Reasonable prices for the ales meant we could afford a few. We wandered round to see who was there. Outside the pub there were two marquees attached to a side door. A disco was playing in one of them and the other, surprisingly quieter was set out with tables and chairs. Out the back somebody had a great bonfire going. I somehow managed to throw enough beers over the gullet to be quite inebriated. We sat indoors blethering to Frank & co while the ale was flowing then went outside to sit round the camp fire. Maybe it was the outside air that got me pissed but I never noticed when the music stopped, the lights went out and every body else went to bed. Me and Carol were the last two sitting by the fire at 3:30 in the morning.
We woke at 7:30 to find out what the little sheds were. Hen huts. A rooster woke us up with its crowing and there was half a dozen hens crawling around outside the tent clucking away. I stuck my head out the tent door and realised the mound was a pile of dung. Excellent. Too lazy to move the tent we just lived with it all weekend. (still alive so I presume it was e-coli free) Ah well thats what we get for arriving in the dark.
Saturday saw us take a ride into Whitby. A very pictureskew wee fishing town. Full of little shops that sell every kind of bric-a-brac you can imagine and their all up equally little streets and lanes.
We took the easy route up to visit the Abbey and came back down the 199 steps. Its funny how you can see and hear everyone counting the steps on the way up and down. Theres a sign at both ends telling you how many there are. Some people just dont believe what they read. Me I was too busy spying the little cottages that seem to balance precariously on the hillside.
Into the town centre again which was absolutely mobbed with people. Every street was a throng. Whitby is one of those places that everyone should visit at least once.
A quick lunch of chips and curry sauce and it was back up the rally site.
We'd pre-booked our hog roast for dinner so we had a few beers before hand. Carol was put off the roast when she saw the cooked pig complete with head and feet. She still managed to eat the biggest platefull. Dinner done it was back to the bar. We sat and blethered to Frank, Phill, John & Jill and the Wheelwrights, Alan and Sharon for a few hours before wandering off to check out the music. I think there were two bands on Saturday night or maybe just one band that played for ages. Couldnt quite put my finger on it as the beer was now affecting the judgement. Hand, eye, ear, brain coordination was all to pot again. Nothing unusual there then. We ended up sitting outside at the bonfire again where there was a fair wee crowd gathered. We went to bed a bit earlier as we were leaving in the morning.
Sunday dawned and we were up in time for breakfast. A first at any rally as Carol usualy sleeps in for lunch and barely makes it time for dinner. After a hearty breakfast in the pub (and cheap too) we packed up the bike.
A novel thing at the Captain Cook was having the awards and the raffle on Sunday morning. It saves breaking up a good party and boring the crowds on Saturday night. After the awards we got back on the bike and left, quite saddened that we weren't able to spend the Sunday night there as well. Hope it was as enjoyable as the rest of the weekend, for we certainly had a good time.
Good site, good pub, good beer, good food and great people. Hope we'll make it back to the Captain Cook again next year.

Thanx to the Tees Tornadoes for a great weekend.