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In Perspective

Started by PaulG, November 07, 2015, 06:10:49 PM

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PaulG

Thought I might as well post these here.  Not my trips, but astounding accounts from the past.  I thought since reading azure's recent post and awaiting further ones from other member's, these would be something to wile the time away.

First is a brief account of a round the world trip from 1928 on a Rudge-Whitworth from a 1972 article in an English magazine Motorcycle Sport.  That phrase Mad Dogs And Englishmen comes to mind.  The second is a link to a Rider magazine article Effie's Great Adventure.  It says it was posted in Aug 2015, though I remember reading the hard copy a few years ago.  Two women travelling alone on an H-D across America in 1915!  True pioneers even beyond the world of motorcycles.  The third is another Rider article from 2014 Clancy's Conquest: The First Ride Around the World  in 1912.  Amazing.

There are many other stories and books out there of these intrepid pioneers from that antique/vintage era.  We are justifiably proud of our own adventures on our aging steeds, but as the subject line suggests these put things in perspective.  Hopefully one day with your grandkid (or great-grankid?) sitting on your knee, you might hear yourself say: "Well you know when I was younger we used to ..."

:drinks:


Reproduced from Motorcycle Sport, August 1972 p296
ROUND THE WORLD ON A RUDGE 
An epic journey of 1928
 

   MOTORCYCLING is again coming back into favour and it does not seem right that all the credit for the long-distance pioneering runs of long ago should remain with the four-wheeler fraternity, does it? We may regard with a mixture of awe and reverence the exploits of people like Birtles who drove a Bean from London to Australia in 1927, those who raced from Paris to Peking as long ago as 1907 when the big Thomas car proved the winner, the Court-Treatts who coaxed a couple of Crossleys from the Cape to Cairo, taking from 1924 until 1926 to do so, and Fred Grey who undertook trans-African journeys in a pair of twin-cylinder Jowetts, of only 7 h.p., named "Wait" and "See". But the motorcycle could do it too, as I now propose to remind you.

    The outfit concerned was a 3½ h.p. Rudge-Whitworth with a box-bodied sidecar, which Stanley Glanfield, of the well-known motorcycle factors, Glanfield Lawrence Ltd., rode to some purpose away back in 1927/8. What Glanfield set out to do was to ride his moderately-powered, single-cylinder Rudge for a distance of 18,000 miles across four continents at a time in motoring history when roads, maps, service facilities and conditions generally did not encourage a world onslaught of this kind, even in a car and with company to share the adventures.

    Pay tribute, then, to this lone rider, who on 2 July 1927, having worked at his preparations all night, kick-started his Rudge and set off towards Folkstone on a journey which was to occupy all his skill, stamina and resourcefulness for the next eight months. The sidecar was useful as a repository for tins of petrol and oil, food, blankets, and some spare parts. On the pillion Glanfield had fitted a small vice, anticipating the need to make roadside repairs....

    Even to cross Europe alone on a motor-cycle was tough going 44 years ago, but the Rudge was at Amiens by the first nightfall and the only alarms seem to have been a narrow escape from colliding with a train at a level-crossing near Compeigne and a fire, quickly put out with the rider's extinguisher, near the German border. Slightly singed, Glanfield pressed on, crossing Germany without the advantage of speaking the language, but losing 10 days at Vienna because the frame broke and had to be repaired there and then beside the road.

    To prevent this happening again a lightweight sidecar was made specially for the machine in Vienna.  This was an improvement but the very bad roads in Hungary and the Balkans continually threw Glanfield out of the saddle, and in Serbia he found that if he had put 65 miles behind in a day it was good going. By August 15 our hero had reached Constantinople but the feared red-tape of Turkish officialdom delayed him for nine days. Then it was across the Bosphorous to Haida Pasha, where the rider was compelled to give up riding the Rudge for a time, it being part of the official ruling that he must travel by train in order that he might not get a sight of the Dardanelles fortifications. Indeed, at this period of his travels officialdom did its best to bring the venture to a halt. For instance, the Police sent him to Payas over narrow mountain tracks strewn with boulders and crossed by dried-up river beds and gullies. Arriving there thoroughly exhausted, Glanfield was told he must go back as far as the insignificant village of Deurtyol to obtain permission to leave the country, and all his protests fell on unsympathetic, deaf ears. So he turned back and faced the route in darkness, risking malaria, an armed guard on the pillion.

    Thrown into goal, then under open arrest, the motorcyclist from England eventually got away and was soon glad to be speeding along a fine highway towards Aleppo, with the old roman road from Alexandretta still discernible alongside. But these easy conditions were not destined to last long. The Syrian desert had to be crossed, which was quite a feat in itself, and at Tel-e-Far, where he asked for water, the Arabs proved to be hostile and only a tin of cigarettes and the Rudge's acceleration after these were handed around saved Glanfield from very likely suffering the fate which had befallen the last white people to stop there - the crew of an armoured car, they were all murdered....

    Perhaps not surprisingly, Glanfield now fell ill with fever but after a short spell in hospital he insisted on riding on, with a temperature of 104 deg. He was worried about his self-imposed time schedule and knew that there would be the welcome respite of the sea journey from Basra to Bombay. This was a much-needed break, because the run from Bombay, across India to Calcutta was almost beyond belief. The rivers were flooded by the monsoon and the Rudge had to be dismantled to get it across many of them, while the combination of endless mud and rain caused an equally endless series of small mechanical troubles. Against such adversities Glanfield averaged 300 miles a day and his fame had preceded him as he rode his disreputable motorcycle and sidecar into fashionable Calcutta.

    Next it was by sea to Penang and then more interminable riding, through dense jungle, and torrential Malayan rain. The under-wheel hazards were less from Malacca to Singapore but the rain, if possible, even heavier. The rider was frozen, which is probably why he elected to cover the last 17 moles into Singapore at 60 m.p.h., the Rudge as game as when it began.

    The plot was now to ride to Java and embark for Port Darwin, hoping to get there before the rains came. Alas, the Australian monsoon was not beaten and the Rudge had to do the best it could, over almost trackless going composed of bog, sand and rock, the conditions ever deteriorating.  Improvising bridges from purloined railway sleepers, heaving and pushing, Glanfield forced the luckless Rudge along. He had company for a time, while a young stockman accompanied him on the pillion, but this passenger had had enough when a particularly bad pot-hole threw him off and at the same time crushed one of Glanfield's feet under the machine. The nearest hospital was at Boulia, 200 miles away, so there was nothing for it but to ride, in fearful pain, solo, to salvation. To do this although every jolt made him sick with pain, Glanfield had somehow to get the Rudge across numerous creeks and river beds. He also had to rebuild the gearbox, damaged by boulders after he had been crawling for miles over ridged sand in low gear.

    A week after his release from another hospital, Glanfield hit a hidden tree stump, which tore off the sidecar wheel and caused the machine to somersault three times. A control pierced his leg but although bleeding profusely Glanfield had to go a quarter of a mile on foot before he found the sidecar wheel. He carried a spare spindle and at Tambo the damage was repaired and once again he pressed on - again against doctor's orders.

    There were further troubles but just before Christmas he had almost completed the 800-mile run to Sydney when, three miles from his destination, the engine gave up. A big combination was sent out to tow him in but it broke down and the Rudge was eventually persuaded to motor in on its own.

    After Glanfield had attended to business in Sydney, rider and Rudge crossed the Pacific and the final part of this endurance marathon was from Los Angeles to New York in temperatures below zero, sleet, rain and a biting head-wind. At a level crossing the Rudge nearly ended up as it had almost done in France but a burst of acceleration saved the day.

    That was it! The Rudge had covered 18,000 miles of the worst going imaginable. It came home triumphantly on the Olympic and rests today in the Coventry museum. Let no-one say that motorcycles were not every bit as good as cars at these pioneering trans-Continental runs!

W.BODDY



Rider Magazine Article - Effie's Great Adventure

http://www.ridermagazine.com/travel-features/effies-great-adventure-first-women-to-ride-cross-country.htm/


Rider Magazine Article - Clancy's Conquest: The First Ride Around the World

http://www.ridermagazine.com/touring-and-rallies/clancys-conquest-the-first-ride-around-the-world.htm/

1992 FJ1200 ABS
YouTube Channel Paul G


azure

My initial thought is how luck we are to live in an era when crossing a continent does not usually involve pushing, prodding, or rebuilding a sand encrusted transmission by the side of the road, with a crushed foot.. Makes worrying about making it to the next gas station a piddling nuisance.

Funny how the sense of schedule was still an issue at that time. Thought provoking too that it was measured in months then rather than the day's or hours that are so precious today.

Thanks Paul! I am saving the perils of Effie for future reading pleasure.

4everFJ

1985 - Yamaha FJ1100 36Y
1978 - Yamaha SR500
1983 - Kawasaki GPZ550 (sold)
1977 - Kawasaki Z400 (sold)

azure

An intrepid badass for sure! I wonder if she every rode again? Everyone should have at least one great adventure! Thanks Paul!