The Brit Butt Rally 2024 – a tale of relaxation, success and scam

Well, there you go. It is important to give your articles a catchy title in order to attract an audience. This is the law in modern media and in your case, it seems to have worked. This appears to be a really odd title and it all becomes clear in a minute or ten. Bear with me.

I’ve had a great, relaxing motorcycle trip to the Alps aka as the XBR Alpentour. It was the 30 year anniversary and we, the usual suspects with and without a Honda XBR, had a great time (again), visiting all the great roads in the Trentino and adjacent areas. But now it was time to switch from my 680cc XBR thunderbolt to the even more thunderbolty K1600GT, my little “flying fortress”. It was the time of the year again to set sails for the shores of England and to participate in the longest regular long-distance motorcycle rally in Europe, the 36 hour Brit Butt Rally.

As the registration schedule had been modified, I could set out the same day, take the Eurotunnel train and arrive in time at the rally HQ hotel in Coventry. The registration and technical check was quickly done and I prepared my laptop and the sat nav in my hotel room. A quick shower and I was ready for the dinner and the subsequent rider meeting. This year, a small German-speaking contingent was present: last year’s runner-up Arjen, Rainer and Marcus. Hans-Jörg was missing, as his bike was stolen in front of his hotel in Maidstone the night before. In the year before, two bikes were stolen as well during the rally and earlier as well. The organisers had ramped up security: we learned that three guys would be looking over our bikes this night. If the thieves would dare to show up, they would face some ex-military, ex-special forces lads. NOT a good idea. The crowd was very thankful and appreciated this a lot.

In the rider meeting, were handed the rally book and were told that all bonus point locations were part of combos, four locations per group. As all the locations were more of less of the same points value and the extra points for visiting two, three or four locations per combo did not increase drastically, it was clear that the best strategy was to look for ‘doubles’ or ‘pairs’. As usual, I worked out three possible routes, one going to Scotland, one going to Cornwall and the Isle of Wright…White…Wight! and a route in the middle. Although I knew (out of own, negative experience) that going to the Isle of…..Wight is considered a ‘sucker bonus’, it seemed to be the most rewarding option. I had almost booked a hotel for the next night in Bournemouth when I checked the ferry to and from the Isle of…Wight. The timings were so unfortunate that you would lose six to seven hours choosing this route. For a handful of big points, but still at a big cost. This reminded me too much of the BBR11 and BBR14 where I suffered a lot of time loss on the island and on the ferries.

So I turned to the middle route. It seemed to be more of a low-risk option. Definitely not an epic monster ride. Even the Scottish route would be more demanding. The middle route left a lot of options, the idea was to stay in Newcastle for the rest break at night and mop up all the remaining points on the route back to Coventry. The ‘many options’ feature and the calculated high points value made it the route of choice. Nothing to be particularly exited about if you look for a challenge, but a solid ‘I-couldn’t-find-a-better-one’ route.

As it had been quite a difficult nut to crack, I went to bed rather late at 1 a.m. After a good nights sleep, I had my tiny breakfast in the room, stored my panniers in the rally team room and headed for the parking where we set off at 6:30 a.m. I was very relaxed and headed for the first location near Stratford. On the way there, I encountered a scary black sedan car that seemed to chase me. It behaved in a very aggressive manner, pushing me, outbreaking me, going roundabouts the wrong way…I wondered what had triggered such a behaviour. I stoically followed my route and at a certain point when we were leaving the urban areas, he did almost a handbreak turn in front of me and disappeared in the opposite direction. Weird. Very, very weird.

At the BP location, I wasn’t the first one. To my surprise, Kim Leeson had found a more direct route and was about to set off again. From here on it started, as expected, to drizzle and the wet weather accompanied me the whole morning well into Wales. I collected my first bonus point locations and noticed that I slowly fell behind my estimated arrival times; normally you can develop a small buffer in the morning when traffic is still absent.

My plan was falling apart, but I stayed cool about it. My calculation of my route had revealed that I would arrive six hours early at the finish, something that seemed impossible with this slow route and predicted 2100 km. It meant I had quite some buffer, I just didn’t want to arrive too late at the hotel in Newcastle. I noticed that something was different this time. I wasn’t pushing as usual to meet the times in my plan. I kept a steady pace, but I seemed to enjoy more the riding. And riding in Wales is always entertaining, at least if you can ignore the persistent wetness.

The next location, back in England, was a narrow-gauge railway station. The next miles went through a beautiful landscape: the Peak District National Park where I visited and photographed the picturesque Ship Inn. I have to come back here one day. How many times have I said this? Hmmmm…I was enjoying the ride and ignored the fact that I was running behind my plan again. I went up the M6 and exited close to Lancaster for a ride up the hills. I took my picture of the Jubilee Tower in the sunshine, but was nerviously checking the rain forecast. The prediction had been spot on, but it had predicted rain in the Lake District later. As I planned to cross the notorious Wrynose and Hardknott passes, I hoped to be spared from heavy rain there. It didn’t look good, some rain fronts were nearing the coast already.

Well, first I had to get to Windermere. I enjoyed the road through the Lake District in the evening sun. Yes, I was behind schedule, but I was cool about it. I had decided that I didn’t have to chase anything anymore – this is the advantage when you have won this rally five times. I was puzzled how off my plan was – usually my strong point – and I didn’t know if I was doing a genius or fools ride. But my experience told me that over 2000 km on this slow route was quite demanding, this was not a monster ride with over 2500 km.

In Windermere I remembered my first large motorbike trip on my XBR500 to Ireland in 1989 when I produced my first involuntary stoppie, two-up with lots of luggage, in Windermere. I also remembered the Brit Butt 2013 when I crossed the mountains as well, cheered up my rival Rob Roalfe when he had gearbox issues, but chicked out in the final stretch of the rally when my additional fuel tank system produced some sputtering that prevented me from visiting any small BP and thereby giving away the victory presented on a silver plate – on the same XBR500.

I met Rainer who was checking his picture and had a little chat. When I packed my flag back in my tank bag, a car stopped next to me and the following dialogue developed.

Hello Sir, can I ask you a question? 
Yes, sure.
What is the way to the motorway?
What?
What is the way to the M6?
WHAT???
What's the way to Windermere?
(...)...You just came from Windermere!
Where does this road lead to ?
Er....to the South?
And that road?
...to...the West??
Hmmm...what is the best way? I don't want to go back on this road
Well, I think South is a good idea...

I shook my head in disbelief and directed by bike to the West towards the Hardknott Pass. The horizon was pitch black and I hoped I could make it at least to the pass without rain. Daylight was slowly vanishing. The road was indeed very, very steep and there was a lot of traffic with cars and…vans! Totally nuts. If you want to get an idea, try this video (in plain sunshine, ha!) .

It was not easy to heave a 350 kg motorbike up this road, but I made it. However, when I descended on the other side, the thunderstorm broke loose. I mean, torrential rain. Apart from the narrow, steep bends, I had to deal with a flash flood on the road. Carefully, very carefully I maneuvered the bike downhill, this seemed to take forever. This was an excellent test for my new Stadler gear and it passed the test with flying colours. I stayed dry during the whole trip! Well, that’s what you’d expect when you’ve spent tons of money.

Down in the valley I visited another small train station and continued my ride towards the coast when finally the rain stopped and some rays of sunshine brightened the evening. But I could see another big rain front closing in over the sea. I realised that my next location required to ride back into the mountains to the end of a valley and my rain forecast predicted that the rain front would hit me right there. Gulp. Well, I did not want to give up this point and combo. Grit your teeth and do it!

When I entered the valley of Buttermere over the Crummock Water, the valley bottom was again very dark and looked very, very …wet. With a sigh I entered the curtain of rain that was waiting for me. The landscape was surely impressive, but I was in mental ‘endurance’ mode and stoically grinding on. Finally I reached the photo point and took the desired picture with the bike on the road. I was flabbergasted when suddenly a police car rode past, looked at me, but did not stop to tell me off. Good.

I was glad when I got back to the motorway, I was well behind schedule. I still stayed cool about it, I could maybe make up some time now – motorways and no traffic on other roads could allow this. However, there was also little traffic on the M6 which is not necessarily an advantage. As the road is sometimes quite winding, the darkness and the absence of very reflective road markings made it difficult to find reference points in the dark. Using the bright high beam was somewhat counterproductive after switching back to low beam: darkness. I remembered my tough time during the Iron Butt Rally last year during night riding on highways, it is quite tiring on highways, but riding in the bright light (15.000 lumen) of the Erica Lights is actually fun. And it was the same here. I had to take a picture of a gas works museum in Biggar, but after a short walk I ended up in a small private garden. After some searching I found it but when I returned to the bike I was addressed by a couple with far above 0.2 % blood alcohol. I shouted at them that I was wearing ear plugs under my helmet and couldn’t hear them but they ignored it deliberately and continued to babble fervently. But in a sympathetic way. I enjoyed the back roads to my next location in Jedburgh where I was looking for some plaques on a wall. I was quickly surrounded by a group of ‘well refreshed’ people who ‘wanted to help’. In the end, I found the spot myself. Happy lads, these Scots. Boozy, but friendly.

Now I only had to get to my hotel, more than two hours later than planned. I went first to the closest petrol station to fill up and get the start ticket of the rest break of four hours. This year, the rest break was not mandatory, but the points value for it was so high that it wouldn’t make sense NOT to take it. Well, my hotel was quite special. At this short notice on a bank holiday weekend, prices are always quite high, even in Northern English Newcastle. The selection is usually limited to a 24h reception desk and, in the light of many bike thefts, a secure parking. Among the subset of available hotels, the Hilton was the cheapest (!) and the best located. Hard to believe, but true. For comparison: during the Iron butt Rally 2023, I spent 20 – 30 % more money for very mediocre hotels, so the price was quite all right.

Shortly before 2 a.m., I rode up the driveway of the Hilton and left the BMW in front of the revolving door. The check-in was quick, but I still had to park the bike in the underground parking garage. Definitively a secure place. When I entered the ‘room’, I encountered this:

Well, ‘room’ is maybe not the right word. ‘Suite’ would probably more fitting. More than enough for the next three hours. I stripped my gear and had plenty of room to distribute it. I munched a sandwich and planned the route for Sunday. I had been slower than my plan so far, but I thought I could visit all the remaining locations back to the finish, I even added another location north of Scarborough at the coast. At 3:20 a.m. I could finally hit the sack only to get up less than two hours later.

I had a good sleep, a quick shower, a quick breakfast and a quick checkout. Another visit to the same petrol station for the rest break end ticket and at 6 a.m. I set off for the second day of the rally. My first bonus point location was very close in South Shields, a lighthouse at the sea:

The light and mood was magical and cannot be depicted in this photo. Sometimes, certain moments get engraved in the memory of your brain and this was definitively a memorable one. Anybody would be touched by this moment. Well, unless you drive by in the back of an ambulance with a sheet over your head.

The next stop was the added one so I had to ride down the Yorkshire coast, enjoying the scenery. I arrived at the next location called Robin Hood’s Bay. Yes, the little village actually is called like that. I passed a sign that seemed like a prohibition sign for vehicles that have no business and wondered what this was about. I soon realised what the reason was: a single, narrow and steep road leads down to the sea through this very picturesque old smugglers village; very lovely. Luckily, it was 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning and no other oncoming vehicle stopped my descent. Down at the lowest point I parked the BMW and took my picture and quickly returned as I obviously shouldn’t be there. Hm, it was not mentioned in the rally book that a long walk was required so I was playing by the rules. A very nice place, to be put on the long list of places to return to.

I was again in a not very competitive mood and was enjoying this morning’s ride. This did not mean that I would be dallying, but I did not push in the usual competitive way to waste any time. Next on the list were the Yorkshire Dales – a place that had been a disaster during the Brit Butt Light Rally in 2015 when my navigation software totally underestimated how long it takes to ride on the typical single track roads.

I had to turn left and climb up the mountains, this was the rough, barren part of the Dales. The temperature immediately dropped a few degrees, indicating that the climate up there is rougher than in the milder valleys. I approached my destination and….was flabbergasted. In the middle of nowhere in the mountains, there was station! Apparently part of the Settle – Carlisle railway, it connected the east coast and the west coast for over a century being Britain’s highest railway line. Today it forms part of a steam train network. My route led me through small single track roads and in contrast to 2015, I had enough time at my hands. It was still melting away, but I was cool about it. In the worst case, I’d had to skip the very last location, this would give me another 30 min.

I could follow the M1 to the South until I had to exit to enter the Peak District to take a picture of a memorial in a beautiful landscape. On the way back to the M1, I passed the centre of Sheffield where I visited a BP location in the BBR23. The next stop was called “Newstead Abbey waterfall” and as indicated in the rally book, I tried to enter the Abbey grounds from the wrong side. First I had to find the right entrance where I also needed to get a ticket for some extra points. I carried no cash but the cashier was equipped with a mobile card reader. Finally I found the right spot in the huge park of the abbey. Three more bonus point locations to go and three hours and 170 km left. This should be feasible. After visiting a Stone disc circle and another memorial, my last location was a view of a canal in Zouch (!) where I met Arjen. He was only the second rider I had met during the rally (excluding the first BP location where everybody is still close together). Over an hour left to return to the finish, more than double what was needed. The six hours of buffer had melted away but actually my estimate was right: 2100 km on these roads was quite something, as I rode very little on motorways. I still was riding relaxed but had not made a mistake on the whole trip. I changed my plan when needed, had planned a good rest break, had withstood adverse conditions.

With 25 min to spare I arrived at the finish in Coventry. I was scored by VP Martin and learned that my picture of the closed road was not accepted; the reason was that the picture would have required the whole bike in the picture and as my BMW was not FULLY in the picture, I didn’t get the points. Well, a bit harsh. I suggested to introduce finally a system of penalties for not-perfect pictures as it is the norm in the Iron Butt Rally. When we went through the list of pictures, I realised that one e-mail had not been recorded. As I could prove that I had sent it, I did get the points. In the end, I had obtained a straight 9.000 points for 31 bonus point locations. Not bad for a relaxed ride, I thought.

I had a shower, dressed and went for the dinner. After this, the ceremony began and people were called to receive their certificates. In the end, only Kim Leeson, Arjen Steiner and me were left.

Well, that went well. My sixth win in the Brit Butt Rally. Despite the 300 points loss of the not recognised picture. We went to the bar and had a nice, wet evening. I guess it was not as boozy as in Scotland, despite the flowing Whisky.

The next morning, I had breakfast with the other lads. I packed my stuff and set off south towards the Channel tunnel. Right before the Dartford Crossing next to London, I left for the service area to fill up. What now happened was quite a memorable experience.

I had filled up the bike and was having a juice before setting off, when I saw a little boy in the car at the next pump. The driver called me, drenched in tears. He told me he had been robbed in Calais and his man purse had been stolen out of the car with all the passport, money, cards, etc. Sobbing, he asked me if I could give him some cash, he would pay by bank transfer right now. He had to get back to Ireland with his little son and needed to buy a ticket for the ferry in Liverpool.

Now, in this moment there are two possibilities: i) you’d say ‘nah, mate, sorry, can’t help you” or ii) you hear him out what is the matter. What is important here: in my traveling life, I had come across many unknown people who had helped me in dire or desperate situations, they appeared like ‘guardian angels’ and showed unbelievable kindness. I had always tried to return these favours to other people whenever I could, after all it’s a give-and-take. I decided to hear him out.

He explained he had no money left and needed to get back to Northern Ireland. His cute little blond boy showed great interest in my BMW and wanted to sit on it. I told him maybe later. The man proposed to make an online payment, there was an ATM around the corner. PayPal? No, he didn’t have. I told him that unfortunately this could be a scam and that I needed proof that his story was true. No ID? Name, Adress, phone number? Patrick Stokes, Canal Side 17, BT828DB, Strabane, +447378109251. Hmmmm….can’t find any social media profile….he showed me his facebook profile. Hmmm, right. He had an Irish accent, albeit not a very strong Northern Irish one. He showed me his banking app and wanted to transfer the money. Hmmm…ok, I do it. I waited for the transfer to arrive on my account but knew that this wouldn’t be that quick. Right, let’s go to the ATM…suddenly he asked for more money. What?? Yes, the ticket, but he needed also money for the petrol. I was very skeptical. I reconsidered all the points. If this was really a scam, it was an extraordinary one. I mean, using a little boy for that? It was a 51:49 decision. I gave him the money and did the last test: “if this is a scam, my biker friends and I will find you…” – he looked disappointed – “if not – good luck”. He thanked me overwhelmingly and we parted ways. I went to my BMW and noticed that he left the service station in his car. Wait a minute! The 51 % value plummeted. I quickly followed him.

At the exit of the station, there was a short traffic jam and I could ride next to him. Didn’t he need to fill up? Yes, but he said he needed to turn around and enter the station again – look, the tank is empty (indeed, the fuel gauge showed an empty tank). He drove into the roundabout and I followed him. He rode around it and entered the service station again. Knowing he would be watching me in the mirror, I remained in the roundabout, pretending I would ride back to the M25. In reality, I rode around the roundabout again and entered the service station. Through a prohibited shortcut I entered the petrol station from the trucks side, i.e. the opposite, back side of the station. I parked the bike at the station and peeked through the window across the interior of the shop to the other side. I saw that he had parked the car at the same pump, but did not leave it for quite a while. Then he left it and I couldn’t see him anymore. I moved to the corner of the building and peeked around it carefully. There was Mr Stokes, talking to a young couple. I approached him carefully from behind so he couldn’t see me. When I was close enough, I heard him telling the same story I had heard before.

“DOES HE TELL YOU THE SAME STORY HE TOLD ME BEFORE??!!” I said in a very loud voice. He turned around and startled. “YOU GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY – NOW!!! – or you have a serious problem!!!” Well, an angry, 6’1” and 20 stone biker in full gear can be quite convincing. He quickly walked to the car escorted by me, grabbed the money from the centre console and gave it back to me. With a hearty “F*CK YOU!!!” I left him and went to the couple. They confirmed that he tried to trick them in the same way and thanked me for interfering. I had lost enough time by now, I quickly went back to the BMW and went to the M25. I needed to catch my train which I managed. Another three hours later I was back home. While riding, I analysed what had happened before. This was a professional scam at very high level. He targets foreigners who do not get some of the details. He and his accomplice, the little boy, are confusing you by asking questions or distracting you otherwise so you can’t assess the situation thoroughly. And there’s a prepared answer for every question. A fake facebook account. A fake banking app. This is not for amateurs.

At home, I reported the incident digitally to the British police. I haven’t heard anything ever since.

In summary, it was a very nice and successful trip, despite this story in Thurrock. A lovely ride out, great scenery, no motorbike stolen, a good performance, a good time with friends, overall good weather, a very pleasant result.