Farmyard Party 2006
Higher and drier
This year's Farmyard Party went uphill to cut the flood risk and stretch its legs - it all worked out rather well.
We arrived on Monday around noon, the site was bare save for a couple of marquee poles and one food van. Over the next four days the temporary village that is Farmyard grew into life. It is difficult to comprehend the amount of work that goes into setting up and running this event. My first involvement was at a MAP (the company that runs The Farmyard) meeting back in March followed by two further meetings where the plans and allotted tasks were announced.
Three of us spent over a day walking up and down with a rolling machine marking out the fire breaks on the campsite in white paint. There are myriad other tasks such as establishing fire points, erecting security fencing and signs, water pipes, screens, entrance gates, toilets to be placed, roads to be scraped. The set out of the arena has to be carefully managed, power provided throughout the site, marquees erected and frayed nerves soothed. All very capably directed by Pete Walker (though dressed as a Bedouin) and Bruiser his doting sidekick. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday evenings were spent in the The Royal Oak in Helmsley for a meal and the odd pint. Followed by a hearty singsong around the campfire before bed. On Tuesday eve the lads from the Avalon Bar arrived in the pub ready to begin setting up next morn. The Yorkshire lads had all left and we Lincolnshire boys (along with Chrissie from Sheffield) joined the Georgie (sorry I am dyslexic) lads to partake in the quiz. We were joint winners and would have won outright were it not for one of our number misspelling Ian with David.
The equipment which I and Murray my young Padawan assembled for a weekend of marshalling in The Avalon Bar consisted of 1000 lollies, 10 inflatable hammers, 70 phantom of the opera masks, 6 inflatable sheep and two sets of Jedi robes, plus of course the obligatory poppy out eyes and a loaf of dairy lea sarnies for sustenance. We took up residence on Thursday night and pretty much stayed there until Sunday. The lollipops were a hit, as were the hammers, the masks were a complete flop, the Jedi robes were taken as monks' robes but popular anyway. The fate of the sheep I shall draw a veil over, but you know who you are!
The Avalon Bar was something to behold with a Vincent on a platform behind the bar, and custom made optic holders in the shape of a v-twin. Comfy sofas awaited the weary, the thirsty and the indifferent, banners depicting various marquees adorned the walls and the laid back music made for a great venue. This winter I shall be heading up to Whitley Bay where the original Avalon bar that this one was modelled on is sited.
My usual wandering tendencies were curtailed by the task in hand. I had told everyone that I would be in The Avalon Bar. Consequently I was able to see loads of my muckers. I had a few very pleasant surprises when good friends turned up unexpectedly to see me.
By spending the weekend thus I may have missed many of the other attractions but I spent the weekend among friends old and new, squiffy but not drunk, alert but unobtrusive, adjacent and standing by.
Goodnight
Sunny Thursday afternoon with England playing footie on TV made the journey south from Blyth all the more enjoyable due to the severe lack of traffic.
The approach to Duncombe Park and the new Farmyard site were easily visible from the B road we took avoiding the delightful Sutton Bank.
On arrival we were informed that the sumptuous teepee that was to be the Marshal's survival tent cum chill out area was already erected, complete with furnishings and windows!
The main site had taken shape and the camping areas were clearly defined between smoking and non-smoking (camp-fires that is!).
Thursday evening turned out to be a recce of the site and then a few quiet cocktails with the highly motivated Marshals, some of whom had been working all week. This took place in the Avalon Bar complete with comfy sofas which, after a few sherbets became far too comfortable! Friday morning arrived and so too did the sun.
A lovely lady from the MAG tea tent arrived with a boiler for us and as soon as Pete Power linked us up to the grid we were under way. Armed with tea, coffee, pop and stickies we were set for the weekend.
At first, trade was a little slow, mainly due to Marshals not being aware we were there or not being used to the sheer luxury of having someone else make a brew for them. Still, as the weekend wore on there were more takers and it was great to see some people that you only see at rallies from one year to the next. The general banter kept us all entertained especially by Sunday when everyone was happily dazed.
Five of us worked shifts in the tent, closing it down to basic 'self-service' after 10 pm, restarting at 7 am. The enduring sunshine all weekend was welcome, unlike the all-too-familiar overcast skies at STC, which usually drives Marshals into the survival tent! The 10 pm finish gave us all the opportunity to sample the bands in the various bars and stages. I particularly enjoyed the Blues Bar on both Friday and Saturday nights excellent bands. The punters we saw and spoke to throughout the weekend had nothing but positive comments about the new site and the organisation in general. The old site had a different character but the special atmosphere remains the same.
Behind the scenes the Marshals did a sterling job of making the event happen. A dedicated core of reliable, responsible people are often the unsung heroes of rallies this size, working all hours and getting very little sleep. This was evident at the party on Sunday night when a lot of bleary-eyed folk had pie and chips, a couple of pints and then proceeded to drop like flies. Bless them all - sincerely.
Terrific job by all involved with Mr Walker as ever at the helm. We haven't been to the Farmyard Party for some years and thoroughly enjoyed it. Hope this builds yet another bridge between Yorkshire and the North East.
Keep up the good work.
Archi and Ann Hipkins
As the leading actor hurried by in the costume of a monk . . . The words of the Dylan epic Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts flooded my mind as I spied the ludicrous bulk of Ferg who was marshaling the Avalon tent in a clerical outfit that he insisted was actually Jedi garb. The disorder seemed to be contagious as his sidekick Murray Walker was identically clad and equipped with the same mad eyes. I guess all rallies encourage odd behaviour it's just that the Farmyard gets more than its fair share. And so to the main act and . . .
Shyyyyyyne on you crazy Diamond. The familiar lyrics pulsed from the huge bass speakers at the foot of the stage where I crouched photographing the band and those party animals close enough to capture on disc.
This was proper music, music with depth, culturally, spiritually spine tinglingly profound. With the clouds of dry ice and the impressive skills of headline band 'Crazy Diamonds' the ambience was pure magic. Being able to reproduce sounds of this sophistication in the open air never fails to impress me and I'm just glad that pulling all the strings together to make it gel isn't my responsibility. I'll do the pictures and write about it thank you.
Every time the Farmyard moves location I wonder if its unique quality will survive the transplantation and every time the answer is an emphatic 'yes.' How it blends major rock concert quality with traditional camp fire-based rallying is one of the cultural miracles of the biker social calendar and like a lot of things that are done by professionals it just comes across as simple and obvious because they get it right. I suppose it's a bit like ballet really and while Farmyard kingpin Pete Walker might not normally think of himself as a tippy toe tutu-clad ballet dancer, that is, in a manner of speaking is exactly what he is.
I collected a lot of opinions from people at the bash and they were universally good. OK there are always fine tuning elements to be worked on but the overwhelming response was that people had a blinding time and that's the bottom line. The old valley site along the river bank was great but the compensation of more space and a magnificent view across the countryside from the new site more than compensated. The less elongated nature of the layout also meant that the walk to and from the village of traders and bands was minimised.
New to the village this year was the atmospheric Avalon tent with its sofas and bar decor including a full-blooded Vincent V twin set up among the optics, cool or what?
The 100% Biker tent seems now to have become a regular feature where NABD supremo Rick Hulse holds forth with his brand of refreshingly politically incorrect entertainment and stand up comic routine. Good to see new captain at the helm of that ship, Nick Samson on site less about four stone of fat, amazing transformation that man.
In-between pointing lenses at folk I took time out to gatecrash a campfire where I cooked a rather fine sea Bass in a foil wrap with a little dill and lemon juice, magnificent! Thanks to teddy for that and to Neil from Grimsby for lending me his airbed pump, and to Chrissy for lending me her penknife to gut the fish, oh and more thanks to whoever left their campfire burning for my use.
Saturday saw me riding down into Helmsley to snap happy faces in the sun-bathed town square where I caught up with now ex Chief Superintendent David Short over a pot of tea in the friendly Nice Things Cafe.
Late afternoon found me crouching on the ground to take in the BSH custom show which topped all previous shows in the standard of bikes on display. The Ducati that took top honours was something else! A brave choice for a custom bike but somehow it worked. The Biker Build Off bikes were also on site in a tent of their own adding a high cred style statement that enhanced the status of the Farmyard yet another notch.
The only bad experience for me over the weekend was losing my bike as I became disorientated in the camping area. I'd only walked a dozen paces from where I'd left it in the dark with its lights on to look for my tent but it was gone? It was a full ten minutes of hunting before I found it again during which time I aged several years. I may never understand what happened and the experience joins the catalogue of mysteries that increasingly crowd my life.
Mutch
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