AKA “Why Irondale may Never be the Same”
writeup and photos by Rally Master Jamie "Bvardi" Leonard, Vice-Commissar, Minden Hills Region
A wise man knows when to shut up. A stupid man knows how to speak up.
There probably wasn't much doubt which category I fell into when I made the offer to host the CURD National Rally at our property, in Irondale, Ontario.
I'd originally just suggested having a few people up to our cottage property for a BBQ and a ride. Next thing I know, the Head Cheese is saying “We can make that the National Rally if you want”.
Next thing I know I'm asking the wife about that. Surprisingly (She's usually the sane one) she agreed to do it. After that I found myself saying “Sure” on the forums.
Little did I know what I watting myself into.
We had to turn THIS...
Into THIS
We spent months cutting brush, digging out roots that might trip people or go through tents, and burning leftover brush and tree branches so we didn't have huge piles of dead vegetation all over the place. Though we nearly ended up with piles of dead relatives who foolishly volunteered to help us. Fighting brush that didn't want to be moved. Dodging bugs the size of small animals but in numbers too great to count. Bravely overcoming all odds and exhaustion to get ready for the rally. (At least, thats how I remember it. My wife Cindy tells some story about a lot of whimpering on my part and pitiful moaning but I prefer to remember things my way really.)
Our dog supervised the site prep.
We ordered prizes (to make sure we had something to give out.), contacted sponsors (to get more than the dinky little prizes we had picked up – thanks BTW to OVC (Old Vintage Cranks, a Ural and scooter dealer in Hillsburgh, ON) and also Ural Canada from Peterborough, ON – they came through with donated prizes. (Also thanks to our American contingent, who I'll mention again in a few places, for also donating a couple prizes – Q-Ball, Tia, Shylocke and Bill.) Ordered porta potties (because when you gotta go... you hopefully aren't doing it in our little cabin.), and ordered food. (As well as cooking up a few things for the event.)
We decided on a ride route (doing about 800km worth of riding around to pick a decent variety of roads – we wanted a little offroad, a little dirt, and some slab riding as well. But we wanted not to make it too rough – we didn't want to leave anyone behind. Which we almost did a couple of times anyways.
Finally all was set, painkillers had been taken to allow us to pretend to be non crippled human beings again, and we were sitting at the property waiting for people to arrive.
First to arrive was Herb from Bancroft, who popped in several times during the rally. (He has a campground near Bancroft and needed to go back to supervise things, so he couldn't stay for the entire weekend.)
After that the HeadCheese, The Head Snugglebunny, and Hector the Wonder Dog showed up.
Riding this (with a trailer)
And of course the indomitable Douk, with Navigator Hector The Wonder Dog
And they proceeded to setup their tent. Which took up most of our property. And the neighbouring townships. We likely would have been required to get a building permit for the assembly, but the local planning office had to be demolished to make room. For a short while, the federal government was considering making the tent a new province - “Curdania” - but this idea was quickly shelved as Hector insisted on recognition of Curdania's unique culture before accepting the offer.
After this more people began to show up. The American CURD contingent showed up next.
(It was likely at this point we began to frighten the neighbours a little, with the strange machines showing up, some even equipped with sound systems.
Pretty soon we had a fair sized crowd on our little 1-acre plot.
And then – the devils – the Americans unleashed their secret weapon! (Q-Ball clearly scheming to feed us into a state of complacency so they could take over.)
CHILI!
We of course resisted their clever ploy. Any photos showing me consuming several bowls are clearly faked, and should not be believed. Nor did I, in fact, shove aside several other rallygoers for seconds.
They were even followed by some highly suspicious birds. (Apparently this flamingo subspecies makes its' nest in the luggage carrier of sidecar motorbikes.... I'm pretty sure Wild Kingdom never covered this.
Friday night ended up being a group of people talking into the wee hours of the night around the campfire. Somewhat loudly. Neighbours may have heard a little bit about Ural repair, Ural ownership, motorcycle riding, and a certain amount towards the end of men saying “No I love YOU man” followed by significant others dragging their loved ones off to sleep it off.
Which was a pity really, as I almost had enough taped for blackmail purposes. Ah well, always next year.
Saturday arrived with sunshine, heat and plenty of humidity. After a breakfast of eggs, peameal bacon, and toast (And me running into town in a panic as we'd forgotten a few things.... like cups for water or tea for example – shows that detailed planning won't necessarily prevent you missing obvious things.) we got set for the group ride.
We started off on a local paved sideroad (a bit of a diversion from our original route, but they'd just gravelled highway 503 and it was soft enough to swallow a few machines entirely. And we decided that the convenience of a more direct route wasn't likely worth burying a few people for future generations to find. Well mostly not worth it anyways.)
Then
we hit the IB&O rail trail – just after Gooderham, ON. A
former railway line – the section in the Highlands East
municipal area is multi-use and motorbikes can use it. (some sections
are closed to anything except ATV's unfortunately.) We pulled aside
to let a few dirtbikes go ahead.
(We later heard some of the Uralists in the lead were going along the rail trail fast enough the dirt bikes later had to pull over to let THEM pass.)
We stopped briefly to allow someone who shall remain nameless to screw his oil dipstick back into place after he lost most of the oil in his machine. (*cough*derek*cough*)
This also allowed other types of fluids to be drained from some of the canine contingent along for the ride.
A short while later we regrouped in Tory Hill, before starting the next ride round to Haliburton.
And then it was time to be off – Cindy swapped seats with me and took over the controls. (At which point I began to fear for my life.... she can... be enthusiastic in her driving at times!)
Not that she was the only one – more than one hack driver was enjoying the curvy roads.
After a bit we arrived in Haliburton, then decided to continue on without stopping (as we were running a bit later than originally planned.)
After Haliburton we continued on, heading westbound on the Gelert Road and then to Kashagawigamog Lake Road. (No, I'm not actually making that up. Try saying THAT 5 times fast when giving rally ride directions.) Along the way we attracted some attention from cottagers (and saw a few odd things ourselves)
(I still wonder what the road skier thought as all those sidecars roared on past him.)
Then back to Gelert Road, then down the Milburn Road for some dust-eating goodness on a nice stretch of twisty dirt.
After Milburn, it was time to arrive at Furnace Falls (A day park along highway 503) for some swimming, and a picnic lunch. (Home made roast beef sandwiches, potato salad, and a few other odds and ends)
It was a nice chance to cool off and talk while getting some food – all good things! And of course, a chance to admire the bikes. (Including a few from Ural Canada)
Then after Furnace Falls, it was time to head back for the dinner at the rallyground. (Our bunkie site, known temporary as “Iron Curd HQ”)
(Pictures unfortunately mostly missing since we were too busy cooking to take pictures at this point!)
The next day was the wrapup of the rally – with a ride along 503, back up the Milburn Road (ah, dust... the breakfast of champions) to the Wintergreen Pancake Barn along the Gelert Road.
Awards were given out to the deserving. And probably not so deserving. And a few people who frankly likely just crashed the whole thing. Possibly even one guy who just happened to be standing nearby – we probably should have been actually tracking that kind of thing.
Speeches were made – including one by the Headcheese himself as he presented the “HeadCheese” award (A Russian Paratrooper helmet) to Q-Ball.
After this, it was time to wrap things up.
Couples and families headed off into the streets of Haliburton County – no doubt creating stories and legends that would be told over campfires and barstools for a long time to come. And thoroughly disbelieved of course.
“Can we get going already, I have a Shiatsu appointment at 5..... wait a minute, what do you mean Shiatsu isn't a type of dog?
Crap!”
All in all, a great rally. Great people met, driven, fed and camped out with. Relatively few laws broken (at least where we could see) and memories to last a lifetime. Unless the therapy kicks in.
Cindy and I would like to thank everyone who attended, and we're looking forward to being at next year's Rally!