Fianlly...
It all started with Tony wanting to go look at some local lanes. Having a lazy wonder around them some nice slippery parts, few small, short ones etc. Nothing testing.
Along one particular lane I see on MM that there is a short lane turning off ahead. It looks like a dead end but suggest we go take a look just for fun. Tony agrees.
With him in the lead, we going down a muddy yet boring lane which has a small stream flowing alongside it. The first sign of things to come where LB gives a bit of a slide towards the stream and rather large, well placed, treeless gap in the lane. After a bit off noise and fighting, he clears the gap and is back on the lane. All is well so I come trundling along, slowly, weary of the incline, mud and what LB did. As I approach the section, my front wheel gives a little slide to the left. I stop and the slide stops. Attempt two and I lose another inch towards the stream.
Right, we decide to hook LB’s winch up and pull me clear.
A straight line pull is first attempt. No joy. Loose another inch.
Using a snatch block, we change the angle so it’s pulling me away from the stream at 45 degrees. Some joy in going forward but back starts to slide in.
Right, get another strap and lash the rear to a nearby tree at 90 degrees which would allow a little forward movement but at the same time pull us away from the stream. While the idea was sound, I don’t think it was implemented very well.
I now slide half way down the embankment. Not a happy place.
Deciding that I am at a pretty precarious angle, I tie a strap to the roof rail and nearby tree. Resetting LB’s winch and trying another idea (we had so many, I forget them) I slide pretty much all the way into the ditch. Luckily, I seemed to miss all the trees and branches
(more about that later…)
On one pull there is an almighty bang and tinkle of falling shackles. LB snapped the plasma rope. Right, this is bad. After tying the rope back onto the hook, we try again with a double line. BANG! Snaps again. I recall saying “Nou’s ons in die fokken kak” which is Afrikaans for “Now we’re in the f**ing shit.”
I decide to admit defeat (read: I wanted to cry at my uselessness) I think at this point Tony was agreeing as anything we tried just made it worse. (Give me an N, an O a V, an I, a C, an E. Whadya get? NOVICE!)
So, I tried calling Greg to see if, amongst his services, he offers a HSD service (Help Stupid Drivers'). His phone was off. Urm, this is bad. Tony joked we could leave it here, not like anyone is going to steel it. A thought I had was if we leave it, the police might eventually have it recovered and I can pay for that. Might even be cheaper
Right, let's try Tommo. Most calls to Tommo are usually missed followed by a text message "Sorry, was [insert reason]. What's up?" Curiously, this one was answered. I suspect he knew what was about to happen.
A brief explanation (no laughter thankfully!) and he said he would try get hold of Greg. Sit tight.
5 minutes later the phone rings. Goes something like this:
"Hey mate, what's your exact location"
"Nearest village is Hare Street" (remember that name!)
"Right, I got hold of Greg, he's heading up from Brighton, I'll be slightly ahead of him."
"urm, ok. Thanks!" (At this point, I was expecting to do a bit of grovelling, confirming on fees etc etc. I was certainly not expecting a simple "We're on our way."
"Sit tight, will see you in a couple of hours."
"Thanks!"
Tony and I make small talk for a few minutes in LB. Bearing in mind we had been talking to each other since about 2pm, it was now about 5pm.
Beep Beep goes my phone. You have a new voice mail. Dialling my voice mail expecting to hear Tommo or Greg's voice, I was somewhat confused by the "Hi, This is Ian. I hear you're in a spot of bother." (How very bloody English...)
I call Ian back. Turns out, he is also on his way up! Slight problem though, the green truck is off the road at the moment, he will be in the red one without a winch. Still, he has been doing this for longer than me, he'll know what to do.
So, here's the scene so far: My 120 is on it's side (not resting on but pretty close to it) with straps between the chassis and a tree and the roof bar and a tree.
The lane is a dead end and guess which side LB is one. Yup, the wrong side.
After a bit of debating we decide to see what happens if we slacken off the straps. Will she slide. She stays put. Tony very quickly drives LB past me while I do up the traps.
Expletives which would cause every internet filter to kick-in flowed from my mouth. I could hear using his own versions. LB had slipped toward the same stream. Not as bad as me but had a wheel pretty much hanging on the edge. He had also slid into a tree and, with the forward momentum that Tony and LB always seem to have, mashed the front right fender, ripped off the wing mirror (they don't float by the way!), tore a strip from the gutter and screwed a gutter mount for the roof rack.
Worse than all this, he was about to slide into the same stream.
Tying one last knot into the plasma rope, we anchored it to a tree. A slight pull on the winch and the stream got larger and larger.
The reason for the expletives? The nearby pub we were going to wait in was now very far away.
So, we sat in LB for a good few hours and just waited. Possibly the awkwardest moment was when Tony needed something behind my seat. Reaching back and down, his head was rather close to my crotch (well, from where I was looking it looked pretty close...) We would have had some explaining to do if, at that moment, the cavalry came round the bend lights blazing. All they would see would be me with my head pointed slightly up, Tony's body bent over towards the passenger seat...
Some hours pass.
Tommo gives me a call. He has arrived at Hare Street. Right, fire up memory map again and let's work out where he is. He gives me a couple of cross streets but non of them could be found. I can hear him on the CB but he was deaf to me (LB's aerial was in the trees) So he had to be close. I went cold when I thought "What if he is in the wrong part of the world." With many phone calls and Tommo reading out village names and street names, we were non the wiser as to where he was. For about 30 minutes he was bouncing from one place to the next, always ending back in Hare Street village but by description, was not where I was. Bear in mind, I am feeling somewhat intimidated by a) the situation I am in, b) I am giving shit directions to a navigator with the Royal Navy. Credit to him though, he was patient with the civvies...
As Tony and I were flicking around on MM trying to find some of the places Tommo had read out, something catches my eye. Hare Street. Scroll left, ANOTHER F-ING HARE STREET.
Who in their right mind built two villages called Hare Street 10 miles apart!!!!! I really do need to find them and shoot him. Call Tommo back, after a few choice from him, I talk him towards us. We relay the info to Ian and Greg that there are two Hare Streets and they are heading for the wrong one.
Talking him onto the lane was pretty easy. We were saved
Seeing Tommo's lights coming down the lane was like a cheesy RAC TV ad.
End of Part one... (busy typing part two...)
