Jay and Bob leave Bellarena first, before 9am on Friday.
Come Saturday, the mission is truly underway. Rick pops down to Bellarena at 10am, and seeing that the Queen's K-13 is not yet de-rigged he promptly heads off, neglecting to help. By 4pm, the K-13 is padded out on the trailer (where oh where is David Lisk?), and Gary leads the convoy of DG-100, K-13 and discus. After half a mile Gary turns onto a road where the wing mirrors hit a hedge on both sides, and Owen neglects to follow. After Gary shoots off at his usual pace, the convoy collapses.
Meanwhile, David Lisk is blissfully making the journey down from Belfast, stress free and with a full car of happy passengers, although without the use of his rear view mirror due to some over-packing, including a 1000W amplifier.
6.30pm, Jay calls Tim. 35 knot gusts are whizzing through Birr airfield, and tents aren't holding down. The K-13 could be in dire danger! 'Pull over!' he advises. 'Bed down! Shelter!' It should be noted at this point that Tim has full use of both arms, changing gear like seasoned pro. The convoy agree to regroup in Cavan and get some food while the storm passes. Owen and Tim meet on a layby outside Cavan, but where is the Brute?! In Cavan, we hear, eating alone. Owen observes the weather, and decides 'ahh it'll be grand. Let's get on to Athlone.'
In Birr, the tents are being erected. David Lisk's 6 man tent proves a challenge in the 35 knot gusts, and appropriately the tent takes 6 men to put up.
Through heavy rain, they make it to Athone, and with a call from the heavens in the form of two golden arches, the discus and K-13 crews stop in McDonalds for some well-deserved fodder. A big mac and cheese quarter pounder later, In walks the brute! Somehow we were ahead and he had spotted the trailers. Owen popped into the toilet for a whizz, but 20 minutes later, there is still no sign! After some discussion, the brute decides to go and check. He is alive! Another 10 and we are back on the road. A three-man convoy upsets all the traffic in Offaly on the final 42km leg, but finally we are there! Sweet Birr!
It's blowing a gale, but luckily the tents are up. It must be time for some stella! The flying is looking doubtful for tomorrow, but Owen optimism kicks in and we are all in bed by 2.30, setting the bar for the week to come.
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