26/8 Ring of Joy
A alarm clock on vacation is actually the last thing I want to see or hear. But Colin and I still want to find a new oil seal and, of course, install it. Lerwick is exactly the right place for that, as it has cars, tools, and especially shipbuilding supplies for everything needed in this direction. In the second shop I hold my long‑sought oil seal in my hand—actually two, you never know. I then head straight to Colin’s garage; everything is very tidy and there really is every tool you could need. Colin lives on a hill and has a wonderful view over Lerwick out to sea. After enjoying the vista, it’s time to get to work. In less than 20 minutes I wrestle with the clutch. I improvise a lever to take pressure off the clutch disc so I can loosen the nuts. Shortly after, Colin has to pop into his second garage for two screws and to press the flywheel out. That’s normally done with special tools, but what can you do on the road. When the crankshaft stub is exposed the mishap is immediately recognized. The WeDi has stripped the sails. Not catastrophic yet, but enough that the next 1,000 km would have turned into a “We can’t go on like this!” And if the oil ever reaches the clutch lining, the thing will still run, but I would note that as anything but a joy. So better to have one than to have none. Around midday, just before finishing, a neighbor of Colin’s rushes in. A funny old bird, already over 80. Colin says we’ll check his garage later; he still has some noteworthy treasures there, since I’m interested in old stuff. First, though, we head down to Lerwick. Colin gives me a short city tour and we grab a bite at his favorite snack bar. They serve a kind of burger, but with real island meat—not that Mc‑doof stuff. Accompanied by a cup of tea and a slice of cream cake. An interesting combination, but I had said “Colin, you order, I’ll pay.” Both tasted really good. So now we admire his neighbor’s little treasures. We drive back up the hill and enter Joe’s holy halls. Joe is not only an enthusiastic collector of old English motorcycles but also a brilliant watchmaker—a hobby he’s taken up himself. He therefore has a garage, no, a double garage, full of stuff that makes men’s hearts beat faster. Surely also some women’s hearts. You want to rummage through everything to discover the last hidden gems. Unfortunately, because of the cramped space and sub‑optimal lighting I can’t get any new photos for my calendar. I still try to capture some details to examine later back home among motorcycle circles. Right, Torsten, Raik? I had to wait until the very last moment to admire the coveted Rudge, Norton and Ariel machines. The ferry check‑in can’t be postponed any further, so unfortunately it’s time to say goodbye to Joe and Colin. It’s hard for me to put my thanks to Colin for all his support into proper words. In moments like this it hurts a bit that I’m stumbling together in broken English. I will, in any case, find another way to thank Colin.
On the ferry, while taking the farewell photo on deck, I spot Thomas again, whom I already met at the Brae Hotel. The Swiss fellow who cycles across Europe lengthwise. Another two hours of fine conversation follow in the lounge, until I struggle to keep my eyes open. We also part warmly, and I head to the pod lounge, the sleeping area. From the outbound trip I learned, and this time I brought my sleeping bag, which I spread on the floor in front of my chair. It’s a bit odd. You book a recliner and then lie on the floor in front of it. But the booking was made before I realized that on the outbound trip, so what can you do. I roll into my sleeping bag, and now I finally settle where I’ve spent the last four days. With AWO. Goodbye Shetland, goodbye Colin and the other comrades who have been a great support.
