‘Right, there’s no way round it — we’re gonna get wet. Ready?” Matt Bishop calmly gave me the facts before twisting the throttle and chugging through the flooded ford ahead. Water curled around the nose of the sidecar and I thought we were going under. I couldn’t stop laughing, though; I hadn’t had this much fun in ages.
We were on a dusky green lane in deepest Northumberland. This was the first action I’d seen on a new night-time sidecar adventure that Bishop and his friend, Reece Gilkes, aka the Sidecar Guys, are offering in Kielder Forest. After splashing around on byways we would visit Kielder Observatory then belt down forest tracks to find the best spots for stargazing.
Kielder is the largest forest and dark-sky park in England (its 572 sq miles have been awarded gold-tier status by DarkSky International). The Milky Way makes a regular spectacle, while the northern lights sometimes flicker above.
“Kielder is always quiet, but at night there’s no one around for miles,” Bishop said as we set off from the stately and recently refurbished Matfen Hall, where I was staying. People in the local village stopped to look and grin as we trundled by — prompting the question, “What is it about sidecars that is so funny?” My cult references begin with Wallace and Gromit, then Hagrid from the Harry Potter films; as we pootled along I found myself whistling the theme for The Great Escape.
“The only reason that sidecars still exist is they make you smile,” Bishop says. “They’re not practical in any way: as slow as a car; as wet as a motorbike.”
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The Sidecar Guys are better placed than anyone to make this claim — they hold the Guinness world record for the longest scooter-and-sidecar journey, at 34,151 miles. “We wanted to raise money for Unseen UK and other antislavery charities and thought, ‘Sod it, let’s go round the world with a scooter and sidecar.’ ”
But neither had a licence or could afford the vehicle. After just about every sidecar manufacturer declined to support them, they met Charlie Prescott, a 70-year-old mechanic who agreed to build one for them in his barn. With some rather ironic sponsorship secured from the Flight Centre, their employer at the time, they set off on a 15-month zigzag of the planet. “We were clueless,” Bishop said. “We didn’t know what a wheel bearing was until one fell out in the Sahara.”
Enduring a number of dangerous moments — including minus-45C snowstorms in Siberia — they eventually made it home and became known as the Sidecar Guys. This propelled them into hosting their own weekender, the Armchair Adventure Festival in Cornwall, before Ural, which makes off-road sidecars, approached them to run adventure days in the UK.
As we made it out of the bog, Bishop turned on his motorcycle’s two-wheel-drive system and scudded up the muddy lane. I pushed overhanging branches out of the way as he explained that it needn’t be a passive experience for the passenger. “If you lean with me the bike’s cornering improves,” he said.
My baptism of mire now complete, we stopped at the Cheviot in Bellingham. Night had fallen by the time I’d finished my sticky toffee pudding, so it was time to visit the observatory. We were met there by Guy Haveron, our tour guide, who ushered us to a small screening room for a short introduction to astronomy.
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The weather had been mercurial all day and when we arrived at the main turret of the observatory clouds had gathered to spoil the show. Clearly well versed in plan B, Haveron managed to wow us with the centre’s research-grade telescopes. At the control desk he showed us an image of the Andromeda galaxy captured that evening; the staggering beauty of a billion stars causing a synchronised gasp from our group. “What’s even more impressive is that the light has taken 2.5 million years to get here, travelling at 671 million miles per hour,” he said.
My mind was blown, but I still wanted to see some twinkles for real, so we went back to the bike and sidecar and made our way down the forest track. A fresh drizzle did not bode well, though the ride was a blast. With my sight limited, smells came alive — petrichor, pine resin and wafts of petrol. Bishop took the corners so smoothly that it felt as though we were gliding around them; I couldn’t believe that we were only doing 30mph. For those who don’t have a licence or are physically unable to ride a motorcycle, this must be the safest means of connecting to the freedom that bikers often say is the main reason they choose to ride.
● Matfen Hall Northumberland hotel review
● Seven of the UK’s best dark-sky spots for stargazing
We stopped at the highest point of Kielder Forest Drive at the large wooden sculpture The Nick, in which visitors are invited to sit and look at the sky. It frames the view so you can focus on the firmament, or in this case a matt-black void. Instead we opened the Thermos and appreciated just how intensely dark and quiet it was.
However, just as we stood up to leave the show began. Within a minute or two the sky went full sparkle and a milky haze appeared. Calling on what we’d learnt at the observatory — and the Night Sky app — we picked out Jupiter and the Pleiades, or Seven Sisters, my favourite constellation.
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I sat in the sidecar and leant back for an hour looking up before we called it a night. It was a steady ride back to Matfen, where I spent the rest of the weekend doing things that weren’t wet or windy. Spa days and wine-paired fine dining are a civilised counterpoint to the rush of the midnight ride — I craved the ride for days, though, whistling The Great Escape and smiling.
Damien Gabet was a guest of Matfen Hall, which has B&B doubles from £299 (matfenhall.com), and the Sidecar Guys, who have three-hour evening tours from £149pp (sidecarexperience.co.uk)
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