Race to Willowmore 2021 - Part 5: Pressing Pause in Pearston

The last time I was at the Pearston Hotel the vibe was very different. Last year I arrived well after dark. After knocking on what I assumed to be the main entrance I was directed to another door a few metres further down the veranda. Keys turned and door bolts clattered and the outer door swung open. If memory serves I entered through some batwing doors (saloon style swing doors) and found myself in a bar that was rocking. There was music blaring and the TV screen was playing something completely unrelated to the sound emanating from what seemed every corner of the place. I had a moments hesitation as I took this in. We were in lockdown and as far as I knew bars were not supposed to be open. It took a while but I figured it out. There were only two patrons and strictly speaking neither was a customer. One was the barman and the other the proprietor of the establishment.

I soon bumped into Arno who had arrived a few hours earlier. He had developed a condition known as Shermer's Neck. It's a condition where fatigue of the neck muscles result in the muscles failing which means you can't lift your head. It's a riding thing. Onset from first symptom to looking like a freaky Middle Earth servile minion is typically only a few hours. As I stood there talking to Arno who did his best to lift his head it occurred to me that he was the perfect prop to complete the aesthetic of that space. Introductions made I was shown to a room before heading to the dinning room where I was presented with a plate of food as delicious if not better than anything I’ve had in a city restaurant.

Roll forward to 2021. The proprietor let us in through a side gate into what I think is a fancy beer garden. It was the perfect space for the riders. There was food and other refreshments on tap. The proprietor sat at the head of a long table and said nothing. I mentioned that I'd been there a few months previous at the same time as Arno. He acknowledged Arno (that servile minion look is hard to forget) with a nod of his head when he heard the name but the glaze that followed showed he had no recollection of me ever being there. Well it was midday and party time was still many hours away. Maybe he has bat tendencies and only comes out to play when the sun disappears.

We had only been there 7 minutes when Roger asked, "Are you ready?"
Wow, I'm supposed to be the master of lightning fast in and out of support stations. Roger had taken it to a whole new level. So 10 minutes after signing in we put pen to paper, got on our bikes and hastened out the gate into the street with Toekomst as our next objective. My till slip timetable urged us to get there by 5pm.