Kelvin Adams Benone Fly-in and Barbecue 27 August 2016
An old event was revamped and pulled from the ashes. An end of the summer bash/fly-in - well drink on.This event was held many years ago and has changed names over the years to this, the Kelvin Adams fly-in.
Kelvin was a good all round hell of a nice guy who lost his life in the sea at Whiterocks while paragliding with his friends. So we try to remember him and have fun in the way he would have loved.
Phil Barron and his good lady wife Louise excelled themselves in laying on a barbeque, helped by a few friends, that would be hard to beat. A large gazebo with an extension had been constructed on the beach in case of bad weather and for sleeping accommodation if needed. Those who arrived early were treated to Phil's famous stews, brewed up on a gas burner while the barbeque was being fired up. The recipe for the stews is his trade secret so no point in asking, but taste delicious. Boxes of burgers, bags of baps, lettuce, tomato, onions, sauces, disposable bowls, plates, glasses etc were all there waiting.
Gradually more people started to arrive bearing bags of logs and wood offcuts, booze of various sorts and a firepit consisting of an old washing machine drum was lit. This worked extremely well and kept us warm well into the small hours of Sunday.
Once Gavin's big barbeque was ready, a steady stream of burgers, topped up with sauces etc started disappearing into baps and down hungry throats.
While all the preparations were going on, Al, Walter and Rory were zooming round the area on their paramotors. Gradually as the evening wore on, some people drifted away - particularly those who had children along or who had children at home to go back to. That left a hard core group huddled round the firepit, lashing back the drink and talking rubbish. One or two seemed to have a wee bit of a balance problem at times.
 |
|||
| Dee down! |
Strangely, the talk did not come round to paragliding until well after midnight. After 1:30am we were joined by four ladies from the nearby campsite who had decided to go for a run on their bicycles along the beach in the middle of the night. Like moths to a flame, they were attracted by the glow of the firepit and the waffling bodies gathered round it. After a bit of banter they left and the rest of us drifted off to sleep in cars, tents, vans or wherever around 3:30am.
Some five hours later, those of us who had stayed close to the action, helped to dismantle the gazebo, clear away the rubbish and generally leave the beach undisturbed.