Big Bike Challenge
Rally write ups
The PJM Rally
The Cambrian 2004
The Reivers Raid 2004
The Hafren 2004
The PJM Rally
This was a two day, five laps of a 30 odd mile circuit of a Welsh forest.
Hmmm Hm.
That was fun. I've just completed the Patrick James Memorial Rally on the trusty Hefalump. Well trusty as in, being in the garage in pieces having new bits bolted to it all winter, trusty.
It was a two dayer run over what was pretty much the Hafren course. Well I kept recognising bits of it, so I reckon it was. I got down there reasonably early on the Saturday, after spending all week completing various mods on the bike, new sumpguard, wider pegs etc.. The sumpguard I'd actually started making up in December, but delays with the welder, bike unreliabilty, all that sort of thing meant, as bloody usual, meant everything was being finished the day before the event. Why does that always happen?
Back at the event, John Monger had already arrived when I got there, having worked even later (he had changed the cylinder head studs on one barrel in the week, finishing it, as usual, the day before the event) and got up even earlier than I did. The day was dry and cold, probably the best we could hope for in mid feb. This led to lots of moaning about frozen hands, including John , who had to stop on the first lap to warm his hands on the exhaust. I was predictably smug, with my heated grips.
We got away on the first 35 mile lap about midday (2 laps to do on Saturday, 3 Sunday) it kicked off quite gently, bit of fire road, turn on to a bit of nadgery wooded bit, wiggle through that, and then onto a sandy down slope with a nasty plop into a ditch to turn up onto another fire road. This, of course, I managed to mistime and ended up flat on my back, and the bike on it's side. Fortunately, though embarrassingly, I was being followed by Russell Tyner on the ex Adam Atkins 1040 HPN BMW GS, who, along with his mate, gave me a hand righting the beast.
After that christening I got a bit more into the groove, helped by the course getting easier. After about another 5 miles of whizzy fire road we approached a group of Marshals, which was the start of the difficult bit. We had been told that the big bikes could cut this bit out, but as this was the first lap John and I had decided to give it a go, just to show them we could do it (don't know who 'them' are, probably ourselves really).
After a few nadgery preliminaries the main show approached. This was a long, long climb through trees with fairly soft, shale surface. I mis-judged the start and had to stop for a moment at the bottom, one boot on a bank. Good thing really as there various road blocks on the climb as helpers man-handled the corpses of failed 250 riders out of the way. Once it was reasonably clear I set off, getting a good bit of speed up at the bottom, and maintaining it for most of the climb. All while I avoided various pot holes and Honda back wheels sticking out of bushes. I lost a bit of speed towards the top as the grip got worse, however the ducati egine kept on pouring out torque, the 'fant is good at this, keeping a steady flow of torque really no matter what the revs are. I was greeted at the top by the cheers of a group of Husaberg riders who were stopped for a rest. I stopped long enough the see John Monger appear, having similarly cleaned the climb on his E900.
The remainder of the shitty loop weren't as testing, but were still interesting, with rocky down slopes and narrow bumpy paths.
After this first lap John and I decided to cut out the crappy climb, on the basis that we were at the event to enjoy ourselves, and the climb could, potentially be a showstopper for big bikes.
The rest of the course was great fun, lots of high speed fire roads interspersed with some tricky bits. There were two specials on each lap, the first one long, and including some fire roads, which really tested the 'late braking on gravel' skills. The second was really muddy, through some trees, including some really grim ruts. One of which I got stuck in in the first lap, requiring three of us to lay the bike on it's side to drag it out.
So, all round a very entertaining and enjoyable event.
Cambrian 2004
(Bit of explanation before we start, Paul Blezard is a motorcycling journalist who has been writing for loads of different UK motorcycle magazines since the late seventies. A fair rider too. In the last few years he has been contributing articles to, amongst other mags, Trail Bike and Enduro magazine, a must read for the UK dirt bike scene.)
The highlights:
It absolutely pissed down on Saturday.
It was a fantastic course.
I caught and passed Paul Blezard and his mate, Pat Keenan on one of the specials.
I caught and passed John Monger on one of the specials.
I did two thirds of the event stuck in third gear.
For the detail, read on.
Well, shit weather or what, I'd been studying the weather forecast all week and on Thursday there was a glimpse of hope the the weekend would be sunny and fine in Llandovery (it's true believe it or not), it was not to be.
However, we are running ahead of ourselves. Friday was spent in the usual panic attaching tools, tow straps, on to the 'Fant and more to the point, attaching two spare inner tubes in a bag to the rear rack, so I could lighten the load I was carrying in my rucksack. All this despite the bike being essentially ready and prepped. So it was up at 5.30 to attach the trailer to the car and scoot off down the Motorway. Despite the M42 being closed at junction 1 (so, a bit of a detour involving some country lanes), I managed to arrive at the Rugby Club, Llandovery, where scrutineering was taking place, in good time.
Great, unloaded the bike, rode round to the scrutineering queque, engine off, whip my leg over the saddle to dismount, catch it on the large bag zip tied to the rack, and that's it, down the bike goes with resounding crash. Bugger, nice start.
Despite this astonishing display of incompetance, the bike passes and I wheel it back to meet up with John Monger, who is also competing on his E900.
20 minutes later our start time clicks up, we are zip out of the car park exit gates.
It was only 7 1/2 miles to the start of the first off road liason, so it was pretty easy to find it using the road book. Once in the forest most turns were marked or arrowed so navigation was pretty easy. This first off road section runs down an easy track to a sharp right turn on to a single rut running along the bottom of a valley. It was in many ways the most exhausting bit of the whole event, requiring a fair amount of footing along, as it was wet and muddy, and the rain had started pouring down. However, there was only one tricky bit, a big puddle, just after which some twat, of course, had stopped to clean his goggles. Bit of manoevring got round that bunch of obstacles, and we were off and running.
The rest of the route was an easy couple of miles of forest track and we were out, on to the tarmac again.
Bit of milling about with the road book at this point, as the distances seemed a bit out, then we found the start of the first special. This was short and sweet, a series of turns on a nice, shale fire road 2.6 miles long. Loads of fun.
After the finish, it was a couple of miles to the next challenge, a short, sharp climb that got rougher towards the top. This was pretty steep, so it was second gear, throttle on and blasting, hanging on to the bars and looking for the crest, to be greeted with a bloody great board taking up half the track saying: Photo!
Oh well you do your best, bit more wheelspin and wrestling with the bars to look good, and we were out onto the top.
From there the course ran down a single steep rut on to slimy sand littered with cut tree branches. I was getting confident by this point, cracking on a bit, sure enough one of the branches was my downfall, the front wheel sliding out on one and I was down.
This off bent the gear lever through 180 degrees, so I floundered on in whatever gear I was in to a flat bit of track and used a ring spanner to straighten it.
Must get that folding tip gear lever made up that I've been planning.
There followed a couple of miles of slippy, rutty track that was a bit of an arse and then back onto fire road.
There then followed a navigational debacle on my part, despite the super expensive all singing and dancing nav/dashboard. The Touratech ICO suffers from an incredibly loose contrast knob, so much so that as soon as you set off it vibrates round and the screen goes blank. I had temporarily fixed this some months ago with a little bit of gaffer tape. Sure enough as soon as I started the event it came loose. Now the key to the road book gig is reading the instructions while comparing your own distance travelled via the trip. I was reduced to having to reach forward now and then to check my distance travelled, which collided with my natural desire to nail on and have a good time.
The result was 1/2 an hour milling about in the forest trying to find the way out, during which I lost contact with John Monger.
When I finally found the exit with the aid of a marshal I happened to turn out on the road behind a KTM 950 and GS1150. 'Ah well I'll tag along behind these two' I thought. 4 miles of tarmac took us to a long gravel/rut climb next to some trees. I must admit at one point on this climb I decided to nip past these two, I hopped into the other rut, hammered up it, and as I was starting to pass I hit a big rock, rotated 15 degrees and found myself looking at those exciting Go!!!!! graphics on the side of the KTM.
I decided to calm down then, it's all very well T boning some bloke on his 6 year old XR250, ah, yes, all in the spirit of the event. But a eight grand KTM might be a different matter.
More track and a bit of a detour which had some baffled riders manhandling various BM's, KTM's, and Cagiva's around in a pitch black forest, over a collection a slick mud ditches, took us to the start of the second stage.
At this point I realised it was Blez and Pat I'd been following, and tagging along behind was a mate of theirs on an XR400. I let them all line up as a group at the start and then sat behind them.
Blez was the first away, followed by Pat and then XR400 man. Then I'm up waiting for the green light. The road book is telling me this is a 10 mile stage and we have already covered the worst terrain, so it should be good.
The green light goes and I'm off, giving it some but trying to be smooth while enjoying the sliding around on the corners. After half a mile I pass XR400 man, wow, he must be cruising. Another couple of miles and I glimpse a helmet in the distance, blimey, that can't be Pat Keenan? It isn't, it's a travelling marshal. The world returns to reality.
Another couple of miles though, and I see the tail of a KTM disappearing round a corner. I can't believe it, I slowly reel him in, and I can see Blez ahead of him. Ah, there must have been a burger van near the start and they must have detoured, that can be the only explanation.
It's at this point I make the classic mistake, instead of thinking 'well, I've been catching him so if I stick to the same pace I'll go past', I speed up, next moment Pat's diving into a corner, I've left it too late, the rear wheel comes round and I'm off. Drat, drat and double drat, I jump up, heave the bike up, hop on, hit the starter, she's running again. The gear lever looks like something Uri Geller's been at, so I just dump the clutch and the bike gets going, the gear I'm in seems to allow me to go reasonably fast, but a few experimental prods at the gear lever prove fruitless. Oh well better just get a move on.
I hack on some more miles and damn me if I don't see Keenan again. Right, better get it right this time. Bit of tussling and I'm past him, and I have Blezard in my sights. At this point the track goes 90 degrees right round a pile of logs, I swing wide to check the lines and get the bike lined up to get the power on, and....the back breaks away in a lurid slide. The bike's at that point when I was thinking 'that's it, I'm down (again)' and it started coming back. Of couse, while I'm busy seeing how well I can fish tail, Keenan goes past again. Noooo.....
So, I have to battle past him again and start creeping up on Blez, it's tricky at this point as the track's real slimy in some trees, but after a little wait it opens out into two ruts, and I nail it past. Fantastic. Then the finish is in sight. The usual muddy chicane to the finish light beam, I drop into it and sure enough, stall out 12 inches short of the beam. Frantic thumbing of thumbing of the starter gets me going again, jolly annoying though, I put another 20 seconds on my time.
In the finish area there a bit joshing and photo taking with Blez and Pat, then I get down and check out the gear lever situation. It's rock solid. I know what's happened as John and I have a mutual friend who crashed an Elefant on the Dyfi and did the same damage. As the bike has a rigid gear lever a crash on that side can send a shock force down the shaft to a little collection of selector levers inside the engine casing. These then jam up and you have to take the whole lot apart to free it up. So, looks like I'm in third gear for the rest of the event.
From there it's a short trip to the lunch stop which is packed with nearly a hundred bikes, and a burger van. I catch up with John Monger, who has also had a good morning, the highlight being overtaken at speed by a maniac on a KTM who then found a gate closed across the track. Cue bent gate with a KTM on one side and the rider on the other. John then trickled round the open side gate. Cheers mate, see you later.
During most of the morning excitements it's been pouring with rain, this continues during lunch, and when we set of to explore the woods again. The afternoon is essentially a bunch of fire roads in the pouring rain. By four o'clock we have got lost with a group of riders (me and my useless trip again). All this time I've been starting the 'fant with the clutch in and it's been hammering the battery. Finally we have gone through some gates to find a farm and the group is turning round to head back, I hit the starter, dead battery. The group has gone, leaving John and I. So we dump my bike, and John gives me a pillion. We head out the other way, reasoning, farm, tarmac must be near, and sure enough couple of minutes later we on the road back to Llandovery.
It's a grim journey, there are no pillion footrests and John's getting hell from the pouring rain. Finally we are back and pick up my car and trailer (with the obligatory cock ups and milling about, thank god for mobile phones). We head back, pick up my bike and retire hurt.
Everybody passes a pleasant evening, we spend it chatting to a guy who is there with his girlfriend and has been competing on a KTM 950 in his first off road event and has been having a good time on it. I hear later the Pat Keenan glimpses me in the pub, obviously out of my body armour, and comments that he is shocked to see that I look like a skinny teacher. Cheeky monkey, I can see fisticuffs in the future.
Next morning dawns dry, the weather forecast is good, John's got a spare battery so I decide to try to complete the second day. So it's lights off, heated grips off, take the bulb out of the rear light as the brake light's stuck on (as usual) and stop as little as possible to preserve the battery.
The first muddy single rut section has dried out a lot and is now really a piece of piss, though I still manage to fall off by trying to get onto the pegs at an inappropriate moment. The first special goes well, third seems to be fast enough to get a time that is not too embarassing. The big climb is a bit of a challenge, as I have to hit the bottom faster than normal, I get up it OK, with a bit of judicious clutch slipping, only to bin at the top. Still, made it.
I've sorted the trip out with a new strip of gaffer tape, so navigation is now going well, in fact it's quite enjoyable. An hour or so later and we are at the start of the second special. John gets off first, with me following. The first part of the special is enlivened by the sight, on one of the corners, of two blokes struggling to drag a bike out of a hole. Two looks enough to me so I keep the power on. Later I find out the bike was a BM 1100, so maybe I should stopped to lend a hand. Yeah, right.
After eight or so miles what do I see, but Mr Monger, I reel him in slowly, then spend five minutes being peppered with stones until I find a way past on the same two rut section were I passed Blez. That made my weekend, I've never caught him on a stage before.
The lunch stop was much more enjoyable, the whole scene light by watery sunshine as we met up with Paul, Pat, Derek (a fellow Big Trail Bike Club member) and the guy with the KTM we had been chatting too the night before. It was at this point I got my camera out and took most of the pics.
The afternoon was fairly uneventful, with a bit if wandering about and getting lost, a tricky climb and a couple of showers at the end of the day.
Finally back to the Rugby Club Parc Ferme, hand shakes all round, and pack up for the trip home. Heading back it's that warm, post event feeling, heater on and the CD playing the Alabama 3, as I watch Derek overtaking me in the pouring rain on his KTM 950, have a nice trip home mate.
A perfect weekend.
Reivers Raid
Well that was good for the learning curve. John Monger had described the Reivers Raid as 'Elefant friendly', 'ah yes, I did it last year on my 250 and the only tricky bit was a grassy downhill, with a sharp left on to a fire road at the bottom'. Entries were duly sent off, as I'm always keen to use my 'Fant if I can find a suitable event. It's a bit of a trek as the Raid takes place in Kielder forest, just north of Hadrian's wall.
Well the organisers didn't toughen up the course but the 5 weeks of non stop rain in Northumbria did. Up till the start of this event I had always thought to avoid using a big trailie in any sort of competition where the ground was likely to be wet, however this time I seemed to completely lose any sort of sense.
Fortunately the Sunday dawned nice and dry and pretty well stayed that way. The final instructions which had arrived a couple of days before had included an entry list and surprisingly over half the entry where quads. So when we arrived the paddock was filled with pantechnicons and big vans spewing out four wheeled things. We were the only twins competing but there were a couple of XR650's with big tanks, who had been at the Dyfi, and a CCM644, and the obligatory clutch of 250/400's.
After the usual milling about signing on and sorting out a rucksack full of levers and spare tubes, we were off. The start looked reasonably innocuous, with a gravel track taking you over a ridge, but this was were the fun started, it spat you on to about two miles of moor with a series of soft patches and bogs. Immediatly, I'm thinking Oh My God, I hope it's all not like this. However I found if you kept the speed up the 'Fant would punch through the soft stuff, but you had to keep the throotle wound on to keep the whole thing ploughing on. After the first half mile the joker in the pack appeared, which was a mini valley with tiny water course draining along the bottom from right to left. Where the course crossed the ditch at the bottom the trail bikes and quads had created a muddy patch with a clayey, smeary area on the up hill on the other side. I was following John on his 900 and he had gone to the left to cross the ditch over some virgin heather. I decided to try the same line and attacked the ditch just to his left.
The balance here is not to go too fast so that the front wheel drops into the ditch and stops dead but also not to go so slow that you stop anyway. John managed to get the balance right and kept his momentum up. I managed to cock it up and stopped dead. It then took 5 minutes and two other riders to man handle the bike 90 degrees right and motor up the ditch to the track to then get it up the hill and out. Knackering.
Still, we are moving again, and it was more of the same, me getting round the bogs by taking the line round the edge, sticking as much as possible to good, grippy heather. Care had be taken with this though, as the last ice age had left a calling card in the form of enormous rocks littered about the moor and cunningly camouflaged by the same, inviting heather. Hmm, lovely.
Then, cracker, another valleyette with a muddy ditch at the bottom, with a
bloke on an XR/DRZ thing struggling up the other side. Gathering up all my
rapidly diminishing courage I traversed the muddy and slimy approach with
reasonable speed on, and then booted the throttle when I reached the ditch,
to get the front light(ish). The whole plot managed to bound across, turning
30 degrees left in the process, I fought the instinct to stop and try to
change direction, just keeping the power on and describing a very attractive
arc up the hillside, successfully circumnavigating the unfortunate stalled
Honda/Suzuki rider, while ploughing through various patches of heather and
bracken. Phew, no rocks.
That was the worst of the first section though there was another half mile of moor track running along side one of the ubiquitous evergreen woods. This entailed more skirting of bogs and a long plough up a really soft climb.
Well, that's the first two miles out of the way, only another 24 to do.
Top of the hill was the start of the first special. From this point it all got a whole lot easier, mostly fire roads, though a lot that were more grassy and rutty than you get in the Welsh rallies.
About half way round appeared the famed down hill section, this was approached along a really rutted, churned up grassy track through a wood. I got along that without mishap and the downhill, though slimy and rutted, actually wasn't too much of a problem. It wasn't nearly as bad as the downhill at the start of the Dyfi lap, which I could only get down by turning the engine off and letting it down on the clutch.
After that there was about a mile of muddy, rutty, slimy but essentially flat, track through the woods (and all dark, Ooooooh creeeeepy). Then, more fire road. The second special had a loop round a quarryette thing with a bit of an off camber climb and some cottage loaf sized rocks, but as long as you didn't loose your head, and kept the power on it was no problem.
So to the finish, one lap done and only come off once. So straight out for lap two. This time with the first valleyette I go just to the right of the track as it looks less ditchy there. Big mistake, big splat.
This time it took a travelling marshal on a quad towing me out, and I lost about 10 minutes. I pressed on to the second valley, irritatingly binned on the approach (I think I backed of momentarily, unsticking the back wheel, which decided to overtake the front on the downhill as they will). However once up and dusted off I got over the ditch in fine style and up the hill, just to prove to the following marshal that I could do it really.
Then, at the top of the hill the motor died and I could only get it going by switching to reserve. OH MY GOD, I can't have used a whole tank on one lap? I ask the marshal for short cut back the the start, there is one, which entails following the course, doing the downhill and then turning off a bit later on.
So, on, on. I manage to bin it again in one of the soft bits at the bottom of the stretch past the wood, but up again and press on.
Traversing the long sections of fire road I try to be very fuel economical, always tricky in what is, essentially a race.
Then I reach the long, stodgy straight before the downhill, somewhow managed to lose momentum as I'm negotiating the entry, the bike stops for a moment and gently topples over in the rut. Can I get the thing up? Can I buggery, suction on the sumpguard seems to jam it. I can get it up and get my knee under it and there I have to stay for about 10 minutes till a handy KTM rider turns up. During the wait I decide this is too much and I'm out of it, race over.
Once the bike's up I make a real meal of getting down the straight, which is starting to look a lot like the Somme, ending up face down in the mire 2 more times.
So that's it I'm out of it, I find the short cut and get back to the start. By this time the fuel blockage seems to have dissappeared, I'm running on the main again, but I don't care, I'm out of it.
When I get back to the start John's just gone out on his third lap, this gives me the chance to get the camera out and take some pic's of various quad's and bikes (now up on www.stellalpina.co.uk), practising a good position for pics for when the last surviving Elefant comes in. Sure enough, when the Monger machine finally appears, I've got bored with that position and am trying to get something even more impressive, so I get some not very impressive pics of him.
As it turns out when he stops in the parc ferme, he has got stuck three times on that lap and calls it a day. Even the Clerk of the Course offering him the Testicles of Steel award if he completes the last lap isn't enough to persuade him. Time to pack up and go home.
Despite everthing, including 5 hours of trailer towing on the Motorway (which I can't stand, I'm buying a van before I get knicked for doing 85mph in the outside lane with a trailer in tow), it was a great event and I'll be back. Even the nightmare moor section taught me how much you can get through with a big trailie. Once you have a bit of speed on they have so much momentum they will plough through just about anything, it just getting the techniques to keep them going and the commitment to keep that throttle open
Mind you, I'm removing that nav. gear for any nadgery events that don't need it, I smashed helmet peak into it when I hit one of those ditches hard, a good way to rearrange your face I reckon.
Hafren 2004
Well, what a mega event, a perfect course for a big twin, lots of fast tracks, but interspersed with plenty of tough bits that weren't actual stoppers.
In true style I'd managed to a) end up with rushed maintenance (freeing up a seized gearbox from the Cambrian a couple of weeks before) and b) getting dates wrong and failing to realise that I'd have to be in Wales for scrutineering on Saturday, meaning an overnight stay, with no accommodation sorted.
I solved this last conundrum by arranging to visit a slightly deranged biker mate with a vast motorcycling video collection who lives on the Wirral for the Saturday night. This allowed me to get psyched up by drinking beer while watching people endlessly crash on the Arzberg mountain enduro and the Rachau hillclimb. Cracker.
So, up early and a two hour drive had me at Sweet Lamb by 8. I dragged the bike out of the scrutineering shed and immediately dismantled the clutch, which had been misbehaving the day before, following the fitting of a new clutch pack. The cause was finally tracked down to stupidity on the part of the mechanic/owner.
There then followed an hour and a half of chatting to different people, while sorting start times, Marianne (quick bit of hosting/web support), Ian Packer (hi Ian, I should have chatted longer, I was in a panic), Stan the LC8 man (second event following the Cambrian and getting faster), Pat Creagh (Africa Twin boy and one of Phil Gunn's mates), Martin Whitehouse (West Midlands TRF regular rallyiste), and various others.
Which rolls us round to go time, we were out at 10.30, right at the back with the slower riders, the multi cylinders starting together. I was off the start line immediately after Stan (Gareth Healey really) on his KTM 950. This allowed me to shout advice as I went round Stan as he nearly laid the KTM down on the first left hander at the beginning of the timed stage. I'm sure he appreciated it.
This first stage, with it's included MX track, which had me flopping the ‘Fant over the jumps and tabletop, seemed to go on forever. In fact I forgot I was on it at one point and was surprised when the finish boards suddenly appeared. A short shale track blast led to the start of the second stage, which allowed a break, during which Stan reappeared. Start time, behind Stan, on to the second stage. This, as those who did it will know, included the snotty wood section, a muddy, crappy track through the trees, with a 100 yards of grim root and stump infested, rutted, peat half way along. Stan and I arrived at this vaguely nightmare section to find some poor bleeder struggling with his CRF250X (come on mate, you could stick that in your back pocket and walk through). We parked up and gave him a hand to unstick the sumpguard and get moving. This gave us the chance to check out the best line (left hand rut). So, with a bit of speed on and back wheels spinning we both managed to clean it.
The exit from the wood took us to the end of the stage and a little breather. This was handy for me, as I'd lost the bungie cord holding the seat on. This was a replacement for the excellent Italian cord that I'd used since I'd smashed the catch off on the Ryedale Rally. Unfortunately I'd lost this well designed gem, which had survived a trip to the Stella Alpina amongst other events, when I crashed on the Cambrian chasing Pat Keenan.
So I half undid the tow strap I carried under the seat and used that to tie it on. Not well enough as it transpired.
Various riders had parked up for a rest by this time, with a couple of others struggling to clear the interesting looking shale climb that was the route out. After a couple of minutes the climb was clear and the waiting group set off up it. Without thinking I let the group go first and then followed.
Now, the technique with a big bike, when it comes to tricky bits, is to keep a bit of speed on, as you have a lot of weight to hustle up, through, or over things. The weight can take control if you're going slowly and then you're in trouble. With a bit of speed (not too much) the whole thing has so much momentum it'll generally stay in a straight line and just crash through obstacles.
Of course, going up this climb, this bunch of jokers start doing their trials rider impression, picking their way up standing on the pegs. I'm behind them, slipping the clutch, with unprintable thoughts going through my head. Still, good climb though, got a chance to blast it a bit at the top.
There then followed 25 miles of liason, a mixture of fire road with the odd tricky bit thrown in. It did seem pretty endless at times I must admit, for a fair part I was riding on my own in the middle of nowhere, thinking ‘I hope I haven't got lost!'
After about 10 miles I caught a group of riders, who'd stopped to admire the view, just as they were pulling away. There then followed a friendly drag race between some bloke on a WR thingy and me, which I won, and then I nailed down about a mile or so of fire road, standing on the pegs and doing my Kini impression. Good Fun.
The course then turned sharp right down a long sandy, rutty down slope. I slowed and let Mr WR past and followed him down. I was being slow and careful, so all his mates went past in a gang, only to find a snotty section as the track went left-right. They all spread out and fell off, which stuffed me up and I'm off as I attempt to change ruts. There then followed three more off's to finish the downslope as I lost my rhythm and energy.
After this, one more fire road and a sandy climb got us to the start of stage 3. This one was a laugh as it had a nadgery rutty bit first then some fire road curves, I was behind Stan and stopped on the rutty section to help manhandle the LC8. Once on the fire road I had a good tussle with a bloke on an XR400, who got so carried away that he broadsided it in to the recumbent cut trees that marked the end of the stage.
So back to the start for a lamb burger and out for lap two.
Great, first timed lap, opportunity for a comedy of errors.
10 seconds into the first stage the seat comes loose again, I have to do the rest of the stage keeping my bum stuck to the seat, knees clamped to the tank, not good for the stage time.
On to stage 2. I'm away well, into the wood following some bloke on a KTM 250 going at about my pace. Cardinal error, if he is doing my speed on a 250 he can't be that good, I should have made the effort and got past before the shit bit. Because, at the shit bit, he turns into the best rut and promptly gets stuck. I'm getting intolerant these days, worrying about my stage times, so I'm behind with steam coming out of my ears (I shall quickly add I would have given him hand if it had taken longer), I have to wait nearly a minute while he struggles and then we are out. Needless to say I nailed it past him after that.
Big liason to stage 3 (which I manage not to fall off on, apart from a very slow bit where you go past a farm, I wave at the farmers, out trimming a hedge, and promptly fall off at an easy left turn by a gate, putting a bar from said gate through my groovy screen and bending my GPS mount. Drat. All due to a slate slab hidden in the mud).
So stage 3, I clean the nadgery bit at speed, turn on to the fire road, hit the power a moment too early, and spin the back wheel out. It costs me a minute to pick the bike up, waving on the nice guy behind who offers to help. Still, had a good time thrashing down the rest of the fire road trying to make up the time.
Another Lap out of the way.
Last lap's a short one, only the first two stages to do, so I'm still feeling confident.
Out for the first stage and I'm going well, I pass a couple of bikes and come to a sort of T junction turning marked with just a log and the glimmer of a green arrow. I turn right and then notice the track's looking a bit unmarked. Couple of minutes more, I see some more arrows, take the turn and then realise twenty yards on that I'd been looking at the back of the arrows. I'm in a quandary now, I keep going as I don't know how much I've cut out. When I get to the end of the stage, I realise I've cut out the entire MX track. That's blown that then.
Ah well, let's get the last stage done, see if I can get one clean time.
Transiting between the stages I get it a bit wrong on one corner, pulling a most enjoyable full lock slide. 10 seconds later the rear's all over the place, it's a flat tyre.
With the aid of 4 rocks the rear wheel is clear of the ground. Out with it, tyre off and I'm thinking ‘if I get a move on I can make the stage'. Sure enough, at that moment a marshal turns up. ‘I'm closing the course, mate'. Typical.
I get the spare tube in and another marshal arrives, who lends me an electric pump that's a bit quicker than my rather weedy bicycle pump. Wheel in and the marshal directs me to shortcut so I can rejoin the course minus the stage. Still 20 miles to do though and it's starting to get dark. After a bit the rear tyre is still feeling soft, so I stop to pump some air in. Fortunately as it turns out, as yet another marshal arrives and sends me back up the track to another short cut that has me back at the MX track, very near the start, after only a couple of miles. The course has been dismantled by now and it's amazingly difficult to navigate without it.
Even though the start is just out of sight on the other side of the MX track, I still put in an unnecessary half mile loop before getting back. Finally though it's down the slope to find the car and trailer and load up.
For the last hour or so I've been disappointed about managing to DNF myself, but, driving back I realise I've enjoyed the whole day hugely, and it's been a fantastic event.
Thanks to all the organisers.