With a holiday booked for the week after, racing the PJM didn't seem like a sensible option. "Just take it easy" Andy suggested. I looked at him and we both laughed. Not an option if we are anywhere near each other when the lights go green. We might not beat anyone else, but we will always try to beat each other, or anybody else in the collective lunacy loosely know as the Boggies!
Instead I emailed Marianne to offer my services, in whatever capacity she thought best. It would be a race weekend after all, and chance to catch up with some of the crew. Marianne's reply that they might be short of timekeepers wasn't exactly what I hoped for, but if that's what's needed, then that's what I'll do. An email on the Friday night asking me to be there at 11.45 to help Colin marshalling meant I could unpack the thermals and thermos, and load up the Honda. Game on!
Andy and I rolled up at 11.15, just in time for a brew, a fag, and a few "Hello's" before Colin briefed me on my duties. He introduced me to another Mark on a 450KTM, and asked us to open the course, making sure that the arrows were where he had left them, that they were easy to follow, and that there were no problems en route. He would be cutting across to the start of the second check and would meet us there.
We left a good 20 minutes before the start, Paul reminding me about ice in the shade as we rode off. Keeping a steady pace, both of us with our eyes peeled for anything that could cause upset to the following hordes. The fire roads didn't seem too slippery, and I forgot Paul's warning. We came to a hairpin left up the first off-road climb, past the photographer, and dropped back to the roads again. "Should warm the enduro riders up, may be a struggle for the multi's and novices" I thought, but there was plenty of grip if you avoided the roots. After a few sweeping bends we came to a downhill off-road section, which was part of December's Hafren special, leading to the flat out fire roads blast. At the end of which we found a Discovery with the timekeepers for the end of the check. Mark and I were confused. Where was the start, and how had we missed it? Turns out it was supposed to be at the hairpin, but we must have beaten them there.
Riding on, we soon came to our first potential problem. Rolling down a long straight, three hounds ambled out of the trees just in front of us. Both my wheels locked as soon as I touched the brakes, but I managed to back off and came to a halt in front of the bemused dogs. My side of the track was running water, over ice, over gravel. Not bad travelling in a straight line, bit dodgy otherwise. I remembered Paul's warning and heeded it for the rest of the lap. In the meantime, the dogs had lost interest in us, and had wandered off. Shouting for the owner brought no response, so we rode slowly on, hoping to find them soon. A Fiesta van further up yielded two youths with shotguns and a two-way radio. "Yes we've got around thirty five hounds out today" smiled one of them, when asked. They hadn't seen the notice about the race, because they hadn't looked when they drove past it. They claimed they would be able to get the dogs out of the way, but I didn't believe them for a second. Not a lot we could do, so we rode on, half expecting a herd of redcoats to come tally-hoing across the track.
The next stretch of off-road we came to was one of the few patches of slippery yellow clay in the forest, made slippier by the just frozen surface. Excellent! I managed a few involuntary pirouettes on a lightweight pogo stick shod with worn Comp III's, how was a hefty twin on less suitable rubber going to get on? Mark and I expected to spend some time there on the next lap.
After a few more minutes on fire roads we came to the start of the second check, where Colin was waiting for us. The timekeepers hadn't made it yet, which was a cause for concern, but as the first lap was only a sighting lap, Colin told us of a short cut back to the pits to find out what had happened to them. He would wait there as temporary starter. Mark and I bounded through the first part of the check, before turning off on the short cut and down to the tarmac. Marianne told us that the expected timekeepers hadn't shown, so she had sent expert replacements in the shape of Dave Maddock and Clare H, but we should have passed them on the way. We hadn't, so she asked us to retrace our steps to ensure they had made it. Rejoining the course just before the slippery clay, we were just in time to not help one of the BMW's out of a rut (Colin Emerson?) and hoist an ex army Armstrong/Harley out of a hole. Following them to the start of the check, we confirmed that Dave and Clare had made it, and I was able to find out how Rik was coping. He seemed to be having fun, and I followed the two BM's through the check, while the other Mark followed the Armstrong.
On the last run to the pits, I came across Mark ... with a very flat front tyre on his Husky. The valve had ripped out, leaving no hope of repair, and he asked me the quickest way back. The quickest way involved a lot more tarmac than I thought prudent, so I opted to follow him back on the course, thus keeping him out of the way of any other traffic. It wasn't that much further, and we were soon back at the pits.
Most of the riders had started their second lap, so Colin asked us to close the course, and remove as many of the orange arrows as possible. After a brew and a smoke, we tagged on behind the last riders and set about de-marking the course. This developed into a game, where we would leapfrog each other, stuffing the arrows between seat and tank, and racing to the next. When we had a decent pile, we left them under a rock or cone for Colin to collect later as he was putting the green arrows up for Sunday. Hard on gloves and starter motors, but immense fun!
Showered and changed, we tried unsuccessfully to get a table for 7 at the Bengal Brassiere, instead taking a leisurely meal at the Royal Head. A moderate amount of drinking and mingling later, we called it a day, my voice having all but given up. This was the tail end of a virus that had kept me from any strenuous activity for the past two weeks.
Sunday morning dawned dull and damp, typical Welsh rally weather in fact. As we coupled the trailer, we heard the sad news that one of the bikes left in the car park had been interfered with. This had left the bike unrideable, and the owner was somewhat perturbed. Thankfully, the trailer hadn’t been touched. After breakfast, we set off for the start area in fairly persistent heavy drizzle, perfect conditions! Andy thinks I am mad, but I do like the rain, as long as I am wearing the right gear.
Colin had already left, but Marianne had instructions for me. “Follow the course again, until you come to a bit of off-road you don’t recognise, after the shale climb. Colin will be waiting there.” The course was broadly the reverse of Saturday, with some bits missed out, and some new ones added. As the start was only ten minutes off, I set out at a fair lick, to keep from becoming grip for the front runners. All the timekeepers were in place as I went through, and at the shale climb there were 4 other marshals setting up the two way traffic system, so I missed the loop out. A short distance further I spotted the crossed arrows, and a hole in the bushes. This bit I didn’t recognise, but there was no sign of Colin. I dropped down the bank, and followed the track through the trees and roots, until I saw a lone figure at the bottom of the hill. “Nice” was my answer to Colin’s question of what I thought. “Just enough!” The last 20 yards were quite soft in places, but very do-able. I parked the Honda out of the way, and walked back to the top to guide the riders in. Colin suggested riding up, but I didn’t think it was far. I wished I had, it was further than I thought! Once at the top, and able to breathe again, I amused myself for the next hour by describing the hazards to come in an ever so slightly exaggerated fashion, as I let the riders go one by one down the bank. Liam was particularly amused by my “welcome to Hell” comment, and I could hear him chuckling all the way down. One young lady (Dazzie?) seemed quite intimidated by the dark hole, so I told her a less embellished version of the tale. When she did go for it, she shot down like a rabbit down a burrow, unfortunately losing control on the bend at the bottom. Another marshal had appeared, so I asked him to take over, and I scrambled down to help. The front brake on her Yamaha had ceased to function, so I showed her how to roll down on a dead engine and clutch. I then concentrated on not sliding down the rest of the way on my arse, to see how the bog was holding up. Colin was happy that everyone would be able to get through, and sent me on to complete the lap. At the second check start, Dazzie and her companion were looking for the quickest way home, as with no front brake, she didn’t want to continue. I’m not sure I led them the quickest way, but it was certainly the quietest! Back at the pits, Marianne asked me to ride back to the end of the second check. There was no clear sign of the end of the test, and some riders were continuing at race speed unnecessarily. Riding carefully in case of any stragglers as I rode against the direction of traffic, I soon reached the check. Putting a chicane at the hairpin had been suggested, and this duly done, I headed back for a brew.
The majority of competitors were now on their second lap, so I followed them round, pleased to find there was no one needing assistance in any way. After confirming what to do about closing the course, I took the short cut back to the pits and waited with Marianne for the last rider to leave on their third circuit. When we were convinced that all had left, I followed the course, keeping an eye out for bike shaped holes in the bushes, or skid marks over edges. Every junction was checked for errant tracks leading off piste, and with none found I relieved the ambulances, and the timekeepers of their duties, confident that there were no competitors behind me.
After the watersplash and the rock step, I found a bike parked on its own. The rider, wearing a marshal’s bib, emerged from the trees having answered the call of nature. As I chatted with him for a minute, I heard an engine. “Another marshal?” I thought. Wrong! A competitor! “Where the f**k did you come from!” I enquired, rather shocked and concerned that I had allowed that to happen. “I’ve been chasing you!” he replied. “My wife is just behind me.” He probably thought me very rude, but I was more worried at what could have happened, so waved them on, and tucked in behind them.
Riding the full lap for the first time, I got to climb the Shaley Hill, one of my favourites. I marvelled at how Rik managed to get the Beemer down without getting the pots jammed in the ruts. As I continued round, shadowing the last rider carefully, other marshals were busy putting the forest back to how it was, leaving only our tracks behind. I removed some stray arrows that had been missed, and collected a length of tape blocking one of the roads to take back to the pits. Everyone was loading up, or already on their way. I think everyone had had a good time, I know I certainly did! With over 120 miles on the clock, I had done nearly as much as the competitors. I was one of the first out and last back both days, got to trail ride through some excellent forestry, and put a little bit back into the sport. The only thing missing was the adrenaline rush from trying to set a better time. I think I may have seen the future.
Thanks to Diamonds Club for all their hard work, and thanks for letting me do a little of it.
Mark
Instead I emailed Marianne to offer my services, in whatever capacity she thought best. It would be a race weekend after all, and chance to catch up with some of the crew. Marianne's reply that they might be short of timekeepers wasn't exactly what I hoped for, but if that's what's needed, then that's what I'll do. An email on the Friday night asking me to be there at 11.45 to help Colin marshalling meant I could unpack the thermals and thermos, and load up the Honda. Game on!
Andy and I rolled up at 11.15, just in time for a brew, a fag, and a few "Hello's" before Colin briefed me on my duties. He introduced me to another Mark on a 450KTM, and asked us to open the course, making sure that the arrows were where he had left them, that they were easy to follow, and that there were no problems en route. He would be cutting across to the start of the second check and would meet us there.
We left a good 20 minutes before the start, Paul reminding me about ice in the shade as we rode off. Keeping a steady pace, both of us with our eyes peeled for anything that could cause upset to the following hordes. The fire roads didn't seem too slippery, and I forgot Paul's warning. We came to a hairpin left up the first off-road climb, past the photographer, and dropped back to the roads again. "Should warm the enduro riders up, may be a struggle for the multi's and novices" I thought, but there was plenty of grip if you avoided the roots. After a few sweeping bends we came to a downhill off-road section, which was part of December's Hafren special, leading to the flat out fire roads blast. At the end of which we found a Discovery with the timekeepers for the end of the check. Mark and I were confused. Where was the start, and how had we missed it? Turns out it was supposed to be at the hairpin, but we must have beaten them there.
Riding on, we soon came to our first potential problem. Rolling down a long straight, three hounds ambled out of the trees just in front of us. Both my wheels locked as soon as I touched the brakes, but I managed to back off and came to a halt in front of the bemused dogs. My side of the track was running water, over ice, over gravel. Not bad travelling in a straight line, bit dodgy otherwise. I remembered Paul's warning and heeded it for the rest of the lap. In the meantime, the dogs had lost interest in us, and had wandered off. Shouting for the owner brought no response, so we rode slowly on, hoping to find them soon. A Fiesta van further up yielded two youths with shotguns and a two-way radio. "Yes we've got around thirty five hounds out today" smiled one of them, when asked. They hadn't seen the notice about the race, because they hadn't looked when they drove past it. They claimed they would be able to get the dogs out of the way, but I didn't believe them for a second. Not a lot we could do, so we rode on, half expecting a herd of redcoats to come tally-hoing across the track.
The next stretch of off-road we came to was one of the few patches of slippery yellow clay in the forest, made slippier by the just frozen surface. Excellent! I managed a few involuntary pirouettes on a lightweight pogo stick shod with worn Comp III's, how was a hefty twin on less suitable rubber going to get on? Mark and I expected to spend some time there on the next lap.
After a few more minutes on fire roads we came to the start of the second check, where Colin was waiting for us. The timekeepers hadn't made it yet, which was a cause for concern, but as the first lap was only a sighting lap, Colin told us of a short cut back to the pits to find out what had happened to them. He would wait there as temporary starter. Mark and I bounded through the first part of the check, before turning off on the short cut and down to the tarmac. Marianne told us that the expected timekeepers hadn't shown, so she had sent expert replacements in the shape of Dave Maddock and Clare H, but we should have passed them on the way. We hadn't, so she asked us to retrace our steps to ensure they had made it. Rejoining the course just before the slippery clay, we were just in time to not help one of the BMW's out of a rut (Colin Emerson?) and hoist an ex army Armstrong/Harley out of a hole. Following them to the start of the check, we confirmed that Dave and Clare had made it, and I was able to find out how Rik was coping. He seemed to be having fun, and I followed the two BM's through the check, while the other Mark followed the Armstrong.
On the last run to the pits, I came across Mark ... with a very flat front tyre on his Husky. The valve had ripped out, leaving no hope of repair, and he asked me the quickest way back. The quickest way involved a lot more tarmac than I thought prudent, so I opted to follow him back on the course, thus keeping him out of the way of any other traffic. It wasn't that much further, and we were soon back at the pits.
Most of the riders had started their second lap, so Colin asked us to close the course, and remove as many of the orange arrows as possible. After a brew and a smoke, we tagged on behind the last riders and set about de-marking the course. This developed into a game, where we would leapfrog each other, stuffing the arrows between seat and tank, and racing to the next. When we had a decent pile, we left them under a rock or cone for Colin to collect later as he was putting the green arrows up for Sunday. Hard on gloves and starter motors, but immense fun!
Showered and changed, we tried unsuccessfully to get a table for 7 at the Bengal Brassiere, instead taking a leisurely meal at the Royal Head. A moderate amount of drinking and mingling later, we called it a day, my voice having all but given up. This was the tail end of a virus that had kept me from any strenuous activity for the past two weeks.
Sunday morning dawned dull and damp, typical Welsh rally weather in fact. As we coupled the trailer, we heard the sad news that one of the bikes left in the car park had been interfered with. This had left the bike unrideable, and the owner was somewhat perturbed. Thankfully, the trailer hadn’t been touched. After breakfast, we set off for the start area in fairly persistent heavy drizzle, perfect conditions! Andy thinks I am mad, but I do like the rain, as long as I am wearing the right gear.
Colin had already left, but Marianne had instructions for me. “Follow the course again, until you come to a bit of off-road you don’t recognise, after the shale climb. Colin will be waiting there.” The course was broadly the reverse of Saturday, with some bits missed out, and some new ones added. As the start was only ten minutes off, I set out at a fair lick, to keep from becoming grip for the front runners. All the timekeepers were in place as I went through, and at the shale climb there were 4 other marshals setting up the two way traffic system, so I missed the loop out. A short distance further I spotted the crossed arrows, and a hole in the bushes. This bit I didn’t recognise, but there was no sign of Colin. I dropped down the bank, and followed the track through the trees and roots, until I saw a lone figure at the bottom of the hill. “Nice” was my answer to Colin’s question of what I thought. “Just enough!” The last 20 yards were quite soft in places, but very do-able. I parked the Honda out of the way, and walked back to the top to guide the riders in. Colin suggested riding up, but I didn’t think it was far. I wished I had, it was further than I thought! Once at the top, and able to breathe again, I amused myself for the next hour by describing the hazards to come in an ever so slightly exaggerated fashion, as I let the riders go one by one down the bank. Liam was particularly amused by my “welcome to Hell” comment, and I could hear him chuckling all the way down. One young lady (Dazzie?) seemed quite intimidated by the dark hole, so I told her a less embellished version of the tale. When she did go for it, she shot down like a rabbit down a burrow, unfortunately losing control on the bend at the bottom. Another marshal had appeared, so I asked him to take over, and I scrambled down to help. The front brake on her Yamaha had ceased to function, so I showed her how to roll down on a dead engine and clutch. I then concentrated on not sliding down the rest of the way on my arse, to see how the bog was holding up. Colin was happy that everyone would be able to get through, and sent me on to complete the lap. At the second check start, Dazzie and her companion were looking for the quickest way home, as with no front brake, she didn’t want to continue. I’m not sure I led them the quickest way, but it was certainly the quietest! Back at the pits, Marianne asked me to ride back to the end of the second check. There was no clear sign of the end of the test, and some riders were continuing at race speed unnecessarily. Riding carefully in case of any stragglers as I rode against the direction of traffic, I soon reached the check. Putting a chicane at the hairpin had been suggested, and this duly done, I headed back for a brew.
The majority of competitors were now on their second lap, so I followed them round, pleased to find there was no one needing assistance in any way. After confirming what to do about closing the course, I took the short cut back to the pits and waited with Marianne for the last rider to leave on their third circuit. When we were convinced that all had left, I followed the course, keeping an eye out for bike shaped holes in the bushes, or skid marks over edges. Every junction was checked for errant tracks leading off piste, and with none found I relieved the ambulances, and the timekeepers of their duties, confident that there were no competitors behind me.
After the watersplash and the rock step, I found a bike parked on its own. The rider, wearing a marshal’s bib, emerged from the trees having answered the call of nature. As I chatted with him for a minute, I heard an engine. “Another marshal?” I thought. Wrong! A competitor! “Where the f**k did you come from!” I enquired, rather shocked and concerned that I had allowed that to happen. “I’ve been chasing you!” he replied. “My wife is just behind me.” He probably thought me very rude, but I was more worried at what could have happened, so waved them on, and tucked in behind them.
Riding the full lap for the first time, I got to climb the Shaley Hill, one of my favourites. I marvelled at how Rik managed to get the Beemer down without getting the pots jammed in the ruts. As I continued round, shadowing the last rider carefully, other marshals were busy putting the forest back to how it was, leaving only our tracks behind. I removed some stray arrows that had been missed, and collected a length of tape blocking one of the roads to take back to the pits. Everyone was loading up, or already on their way. I think everyone had had a good time, I know I certainly did! With over 120 miles on the clock, I had done nearly as much as the competitors. I was one of the first out and last back both days, got to trail ride through some excellent forestry, and put a little bit back into the sport. The only thing missing was the adrenaline rush from trying to set a better time. I think I may have seen the future.
Thanks to Diamonds Club for all their hard work, and thanks for letting me do a little of it.
Mark
