A Weekend In The Hills
by
Richard Clifford
This weekend was a bit of a
specialist one and I didn’t think or mind if
it didn’t get a good take-up, and so it proved, with a
couple of advance apologies for absence. With Paul’s camping
weekend on in the stunning Sedbergh area, plus holiday season, it
wouldn’t be easy anyway. No matter!
I took the Katana into work on Friday fully loaded, and departed
a bit earlier than usual at 3pm. This turned out to be a great move as
I seemed to be ahead of all the Friday evening traffic going home. So,
in full sunshine but cool-ish temperatures and modest traffic I rode
out from Banbury, through Chipping Norton, to Stow-on-the-Wold and on
towards Tewkesbury on the B4077. It was a perfect afternoon for biking
and all was definitely right with the world.
At the site, a bit of a chat with Jane (Andrew the campsite
owner’s wife) and I pitched the tent. Realising I was short of
cash after settling the dues, had to get on the bike again (shame!) and
nip into town for some, before getting back and putting the tea on. And
consuming a bottle of Timothy Taylor Landlord while reading the comic
(MCN), of course.
Saturday dawned slightly grey and dull and my splendid isolation
was relieved about 9.30 by the familiar sounds of my brother-in-law,
Mark, on his Triumph Daytona. The sounds were caused by the fruity can
on the bike, I hasten to add, and not by any Mr Toad “parp,
parp” noises.
After a quick brew of tea we decided to get going and 20 mins
later were parked up at Prescott in a fine drizzle. Bit disappointing I
had to admit. This year though, in anticipation of a repeat of the
scorching sun of last years event, an open-sided marquee was up, next
to the food stalls (and the bar! two real & local beers!), with a
view over the early stage of the hillclimb. A large coffee each and
bacon and egg bap, two chairs in the marquee, and we were set for over
two and a half hours of nattering, eating and drinking and watching the
sport. Great. By lunch time (yes, beer was involved) the weather
was brightening up fast, and as the sun came out we walked up the hill,
viewing the cars climbing up from various vantage-points all along the
track. Prescott hillclimb really seems to take place up the side of a
natural ampitheatre, consequently the views from most points are of
most of the track, and of course the sounds are pretty dramatic too. As
the track was drying out, the drivers were able to push on much harder
than in the morning and seemed much happier for it.
By about 4pm we’d viewed the paddock area – amazing
machinery, both home-brewed and great factory-built names – and
watched several cars going off the startline (you stand about 15 feet
from the car behind a wooden picket fence… noisy and spectacular
when it’s a 1930s -based Napier Bentley special with 24 litres of
aero-engine lighting up the rear tyres as it slithers away from the
start).
Mark had to get back for a family do, and I decided to get back
to site for tea. A pleasant summer evening was chatting with my
neighbours, including a Dutch couple who’d brought their old MG
saloon over on holiday for a couple of weeks. They’d no idea a
vintage hillclimb was on 20 minutes away! We were soon talking things
MG, travelling Route 66 (an ambition of mine next year and which
they’d done in their Volvo Amazon) and the like.
Later I had visitors, some people whose car (a Volvo – oh
dear) had decided to lunch its water pump. Bit surprised to have total
strangers walk over and ask “are you Richard?” – but
it was explained that Andrew the site owner had said they should talk
to me about the hillclimb to fill in their time on Sunday, waiting for
the part to arrive Monday. Turned out they only lived practically next
to Oulton Park circuit, knew Prescott but didn’t know a meeting
was on that weekend. Funny the people you meet sometimes.
Sunday turned out to be a scorcher, and I took the bike to the
hillclimb fully loaded, and ended up marshalling trackside, at
Bridge, one post up the hill from Start. Even better than the day
before, next to the Armco the cars were passing two feet the other
side. SOME view. After the weather the previous morning, ironically we
spent our time trying to keep in the shade of the bridge and going
through bottles of water.
Other than having to stay sharp to stop another car going past us
if there was a stoppage ahead, nothing too dramatic on the
day, so lots of happy owners went home with cars more or less intact I
think. I also went home in fairly brisk fashion about teatime, thinking
it had been a really good weekend overall, with the Katana running like
a watch as well. Marvellous… I’ll be back for sure.