With John Meadows on the 83 Devil's Own Rally
Since
my last post I’ve found the most amazing mine of information in the form of Bob
Chapman’s huge spreadsheet – detailed results of every Motoring News event
since Jesus was a lad until 1987. It’s
amazing how the memory plays tricks after a mere 37 years – the stories are all
true but the details seem to get a bit muddled – for instance, the 83 Devils
Own was in August, not April as I’d thought.
So now (to some extent) I can tell the story knowing that the meat on
the bone is of better quality than some – only ‘some’, mind – of the recent
offal (which I know rhymes with waffle.)
So
back to 1983, where I now realise I’d already missed those couple of rounds I
mentioned last time and was in fact about to do every single event for the rest
of the year except the last one, the J J Brown.
I’ve already told you about the Devil’s Own of course, except that I can
now tell you we finished 8th overall (the winner was my old mucker
Ian Woof with Derek Fryer), and for completeness our earlier results were: Gremlin (Wales) 14th, Agbo (Wales)
11th, Coleman Tyres (Yorkshire) left the road in thick fog, Cambrian
News (Wales) rolled, Eagle (Wales) 11th, and finally the Devil’s Own
(Cumbria & Lancs) 8th.
Next
up was the R L Brown, that classic Lakeland event that often features the
iconic, terrifying Hardknott and Wrynose passes… a quick digression… Before I
even did my first rally, so this must have been around 1969 or 1979, I
spectated on an event in the Yorkshire Dales which came into Kettlewell via the
Park Rash hairpins. If you don’t know
them, they’re a series of steep hairpins on the Coverdale road. Not as steep as Hardknott, but I’ve cycled up them and can assure you that they are
steep! Two cars – only two – applied full throttle between
the downhill hairpins, and I remember thinking “that must be how to win
rallies – those two must have been
quicker than the rest of the field.” And I’ve never forgotten that.
The
other feature of the R L Brown is the use of really narrow, twisty,
claustrophobically walled roads like Jackson Ground and Stephenson Ground. You know when you read ‘Postman Pat’, who
used to drive along the fictional ‘Thompson Ground’, that the author, the late
John Cunliffe, must have been a local (he lived in Kendal, although he was born
in Colne.)
The 83 R L Brown Rally
After
finishing 8th in 77 and 10th the previous year, we were
disappointed to get two punctures (good job I always carried two spares – on
the basis that if you clip a rock on the apex of a bend, one spare won’t be
enough!) and ended up only two minutes out of the points but in 19th.
And
so it was on to the Bolton Midnight in late September. Classic Cumbria, Yorkshire Dales and
Lancashire fell roads, including some of my all-time favourites. If ever I had a chance of winning a Motoring
News round, this was it, I thought. We were both
pretty psyched up despite only being seeded at no 11 and with opposition
including Briant/Kirkham, Bengry/Watkins, Beecroft/Millington, Woof/Fryer,
Hutchinson/Harris, Gwyndaf Evans/Evans,
Moran/Beddoes… the list went on.
Disaster
struck on the very first section. It can happen to anyone (it’s certainly
happened to me when I’ve been navigating!), so no apportioning blame or hard
feelings, but John had one of those complete meltdown moments. Suffice to say that we ended up in a farmyard
with no idea where we were. The farmhouse light was on, so John jumped out of
the car, knocked on the door – they were having a dinner party! – found out
where we were, jumped back in and off we went.
I was convinced we must have dropped at least 4 minutes, although the
results show us 2:19 down on Mick Briant’s fastest time. Perhaps we were headed for something better
(!) – who knows? We went on to have
mediocre times on Fox’s Pulpit and Lenacre.
At
this stage I must have given myself a good talking-to and pulled myself
together. Apart from three frustratingly cleanable selectives, I didn’t set a
single fastest time but I was second – by one second – on Buttertubs, Semer
Water and Gisburn Forest, and in a very close top three on Barbondale, Kingsdale
and Lythe Fell. On Lythe Fell I was second despite catching Ron Beecroft (he
was in Ernie Larton’s Samba), passing him, outbraking myself and having to
reverse back out of a farm track, much to John Millington’s amusement, and
passing him again!
A bit of a wide line on the 83 Bolton Midnight
The
end result was 5th overall, with us both rueing what could have
been. But I’ve studied those results and
even if we’d cleaned the first
selective, the best we could have done was 2nd – Mick Briant was
absolutely flying that night! And 5th
on a Motoring News event isn’t all
that shabby, is it?
Next
of course was our annual pilgrimage to the glorious Isle of Mull. The weather isn’t always glorious but the
scenery, the roads, the welcome from the local people, the camaraderie… almost
everything about Mull makes you want to return again and again. Even now, well over 20 years since I last did
the rally, I go every year in October and usually once in Spring. You can even recognise my car by the number
plate – MU11 OCT! (The car salesman once came up with a great explanation. I hadn't told him why I have this plate, but he said "You're a Manchester United supporter and a Bobby Charlton fan - his birthday is 11 October!" I had to give him top marks for trying even though he was wide of the mark...)
One
year after I’d retired from rallying, it was raining on Saturday evening and
the thought of the MacDonald Arms in Tobermory seemed more inviting than
standing out on a cold, wet road in the middle of nowhere. So that’s where we went, and who should walk
in as I’m at the bar than Ron and Susan Beecroft, so I bought them a drink
too. Now, at that time there was a
rumour going about that the Mishnish put up the price of beer for rally week. I’m
not sure whether it’s true or not, but it was certainly dearer that the
MacDonald. The more mature lady behind
the bar (not Susan, I hasten to add) must have pressed at least one wrong key
as she rang the sale up on the till, and it came to £97.30. Very calmly, I said “If that’s how much those
four drinks cost, I’ll have to pop back home, ‘cause I don’t have that much on
me.” Just as the lady began to panic, a younger member of staff emerged behind
the bar, took one look at the till, weighed up the situation in a flash and
said, with a twinkle, “I bet for a moment you thought you were in the Mishnish.” One of the funniest off-the-cuffs ever.
A
change of navigator of course, as father Roy always did Mull with me, but we
were just as fired up. In a low-powered
car against much superior machinery it felt a bit like David and Goliath, but
it made 6th overall feel so much more satisfying. Dad loved the fact that some of the top MN
crews started talking to him – he said they’d never done that before! He wasn’t so pleased when I outbraked and
slid off on the long Loch Tuath selective – just far enough that he had to get
out and push – and his age was also showing with stifled groans of pain after
each big yump and heavy landing (if you aren’t familiar with Mull, there are
quite a few!) I love Mishnish Lochs, a
fabulous mixture of fast flowing roads and lots of hairpins, getting a
consistent 5th or 6th fastest each time, with no more
than 11 seconds difference on each of the four attempts.
Kevin
MacIver recently sent me a photo he took that year, of the car parked up after
the finish. Not an ‘action’ photo but to
me it somehow sums up the effort that went into that event.
I love this photo from Kevin MacIver - KKC after the 83 Tour of Mull
Finally
that amazing Welsh classic event, the Cilwendeg. I was so looking forward to this – the fact
that it was to be our last event of 1983; I’d bought a brand new shell for the
car’s winter project; the remarkable nature of the incredible maze of roads in
that area, and of the event itself.
Starting in the tiny market town of Newcastle Emlyn in Carmarthenshire,
the route of nearly 190 miles never crossed itself or used the same road twice
and yet – amazingly – never went more than 9 (NINE!) miles as the crow flies
from the start/finish.
We
were going well (again!) – I’d just about perfected my ‘handbrake the car
sideways on to Give Way junctions’ technique (sooo satisfying!) – when one
officious Judge of Fact decided there was no room for leeway. He gave us a fail for ‘not stopping on the
line’ – and just in case you were thinking I was banged to rights and out of
order – he gave fails to at least 15 other crews including nine in the top
thirty. Put simply, a fail means you’re
out of the running, and to make matters worse there is no appealing the
decision of a Judge of Fact, so there was nothing we could do. We found out at the petrol halt that we’d
been penalised, and decided – as the car was to be re-shelled after this event –
we’d complete the rally to see what times we got. They were good enough for the top six again,
but with the fail we were classified as also-rans. Not
the best way to end the season, but at least I finished the 1983 Motoring News
Championship, the unofficial national road rally championship – in an
underpowered car and on a budget thinner than a shoestring – in 9th
position.
I
was happy with that.
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