Manx
Grand Prix
2002.
OK - so it's taken me over 40 years, but I've finally
decided to head for the Isle of Man. Not being a
great fan of bike racing, would I find enough to do over on the
Island ? Only one way to find out :--------->
Friday.
Sun's out, the
B.R.U.B is loaded up, so it's off to meet up with Ian, Andy, and
Gaz for the 134 mile trip up the M6 to Heysham. The other
three were taking four bikes between 'em in a van. This
works out cheaper than taking bikes over individually, plus, the
van serves as a "recovery wagon" should anything go
amiss. On board the van we had Andy's rather modified
Ducati..
Now at first
glance, especially to a non Ducati owner, this looks like a
fairly standard, early 900, but take a closer look. That
engine shouldn't be in that frame - the drive chain is on the
other side for a start. I dare say Andy can tell you more,
but all I know is it looks right, and it goes right.
Now this beastie is Ian's creation. It started life as a
Rickman frame and a Yamaha 650 engine - but that was over two
years ago. This photograph doesn't do justice to the
engineering and man hours that have gone into building this
bike. I really must do a dedicated web page to it one
day. Considering that this bike was only
"finished" last night, this week will be a "trial
run" for it. We reckon it should do all right at the
Ramsey sprint on Thursday - let's keep our fingers crossed.
Another
bike that was only finished a few days earlier was Gaz's Bonnie,
seen here basking in the sunshine at Ramsey. Apart from the
chrome strip on the petrol tank rattling a little, this bike
behaved as all Triumphs should, and gave no problems at all.
The fourth bike in the van was Gaz's 1200
Bandit - which was more or less a "standby" bike, but
it did get used a few times.
Following
behind the van was the B.R.U.B. - or Big Red Ugly Bike, as it's
come to be known, mainly because it's big, red and ugly.
All credit to the B.R.U.B. - it did the
job, 650 miles with no problems at all. Not exactly the
ideal bike for thrashing around the T.T. circuit, but it wasn't
built to do that.
I would like to have taken the trike, but
at a cost of £ 248 ( as opposed to £ 150 for the bike ) it
seemed a tad expensive - especially if I had wanted to take the
trailer too - that would have cost another £ 140 on top. I
will take the trike over there one day, but I'll worry about that
when I come to it.
What can you say about a ride along the M6
other than boring ? So - following a boring ride along the
M6 we arrived at Heysham, got on board the sea cat, and headed
for the Isle of Man.
I found the sea cat to be most impressive -
just standing at the blunt end ( nautical term there folks ) and
watching the water "jet" out of the back was most
enjoyable, even if the thing was only going slow by bike
standards. 40 mph across water is still fairly quick.
It only took 1¾ hours to make the trip over to Douglas -
compared with the best part of 4 hours by conventional
ferry.
By the time we had rolled off the sea cat,
a light rain had just started but this caused no problems seeing
as we only had to travel a few miles to the Ascot hotel, our
"home" for the next few days. Yes, yes, I know I
said hotel - - look, I'm on holiday, OK ? I'll be back
camping again next weekend I promise.
Having settled in, the rest of the evening
was spent in the hotel bar.
Saturday.
Up for breakfast at around half past eight - and what a
breakfast. As much as you could eat of toast, fried bread,
bacon, sausage, eggs ( fried or scrambled ) hash browns, beans,
tomatoes, mushrooms, cereal - - or kippers, if you preferred
'em. Y'know, I'm getting to like this hotel lark.
Having stuffed ourselves silly, we ventured outside. Hmm,
the weather looked a little "iffy". Andy and
myself decided to risk the possible rain and use our bikes, Ian
and Gaz took the Wusses way out and went in the van. Seems
me and Andy had the right idea because the clouds soon vanished
and out came the sun.
Now Andy is an Isle of Man veteran (
compared to me ) having been coming over for at least the last
twenty years - so, he took me on a guided tour, or at least
showed me the way around.
First stop - Peel. Castle, kipper factory, seals, crab
sandwiches, bikes and more bikes.
Second stop - Kirk Michael for petrol.
Third stop - Ramsey, where we spotted another 840 cc Yamaha
special.
Fourth stop - Murray's museum, where we met up with Ian and Gaz.
We
spent a while at the museum, and I even persuaded Ian to try his
hand at trike riding - I'll get him on three wheels yet.
Another of our intrepid band, Gavin, put in an appearance.
( Well he didn't just appear, he'd been with us on the ferry but
I forgot to mention it, and I ain't going back to re-do the page
).
Seeing as the weather had turned for the
better, the van contingent headed back to fetch their bikes,
whilst Andy and myself headed for Laxey. Now what might be
considered "taking it easy" on a Ducati is hard work
for the B.R.U.B. - and I lost a few more bits of footboard
following Andy's bike round some of the corners. Bloody
speed crazed loon :)
" Lady Isabella" - the great Laxey wheel. I
suppose every visitor to the Isle of Man just has to see this
one. Opened in 1854, having taken four years to build (
sounds like Ian's bike ) with a diameter of 72½ feet. Now
with my love of slow revving engines, this was a delight.
200 horsepower @ 2½ rpm. Now THAT'S what you call a "
big single ". The "crankshaft" for want of a
better word, is 17 feet long, with a diameter of 21 inches and
weighs 10 tons. Just take a look at that con-rod ( arrowed
in the picture ).
Yep
- that strange looking thing is my good self, sitting in the big
end eye of a spare con-rod. I must have spent a good few
hours wandering around the trail up to the old mine workings, and
just gazing at the moving parts of this wonderful engineering
feat. So much power, yet it moved so slowly and silently,
and, unlike it's modern counterparts, is so pleasing to the
eye. The Victorians knew how to build engines.
A quick look at the sea, down at Old Laxey, then back to the
bar - again. By this time we had found even more people to
drink with, namely Chalky, Sue and Amy ( who just happened to
have a birthday on Monday ). Another couple we know had
come over just for a few days, so Ian and Mel joined us.
Sunday.
Once again, we did the "breakfast thing".
Having fed, we went out to play - the things some folks get up
to when they think there is no one looking. Once we had
removed ourselves from the kiddies play area we headed out
to the classic bike meet at Castletown. Like it says on the
tin - a meeting of classic bikes. Far too many to go into
detail, but you name it, and there's a good chance you'd have
found one. For the sake of my bandwidth ( and yours ) I
won't put all the photographs on here.
From Castletown we moved on to the Calf of
Man - along with just about everyone else on the island - at
least the antics of the clueless car drivers gave us some
entertainment.
Next stop - Peel, and once more we ferreted
around in the rock pools, and watched the seals as they watched
us.
If my memory serves me correctly, we
invaded the local Chinese restaurant that evening, and very nice
it was too.
Monday.
Apparently there was some kind of bike race going on today - or
so they tell me, so, armed with my Ordnance Survey map I headed
for the North end of the Island whilst the others went off to see
the racing. Bank Holiday Monday and I had the whole beach
to myself - and it didn't rain. Now there's something you
don't get very often. The rest of the day I spent just
touring around and finding some of the narrowest lanes
imaginable, but all good fun, non the less.
In what seems to be getting a habit, we all
headed out to be "fed and watered".
Tuesday.
Time for another dose of " Victorian Engineering " -
this time in the shape of the Manx Electric Railway, or the tram,
as we call it. Built back in 1893, some of the original
tram cars are still in use - along with a few modern ones that
were built in 1906.
A short walk along Douglas prom, and Andy
and myself climbed aboard. The last time I rode on anything
that sounded, and handled, like this tram was when I had my old
BSA outfit - come to think of it, the tram just might have the
edge on performance.
We took the tram
as far as Laxey, then, still wishing to overdose on ancient
engineering we took the slightly more modern Snaefell Mountain
Railway. Built in 1895 -- and it only took seven months to
complete ( unlike a certain Yamaha that I could mention ).
This wonderful device took us up to the summit of Snaefell, and
gave us grand views of the Laxey wheel in the process.
Sadly, at 2036 feet above sea level, the cloud was just low
enough to prevent us from seeing across the island and beyond,
but that's the chance you take. A glorious sunny day
down at Laxey - low cloud and mist at the summit of
Snaefell. Ah well, you can't win 'em all. We clanked
and clanged our way back to Douglas and picked the bikes up for a
tour of some of the Southern towns on the island, before meeting
up with the others for a run over to Glenmaye, and a Triumph
owners club meeting. Of course, no trip to a pub would be
complete without feeding, and feed we did. Although there
was over an hour's wait, the food was excellent, if a little
expensive, but that's the Isle of Man for you.
Wednesday.
Once again, the others went off to find suitable vantage points
to watch the racing. I headed off in search of George
Formby, and to try and find the pipe factory at Laxey.
Using
my powers of logic, I deduced that George would most probably be
leaning on a lamp post somewhere, probably at the corner of the
street. This was indeed the case, and a bronze statue of
George Shuttleworth, the Slagdyke man who broke the 1936 T.T.
record on his Shuttleworth Snap, before winning the same race on
a Rainbow machine, could be found resplendent in Douglas. I
was rather disappointed that the film "No Limit" wasn't
showing at Douglas cinema. Thinking my luck was in, I went
in search of the pipe factory ( I rather fancied a new Meerschaum
) which, according to the local map, was located next to the
harbour in Old Laxey. I wandered around to no avail, so
decided to use "local knowledge". As it turned
out, the fellow I asked was one of the local policemen, who
pointed out that the pipe factory closed a few years back.
So much for that then. I took a leisurely ride back, parked
up, then took a stroll up Douglas Head.
Once again, the most difficult choice of
the evening was where to eat. This time it was a choice
between the "sit in chippy" and the "American
theme cafe". Due to the attitude of the staff at the
American place, we decided to use the chip shop. Wise
decision, if you ask me.
Thursday.
Oh I do like this "breakfast thing".
The main item on today's agenda was the
Ramsey Sprint. Sort of drag racing, only smaller. One
eighth of a mile, rather than one quarter of a mile. Ian's
Rickman / Yamaha was to be given it's first serious test, so we
found a nice stretch of straight road to give it a few test
runs. Apart from shaking itself apart ( the horn bracket
had already given up the ghost, and the horn is still in my
panniers ) and the clutch slipping as it hit 5000 revs, the bike
was running well - maybe a little rich at low revs, but that
ain't too much of a problem. Andy was chosen to pilot the
thing, and off he went, giving it plenty of thrash up the
road. First gear - second gear - third gear
BANG. Oops. Something didn't sound too good. As
luck had it, the road we picked was a slight uphill, so we waited
patiently whilst Andy rolled back down.
" Seems like ignition - just cut out "
So the first thing we did was to check for a spark when the
ignition was switched on and off, this at least proves the plugs,
coils, high and low tension circuits are in order. Yep - a
nice healthy spark. Must be the points then - so off came
the points cover. Hmm - shouldn't the cam be turning when
you kick the engine over ? All sorts of nasty things went
through my mind. Broken cam chain - broken camshaft ?
Fortunately, it was a bit more simple than that, the advance and
retard unit had self-destructed. Now Sod's law dictates
that if you bring a whole van load of spares, the one thing you
won't have is the part you need most. So ended the Yamaha's
chances - but at least the thing goes, and goes well.
We made arrangements to rescue the Yam
later, then continued on to Ramsey with Ian now on the Ducati,
and Andy on the back of my bike.
Once again, I could more than fill the web
space with photographs. There were all manner of machines,
both old and new. The sprint drew some very interesting
bikes, again, both old and new. It was while watching the
sprint that I looked up and noticed the summit of Snaefell was
dead clear. Not wanting to miss the chance, I headed for
the summit once more, and this time was rewarded with excellent
views. My poor video camera is still suffering from
exhaustion. By the time I got back to Ramsey, the sprint
was still running, so I soon found the others up by the start
line.
Having rescued the now dead Yamaha, and
taken it back to the hotel, we set off for the Bay Hotel, down at
Port Erin and the "Classic Bike Guide" ( or some
similar magazine ) bike night. Not exactly overflowing with
classic bikes, but the food was excellent, according to our
expert gourmet. The only thing I found about the food was
that I don't like Tagliatelle - at least I know now. Give
me old fashioned chip butties any day.
On our return to the hotel, we were told
that tomorrow's racing had been cancelled due to the weather
forecast predicting rain, but they would hold the race on
Saturday when the sun would shine. Now I don't have much
faith in weather forecasts, but all credit, they were
correct. It did indeed rain the next day, and, just as they
predicted, Saturday was glorious. Maybe the Isle of Man
uses better weather forecasters than the rest of the U.K. ?
Friday.
As the man said -
it rained. In fact it rained most of the day. Not
wanting to sit about doing nothing, we ventured out in the
van. Oh dear. This van just happened to be of the
kind that has no windows in the rear, come to think of it,
it had no seats either. Gavin and myself were bounced
from pillar to post, whilst listening to the
"commentary" coming from the front seats. With
hindsight, I'd have been better off getting wet
<grin>. Our "non scenic" tour included the
delights of Jurby Junk, a shop that lives up to its name.
It's in Jurby, and it sells junk. Peel, and the kipper
curers next ( that sounds like the name of a punk band ), where
we had a tour of the kipper factory ( useless tip No. 2
There used to be a pub in Willenhall called the Kipper Factory
). From there we bounced our way to the Tynwald Mills
centre, where a well deserved Pizza hit the spot. The final
destination on our "torturous tour" was Douglas Head,
where we were plagued by irate wasps, of all things. Gavin
and myself decided enough was enough, and at the next stop we
opted to walk back - seeing as the rain had almost stopped.
Tonight was our "farewell" meal
in the hotel restaurant - most excellent, but once again, the
price was scary. Still, I knew that before I came, so I
can't really complain.
Saturday.
Time to go home - but not before we pigged out at the breakfast
table.
It was halfway through my third lot of toast when I had the
idea that streamlining would perhaps help the B.R.U.B. to go a
little quicker. Our collective genius came up with the
thought that ships are fairly quick, and ships have
funnels. So, without further ado, I was equipped with a
funnel. Due to some strange legal quirk involving British
Standard Kite marks, the funnel was doomed to fail, but the idea
was a good 'un.
We settled up with the hotel ( ouch ) and
watched the first race of the day before boarding the sea cat for
the crossing back to "real life". By four o'clock
the 'cat had docked, and by half past six, the Isle of Man was
just a memory.
Verdict
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