PPIHC - Sunday - Race to the Clouds 3

I get her stood up out of switchback number three in the second series of the Double-yous and am hard on the gas to set her up for the fast left hander. On the left: a wall of red, hard rock. On the right: just blue sky. The blind turn disappears somewhere left… ahead, just more blue sky. This is 'OhShit' corner. There is a famous YouTube clip of a guy in a four-wheeler that failed to turn left. Apparently he thought it was a different turn. The four-wheel metal box got airborn and flies down the mountainside. It lands and tumbles hundreds of feet below, spewing off shrapnel all the way till it stops - just a ball of mashed metal. A few seconds later, the driver clambers out!

We know where turn goes... “Wait for it… wait for it… wait for it… now!” I turn the bike in, looking for the three foot gravel gully between the vertical rock-face and the course edge. I swoop past it, bike cranked over and start feeding her gas. “Braaaap!”. “Nice one!” I smile to myself... “Braaapaaaaaaaaaap”. As I cross the central line, the back-end steps out…

Oh Shit!

Despite the traction control being on (albeit on a low level), the bike starts sliding sideways. Here is a perfect example of relativity in action. If the bike was doing this on a big MotoGP track, it would feel like it was a few inches out of line and nae bother. But up here, on OhShit corner, it felt like I was fourty-five degrees sideways and I was about to be launched in to outer space! Oh Shit!

I ease the throttle – no point getting out of a slide by high-siding yourself to the moon. The big girl is so well mannered and is back in line before I know it. I get her onto the meat of the tyre and drive to the next switchback. That wasn’t much fun.

Hard on the brakes again for the eighth switchback in the last sixty seconds. The lever is definitely coming back to the bar. Despite the brand-new HH sintered pads and race fluid, my brakes are fading. I guess those mass-produced-to-budget Brembos are just not up to the job. My old 1999 Aprilia RSV has been hammered around the UK short circuits for the last 11 years… older caliper and still on the original discs… never had brakes fading. They just don’t make ‘em like they used to!

After my moment at OhShit and with now with my brakes fading, I decide to just take it back a notch or two… enjoy the ride and make it to the top. “Take it easy… just get her to the top.” I mutter under my hard breathing – the Double-yous on this big bike at this altitude is hard work. I remembered to breathe between the switchbacks, so am still feeling strong. “Just get her to the top.”.

Through the fan-zone at Devils Playground on onto the desolate upper section. There are no trees or bushes… just a bit of whispy grass here and there. A spectacular landscape of rocks and boulders. As you climb to the summit, even the grass thins out. Just red rock and sand… it’s like being on Mars.

The first, fast, blind left-hander… as I’m tipped in, there is a greazy whistle-pig in the middle of the track. My line is through the middle of the right-lane right. That citter is in the left lane. “Just stay where you are you fat bastard.” No sooner had I thought that than he starts ambling toward the outside of the track…

There is only about six feet of track before the nothingness edge on the right. More space on the left… turn harder but at risk of pushing the front and landing up sailing through the nothingness anyway. Besides, that waddling fur-ball may stop, or change his mind and turn around. I’m not cranked too far over and all is stable n steady. It only takes tenths of a second, but I decide to hold my line… he keeps walking. Our trajectories are going to intersect… I grip the bars tighter and hang on.

Flldoup! I feel the brief impact. I hold steady and the big girl takes the poor piggy in her stride. ‘Multi’ ‘Strada’ – many roads… built for keeping you safe on rural roads too! It was quick and humane… marmot stew tonight! We were still headed to the top.

The next rider up with a cam was Masahito Watanabe on his sidecar – 9 mins and 4 seconds into his YouTube vid and you’ll see the effect of a cooling 120/60 profile Pirelli Supercorsa. 

If I had slowed up before the wildlife incident, I’d slowed up more after. The ride up there was fun, but by then I just wanted to get it home and see the summit. On that upper section I was a nearly 20 seconds slower than my fastest practice run. The riding wasn’t that much fun thereafter – probably because I wasn’t pushing. But, it sure was pretty!

Up through Carl’s. Godspeed. Cog-Cut… brake early. Up to Olympic where there is water across the course. I pick her up and pootle up the last 200 yards to the guy theatrically waving two chequered flags. We’re there! 14 110feet above sea level – the summit of Pikes Peak!

I brake early, but I’m going so slow I almost stop before I get onto the muddy, pot-holed gravel of the parking lot. No whoops, no yeeehas. Just quiet relief. We made it. Fuck, yeah. We made it.

I park up against a rock and join the other riders already up there for back-slaps and ‘well done’s. We can only get down again once all the cars are up at the end of the event - which they’r e hoping will be around 14h00 because of the reduced competitor numbers. I check the timing screen in the ‘hospitality’ area – 11 minutes and 21 seconds. My unspoken goal was to do a sub-ten minute run. I’m way off… that’s a bit crap. I get 4th in the Heavyweight class… just don’t mention they only accepted five entries ;-). Overall – we’re placed 45th… that’s out of 33 bikes and 66 cars. Kinda in the middle – that’s ok for a rookie. Looking at it that way I feel a bit better about it.

 

Interviews at the top... Rennie Scaysbrook was on it all week. He was leading by 8 seconds when he overcooked a switch-back. He hit the armo... he flipped over the barrier and his bike railed along it to a standstill with just a few scuffs. He remounted and finished second. Great ride and uUnbelievably lucky!

The rest of our wait at the top starts to really drag on. As competitors, we get a free meal from the café at the top… it’s shit. Far more risky than the ride up! The best part of the wait is having a good chat with and getting to know some of the other of riders. Some spectating at Olympic and watching some of the cool cars coming up. The cars are a different world to the bikes. Some of them probably spend as much on tyres for the week than my whole bikeeffort cost me. Some serious, exotic, expensive stuff up there - no road cars without lights and just an exhaust.

  

Good job!!

 

 One of my favorite, bad ass cars that made it up. Just gotta love some Mopar muscle!

Just after 16h00 and we’re told to get ready for the descent. We all suit up and get on our machines. We wait… and wait. The weather starts to turn nasty… thick cloud forms below us. Soon, we’re enveloped in swirling cloud… then its starts to sleet… then hail. Lovely! After standing in this shit for 15 minutes I have frozen water dribbling down my back and I’m starting to get real cold. I seek refuge in one of the vans with Davey Durelle. We’re crammed in there for about 20 minutes while the storm rages outside. The storm passes and eventually we get the all-clear to head back down the mountain.

 

Thank you Mark Miller for the pic!

 

Thank you Marcel Langer for the pic!

We go down in procession. Slowing to a walking pace wherever there were fans lining the road… drivers and riders have their gloved hands out and it’s one continuous high-five all the way down. Some of the spectators cheering, clapping and so many thanking us as we high-fived. Little toddlers held up by their parents with their palms out and wide-eyed kiddies at knee-level stretching out. This is a PPIHC tradition… it’s awesome. It reminded me of one of the most poignant moments of my racing on the Isle of Man that happened a little over a year ago.

 

PPIHC 2016 - High five all the way down.

Priceless

 

 TT 2015 - High five all the way up the return road.

Priceless.

I’m a bit bewildered by it all. At some places the procession grinds to a halt… and you just keep getting palms. I have enough high-fives to now last me a lifetime! There’s an ear-to-ear grin pasted on my face when I finally get down to the pits/paddock where Ant it waiting for me. Fist-pumps and big hugs.  Awesome job Dood! Awesome job Team!

PPIHC - Thursday - The Big Girl Back in Business

The third day in a row, up at 02:30 and up the mountain to ride bikes before dawn. We were on the top section for official practice... the scene of the of the Big Red Duck shitting herself less than 48 hours before. We setup on the road. Head-torches on, Ant and Travis go through everything on the bike again. Checking all bolts and fasteners. The electronic settings: traction control on low, ABS off, suspension as before, heated grips... "Error". Ooops. Ah, Travis replaced those fat, stodgy grips with slim, grippier race items. A compromise.

  

The dream team prep the Duck...

Roll-call. Briefing. Prayers. We wait for the pre-sunrise glow below us. 05:10 we get the signal for the sighting run. Braaaaaap! Braaaaaap! That big, torquey vee-twin feels like an old pair of slippers. They're in my blood. We get to the summit with no fuss. Engine pulling as well as it can at over two miles above sea level. No flat spots as we had two days ago. 

  

Thanks Ant for some awesome pics!

The top section has seven fast, blind, mostly off-camber left-handers. They all look kinda the same... a steep  rocky incline coming down to the tar on then left and just blue sky on the right - looks like you're about to ride off a cliff. The challenge is remembering which one is which and how fast you can take them. Near the top, just before the last two switchbacks from the muddy, potholed summit is one of these challenging turns. Travis lost his good friend and road race mentor here last year: Carl Sorenson. Unofficially known as Carl's, I treat it with caution.

I only know Carl by association, but as with the TT course, when I pass a place where a racer I have known has fallen, I crack them a nod and whisper 'Godspeed' under my breath. Godspeed Carl.

  

Travis and Carl, PPIHC 2014

 Pic by Sam Christmas.

Pics by Jamie Price.

Another 'challenge' on the top section is the wildlife. Last year there were mountain goats. I didn't see any on Thursday morning, but there were loads of marmots. 'Whistle-pigs' in local speak. These cat-sized critters mooch about sun-bathing on the course and rocks. They're either lazy, not bothered about approaching bikes, or play 'dare' with their mates. If you're cranked over at full lean and hit one of those fat greasy bastards, they'd probably smear down the track and you'd be off. Take care lad.

 

 

Sticker wars! Spot the Newbold's Motorbike Shop sticker on teh Squadra Alpina gear...

It's bleak, dim, cold and windy up top. I'm glad to be following the bike ahead back down to the temporary paddock at Devil's Playground in the twilight. Debrief with Travis and Ant. Warmers and jacket on. I try get my head around which turn is which. The onboard footage I have been studying for the last six months were all shot with wide-angle, go-pro like lenses. The track looks wider and the turns look a lot further apart and open on screen than they are in reality. I talk through the combinations with Travis. Where to be careful, where to ride the track as it looks and give it some beans.

 

 

Soon, the tyres are up to temp and I'm out for my first run. I treat it as a fast Sunday blat on my local roads... always looking for gravel, critters and other challenges on the course.

Back down... second run. I push a bit harder, setting up turns and carving wider, faster arcs. Just after Carl's is the second-last switchback - Cog-Cut. So named because the cog railway from Manitou Springs in the valley below (where our cottage is) to the summit, passes just meters from the edge of the track. The TT course has tramlines at the Bungalow, Pikes Peak has a cog railway.

 

 

The approach to Cog-Cut is bumpy as hell with patches of new tar and repairs everywhere. The extreme weather conditions up there cause severe frost heave and road distortion. You're also carrying a lot of speed from the fast Carl's. I push my braking further down the track than before...

The front tyre ploughs into the valleys and skids with little birdie chirps over the hills on the approach. The back end bouncing from side to side. "Oh shit." I'm getting in a bit hot. I don't want to risk a silly lowside by turning her in on the brakes on cool tyres up there... so I point the big girl uphill just past the edge of the armco and hang onto those anchors. "Whoooah there girl". She's very overweight for a racer... and takes some stopping.

I have enough road in front of me... just get her stopped then turn her on the edge of the road and get going again. Simples. I get up to the white line at the edge of the road... but the verge I expected over the line isn't there. It's been eroded away by a gully... flowing with water. 

In slow-motion, I slide the front wheel off the tar onto gravel and into the gully. Clunk! Crap! I get her into neutral and try rock her backwards. She's not budging. There is a fist-sized rock wedged behind my back wheel. Forwards. She's just too big and heavy. Fuck. I need help.

 

The view back from Cog-Cut...

Fortunately, there is a marshal on the inside of the corner. He radios the paddock then comes reluctantly across to help out while other bikes come skipping and squealing with a similar back-end dance into the turn. Glad it's not only me having difficulty with this braking zone.

 

 

The exit of Carl's and the whooped-out run to Cog-Cut... with a fat whistle-pig watching the games...

 ... handy to have a shitter right there. It was locked... wtf is the point of that?

Made a decent bike-stand though.

We get the BRD loose and park her against a locked portaloo until the session is finished. I amble back down with the group. I get back to looks of relief and concern from Ant and Travis. The marshal had radio'd that #40 is off... sorry guys :-( technically, I was off... but in reality I was standing on the bike at the edge of the track, annoyed at the silliness I was in, my boots filling with freezing water.

 

This wee mascot from Isle of Man keeps me safe...

We manage to get another 2 runs in. Bike going well... us going faster. On the last run, my Squadra Alpina coach, Carlin Dunne follows me. His advice is to turn in later on those tricky left-handers. They're blind, the track curves left on the entry and you just see sky on the right... the comparitive safety of the rock-strewn inside is the lesser. It's the known known. Too tempting and you start drifting toward it before turning in. They goad you in like Sirens. Resist. Resist....

Carlin Dunne checking my crap lines...

We only get 5 runs... this is like going to Brands Hatch for the first time and riding around for 5 minutes in sub-zero temperatures before tackling twenty-odd turns with no run-off at race pace. That is all the practice and learning you get around here.

I'm still way off finding the right line and speed. I'm a slow learner. Shit. Oh well. 5 runs is better than none... and the bike didn't blow-up . We're back in business!

We load up and head down the mountain and to Uncle Sam's Pancake House to meet Cowboy for some super-unhealthy breakfast. Cowboy is one of Travis' long-term sponsors. A larger than life,  Kansas born and bred, Vietnam Vet, stand-up guy and is so into Triumphs he's a got a shop full of them: Tommy's Triumph Shop.

We debfief, make plans for the next 24 hours share bike stories and laughs. Back to the cottage for a midday siesta. Prep the Duck for the last practice on Friday then fill the rest of the afternoon with chores like grocery shopping, a 'buzz-cut' at the local 'Randy's Olde tyme Barber Shoppe' and do the laundry.

 

 

Sippin' Sasparilla - never knew what it was before this... now I know. Tastes like Deep Heat muscle rub! Wierdly not too bad...

 Randy's Olde Tyme Barber Shoppe

 

Good 'ole boys in the Shoppe.

The laundromat was amusing... stereotypical... just like in the movies. The instructions for the machines are so ling-winded, they're like a manual printed in 10 size font on posters. So I ask the guy working there how they work."Heck I dunno. I only work here." He drawls. As this foreigner bungles through the process, I get his stock answer three times. I stop short asking him something else just to take the piss... the old guy really didn't know shit from shaiola... he just worked there!

 

 Heck I dunno. I only work here.

Although it was Thursday Mushroomy Monday was still open!

 

Been looking for Mexican wrestling masks for a while now...

 

 Fancy a tat too?

Manitou Springs is an eclectic hippy-cowboy place.

On our first 'restful' evening (not driving the three to four hour round-trip to Denver), we go into Manitou Springs downtown to meet Cowboy, have a wander around and find some great steaks at the Keg. A good day on the Hill!