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!

PPIHC - Wednesday - Supermoto

Travis' CRF Supermoto cost him one thousand dollars. Built out of bits of knackered bikes, it has creative touches like old chain-links used for brackets - this bike shows off Travis' ingenious skill as a bike builder. It looks like any other CRF Supermoto... but this one is a wee bit special. At PPIHC 2012 Travis rode it to first place in class and set the course record in the process. A special rider too.

 

 

Some special jetting for the altitude... 

 

... and 110 octane race fuel for the CRF.

I had never ridden a Supermoto before. I figure it wouldn't be much different from my old KTM enduro 450... just lower and with a front brake that works. At first light on Wednesday, I was about to find out what all the Supermoto fuss was all about on one of the most gnarly stretches of race circuit in the world.

 

 

The dream team!

 

Ant and I are up at 02:30, meeting Travis at 03:15 and setup in the Glen Cove paddock an hour later. We were on the middle section... starting at Glen Cove, up through the 'Double-Yous' to Devil's Playground. It's the shortest section but also the slowest with ten stop-go switchbacks. It's the easiest to learn but probably the most technical.

 

 

Top of the section.

Travis uses his Peak experience and gives the veteran fourfiddy some different jets. Ant gets it through technical inspection, we have riders briefing and morning prayers. Conditions are good and like Tuesday, not too cold or windy. Sighting lap is a bimble up the mountain, just getting used to the throttle and brakes... those are the only things we really need. She bogs down at low revs... but sings perfectly in tune at the top... this is the compromise at over 11,000 feet. 

 

 

I get my first run in. Man! She is sweet... so well setup. I don't want to change a thing and focus on just learning the series of switchbacks with a few corners like Ragged Edge, Elk Park and Oh-Shit in between. A very strange and beautiful experience... hooning up a mountain-side as fast as you dare as the sun rises. Then meeting up with other riders and chatting about all sorts of things... bikes, cars, mountains, their hometown, other crazy races and the places to get a good burger in town.

  

Davey Durelle and Elizabeth Deeter. Davy is a Pikes Peak legend with 16 wins to his name!

 

Carlin Dunne and Paul Livingstone - Spidergrips team owner/boss and organiser of this year's Squadra Alpina

After all the riders have made thieir first run, we cruise back down to the paddock... taking care on cold tyres. Tyre warmers on, debrief. Travis and I talk through the section on the course map... places to be careful, where there is normally gravel on the road, negative cambers and how to get up as fast as possible.

Soon, I head out for my second run. The wee bike is awesome. So light. Nimble. Precise. Sharp. So much more forgiving than the big beasts I am used to. One can take the piss. This is FUN!

I get one of the switchbacks wrong, thinking it's one of the fast left-handers... then Armco pops into view... ooops. Straighten her up and squeeze that brake... she stops so quickly. No problemo. Throw her on her side and we carve up through the apex. Done.

 

We manage to get four runs in... going faster each time. I'm the third-fastest in the Lightweight class. Really?

For the last run I follow Carlin Dunne. He goes into the switchbacks a lot deeper, driving the big, heavy bike around the less-steep outside slope. Something I must remember when I get to this section during my race run on Sunday. I try burn that image into my mind... I won't be on a wee Supermoto on Sunday. On the last run, the others in the lightweight class up their game and we land up the fifth fastest Lightweight.

Super happy to get that section done... some course learning and a great new experience. Smiles ear to ear!

We pack up and head to the Hungry Bear to chat about the practice over a big ole American breakfast of biscuits-and-gravy, meat-cakes, hash-browns, omlette and shit-truck-stop-coffee. We're all a bit tired so after the big breakfast, we get our heads down for a mid-morning nap.

 

Some cool cars around town.

That afternoon we head back up to Denver where the guys at Imperial Sportbikes have worked flat-out to get a new motor in the Big Red Duck. She's ready and waiting... the guys even lock wired and siliconed her all up. Race prep done! Thanks Bryan, Tim and all the guys who worked on the bike... Imperial Sportbikes rock!

We get back to the cottage with some supermarket slop to fill our bellies... it feels late, but is only nine aye-em. We're knackered and head to bed.

 

Americano garden accessories.

PPIHC - Tuesday - First Practice

Tuesday is the first day of practice – which is like nothing I've ever experienced before...

Because the course is a single road rather than a loop, it is divided into three sections for practice: top, middle and lower. All competitors are divided into three groups with each group practising on a section at a time on consecutive days. As a Rookie, one has to have at least one completed practice run on each of the sections. With four days of practice, Tuesday is our 'bonus' day on the section that we will run twice.

The course is on a private toll road that runs from the base of Pikes Peak to the summit. The toll road owners dare not lose any revenue because of the event - despite the event brining in a huge influx of visitors and untold dollars in exposure - have you ever heard of Pikes Peak not in conjunction with the race? Greedy bastards.

As a result, practice is held in the early morning and finishes by 08h30. As competitors, we have to be off the mountain by 09h30... otherwise we have to pay a princely sum of $12 per person. Glad to help bring visitors to the mountain for them and line their pockets!

The logistics of getting officials, safety crew and race teams up a single road that takes vehicles 45 minutes to get up is tough. And to do this before first light so that practice can begin as it becomes light enough to see is even tougher.

We're up at 02h30. I'm calling VISA and the ACU to sort out some admin over a bowl of granola and fruit. By 03h00 we're outta the door and meeting Travis at the bottom of the mountain for the quiet, sleepy drive up to the paddock at Devil's Playground - 12,780 feet above sea level (for the Brits... Ben Nevis is only 4,416feet). We park up, unload and get the bike set-up on tyre warmers on the road near the start line for the top section. Devil's Playground is a third of the way to the summit at.

 

Parked up and waiting next to the Victory factory team

At that altitude the air is thin... there ain't much oxygen up there! Pushing the bike up the slope to the road and carrying the toolbox and generator 50 yards gets us out of breath. Everything is just a little bit harder work. There are oxygen bottles available for those that need – I don't use them to try and acclimatise my body.

It is a surreal experience: on the side of a mountain, waiting for first light and the sun to start rising below you before setting off in the twilight, on closed roads for practice.

Our first run form Devil's Playground to the summit is as a group. All 33 motorbike, quad and sidecar entrants follow the 'sweep-riders' up in the early morning glow. It's like a sighting lap – making sure the bike is working ok, getting a feel for track conditions, checking for ice, water, oil, gravel, wildlife and other hazards on the road. It's the first time I get to ride the road as a course rather than a ribbon of tar that is infested with scared, wide-eyed tourists in four-wheeled metal boxes.

Roll-call, riders briefing and morning prayers in the moonlight

We all get to the top where it is frikkin' cold (below zero) and windy. On the way up the bike has a bad flat-spot between 5 and 6 thousand rpm. I put it down to the cold. We descend a few minutes later in single-file, taking it easy on such an decline and with now cold tyres. Safely back to the paddock, tyres on warmers and we get ready for our first run.

I'm keen to get my first run done and start learning this place – so with just 10 minutes heat in the tyres (they take at least 45 minutes on the warmers to get to proper working temp), I hit the ignition button to start the bike up for my first run. The bike comes to life without me cranking the stater motor. “That's weird” I think to myself. I am not familiar with the bike's switch layout and how they all operate. I put it down to Italian strangeness, shrug and line up at the start. The flag guy dressed on arctic gear and thick wooley hat points at me and nods.

First run

Revs up, I get her off the line cleanly. Short-shift first and second to get into a comfortably quick “Braaaaaap” third for the first fast, off camber right-hander. Up another gear and through the blind, cresting left-hander. Run her out to the white line on the exit to setup for the next left. Down to the beautifully cambered medium-fast Bottomless Pit. A racer of years gone by said that if you went off at Bottomless Pit, you'd starve before you hit the ground.

I thread my way through the unfamiliar course. Remembering each turn and the next from my many, many hours of on-board footage studies. I take it easy, trying to take it all in, trying to get a feel for where my lines should be, what gear I should be in... how fast I can go.

 

Travis and Ant wait for my return. A year ago Travis lost his good friend and mentor Carl Sorenson during pratice on this section. Sorry to keep you waiting Travis... :-(

The bike bogs down horribly between 5 and 6 thousand rpm again. Worse than the sighting run. It didn't do this on our Sunday tests. Shit. Something we need to look into. I get to the summit steadily and join the group of riders... parking closely to try get shielded from the wind. As I pull up, I hear this whirring sound. I think it's the fan going. The engine temp is only 150 F. Strange. I hit the kill switch and it is silent.

Paul Livingstone is up there and we have a chat. After 20 minutes, we get the signal to go down. I'm cold and keen to get back to the paddock to get warmed up, look into the bogging down and get out for another run. The Big Red Duck doesn't start. Huh? I can't get any life from her. Fuck. This is not good. Carlin Dunne knows a bit about Ducatis and comes over. He is puzzled. We try get her started by rolling down the road on bump-starting.

Ant getting a hit of oxygen

We get a burble out of her... but nothing more. The faster we go down that steep descent, the less she wants to start. The slipper clutch just engaging. The engine is dead.

We free-wheel to Upper Gravel Pit. It's a steep uphill to the next turn, they need to get the next session started so we have to abandon the bike there. I get a lift back to the paddock with Carlin - our practice session is over. Bike problems suck. That I am missing an entire practice day sucks even bigger.

We pack up and watch the cars doing the middle section below us. Some of those cars are awesome! Big, bad-ass American racing vee eights with open exhausts booming up the mountain. The upside is that I get to watch a bit of what else is going on.

When the session ends, we get the van to the bike and load her up. We get down off the mountain and get her back to the cottage where Ant and I try find the problem while Travis heads back to his bike shop. The Ducati mechanics with the Squadra Alpina reckon our sprag-clucth is gone. A common malady with big vee-twins. Ant and I fiddle about and come to that same conclusion. We give Imperial Sportbikes in Denver a call – I bought the bike from them and they race Ducatis – they have a new sprag-clutch on the shelf and will fit it for us that afternoon.

 

Ant making gang-signs...

Ant and I load the bike and head 1 ½ hours north to Denver. We leave the bike in their capable hands and get some Asian-cajun food while they work. An hour later we return to the workshop. We are greeted by Tim; “It's bad news. Have a look at this...” He shows us where the sprag-clutch is inside the engine case. The end of the crank has snapped right off!

wtf?!
 

Holy Shit! This is bad. Not worth repairing – the engine is stuffed.

However, we're in luck... Imperial bought in a crashed 1200 Multistrada just a few days ago... and that motor will fit right in. Our motor is standard, so it should be plug-n-play. It'll take 20 hours and they'll only charge for the motor. That's real good of them – it's not their fault but they want to get me back on the hill. They get to work on Tuesday afternoon and we start making calls to find out what the options are for practice and qualifying.

 

Travis has the best moto-sickle shop in the world!

We get the go ahead to get out for the first official and mandatory practice on another bike for Wednesday morning. We just gotta make some runs. Back to Travis' workshop where he offers me his 2012 record-setting super-moto for the job. We get prepping... just a bit of lock-wire here and there, filter clean and some numbers. 'Pink to Purple' is soon good to go. We sling her in the van, back to Colorado Springs, pickup a supermarket dinner on the way and we have our heads down for some sleep shortly after 21h00. A non-stop day.

Prepping 'Pink to Purple'

  

South on the i25 back to Colorado Springs... price of gas: less than 40p per liter! And this was expensive...