COCK O’ THE NORTH - JULY 2007 -
Mel. Williams & Ian Midgley

We’ve all heard of the Isle of Man TT races and some may have ventured to the Emerald Isle to sample real road racing but there still exists one location in mainland UK where the roads are closed for motorcycle racing and that is Oliver’s Mount in Scarborough. Some refer to it as the “mini TT “ and after a visit to Scarborough earlier this year when I drove around the course in my car I was resolved to see a race meeting at this fabulous venue.

Also what makes Oliver’s Mount unique is that its 2.5 mile course takes you through woodland down a steep drop before rising again just as steeply and in between there are a series of intricate bends including three hairpins. The roads are closed for two main events each year - the Cock o’ the North at the end of June/July and the International Races in September. I went for the former thinking that the weather in July would be better than in September but how wrong was I to be.

Our journey was to start on Thursday morning meeting in my place in Usk and taking a diagonal course across country from the south west to the north east avoiding motorways wherever possible. A trio of travellers had been reduced to just Ian Midgley and yours truly due to Tony Styles dropping out earlier in the week due to a bereavement in the family. So it was just the two of us who arranged to meet at 9am and Ian true to form arrived promptly and away we went on our two almost identical 1200GS’.

The first part of our journey was all too familiar linking up with the A470 in Bronllys and onto Llanidloes where we took the B4518 mountain road to Llanbrynmair where we re-joined the A470 eastbound before turning left in Talerddig on to a local road through a valley called “Nant yr Eira” which translates to “ Valley of Snow”. Neither of us had travelled this road before but although narrow it was quite open and offered some fabulous views and is the type that brings the very best out of the GS. It would I think be a different proposition in winter as the name implies.

It was then back on the main drag the A458 towards Welshpool for a short while before taking a left on to the A495 which would take us past Oswestry and through Ellesmere and Whitchurch where we picked up the A49 north to Tarporley to meet the M56 followed by the M6 north. The ride so far had been very enjoyable and importantly it had stayed dry. We had agreed to this stint on the motorway as a means to get past the conurbation of Liverpool/Manchester and Charnock Richard services the target for a coffee stop and an opportunity to take stock of our position relevant to the time and distance to the hotel.

One service area is just like the next but at least the coffee in this one was quite good. It was just 3pm and to continue directly to the hotel on the motorway would mean us arriving there too early so the other option was to go into Blackpool and skirt around the coast to rejoin the A6 at Lancaster. As we came out of the services it had started to pick with rain and by the time we had left the M6 for the M55 heading towards Blackpool it began to pour down. On arriving in the resort we were getting wet outside but you had to feel sorry to the holiday makers who were scurrying around with umbrellas up or jackets pulled over their heads. From our point all this activity coupled to the beginnings of the “rush hour” meant we were making slow progress which coupled to the heavy rain was no fun at all. A short restbite after Blackpool only to meet the same situation in Lancaster before we escaped to head north on the A6 to Beetham where the Wheatsheaf Hotel looked very welcoming to some very wet and weary travellers.

As it was raining heavily we kept our helmets on until inside reception which drew a few looks from the other residents who themselves had probably cut short their sightseeing due to the weather. The staff could not have been friendlier nor more helpful and it was not long before I was under another shower but this time lovely hot water warming these old bones of mine. A quick look inside my Hein Gericke revealed that it had let in a little rain through the zipper but that had probably been my fault for not closing it properly. Ian was not so fortunate as his jacket had let in water through some vents in the arms and run into his gloves. When I called for him I thought I had the wrong room as I could hear this buzzing noise coming from inside which turned out to be Ian making good use of the hotels hair dryers one stuck up each arm of his jacket. I’m glad to say it worked the trick for him but I don’t know how he could have slept with all that noise going on !

We ate a good meal that night but weren’t long before climbing the stairs for an early night. The forecast for Friday was “dry-ish” and it felt great to look out the window to see some sunshine. After a hearty breakfast and a conversation with the waiter who turned out to be a biker and had visited the NW200 earlier this year we set off for phase two of the journey which would take us into the Lake District. We joined the A590 to Newby Bridge a good road with lots of improvements still taking place obviously to cope with the traffic that this area attracts. One fortunate aspect of this inclement weather was that the traffic volume was considerably down on what it might have been had it been warmer/drier. We took a right on to the A5092 followed by the A5084 towards Coniston which was a more interesting ride along Coniston Water and eventually into the town.

It was still a little too early to make a stop so we continued climbing up the B5285 to Hawkshead then down to Lake Windermere to take the ferry across.

we did not see anything likely to suit where we could park up. Instead we followed the lake side north hoping to find a watering hole somewhere en-route. We branched off on the A592 in the direction of the Kirkstone Pass and this was to prove the most interesting part of the morning’s ride climbing up a winding road with stunning views.

Inevitably we dropped down to another lake this time Ullswater and by this time we needed to make a stop but the Lake District is extremely well blessed with B&B’s, Guest Houses & hotels but no cafes. We had almost reached Penrith when we spied a filling station which looked as if it had a café but alas no although we did fuel up whilst we had the chance.

At this time I asked Ian if he could stretch another half hour as I knew of a café that would be worth the wait. We were about to take the A686 from Penrith to Alston which starts off quite gently but eventually develops into twists and turns like you dream of on a m/cycle. We were a little unfortunate to get behind a car that was travelling that little bit too quickly on the straights to get past between bends but slowed enough to take away some of the shine on the corners. Anyway at least it gave us a little more time to admire the absolutely stunning view that was unfolding behind us plus when we looked up we could see the road winding back and fore with a remote building at the top which is the Hartside Cafe. This café is very popular with bikers and when we reached the top we discovered that today was no exception as outside there were quite a few bikes and we joined their riders inside for what was a very welcome coffee and rest which was made all the better by the views from the window of the Pennines and stretching to the Solway Firth and Scotland.

It was difficult to drag ourselves away from the warmth and comfort of the café but we had to press on to again twist and turn our way down to Alston which simply confirmed why this road is so highly regarded. If that wasn’t enough we turned right into the main cobbled street of Alston before joining the B6277 to Middleton-in Teesdale which is also quite justifiably rated alongside the A686 as one of the top ten in England. As we set off on this road however a car flashes its lights and the driver frantically waves thumbs down which we take to mean that either there is a speed camera or police presence along the road. So we proceed keeping to the national speed limit and even at 60mph the road is a pleasure to ride. As it turned out we saw no sign of a speed camera or plod anywhere.

Our next planned stop was to be the Altberg boot factory in Richmond to see if they had any bargains in the shop and Ian had a query on some repair work on the boots he was wearing (they offer a complete re-sole & re-furb.service) In fact we were both wearing Altberg boots as they are undoubtedly the best without being stupidly expensive with the added bonus that they are British made. The staff there always make you welcome and after a bit of banter we decided to leave as they were very busy with quite a few customers to attend to and there did not seem to be any bargains that we fancied. Thinking about it we would never have been able to carry much anyway.

The last part of our journey on Friday took us from Richmond on the B6271 which although not as exiting as some of our earlier routes was a far more interesting option to the A1 and the huge volume of traffic that it carries. We had a pleasant run down to North Allerton then took the A168 to Thirsk before joining the A170 which would take us to our destination. The A170 is quite a quick but scenic road and it was not long before we were in Helmsley where the square is popular as a rendezvous for bikers. Friday however is market day and as we arrive the majority of the traders are taking down their stalls which makes it easy to park. Ian however notices a specific area for bikes so we push our machines to this space only to find you have to pay anyway. Ian volunteers to get the tickets and promptly returns with four. Two each - one to leave on the bike and one to take with you - never seen that before ! There is a café adjacent to the car park where we enjoy a coffee and well earned rest as again it has been a long day during which we had covered some 195 miles of the most wonderful roads.

A short hop on the A170 brought us to Wakeham and the Downe Arms. I had driven past earlier in the year and from the outside it looks very impressive and the web site said all the right things so when I rang to book accommodation I was surprised to find it was so competitive (£40 B&B). But looks can deceive and all in all it was a disappointment not least in the food department which for those who know me is very dear to my heart. We were joined that evening by a friend of mine (Peter Stephenson) who lives locally and who would also be joining us at the racing on Sunday. We discussed our journey so far and Peter made a few suggestions as to where we might go on the Saturday - weather permitting !

Apart from the soaking in Blackpool the weather had been kind to us but that did not stop us from being very aware of what was going on all around the UK and particularly in Yorkshire. A study of the forecast on Friday night suggested Saturday would be our worst day and therefore when I awoke to some sunshine it was encouraging to say the least. The lady preparing breakfast had made more effort than the so called chef had the night before and the “full english “ proved too much for one of us. Over breakfast we agreed to keep to the original plan which would include most of Peter’s suggestions but that if the weather took a turn for the worst we would make a beeline back to the hotel maybe to watch the Assen Moto GP on TV and/or the F1 Qualifying from Magny Cours.

First we returned along the A170 but only as far as Thornton Le Dale where we took a local road that wound up to meet the A168 Pickering to Whitby road. This takes us across the North Yorks moors and our first port of call is “the Hole at Holkam” which is a massive canyon about a mile across.

A lot of people even that time of the morning were taking a walk around but as we were fully kitted out for wet weather the last thing we wanted was a walk so it was on we went to Goathland ( or Aidensfield as Heartbeat fans will recognise it ) and after a quick photo session outside Scrips’ Garage it was on to Whitby.

The town and sea front were very busy with tourists who were milling around afraid to do anything or go anywhere more adventurous in case the weather changed for the worse. Peter had recommended a fish & chip shop in Whitby (the Magpie) which apparently is re-known in the area but after the breakfast we’d had fish & chips was definitely off the menu and we opted for a coffee in a café/restaurant overlooking the harbour. So far so good as it was staying dry although a phone call from Peter at home confirmed there was rain around. We continued to Guisborough mostly along the coast and looking out on the North Sea it looked anything but inviting. A few people were walking along the beaches but nobody swimming. Our next target was Stokesley and as we fuelled up Ian made signs that he was gagging for a coffee and we managed to find an excellent little café in the town where I also indulged in a bowl of their home made leek & potato soup. Next would be the B1257 from Stokesley to Helmsley which is another road rated highly by the magazines. We are accustomed to warning signs specifically for bikers but at the start of this road was a very gruesome reminder of the biking fatalities over the past three years which if I remember was thirty something. No doubt it is a fantastic riders road and you can see parts where you (particularly the inexperienced ) could get it all wrong but on the other hand at sensible speeds it is there to enjoy which is exactly what we did. Having said that Helmsley came upon us very quickly and here we were at the square again but rather than frequent the same café we moved on to Thornton Le Dale where Peter had said the ice cream parlour was a must. We took his advice and sat on the roadside bench eating our cornets (mine a triple) before walking back to a garage that specialised in classic 50’s/60’s cars. I thought that maybe they supplied the Heartbeat programme but Peter later said that there was an even bigger collection somewhere near Whitby that had catered for the TV series. It was still only about three o’clock and too early to go back to the hotel so Ian suggested we go into Scarborough town and along the front which was fine by me plus I suggested we went along the coast to Bridlington to finish off the day. Scarborough was much the same as Whitby had been earlier and after our trip around the front I led off towards Bridlington and into the rain. Instead of the coast road I stayed on the main road thinking if the rain eased up we could come back on the coastal route but it was not to be. By the time we reached the town it was piddling down and there was nothing for it but to go back to the Downe Arms. Ironically as we reached the hotel it stopped but by then we’d had enough.

Another uneventful night at the hotel with an even worse meal than the first - it was no wonder we were the only two guests. We had already arranged that we would leave the bikes at the hotel and travel to Oliver’s Mount in the car with Peter who joined us for breakfast Sunday morning. On the way the heavens opened and we were so glad that for once it seemed we had made the right decision. Also Peter had made

arrangements to park his car at a friends house about half a mile from the course. We walked to the entrance and although it had stopped raining by this time it was very wet underfoot and on seeing the car park (field) I could understand why Peter had

elected to park down the hill. Peter’s local knowledge was to prove useful again and again as although he had not been to a race for a number of years he used to be a regular and therefore knew all the best vantage points. When we reached the track the

final few laps of practice were still going on as probably it had been delayed in the earlier deluge. We walked down the hill towards the start/finish stopping to watch the various bikes and sidecars that were still practicing. At the start/finish we could see a couple more groups ready in the marshalling area which suggested they were a little behind with practice. After practice there was a stunt display by a local man who actually proved to be very good but he did his show in a pair of jeans and T-shirt accompanied by a very loosely fitting helmet which he promptly removed between stunts to take a bow. We found it difficult to understand how in this day and age he was allowed to do this without proper protection. Also on a completely different issue I have never seen so many dogs on leads at a race meeting as I thought this too was forbidden on safety grounds.

Under Peter’s guidance we moved along the circuit to an area which was straight like a banana only 10-12ft wide and had a “hump” in the road. The first race due to start soon was the Superbikes and from the programme it looked as if Guy Martin and Ian Lougher would be the main rivals for this win. It seemed strange however that Martin was entered on a 1000cc Honda and Lougher on a 600cc Honda and I assumed it could simply be a printing error. However I got talking to a guy who from his T-shirt was obviously a big Lougher fan and he had advised me that the sponser for Loughers 1000cc bike had for some reason stopped him from using it in Oliver’s Mount and he would use the 600 in the Supersport and Superbike races which even at a tight circuit like the Mount would still put him at a disadvantage. Anyway they were soon off on the warm up lap whizzing past us down to the start line. In no time the flag has dropped and we could just make them out entering the first hairpin and screaming up the hill behind us after which we lose sight and sound of them for a while.Then in the distance to our right we can see the first few bikes slowing for the last hairpin but quick as a flash here’s Guy Martin wearing No.8. He leaps over the hump showing us the belly of the bike at what must have been close to 150mph and screams past us. He is closely followed by the pack who also give a similar display but it is pretty obvious just from this opening lap that Martin is yards quicker than anybody else. But there is no Lougher - we find out later that his bike went on to three cylinders early on the first lap and he’d retired. A pity because it meant Martin won easily but down the order there were some royal battles going on.

Ian’s face was a picture as he had never seen a real road race before and never been so close to the action. I could see that he also enjoyed the sidecar race that followed and we all agreed that those passengers must be fearless even more so than the riders.Our next stop was the hairpin we had previously been watching from a distance and was at the end of a steep drop through the woods from another hairpin at the top. It was therefore a quick spurt and brake job and next it would be the turn of the 125’s

and whist there was some close racing you do not have the speed and exitement of the larger machines. Chris Palmer a rising star eventually won by a comfortable margin from the more fancied Ian Lougher. Also before the end the speaker system reported rain at the top of the circuit whilst as yet we had not seen any but a few minutes later down it came and I believe the race was actually stopped with one lap to go. We sheltered where we were until the rain stopped and decided to watch the next race there too which was to be the Supersport and the promise of a tussle between Martin and Lougher on equal machinery. Sure enough it developed into an almighty scrap between the two with Lougher taking the lead for the first few laps on what was a drying track except in the woodland area it was still wet. Martin had finally got past on the fourth and came past us with Lougher on his tail then on the penultimate lap Lougher was even closer and moved out at the last second to outbrake martin into the hairpin. All was tense as they appeared down the hill towards us as it was still Lougher with Martin breathing down his neck. The old stager positioned himself on the track in such a way that Martin could not repeat the outbraking manoeuvre and watching them disappear towards the chicane and finishing line it seemed sure to be Lougher this time. But alas he misjudged his breaking totally and went straight on instead of around the chicane which automatically gifted the race to Martin.

For the next race we would walk up the steep path through the woods which is the moment I was glad that I did not have all the bike clothing on. By the time we reached the top it began to rain and we sheltered as best we could under some trees. It became heavy and no end could be seen for awhile but even when it stopped racing could not continue due to a flood of standing water on the track plus a few rivulets running across in a couple of places that we could see. It was looking ominous but I must say the organisers were prepared and had water tankers out pumping the pools of water from the circuit but this was taking up a lot of time which wasn’t being helped by the constant drivel coming over the speaker system. Everyone was getting frustrated and some left early but we hung on in there until finally racing commenced again . It was now obviously a race to go through the programme before the next deluge and it was announced that the last and biggest race “The Cock o’ the North” would be reduced from the scheduled 12 laps to 6. To say people were disappointed was an understatement but most accepted the need for it. For my part what I cannot comprehend is why earlier in the day when the sun was shining do the organisers call

a lunch break for more than an hour when surely the local forecast not least the sight of looming clouds should have told them to get on with it.

We left before the end of the last race as it was obvious that there was another deluge imminent. At the time it was Lougher with Martin shadowing him on the larger Honda and it was pretty obvious Martin would have the measure of it before the chequered flag and as I have read subsequently that is exactly what happened. As we walked through the car park (field) we dwelled on what a good decision it had been to

leave the car at the bottom of the hill as the fun and games trying to get out through the mud had already begun. What had been an even better decision was to not bring the bikes because although we had got somewhat wet at least all the biking gear was nice and dry back at the hotel. To cap it all no sooner did we plant our bums in the car that it absolutely lashed down again.. We were ever so grateful to Peter and suggested that we take he and his wife Carol somewhere for a meal that evening although I must confess an ulterior motive was so we wouldn’t have to eat in the hotel again. What a wonderful tool the mobile phone is as by the time we got back to the hotel to change a table was booked and Peter promised to collect us in about an hour to take the four of us to a lovely restaurant to enjoy the best meal we’d had all weekend. A perfect end to a wet day.

Monday morning was in dry mode again but all the warnings were that we were bound to run into rain on the ride home. I again reflected on how lucky we were to be putting on dry kit and made doubly sure that it was all zips and Velcro was properly fastened to ensure no leaks on the return. Ian had gone to the precaution of having my PVC jacket to hand which if it got really bad he would wear over his own jacket to prevent water getting through the sleeves again. The ride down from Scarborough to Goole is very interesting but when we got near the M62 we had already agreed we would hop on the motorway to cover some ground early on in case of delays later and also to avoid some of the flooding that was covering a lot of South Yorkshire. As we motored on towards the M18 it started to look very dark ahead and some rain started to fall quite heavily so we darted into the first services and had a coffee break and fuelled up. It seemed the dark clouds had swung around us by now and we enjoyed a dry spell again until we left the M1 going into Chesterfield past the “old crooked spire church” and now heading for Buxton. It was not too bad though until we had all but reached Buxton when down came the rain in bucket fulls . We continued through the town in torrential rain as it was impossible to stop anywhere and people stared at us from doorways and shop canopies thinking we must be mad. As we exited the town there were rivers of water running across the road but then as suddenly as it had started it eased and slowly we climbed this road which meandered on upwards in front of us and of course we had just begun the much talked about “cat & fiddle” but we were definitely not seeing it in the best conditions. Still you could see what all the

fuss was about although the road surface was no great shakes in parts including the apex of some bends. Maybe normally you can see the problems in good time but today visibility was not good. In fact I just started to make out a building in the distance with a solitary light just like in those horror films but this was no horror for us it was mecca and a very welcome sight.

The Cat & Fiddle pub is very obviously a bikers pub and we were made welcome with a drink and a meal just what the pair of us needed. Also it gave us the time to examine the efficiency of the various waterproof clothing and Ian found that again water was seeping into the sleeves so he had a complete change of upper clothing and decided to use that bright blue, purple and white PVC jacket of mine. Not only would this keep the rain out but other road users would see him for miles which was no bad thing on a day like we had. My Heine Gericke was doing fine except the collar tended to come undone which is due to the girth of my neck more than the jacket. In these conditions I should have fitted the optional storm collar but it was at home. As we left the pub car park visibility had become extremely poor and it was lucky that as soon as we began to drop down towards Macclesfield it improved dramatically. The four bikers we passed going the other way were riding into it and my guess is that they too would be paying the pub a visit.

Through Macclesfield and the rain had eased again and we were headed for Crewe and Blue Bell the BMW dealer but we found it difficult to locate them and I think it was our second circuit of the town when we got caught in another massive downpour. Again it was difficult to pull in anywhere but the traffic all but stopped anyway and we pulled into a filling station partly to get directions but mainly to get out of the rain. We were successful on both counts as when we left it had stopped raining and we rode straight to Blue Bell which is a neat establishment attached to the car dealership where we entered into a conversation with the manager who was extremely helpful and friendly.

However we were well into the afternoon and we needed to get on if we were to get home in a reasonable hour. Still we decided to avoid the motorway and headed for Market Drayton to Shrewsbury and onto the A49. A better option would have been to come down through Bridgenorth but news of flooding in that area made us take the more direct route. The A49 is always full with traffic in particular artics and at this time we were also seeing traffic on their way home from work in Ludlow, Leominster and Hereford. On the bike though you are able to get past whereas in a car I know from bitter experience that this road can take twice as long. Our last stop was to be the café at the Total garage in Symonds Yat and we reach there about 6pm. It was a quick coffee and farewell and Ian and I went our separate ways - knackered.

In total we had covered 917 miles (Ian 60miles more as he keeps reminding me) on some fabulous roads and all in all we had been lucky with the weather considering what had been going on all round us.