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By
Simon Woodall
Clee Hills Trial – an organiser’s view
Not having a trial report to read I (a very
unfortunately timed snow fall causing its cancellation), I thought I
might pen a few words from the organiser's perspective. "My Clee
Hills Trial" since what ever happened the competitors' event, from
the clerk of the course's point of view, most of the things that happen
to me happened anyway - if you see what I mean.
 For me the trial started on the Thursday morning, as
that is the point at which my time becomes 100% trial oriented. The day
starts with collecting the keys for the various gates on the Burwarton
Estate from the estate office just round the corner from the start. I
then go onto the estate to check that these keys actually fit the gates
we need to have open at the weekend. Some of the padlocks are quite
fiddly, so it's also a confidence building session to know which ones
work which way. That way I will not panic at the weekend if one is a
little stiff. Since I am on the estate, and the part that we use is not
currently being worked, the two sections and a special test are laid
out. This involves walking up each hill carrying 13 poles, numbers and a
lump hammer. Stopping about every five or ten feet to drop a pole - that’s
deliberately dropping one, there are plenty of other stops when one gets
dropped accidentally. Once the top of the hill is reached, the ends
board can be knocked in, and the walk back down is punctuated by
hammering in the intermediate poles and hanging the number markers. By
the time I am two thirds the way back, I pause for a mental review of
the pole positions, and usually have to walk back up to adjust their
positions to try to ensure the poles are grouped more closely at the
areas of expected failure. (Just as the blue book says) The thought
process goes something like this:- Hmm , that tree root will catch a
few so I'll put the marker just above it; those that make it that far
will then be struggling in the mud so I'll put two close together here;
now this corner is tight so they might struggle, two more markers…..
Damn, not enough left, now where can I pinch one from to slot in here? I
know, I'll walk all the way back down and move the 12 up to the 11,
that'll give me one; after all its only ½ mile back down and up again.
And that’s just the first hill!
Repeat the procedure on the next hill, but this one
has a restart so more poles and more boards. Box restarts are the thing
now, so will they put their front or rear wheels in the box? Can I peg
it so that they are forced to choose between going low for a better
position and going high for a better mark in case they cannot move off?
In between all this decision making, the ground is getting no softer,
being covered with frost, and knocking in the markers is like trying to
put them into concrete. I decide to cheat with the special test and put
all the line markers inside traffic cones so that they stand on their
own. They rest of the day is taken up with route marking. It takes a
competitor about six hours to get round the course, but they do not have
to stop and park at every junction, get out and pin up a coloured
marker. Nor do they have to worry about the problem of having difficulty
telling left from right and therefore which colour to put up. Nor do
they have to take the failure route from every section and then double
back to the summit. It would have been more sensible to do this job the
weekend before, but unfortunately the ACU's "Vic Britten" one
day motorcycle trial is run over much the same ground - starting from
the same place - on the Sunday before.
Friday dawns clear but no warmer. A check of the
weather forecast for the weekend is threatening snow, but not until
Sunday afternoon. The optimist in me decides that as every other weather
front lately has arrived later than predicted we will be all right (on
the night). Friday is the day for laying out the furthest sections, and
although there are more to do than the previous day, the routine is the
same. My major concern at this point is that all the sections are still
frozen. Not only am I still having trouble knocking in the markers, but
I'm trying to decided whether this is going to make the going easier or
harder, and if the tyre pressure limits that have already been printed
in the routecard are still valid under these conditions. The tyre limits
remain something of a concern, but it is easier to leave them as they
are and have confidence that the cream of Britain's trials drivers are
not going to be fazed by something as trivial as frost. Late morning
includes an on-site meeting with the Plowden Estate gamekeeper. It turns
out that he is concerned over nothing, as he thought the trial was going
to clash with his Saturday shoot. These people are very important and,
if he is on our side, he might point us in the direction of other
sections on the estate that have not been spotted yet.
I drop down the lane to the start of Ratlinghope, and
put the start boards in the same place as last year. Ratlinghope is one
of those sections where not many failures are expected and it’s not to
rough so rather than walk the distance to the top, I decide to drive up.
Embarrassment! I cannot move an inch forward on the frost! It’s a good
job no one is watching. I get out and reappraise the situation. The
ground looks a little firmer ten feet further back, le’ts try from
there. This time I can get moving, with a lot of gentle teasing of
throttle and clutch, but can only make it about ten feet beyond my
original start line. Twenty feet in all, that’s not very impressive.
Still, trial’s drivers are made of sterner stuff, and driver more
suitable vehicles. Move the start to the lower point, admit defeat and
walk up to the section end. Half way up the hill there is a nice long
stretch of ice wide enough across the track to ensure that however small
the vehicle one wheel will have to be on it. Let's just hope that the
competitors have enough road speed to carry them over it. Back down to
the bottom, and I still have to get out. My performance on the hill has
made me a little nervous as the route back involved going back up hill
and there is clearly no way that I will be able to reverse up it. I have
broken the organiser’s cardinal rule - never drive up anything you
aren't 100% sure you can get out of on your own. I decide that I should
be all right if I can turn round. But where? The track isn't really wide
enough to do it easily but I have no choice. The first tentative reverse
reveals the problem. I reverse the truck just slightly out of line,
planning to do a mega-point turn in the confines of the lane, but my
first attempt to pull forward again just leaves the wheels spinning
hopelessly. I cannot go any further back and the truck will not go
forward. I am reminded of Hofnung and his blasted barrel (anyone under
35 may want their parents to explain that reference). There is only on
solution to this dilemma. I put the truck into second gear, and let the
clutch out so that the wheels are spinning happily then get out of the
cab and go round the back and start pushing. You know from your
experience of the ground that there is no way the thing is going to run
away from you once it grips, but in your mind you cannot be so sure.
Much pushing and rocking eventually gets the thing back onto some grip
and I dash forward to stop it before it does something else silly. Now
we are back where we started. There is only one place where there is
some flat ground. The ford. Did I mention the foot deep ford on the
approach? There didn't seem to be many rocks in it, and it's my only
chance. A multipoint turn in the water is achieved despite a couple of
nervous moments when one or other the rear wheels sink into silt holes.
Now all we have to do is get back up the slow to the exit. My first
attempt sees me about 75% of the way up before grinding to a spinning
halt. This is clearly not a slope where the traditional rule of gentle
throttle on ice is going to work. I use the reverse back down to allow
me to get as much run as possible. Plenty of revs and go! Down into the
ford flat out, BANG as the water hits the front of the truck, snap
change into second and toe hard down! The truck is almost uncontrollable
at this speed, I lurch off the rocks on one side and crash into a hole
on the other, past the point of stopping last time, the speed is
dropping off rapidly now, but the summit is in sight which will come
first? Top or Stop? The wheels are scrabbling for grip and we teeter
over the summit at about point one of a mile per hour. Made It!! I drive
away with a big grin, the problems are past and the fun of a good climb
is what is left.
The route from Ratlinghope back to the main A49
includes a very nervous steep decent with a mega-hundred foot drop on
one side, no barriers and a very icy road. My 1966 VW Pickup truck does
have the best brakes in the world and the road is in the worst condition
I have seen for some years. An instant decision is made NOT to send the
trial down here. My reward for such an heroic descent is cheap petrol in
Church Stretton. It’s dark by now and the temperature is just at the
point that brings out the best in carburettor icing. Just the thing I
need after a long day's labouring. Home and a hot shower is a very
welcome sight. By the way, did I mention the dead sheep on Gatten? It’s
just as well it was frozen or I would never have been able to lift it in
one piece - must remember to wash my hands before dinner!
Saturday is an easy day in comparison, the helpers
are out today and the work can be done in pairs. Just as we are about to
set out, the first competitor phones to ask if the trial is still on! He
has snow where he is and needs to be sure. Full of confidence, I say
"no problems here". The last few sections are laid out with
only one minor problem, the approach to Ippikins Rock has a burnt out
car on it. The decision is made that it is possible to squeeze past and
the vehicle is left in situ. We have recovery at Ippikins, so if it
turns out to be a problem I'm sure the Land Rover boys will enjoy moving
it. Back at the start/finish the paperwork has to be checked, there are
plenty of copies of the route amendment cancelling Ratlinghope and it
seems that the die is cast. Nothing to do except relax over dinner. The
locals are all saying that it will not snow, but I'm not so sure.
 Sunday morning…….The first competitor 'phones the
start at 5:30am and get the landlady out of bed! How should I know if
it's on, we're all still asleep. The rest of the day seems to fade into
a blur of concern, decision and counter decision. I suspect that the
competitors probably know more about it than I do.
Monday. The last of my three days off work. Normally,
the course closing car collects all the poles as each section is closed,
but this time there has been no trial so no collection. Some of the more
accessible ones were collected on Sunday afternoon but many as still out
there. 24 hours after the event, and the pickup will not climb the
tarmac estate road to the sections on Burwarton Estate. Maybe cancelling
was the right decision, even though by this time 20/20 hindsight is
kicking in and the mind comes up with different ways we might have made
it happen. The first special test is a sheet of ice, covered with fast
flowing melted snow. I park on the start line, get out and pull the
poles. I then lean on the back of the truck to take the "A"s
of the poles and the truck, handbrake on, just slides way from me on the
ice and I go flat on my face in the water. Still, at least the petrol
remains cheap in Church Stretton. For some completely inexplicable
reason, as I drive round I am already thinking about changes that could
be made for next year, and how to prevent the problems recurring. Do it
again? You must be joking, but I expect I will.
 On behalf of the organising team, I would like to
thank all the competitors for their good heartedness under the
conditions and especially those who relayed messages of commiseration.
Return to 2001 Restart
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