Chairmans Llangollen Diary

Nice to see so many of you made the trip to Wales to take part in the 22
section'bumper" trial or just to spectate. We had a good turn out of entrants
and the feedback from the competitors was certainly positive. Thanks to all
the competitors for mucking in with the DIY trial and helping make it the
success it was. Be sure to tell us if you'd like to do a similar sort of thing
again next year.

We arrived on Saturday teatime, to find our camping buddies already in an

erect state. Dave and Johnny had both dragged their respective partners into

town to do some shopping. This gave us a chance to point, stare and laugh at

Dave's bijou canvas residence complete with camp beds and hanging

wardrobes.  

"Now who lives in a tent like this" Poncy beggar is rumoured to be looking

into fitting a dado rail and decking inside his tent before the next event.

Sunday evening and the Night Comp started bang on time. Everyone
managing to get his or her first run in the early evening light. A short wait for
the second runs to commence while the organisers waited for it to get dark.
That way nobody had the advantage of getting two runs in daylight.

My Dad, just recovering from surgery thought it best to sit this one out. With
serious danger of his stitches bursting and his vital organs spilling out all over
the interior of the racer, we didn't want to risk raining the spotless appearance
of the racer.

That meant the role of navigator was handed to the new wife. She did a
cracking job but all that shouting and bawling in my ear came all too easily
for my liking. A possible sign of things to come.

No dramas through the night and we finished the 3 night runs well up the
field. Dave took a heavy landing after a big jump, which sheared his
strengthened track-rod. We lent him our spare, which Dave managed to fit out
on the course. Unfortunately just as he arrived back at the start, they
announced the course closure.

Back to camp and out with the beers and barbecue stuff. Of course it was
raining by now, so we all huddled into the Cookson residence. All apart from
Johnny who was nominated Chef, so he had the honour of standing out in the

rain while we waited for him to bring us our food. Could you please try to
keep the bread rolls a little drier next time Johnny.

Monday and a cracking morning until the first run when we nearly roll it on
the first bend.

The heavens opened around lunchtime, which changed the appearance of
some parts of the course totally. With the rainwater unable to drain away on
the compacted slate ground, huge lakes appeared and rivers of water came
streaming down the track, this turned some of the hard tracks into a real test of
opposite lock technique.

A look at the running totals showed us to be in with a chance of a pot, all we
had to do was keep going as fast as we had been, and don't do anything silly.
Which on my next run 1 proceeded to go out and do something silly. On a
long rutted left hand bend which had been no bother all day we must've hit
the ruts wrong which flipped us up and nice and gently rolled us onto our side,
suspended in our harnesses and shouting for some assistance, I was kicking
myself for probably just blowing it. It wasn't long before some bodies arrived
to right us onto our wheels, and off we went. A check at the times showed we
were exactly a minute slower than our previous run.

As the afternoon wore on, our various rivals we also experiencing mixed
fortunes, this meant we were still in with a shout of winning a pot. We carried
on going as fast as we could and finished all our runs with no more problems.
We went to check die times, and to our surprise we were on for 1^st in our
class. Only one competitor could beat us, Matthew Priestley, he had one run
left and if he could equal or better his fastest time, he could snatch first.
A crowd of us waited in the truck while Matthew set off from the start on his
last run. All we could do was wait and hope he had a problem.
He returned from his run and joined us in the truck to wait for his time to go
up on the board. Out came the time, his total time for the event was one
solitary second quicker than ours, we'd have to settle for second place this
time.

Dave managed to bust a shocker and get a puncture. With only a couple of
runs remaining, he decided to quit whilst he was ahead and before he did
anymore damage. Not to mention he had his lovely Wife, Sharon with him,
who was ready to don her special 'ass kicking boots' in case Dave came away
from Wales with yet another post event rebuild bill big enough to equal a
starving nations national debt.

A few weeks before the event, I got a call from Kev Baldwin asking me
if I wanted to take part in the War of the Roses as part of the LRW
team. I was to take the place of John Carroll, who was trebled booked
and couldn't be in Scotland, Cumbria and London all at the same time.
Whilst managing to remain non committal and evasive on the subject
of severe physical effort, Kev made it sounded like a good crack, so
without giving it too much thought, 1 agreed. It subsequently transpired
that the event clashed with a camping weekend that myself and Sharon
had arranged with Johnny and his wife, Julia, but fortunately the girls
agreed that we may as well camp at Cartmel instead.

As soon as we got the tents up, it started to rain so we made for the
nearest hostelry, a short walk from the racecourse where we were
camping. When we got there, it was full of Morris dancers' 1 knew a
Morris once, but he fell off the bonnet. (Les Dennis circa 1998) The
blokes are bearded people, who drink real ale in half pint glasses and
tie bells to their shoes and bash sticks together. The women go round
in circles, shaking hankies which appear to be stuck to their fingers,
probably with snot or something!

After a few beers we decided to get scrutineered which involved a lot
of standing around in the rain while the scrutineers checked your
equipment!

The six person, three motor team, was to consist of John CarolFs
girlfriend, Alison, in their Series 1 which had been recently fitted with
a new electric winch, Graham in his Rangie, fitted with a powerful
engine driven winch in the back and Mick in his 88 inch Series 1 V8
coiler. Duncan, Kev and myself made up the team. After bodging a
throttle spring on JC's motor, we signed on and decided to go back to
the pub to shelter from the rain.

One of the girls behind the bar was a bit of a three watt bulb (nice arse,
but one can short of a six pack) and insisted on serving totally flat
Heineken from a broken pump. I swapped mine for Stella (reassuringly
expensive my arse!) which promptly ran out. It turned that the greedy
buggers from the "Land Rover do" had stopped in the pub until 2.30
a.m. the night before and supped all the lager! The bar meals turned
out to be a bit of a fiasco - I got eight pieces of scampi, which worked
out at about a £1.00 each. Tracy got hers when everybody else had
finished, (that girl's got no manners and insisted on eating while other
people were trying to smoke) Johnny and Julia sat watching theirs go
cold because they didn't have any knives and forks! Crap service or
not, team LRW dug in and stuck it out until closing time.

It hammered it down all night, but when we got up at 6.30 a.m. the
weather had turned to an intermittent drizzle which was to persist for
the rest of the day. As we all got out gear on, Kev put on a pair of
gaiters (you know the sort of thing that vegetarian psychology student
ramblers wear). Apparently Kev wanted to keep his new trick combat
trousers clean. They had zips round the top of the legs, presumably so
that you can wear just the legs on their own. I suppose it would stop
your legs getting scratched in the long grass, but you could still get a
suntan on your arse and a cool breeze round your 'auld fella should it
be a hot, sweaty day. As it happened, he didn't need them.

The event itself took place high up in the fells area a few miles away,
overlooking Morecambe Bay and Cartmel Sands. The nine teams
(eight ARC teams plus team LRW) lined up at the control, nominated

team captains and were given maps and score sheets. Each team was
given a grid reference to locate one of the nine tasks. The idea is to
locate the task on the map and get there within an allotted time. The
marshals for that task give the teams a card detailing the task itself,
which also has a time limit. Once completed or when time is called,
the task is scored by the marshals and the next grid reference given.
Effectively the teams rotate and each team does each of the tasks. The
site itself is a large area and the tasks could be a mile or more apart. It
was not feasible for spectators on foot to get to the more remote tasks
before the team had finished and were on their way back. Fortunately
our supporters were able to catch us at five or six tasks by using a little
ingenuity. The tasks included everything from making a stretcher to
enable cut down telegraph poles to be winched up a cliff and then
carried round a marked out course, towing and winching a dead motor
through a bog, driving a vehicle blindfold, winching a beer barrel up a
cliff across telegraph poles and down the other side, pulling team
members in a boson's chair between two motors on either side of a
gully, pulling, pushing or otherwise manhandling a dead vehicle round
a marked out course in some woods, towing and winching a trailer
through a section which would make most CCV drivers think twice and
knocking down skittles with a tyre suspended between three winch
cables.

Team LRW tackled all the tasks with enthusiasm, but perhaps slightly
less experience and with less equipment than some of the old hands.
With muscles aching, we gathered for the results and were surprised to
find out that we had actually come second (to last). If anyone likes the
idea of running around, carrying telegraph poles, beer barrels, crawling
under wet tarpaulins or dangling from a winch cable, join the Army or
have a go at the War of the Roses.

Dave Cookson 408.

ANCC Round 3 - Hapton Valley

Yes, I did get the V8 rebuilt for Hapton Valley, the Pennine round of
the ANCC championship -just.

My mate, Dave, left his old V8 in my garage for safekeeping about six
years ago and I have been nicking bits off it ever since. I haven't seen
him for a couple of years (he is one of those blokes who disappears off
the face of the earth when he gets married) so I thought 1 may as well
have his bottom end (so to speak!) and his cylinder heads as well. If he
ever came back for it, I'll tell him it seized up so 1 scrapped it. I
always thought he was a bit of a pecker-head anyway. Any claim for
return of goods or damages in lieu is statute barred under the
Limitations Act after six years - probably.

I chucked it all together in a cavalier fashion complete with new high
lift cam, put it back in the motor and primed the oil pump. As 1 turned
the key it started, surprisingly. Smug expression quickly turned to
bottom lip out as it rattled and knocked. No oil pressure - what a
bummer and only three days to go. I rebuilt the oil pump - no joy. I
put the standard cam back in - still no joy. The oil pressure was just
too low to pressurise the tappets. I took 50-50, asked the audience and
phoned a friend. "Sounds like you've got problems with your bottom
end mate" (yes, quite). In desperation I looked in the Haynes book of
lies which said that the main bearings cannot be done with the engine
in the car. With only one day to go, 1 didn't have time to take the
engine out, rebuild it and put it back in. I managed to get the sump off
and change three of the bearings! Basically I daren't lower the crank
any further to get the thrust bearing out for fear of damaging the rear
oil seal and I couldn't get to the bearing at the back so I left them in. I
put some 20/50 in and turned the key. Bottom lip out turns to cheesy
grin! Nice quiet engine with 30 psi on cold tickover - job's a good 'un.

Predictably an hour late, me and Johnny pulled up in Hebden Bridge to
meet Kev to follow him to Hapton Valley. We managed to find the site

entrance (despite the missing sign) and followed the track about a
million miles or so to the remote moorland site on top of a hill
overlooking Burnley.

The three of us went to help set out. We had the unusual situation of
more helpers than equipment, not that there were a lot of helpers, just
that there was only one staple gun! John Nelson, who was the clerk of
the course, had set virtually the whole course out single handed-, a
mammoth task when you consider that it was five miles long. Without
him, the event would never have run. Most of the sticks were in, but
without the stapler it wasn't going to get finished because we had to
get to scrutineering.

By the time we got back to camp Ady had turned up, but unfortunately
Greg didn't make it, having removed his engine three times the
previous week, but still unable to get his clutch to work. In a vain
attempt to keep out of the wind we parked the comp motors close to
Graham's tranny van and put a row of jerry cans behind it as a wind
break. Land Rover types are well known for their ingenuity you know!
It was of course the usual drunken evening, taking the piss, eating
partly cooked food, farting, swearing and drinking more beer until the
early hours. In freezing desperation Ady chucked the whole bag of
coals on the BBQ, (still in the bag that is) which only served... to put it
out!

Incidentally, I'll have to have a word with Dave Pinner about licences.
More than two piss heads with a radio is classed as a nightclub in
Burnley and you need a licence for one of those. Mind you, in Burnley
a field full of sheep is classed as a leisure centre....
We decided to get some kip and tried to ignore Ady who was running
about shining his head torch in people's faces and rattling their tents.
Oh, how we laughed...

A very early start and still no staple gun. We worked frantically
against the clock altering the start to allow for two way traffic through
the narrow gate and getting the arrows on. Johnny ran himself ragged

with the staple gun while we drove round helplessly passing out
arrows. The drive round got underway whilst we were still making
corrections to the course. After a hurried briefing, the event started
about an hour late and had to be shortened by a couple of runs.

The course was very rough, with boulders and rocks hidden in the long
grass, side slopes, a tricky gully, mud hole and the lot. We had mixed
fortunes as usual. Ady blew his engine up on the first run. My engine
held out (surprisingly) but after a short flight and a hard landing
towards the end of the third run, the cooling fans hit the rear mounted
radiator, smashing the blades from one fan and puncturing the radiator
itself. We managed to get back to the pits where volunteer pit crew,
Andy Darwent and Mark Crossley, repaired the radiator using a pair of
pliers and two packets of radiator cement (which can be purchased
from Gill at the Pennine Club Shop at a very reasonable cost). We
knew the motor would overheat with only one fan so Andy and Mark
removed the back panel and replaced it with a piece of chicken wire
which they had found and fastened it on with tie wraps!

We set out again, but unfortunately half way round the course the
engine started to overheat and with a very long, steep climb ahead, I
decided to retire and save the engine. Kev finished well of course and,
apart from turning his shock absorbers blue with the heat, he didn't
suffer any real problems and managed second in class.

Oh well, that's another event not finished. Time to count the cost and
look forward to another week of late nights in the garage! I sometimes
wonder why I still do this, but in the words of that famous poet, Arnold
Schwarzenegger "I'll be back."

David Cookson 408

HAPTON VALLEY MOORLAND SAFARI

I was asked by my good friends David and Carol McGivern if I would

be part of their pit crew for this event. Dave was driving because

Peter and Michael were both away on holiday, Carols brother

Geoff were going to be Dave's navigator. We were all to take

some boxes of bits.

Dave, Carol and Geoff took the motor over to the site on

Saturday for screwballing.

I was going to a 40^th Birthday Party on Saturday night so I had to

cut down on the booze. After the party I walked home at around

1.15am.

The following morning I'd planned to set off at 8.00am but it was
more like 8.30. I was driving through Hebden Bridge when I
noticed a red 90 following me. I drove up the track to the site. As
I went to open the gate to the site I trapped my finger in the gate
bolt-.OUCHHH I looked round to see the red 90 was being driven
by Stuart Baldwin.

I parked up next to our team. The weather was cold so I dug out
my prat hat from behind the drivers seat along with my big coat
and the wet weather driving gloves (yellow washing up gloves,
49p) I helped to strap David and Geoff into their motor.
While David and Geoff lined up waiting for the 'off myself, Carol
and Geoff s other half walked up to the top of the first hilt.
We spotted a buggy stuck in a bog-hole, all the other motors
went round the outside of him on solid ground with a foot of
water lying on top.

Dave needed two goes at getting out of the stream. Another
driver made a right pigs ear of getting out. He backed right into
the deep part of the stream, he ended up having to drive past the
stuck motor, turn round to get a run up and back past the stuck
motor.

David's new play thing had now done 3 runs. Another friend
Bryan who was on his way to the site rang on the mobile to ask if

Dave was still running. When he arrived Bryan was signed on as
day member and strapped into the passenger seat. While they
went to line up we set off to watch from the track. As they came
over the brow off a hill where we standing the top hose blew off,
steam cleaning the engine bay. Bryan raced out of the motor and
lifted the bonnet to refit the hose. We raced over to offer any help
we could. By the time we'd got there the hose was back on,
Dave turned the key to re-start the motor but the battery said
"no" Bryan got back in while we all pushed them down the track,
"Vrooom" the engine fired and they went racing off to finish the
run.

In the pits Bryan found that when topping up the radiator through
the top up plug the radiator was pressurising even with the
radiator cap off. Very strange,

Other jobs to do were drying out all the leads and the distributor
cap. New crew member Jim found that the dash pots hadn't
much oil in them, he got the carbs running much better and got
the engine to tick over much smoother, "thanks Jim"

David by now found that every time a motor passed him on the
track it would always die in front of them, letting them past again.
On the last run the temp was now showing normal on the gauge.
It was Dave's first Comp and he did well to finish. He even
managed to get first in class. Thank you to everyone who
helped.

All the equipment we needed was; petrol, water, pliers,
screwdriver, Jump-leads, engine oil, clutch fluid and a funnel. 7
pit crew plus one driver.

Keith R Normanton 108

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