This time around we made a weekend of it: Marianne joined me for the trip up to Hereford. After a pleasant dinner in town on Saturday night, I left her exploring while I drove across country through intermittent showers to the tiny village of Weobley.
I've never seen a karting venue like it: up a single track road in the middle of nowhere, behind a farmhouse, and bounded on two sides by fields full of sheep. As I drive into the courtyard and park in front of an open barn, I watch a kart being driven across to the circuit pursued by a pair of Jack Russells.
During the day, I hear the circuit referred to as 'the track you'd build in your back garden'. It's run by three blokes and two dogs, is just 600m long and the laptime is a piffling 32 seconds. If, like me, you're used to the corporate monoliths of Daytona and Buckmore Park, it's a bit of an eye-opener.
But the karts are tidy and expertly maintained and an airy new clubhouse is nearing completion. And those three blokes (and two dogs) know their stuff. Between them they run a tricky multiple heat sprint event for 40 drivers without missing a beat or wasting a minute - something that Birmingham Wheels failed to do last month.
Short the circuit may be, but it's a real challenge. Narrow, twisty, and (today) intermittently wet, it includes the most difficult corner I have ever encountered, in a decade and a bit of karting: a ludicrously off-camber right-hander, down a steep drop, with no run-off. Take it too slowly and you'll be passed down the following straight; too fast, and the kart will hop, skip and hurl you broadside into the tyrewall.
The racing is not for the fainthearted. Drivers have flown in from Germany and Denmark. Moonlighting touring car racers rub shoulders with 16 year old prodigies and single seater racers.
I neatly sidestepped my race-rustiness last month, by virtue of a fairly straightforward circuit and familiar format. But there's no avoiding it in round 2. Of my 150 or so karting starts, three have been sprint races. I'm just not used to having only seven laps to get the job done, and it shows: unforced errors and dulled wheel-to-wheel skills leave me languishing in the bottom half of the table after three heats.
My points score puts me in the D final (there are five in all), and finally my day starts to turn around: I keep it on the road in soaking conditions, and win, which gives me another go from the back of the C final grid. Despite some on-track argy-bargy I make up a couple of places and finish sixth out of eight.
With my racing done for the day, I join the others to watch the A final. We watch in awe as F2 driver Ben Bailly makes mincemeat of a very strong field, demonstrating phenomenal kart control on a wet track. I've fallen far short of my best today, but I have to admit that my best wouldn't have been good enough.
In the end I was classified 20th out of 37 and scored a point. Not as bad as I first thought, and the experience has highlighted a large chink in my armour. The frontrunners are more than gifted. They're race-sharp, because they're racing every weekend. If I want to get among them, I can't simply turn up once a month and rely on my experience - especially since most of the events are sprints.
Ergo, I need some sprint practice. This might call for a return to Thruxton before the next round on May 8...
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Monday, 7 March 2011
BRKC Round 1. Birmingham Wheels, Sunday 6 March 2011
When I got out of my kart at Thruxton in October 2009, having won (with the help of two excellent teammates) the Audi Endurance Cup championship, I already knew I was unlikely to race in 2010. Month-long ski trips don't come cheap, and something had to give.
As the months went by I missed it less; by late 2010 I was unsure about returning at all. Perhaps I'd lost the desire?
Still, when I heard about the British Rental Kart Championship - the first of its kind - I signed up. Arrive-and-drive karting has exploded in the last decade: with many of the bigger circuits running their own championships it now attracts some serious talent. More and more professional racers use it as a low-cost means of staying sharp.
By the time the first round at Birmingham came around, I had serious misgivings. We were just back from Canada, I'd not had time to practise, and I still wasn't sure I could be bothered any more. Also, from the driver profiles on the website (www.brkc.net), I would be up against a mix of teenage prodigies, moonlighting car racers and (thank God) the old karting old-timer like myself. When I arrived at the circuit - which I'd never seen before - I felt thoroughly rusty and inadequate.
Then I got in the kart.
I expected it to feel odd, but - strange karts and new circuit aside - it was as if I'd never been away. I'd been told that a 49 second lap was competitive, and anticipated a slow build-up to something approaching a respectable pace. In fact, it took me four laps to set a low 49, and by the end of the 30 minute test session I'd managed a mid 48 - far, far better than I expected.
With a fleet of 15 karts and 40 drivers competing, qualifying and the races were split into three groups: five minutes of qualy followed by A, B and C finals. If you qualified in the top 15, you'd be in the A final, and so on.
The karts were right at the end of their lives, with disappointingly variable performance. I was undoubtedly lucky: drivers who had been stunningly quick in testing were suddenly very ordinary in qualy. Nevertheless, I was delighted to qualify third overall - and for the first time, a touch nervous. Having expected to plod around in the midfield, I suddenly had half a shot at the podium.
But I knew as soon as I left the pits for the race that I'd drawn badly: the kart was far worse than the one I'd driven in qualy. I lost a place off the start and two more in the first ten laps, but held on to finish sixth. A good result: beforehand I had hoped not to disgrace myself, nothing more.
Nothing like lying sixth in a national championship to rekindle the flame... having been unsure about my commitment beyond the first round, I've signed up for the next and will hopefully do the lot. The winner goes to the World Indoor Championships in Belgium in July. It will probably be one of the kids, but you never know...
As the months went by I missed it less; by late 2010 I was unsure about returning at all. Perhaps I'd lost the desire?
Still, when I heard about the British Rental Kart Championship - the first of its kind - I signed up. Arrive-and-drive karting has exploded in the last decade: with many of the bigger circuits running their own championships it now attracts some serious talent. More and more professional racers use it as a low-cost means of staying sharp.
By the time the first round at Birmingham came around, I had serious misgivings. We were just back from Canada, I'd not had time to practise, and I still wasn't sure I could be bothered any more. Also, from the driver profiles on the website (www.brkc.net), I would be up against a mix of teenage prodigies, moonlighting car racers and (thank God) the old karting old-timer like myself. When I arrived at the circuit - which I'd never seen before - I felt thoroughly rusty and inadequate.
Then I got in the kart.
I expected it to feel odd, but - strange karts and new circuit aside - it was as if I'd never been away. I'd been told that a 49 second lap was competitive, and anticipated a slow build-up to something approaching a respectable pace. In fact, it took me four laps to set a low 49, and by the end of the 30 minute test session I'd managed a mid 48 - far, far better than I expected.
With a fleet of 15 karts and 40 drivers competing, qualifying and the races were split into three groups: five minutes of qualy followed by A, B and C finals. If you qualified in the top 15, you'd be in the A final, and so on.
The karts were right at the end of their lives, with disappointingly variable performance. I was undoubtedly lucky: drivers who had been stunningly quick in testing were suddenly very ordinary in qualy. Nevertheless, I was delighted to qualify third overall - and for the first time, a touch nervous. Having expected to plod around in the midfield, I suddenly had half a shot at the podium.
But I knew as soon as I left the pits for the race that I'd drawn badly: the kart was far worse than the one I'd driven in qualy. I lost a place off the start and two more in the first ten laps, but held on to finish sixth. A good result: beforehand I had hoped not to disgrace myself, nothing more.
Nothing like lying sixth in a national championship to rekindle the flame... having been unsure about my commitment beyond the first round, I've signed up for the next and will hopefully do the lot. The winner goes to the World Indoor Championships in Belgium in July. It will probably be one of the kids, but you never know...
Monday, 28 February 2011
Fast forward...
2011. I've come late to the blogging fold, but no matter. This season marks a new start and with it come new scribblings.
I've been karting regularly for a little over 12 years and along the way have amassed enough trophies to clutter our house. It's a small house. And that Tesco Value bubbly that I won at Thruxton two years ago really has to go... I enjoy it more than ever, and I'm still learning. Circuit racing, like any sport, is a craft, and only a gifted few ever truly master it.
There have been highs and lows this past decade, but it's the highs that stay with you. My first podium, under the drizzle and floodlights at Milton Keynes, with my new girlfriend (now wife) in attendance. My first win, soon after. Competing against, and teaming up with, some great drivers over the years. But one event does tower above all the others: the inaugural Daytona 24 Hours, at Milton Keynes in September 2009. I could write thousands of words about that day alone, but in a nutshell, I captained a talented young team in my first ever 24 hour race. After nearly 1200 laps it went down to the wire, and we won by 3 seconds.
Now, though, I'm facing my biggest challenge yet. I haven't sat in a kart since October 2009, having taken a year off to save for the Whistler Odyssey (see whistlerodyssey.blogspot.com). And I'm about to go head to head with the best drivers in the country in a brand new series called the British Rental Kart Championship (www.brkc.net).
I'd planned to get some practice in but there hasn't been time... and, dare I say it, I've gone soft. I'm not sure I can be bothered any more with the travelling, the early starts, the stress... surely, at 37, I'm not past it? I'm younger than Rubens Barrichello, Michael Schumacher, any number of Le Mans veterans.
Time will tell. Round 1 is in Birmingham, next weekend.
I've been karting regularly for a little over 12 years and along the way have amassed enough trophies to clutter our house. It's a small house. And that Tesco Value bubbly that I won at Thruxton two years ago really has to go... I enjoy it more than ever, and I'm still learning. Circuit racing, like any sport, is a craft, and only a gifted few ever truly master it.
There have been highs and lows this past decade, but it's the highs that stay with you. My first podium, under the drizzle and floodlights at Milton Keynes, with my new girlfriend (now wife) in attendance. My first win, soon after. Competing against, and teaming up with, some great drivers over the years. But one event does tower above all the others: the inaugural Daytona 24 Hours, at Milton Keynes in September 2009. I could write thousands of words about that day alone, but in a nutshell, I captained a talented young team in my first ever 24 hour race. After nearly 1200 laps it went down to the wire, and we won by 3 seconds.
Now, though, I'm facing my biggest challenge yet. I haven't sat in a kart since October 2009, having taken a year off to save for the Whistler Odyssey (see whistlerodyssey.blogspot.com). And I'm about to go head to head with the best drivers in the country in a brand new series called the British Rental Kart Championship (www.brkc.net).
I'd planned to get some practice in but there hasn't been time... and, dare I say it, I've gone soft. I'm not sure I can be bothered any more with the travelling, the early starts, the stress... surely, at 37, I'm not past it? I'm younger than Rubens Barrichello, Michael Schumacher, any number of Le Mans veterans.
Time will tell. Round 1 is in Birmingham, next weekend.
Thursday, 24 February 2011
Beginnings
The Johannesburg suburbs, May 1983. It's Sunday afternoon, and the Monaco Grand Prix is on TV. The cultured tones of James Hunt alternate with the hyperactive squeakings of Murray Walker.
My Dad and I watch from the sofa. I'm transfixed by the sight of the cars threading their way between the barriers at impossible speed.
Me: Do they have automatic gearboxes, Daddy?
My Dad: No, they have to change gear themselves.
Me: But how do they do that?
My Dad: I don't know... they're very good drivers. Best in the world.
Me: Are they going as fast as they can, all the time?
My Dad (nodding): Flat out.
Me: Wow...
And so it began. A lifelong passion for motorsport in general and Formula One in particular. But it wasn't until 1993, at the ripe old age of 19, that I got to try it for myself - at an outdoor kart track in Spain. A lack of opportunity and finance limited me to the odd excursion until Daytona Motorsport opened a gigantic new circuit ten minutes from my front door, and changed my life.
With a fleet of 40 karts they offered a range of 'arrive and drive' options: practice sessions, individual races, team races... for a budding racer with minimal funds and even less talent with a spanner, it was manna from heaven. I drove my first race on 14 September 1998 - a 40 minute sprint event at Daytona Milton Keynes. I finished it 14th out of 25; bruised, battered, and utterly addicted. I've never looked back...
My Dad and I watch from the sofa. I'm transfixed by the sight of the cars threading their way between the barriers at impossible speed.
Me: Do they have automatic gearboxes, Daddy?
My Dad: No, they have to change gear themselves.
Me: But how do they do that?
My Dad: I don't know... they're very good drivers. Best in the world.
Me: Are they going as fast as they can, all the time?
My Dad (nodding): Flat out.
Me: Wow...
And so it began. A lifelong passion for motorsport in general and Formula One in particular. But it wasn't until 1993, at the ripe old age of 19, that I got to try it for myself - at an outdoor kart track in Spain. A lack of opportunity and finance limited me to the odd excursion until Daytona Motorsport opened a gigantic new circuit ten minutes from my front door, and changed my life.
With a fleet of 40 karts they offered a range of 'arrive and drive' options: practice sessions, individual races, team races... for a budding racer with minimal funds and even less talent with a spanner, it was manna from heaven. I drove my first race on 14 September 1998 - a 40 minute sprint event at Daytona Milton Keynes. I finished it 14th out of 25; bruised, battered, and utterly addicted. I've never looked back...
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