Isle of Man, T.T. '99
It's Saturday morning and I've just been presented with a cup of coffee to ease last nights beer session. I have managed to sleep through early morning practice which is good going as the route passes right outside the window. Time to write up the diary.
Friday
We're up, packed and off by 9:30. It's dull and cloudy and within a few
miles it's raining.
Well what did you expect?
In a wild hope of improving weather and a bit of fun we go Leyburn, Hawes,
Ingleton but the roads remain damp and greasy all the way. What a bastard, this
should be the perfect start to the T.T., a blast there across some of the best
roads in the Dales.
Eventually as we approach Heysham the weather improves and we get to dice
with all the other bikes through the traffic and hoon around some mini
roundabouts.
On board the Lady of Man. Famous tugboat
We're soon in the queue for the Steam Racket ferry and passing through
various checkpoints, getting tickets checked, cards issue etc. It all seems
unnecessarily complicated. At the final queue we can see the boat, and I use the
term generously, that is going to transport us and our precious bikes across to
the Isle of Man. Lindsey groans and tells me it's the "roundy, roundy boat",
thus called because you spiral down into the depths to the car decks. Ladies and
Gentlemen - The Lady of Man.
We ride on in packs of eight and the crew do a good job of getting the
bikes positioned and tied down.
Lounging on deck enjoyng the smell of diesel ...
The time on the boat is something you need to experience to believe. Think
of boredom and distil it. There is a bar but you need to be able to ride at the
other side, coffee is revolting and from a machine tied directly to the bilge
pumps, seats are available but designed by an orthopaedic sadist, you can go on
deck but not to the pointy end, the boats rocks about and you're sure the bikes
are going to be reduced to their component parts down below.
The view out of our bedroom window.
Welcome to the
T.T.
4 hours later we arrive at Douglas and the fun starts. Remember all those
nice things I said about the ferry crew? Well getting off is a different matter,
it's a free for all, not a crew member in sight, people having to climb over
bikes to get anywhere. It doesn't bare thing about what would happen if there
was a fire or accident down there. No control, no access aisles, nothing. The
Steam Packet are without doubt a bunch of wankers.
To finish it off by the time I get on deck it's pissing it down and we've
got a wet steel ramp down off the boat.
The ride to Ramsey is horrible, the coast rode is wet and greasy, I've got
rain inside my visor and I keep steaming up.
Practice session.
We find Janice's house, unload the bikes and get changed. Practice is on and
bikes are howling past the house which seems strange. We and walk into town for
some grub and a well needed pint.
Back at the house we meet the occupants; Janice, Rosie and George, chat for
a bit then go back to pub. There is a good band, Dickie Heart and the Pace
Makers, and we get pissed which is where I came in.
It's now (mad) Sunday morning, 6:55am. I've been awake since about 4:30 when it was fine and even a bit sunny, now it's just starting to rain proper and the mountain is lost in cloud. So I'm sat here in me leathers utterly depressed watching a few hardy, waterproofed souls ride past. Lindsey has gone back to bed and I'm most likely in the dog-house for waking her up in the first place.
Saturday
We awoke to the sound of bikes. Peer out of the window, it's dry with some
cloud and the promise of a summer day.
After breakfast the suns out so
Lindsey and I set off across the mountain to Douglas. At first the mountain is a
bit strange to me, a few cars and loads of bikes. I'm waving others past me and
feeling a bit trepidant about the whole affair.
Lindsey decides she's had
enough and f's off into the distance, I don't know where I'm going so I speed up
to keep her in sight.
Oh, that's better, drop a gear and wind it on a bit
and the mountain starts to make perfect sense. By the time we're coming into
Douglas I'm grinning like a idiot. It's also started to rain again.
The
rain stops. We park up and walk into the Suzuki Village in search of brake parts
for me, all to no avail, so we have a bit of a mooch about before moving the
bikes up to the Signpost to watch the racing.
The Signpost, Douglas.
In case you can't see the
red bike is a GTS. As in funny front end Yamaha tourer.
It's the Formula 1 T.T., 4 strokes above 700cc and 500cc strokers. R1's and
Blades vs GP bikes basically, racing over country roads and down streets just
like the one outside your window. This is insane. It's also extremely
entertaining.
The first riders in the race are set off at 1:00pm, after
about 10 minute it is announced over the radio that the red flags are out - the
race has been stopped - somebody crashed out at bottom of Bray Hill and although
he was fine his bike was in bits all over the road. We get our first view of the
bikes as they tour round the circuit back to the start.
At 2:00pm the race
starts again, now reduced from 6 laps to 4. Less than twenty minutes later the
first bikes are coming past us at the end of their first 37 mile lap.
The
noise and the smell of the two strokes is incredible, the Ducati's sound like a
noisy, drawn out fart and the jap fours howl sending shivers up my spine.
Results,
David Jefferies first on a Yamaha R1.
You can actually see the racers close up at the TT.
After the race we ride back along the coast road, which although textured like a ploughed field, is quite good fun in the dry. We stop at Laxey for a coffee before cruising past more speed traps on our way back to Ramsey. The police here are very keen on 30's and 40's and are on the edge of most town with their zap guns, which is fine by me especially as unrestricted means unrestricted. The GLF signs mean exactly that.
Sidecars racing up the street.
What you can't see
is the amount of bouncing involved or hear the noise these things make.
Back in Ramsey we get changed into shorts and t-shirts for a walk into town
and do some shopping. After a brief feed Lindsey goes back to bed and I chat
with Janice's mum as we watch the sidecars racing up the street.
Full of
futile optimism about the weather I pursued Lindsey that a couple of early pints
and then to bed would enable us to be on the mountain by 7:00am in the early
morning sunshine. I don't think she was convinced but went along with this, one
of my more stupid plans, regardless.
Full of optimism we clean the bikes in preparation for Mad Sunday