Camping it up at Maylandsea

Chris, my brother-in-law, and I thought it would be a jolly good idea to camp overnight prior to one of the race meetings so that we could indulge in manly pursuits such as burning large slabs of meat on a makeshift barbie, drink copious amounts of alcoholic beverages, having non-PC discussions etc. etc. and the Maylandsea meeting on Bank Holiday Sunday seemed a perfect venue. Unfortunately it also seemed a perfect venue for my Good Lady Wife, sister-in-law, youngest niece and, allegedly, Bertie the dog! So what started out as a simple bivouac, beers, barbie, and bog roll sort of trip turned into a full scale logistics exercise.
At least I got off relatively lightly – Chris got dragged off to Camping and General (the shrine to all things semi-permanent) to buy a tent the size of the Albert Hall – while I only had to find space in the (t)rusty Transit for all the gear and food that we suddenly seemed to require. As we would be going up mid-afternoon on the Saturday to set up Base Camp, we took both tents and all the beds with us, with Chris coming up after work with Lynne and the dog (Alice, my niece, had the 'pleasure' of travelling up with the GLW and myself – strangely she chose to travel back with Chris in the car!)
Saturday morning was dry and bright as I started the process of loading the van. Bikes and assorted paraphernalia in first, it was then a question of trying to get everything else in roughly in the reverse order that we would require them at the other end. This was complicated by the frantic creation of yet more salads and similar 'lady-food' by the GLW meaning that the two cool bags plus a crate of food related utensils needed to go in last and be relatively secure. Still everything eventually fitted and off we went. After picking up Alice we managed to go at least a mile before we had to stop to buy sweets for the journey (all of forty minutes) and some milk (that 'someone' had forgotten). Why does it take two females ten minutes to buy two items? One of life's mysteries that us mere males will never understand.
After an uneventful journey we arrived in the field at Maylandsea that was to be our home for the night. There were already a good few camper-vans, caravans and the odd tents in situ and we chose a prime spot taking careful note of the wind direction and the location of the portaloos. After a quick chat with a few of the regulars (“yes, we're camping overnight”, “yes, the GLW is with me”, “no, I haven't got a generator to power the chandelier / oven / hair accessories “, “yes, the GLW is with me of her own accord”, - you get the drift!) it was time to set up the gazebo. Relatively easy but thanks to Dave Metcalf for the loan of the heavy duty tethers as it was a bit gusty.
Next came the tent. We last camped some three years ago (Jan's only other under canvas experience) but we managed a reasonable erection in half an hour or so. Chris arrived about 6:30 and they promptly set about erecting their tent so we were ready for drinks and pre-dinner nibbles by 7:30. The two barbeques were fired up, beers topped up (white wine and fruit based drinks for the ladies) and the feast began. Come 10:30 we were all stuffed and quite tired (must have been all the fresh air) so we retired to the 'comfort' of our tents for a good night's sleep.
Fat chance! The problem with tents is that you can hear everything for miles around and the slightest glimmer of light illuminates the inside of the tent as if you had you own personal lighthouse just next door. Still, the advantage of not being able to sleep is that I saw a spectacular star-lit sky at 3:30, including the Milky Way, and watched a beautiful sunrise over Maylandsea creek at 6:00. The times in between were a bit boring (!) but it is quite amazing how much noise people make when they think they are being quiet. I went for a stroll into the village and waited for the local shop to open before returning with the papers to find the odd signs of life in the paddock.
A strong coffee and a couple of bacon rolls did their best to make me feel human again and I was almost ready to do battle. Signing-on completed, I walked the track with Chris who seemed to have a slight headache (again, we put it down to the fresh air) and returned to base camp decidedly pooped which didn't bode well for my racing!
Practice was announced with the sidecars due out first followed by the Clubman Class in which I ride. The BSA fired up third kick and I carefully warmed the engine before stopping it to get togged up. Helmet, gloves, goggles etc. all in place I go to restart the BSA only to find it no longer wants to play ball. Never mind, I think, I'll use the reliable Shiny Stormer. Kick, Kick, Kick, Swear, Kick, Swear, Curse, Kick, Kick. Perhaps I won't then! By this time I'm rather hot and red faced as the sun is shining nicely down on my black clad figure. I dive into the tool kit for a plug spanner, take the spark plug out of the BSA, clean it, put it back in, and try again. Success! Jan steps forward in her new role of Chief Engineer as I show her which way the throttle turns to keep the engine running while I put helmet gloves etc. back on before riding much too fast through the pits (sorry about that) to get to the start line. Strangely, instead of the 24 Clubman riders I expected on the line there were at least 50 riders of all abilities – looks like a 'free-for-all' again!
We were let out onto track one at a time and the first lap was fairly uneventful as everyone held station but, being one of the last away it wasn't long before the fast guys were coming round to lap me. Now, the thing about some of the Clubman class riders is that we're not that good. Our sedate progress can be somewhat random at times as we ricochet from bump to bump in the wrong gear so when someone who knows what they are doing comes rocketing up behind us their carefully planned overtake can be thwarted by a meandering numpty! Luckily I managed enough control to keep out of the way but a couple of my colleagues were not so lucky and there were heated discussions in the pits following – this will, I fear, have repercussions.
The track was very hard and lumpy, a bit like riding round on a pneumatic drill I imagine, and already becoming quite dusty. I was due out in the second race and took the BSA up to the start-line in readiness. We were finally under Starter's orders and with a wave of the flag we were off, or rather the rest of them were off as I made my customary abysmal start and was last away. Approaching the first bend the pack ahead slowed as they entered the slippery, tightening, right bend – I forgot what bike I was riding and instead of hitting the rear brake, changed up a gear and found myself out of control but in mid-field! As I sorted myself out a few got back past me but as the race progressed I managed to get a few of them back and ended up in a respectable mid field position. Blimey!
The next two races were both red flagged following accidents and the increasing dust made it difficult to see ruts and bumps. This, combined with my apparent inability to walk properly let alone ride a bike, led me to call it a day from the racing point of view. Camping, lack of sleep, and a dodgy back do not, unfortunately, make for happy bedfellows. Never mind – time to take down the tents and reload the van. A definite lesson learned – camping and motocross should be kept separate, especially if Ladies are involved. I think I needed a little bit more 'fresh air' and a little less salad to ensure some sleep. Hopefully the next meeting will be a bit more 'racey'!