Trial tribulation
Fancy doing something achievable yet ludicrous? The Land’s End Trial is 16 hours of mud, rocks and bacon sarnies. And it’s utterly fantastic…
By John Westlake
No pressure. Just ride up the rocky cliff face with hundreds of people waiting for you to bin it PICS: JOHN WESTLAKE, ADAM SMALLMAN, JOHN BENTHAM, ANDREW TRENOWETH
At 9.42pm on a drizzly April evening I’m waved away by the cheery start team of Britain’s longest long-distance trial. Ahead lie 16 gnarly trials sections and 243 miles of trails and lanes that wriggle from Bridgwater in Somerset to Redruth in Cornwall. It’s a 16-hour test of skill, endurance and navigation. And by 9.43pm I’m lost. I somehow miss the exit and tour Bridgwater Rugby Club car park wondering where everyone’s gone until a sniggering attendant waves me out onto the main road. This idiocy is, as I fear, a sign of things to come.
In fact, there’s been a healthy dollop of idiocy already. One of my accomplices, Rupert Paul (former Bike staffer and a very clever man), sourced a natty 3D-printed road book reader from the internet that looked like a great buy. The Land’s End Trial requires some way of reading the massive list of navigation instructions and his purchase saved him £50 on the pukka rally-spec boxes the rest of us stumped up for.
But as his bike sits out in the rain while we wait for our starts, water seeps into the plastic box, leaching out the printer dye of his directions like some GCSE chemistry experiment. And when Rupe turns the roller to find some words that don’t look like a hippy tie-dye disaster, the soggy paper rips.
‘I’ve got an hour and some Sellotape,’ he says. ‘I’ll fix it.’
Or indeed not. Shortly after escaping the car park, I see Rupe by the roadside trying to decipher his litmus paper experiment. We decide the best thing is that he follows me, and we head out towards Exmoor and the coast.
My rose-tinted prediction was that this will be an ethereal wonderland, with the full moon bathing the sea and Moors with silvery light as we chuff through the scenery on our little bikes. Well, that doesn’t happen. It’s pissing down, and as we climb on to Exmoor the fog is so bad I slow to 10mph as all I can see is a bright white ball surrounding my fancy new LED headlight bulb.
We’re on titchy, squiggly lanes with slippery grass down the middle, and 10mph feels sketchy – I keep swerving left in panic as the verge disappears, only to eventually work out they’re passing places. I can’t see anything.
I stop and ask Rupe to have a go in front as I fear there’s something wrong with my eyes. But no, he fares no better, though we do eventually catch some other riders which makes matters easier – at least then we can follow their lights at 8mph. At some point we do the first trials section, but all I can remember is that bouncing up a rocky path seems a lot easier than riding down slimy roads with grass in the middle.
After the section there’s a wet, rutty trail that winds its way up a gentle hill. My Suzuki DR250 chugs along happily in second gear, the Pirelli MT43s finding grip despite the slimy conditions. I’m musing that this is a lot more technical than the rocky section we’ve just done when I spy a red tail light at a height and position consistent with a motorcycle resting in a hedge. As I get closer I see its rider clambering out from underneath.
I pull up behind so he can use my light to see what he’s doing as he hoiks his KTM upright. He’s flustered but seems fine and roars off. Then, 20m later, I watch him give the KTM a handful, the rear steps out and he’s on his arse again. This time he’s damaged his phone holder and he gives the phone to me, telling me to look after it. Sure I say, putting it in my pocket, wondering why he can’t put it in his. Before I can ask, he’s back on his bike and fishtailing off into the night. I’ve no idea who he is. I didn’t even see his event number. Odd.
Eventually Rupe and I arrive at the village of Barbrook. From largely existing in a glowing ball of foggy isolation, we suddenly arrive at a brightly lit petrol station that stays open for the event, with hundreds of bikes and riders milling about. Across the road locals are dishing out tea and cake in the packed village hall. Heaven may well look like this. I hand Mystery Man’s phone to an official who promises to do something with it. Sell it, perhaps.
Buoyed by refreshments, Rupe adjusts his chain in an optimistic attempt to lessen a gear change problem he’s having with his Moto Morini Kanguro, which has a linkage from the gearbox output shaft on the right that goes across to the left, presumably to ensure it doesn’t work well. Futile adjustments made, we head off.
You want history? The LET has plenty
The first Land’s End Trial (LET) was held in 1908 – it was the London to Land’s End Reliability Trial back then. Like today’s trial it was for cars and bikes, but to start with the focus was more on distance rather than getting through tricky terrain. As vehicles got more reliable it evolved into a test of trials skills coupled with the demand of getting no sleep.
Where possible the event uses sections that were on the early routes. This photo of a section called Beggars Roost in Devon is from 1936 – we did it this year in the middle of the night. From what I remember, it was in better condition in 1936. Other excellently named sections are Felon’s Oak (first used in 1955), named because a nearby tree was used for hanging crims; and Crackington (first used in 1936), which is famous for being covered in slurry by farmers just before competitors arrive…
The next section poses no problems for my DR250. The little Suzuki scampers up the rocky climb and I’m so confident in its ability to make me look competent that I stop in a restart box. These hateful inventions are thrown in by the organisers to make the sections even more difficult – just when you have your momentum going for a tricky bit, you have to come to a full stop in a box. Cue loads of wheelspin, wheelies and wobbling as you try to get going.
I wait at the top of the trail for Rupe and use the time to congratulate myself on buying the DR. Getting the French import registered was annoyingly difficult (Bike, August) but I’m glad I persevered. Because of its low everything – seat, first gear, power (26bhp) and weight (118kg) – it’s proving perfect for this job. Admittedly the 250cc single is a pig to kick-start when hot, but I’m sure I’ll work that out. The main thing is it can tramp along at 60mph when we occasionally have to go on A-roads, while being idiot-proof off-road.
Rupe has followed a similar, but more exotic path with his Morini – the 250cc V-twin is just a bit faster, longer and heavier. In fact, where is Rupe?
A couple of bikes pass and I begin to worry. There were several points on the section that could have caused a crash, but surely no other bikes would have been allowed past? Then another rider pulls alongside. ‘Are you waiting for a bloke on a Morini?’ he asks. Yeeeees… ‘It’s fucked. He couldn’t get first gear. I think he’s gone home.’ And off he rides.
Gone home? My 2am brain finally realises this is unlikely given Rupe lives 250 miles away and is on a shagged Morini. I try to ring but of course there’s no reception. I press on alone. Turns out Rupe and the Morini limped to his sister’s place nearby.
The next three hours are a blur. The results show I cleaned a few sections but all I remember is the constant, all-consuming concentration required to ride and navigate through the night, never letting myself relax because that’s when you miss a tiny trail spearing off to the left or right. The riding rhythm is hypnotic, your brain working so hard to process all the visual information that time stops and you exist in a mesmeric bubble of pure concentration. I’ve no idea if I’ve been riding for 20 minutes or two hours. I see no other riders.
What you’ll need
» Tools You need enough to adjust the chain (mud and miles are killers), swap a spark plug and tighten loose things. Some riders take spare inner tubes, but I just took some tyre slime and an electric pump.
» Bar muffs The temperature can plummet by 4am so you need these or heated grips. Getting properly cold isn’t the problem you might think though because every section warms you up.
» Food and drink My recommendations are peanuts and coffee. Sweets are a nightmare because they cause a sugar rush then a crash, possibly literally. You could do without anything – there are plenty of food stops on the route.
» Headlight A top-quality LED bulb from lighting expert Paul Goff (norbsa02.freeuk.com/goffyleds.htm) is what you need. Mine cost £48 – there are plenty cheaper, but if it fails, you’re out.
» Road book holder I bodged one for the Edinburgh Trial then went straight out and bought a proper one. You really don’t want unnecessary hassle. My F2R RB801 is backlit, waterproof and easy to turn, and cost £105. Visit f2r.pt
Then, suddenly, there are lots, all parked near a domestic garage doubling as a soup kitchen. Jovial ladies hand out coffees and bacon baps as we all chat in whispers so as not to annoy the locals. Or bore them. I see another member of our group – Adam – who had set off before Rupe and I, and we head off together, taking it in turns to navigate to give our brains a break.
In my rose-tinted plan, dawn would be a pivotal moment. I’d be riding along a coastal trail as the sun rises and marvel as its golden beams strafe the landscape. It would be one of those motorcycling moments I’d cherish forever. Instead, the drizzle stops for a bit and then it’s light. Oh well.
But you know what? I’m enjoying myself. Getting through the night feels like an achievement and the DR makes the daylight sections fun rather than nerve-racking. Of course, some are too difficult for my mediocre skills, but there’s never a question of not making it to the top. If all else fails I just sit down and paddle like a numpty. Adam is on a high too – his ancient XT500 is running perfectly and he’s only head-butted the scenery once.
And so we come to the final section, Blue Hills. Under normal circumstances this would be a doddle. Although it’s steep and has a couple of tight turns, it’s dry and rocky and is nothing compared to what’s gone before. But two factors conspire to make it tricky. Firstly, we haven’t slept for 36 hours and can barely string a sentence together, never mind plot a sensible route up a hill. And secondly, hundreds of spectators are gawping at our every move. Half of Cornwall has come out to see a collection of fatigued older gentlemen (mostly; there are a few ladies) ride up a path.
Ten minutes later we’re both on our way to the finish point in Redruth. It wasn’t pretty, but the spectators were denied the massive prang they’d hoped for. We collect our finisher’s certificates and sink beers, slapping other competitors on the back, shaking hands with complete strangers and generally being deliriously happy. The feeling is an intoxicating mix of elation, pride, satisfaction and relief, and I’ve never known anything like it. Like a lot of motorcycle sport, long-distance trials are understandably regarded as stupid things to do. But like a lot of motorcycle sport, they’re also utterly brilliant.
Could you do it?
Probably. If you get a light dirt bike – a Yamaha XT225 Serow, Beta Alp or Honda CRF250/300 would be perfect – and have some trail riding experience, you’ll be fine. You won’t win, but you’ll finish. None of our crew are accomplished off-road riders but the only non-finish was a mechanical. The key thing is not to try it on a heavy bike – anything over 150kg is going to require some proper trials or enduro skills.
You have three long-distance trials to choose from. The Land’s End is in April, the Edinburgh is in September (it’s in the Peaks, not Edinburgh) and the Exeter is in January (ie, fricking cold and therefore hardcore).
To enter from scratch is a faff. First you go on the Auto Cycle Union (the UK motorcycle sport authority) website to join up, then become a member of your local trials club. Then you need to join The Motor Cycling Club, which runs the long distance trials, and enter one of the events. It’s an hour or an evening in front of a laptop depending on your web savvy. More info: themotorcyclingclub.org.uk