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►As Europeans and Britishers drag out their
moldy longjohns and woolies for what looks like another disastrous winter, the
motorcycling fraternity thereabouts indulges itself in an orgy of self-torture
without equal — the International Six Days Trials.
Do you like to wallow in mud during a driving rain? . . . Or get up at 5 a.m.
when the mercury is bouncing around zero to begin a bone-crunching,
bike-breaking cross-country run calculated to last nine hours, with nary a break
to unkink frozen fingers? Or maybe your heart pounds with the desire to do this
six days in a row?
If so, the 40th ISDT, 1965 Isle
of Man version, was made just for you. Consensus of riders from competing
countries is that it was the roughest in many a year.
The cream of our American
desert — enduro men, wiped out in the third day gush of rain, sand, mud and fog,
came away feeling that this year's International made some of our big long
distance events look something like playing with castles in the sand.
It is only natural that the
English — an austere and masochistic folk —are credited with inventing the ISDT
back in 1913 (it was nine days then). They fondly refer to it as the Olympics of
Motorcycling, which is not a bad comparison. The test is not only international
in flavor (17 countries this year) but combines nearly all the different ways
you can joust on two wheels.
Considering that you have only
one machine to work with and only those spares you can carry, the variety is
appalling — out-and-out scrambles, endurance (more than 1200 miles of it), timed
regularity, hillclimb, drag racing and road racing.
Riders are scored on an
individual basis (penalties for lateness, bonuses on speed tests), but the
emphasis is on team competition. Country wars on country for what is the most
coveted trophy in international motorcycling. Crack factory teams battle for the
right to say that their machines were the "toughest". And somewhere in the
middle of all this powerplay, the private rider, looking a bit lost and
overwhelmed, struggles for the scraps, hoping to pick up a medal for his
troubles (and expense), or at least a certificate of completion.
The team tradition is so strong
that a gold-medalist of yesteryear, if he dares to mention his triumph, rates
barely a batted eyelash. It's the official team man who gets the glory,
collectively. To be one-up at the victory party, you say in British style, "Well
done, indeed, but I was a member of the winning vase (pronounced "vawz") team of
'36, you know."
Resemblance to the Olympics, or
even the Monte Carlo Rally (a fete, by comparison), disappears very quickly.
The ISDT is not a glamour
event. For the competitors, it is hard and dirty riding. For the spectators, it
is difficult watching, with no loudspeakers, hot dog stands or easy-to-interpret
action. It is no wonder you don't get the droves of "fans" that come to the easy
spectacle of a road race or a scrambles meeting.
If you came to the Isle of Man
by motorcycle, you noticed the difference as you rolled your machine up the
gangplank of the midnight ferry from Liverpool to Douglas. Where were the long
lines of bikes • and jovial riders waiting on the docks for three hours, the
kind who came to see the Inter national TT early this summer?
Stated simply, they weren't
there. Those enthusiasts who did come were a different breed of cat.
No clip-ons, one-piece
leathers, fairings, tachs, or Dunstall exhausts. Instead they wore Barbour or
Belfast trials suits and their bikes were rigged with crosspiece bars and knobby
tires. Many of them could boast some kind of trials riding experience. They were
a quiet lot and you could tell that they didn't give a damn whether it rained or
shined. They could ride anytime, anywhere and they were proud of it.
They brandished grid maps and
time schedules and talked ISDT history in German, Spanish, Swedish, Russian,
Czech, King's English and Yankee twang.
When they landed, the Manx folk
hardly shrugged their shoulders: "Oh, we're used to havin' motorbikes buzzin'
round the island. What's this, another one of them scrambles meets?"
The riders gave often amusing
displays of their national character:
The British, who felt obliged
to win on home territory, were workmanlike in a friendly way but oh so
understated: "It's not a bad course, I'd say. Do prefer things a bit wetter,
though. Makes it harder. Cuts down on the gold medals." (It apparently got TOO
wet the third day. Stirland failed to finish.)
The Germans, scientific, but
humorous in a gross, literal way, were introduced to scrambled eggs, which they
promptly translated into "eggz motocrass".
The Russians and Czechs were a
picture of militant teamwork. Non-riders in these teams would fan out over each
day's course to scrutinize other riders and see which lines were giving the
easiest going. They'd signal these to their riders when they appeared.
The Americans, most of them
experienced "desert rats," felt a little cramped on the island. You could single
them out in the pits easily—the jet-styled helmets, faces that were either
tanned, scarred or sandblasted. They were go-fast faces. Vase man John Steen
typified their manner: "I liked the course. I was even having fun before the
cold got to my lungs. But I liked the one in Germany last year better, with
those long, windy trails where you could twist the wick a little and do some
stuff. Here, you had to be a bit serious."
On Monday at 6:30 a.m., the
ISDT began, almost secretly. No cheers, no brass bands.
Two by two at one-minute
intervals the riders pushed away from the barbed wire compound to meet their
fate on an island of rock-studded beaches, farmer's fields, muddy tracks,
ice-cold rivers, misty mountains and twisting one-lane roads (open during the
entire event to two-way traffic, by the way).
Required average speed is about
30 mph, so there was no time for poking along, even in the dry.
I followed group of riders
through several easy sections of the course to get an idea of the speeds they
were travelling. Fastest of the roads was the world-famous TT course invariably
used in the ISDT for sections to and from the starting point in Douglas. Riders
wasted no time here when they got out of town — 85 mph and UP for the big stuff,
70 and up for the small bikes.
Hopping frantically across the
desolate, bumpy moorland of the Round Table, forks clanging and the back end
chattering, I was making 35 to 40 over the grass as the riders pulled away from
me.
Blasting up the slippery
hillclimb at Glen Auldyn, zero (when you bogged down in mud) to 45 mph. Skirting
the waves in order to keep to the hard-packed sand on Kirk Michael beach, 65
mph. Running a sandy, winding road along the sea to the Point of Ayre, 35 to 50
mph (I was quickly left behind here). Making up for lost time on the tree-lined,
one-laned "flyway" down to the Cornaa Beach time-check, 70 mph, at which speed
the road dropped away from you in terrifying leaps of 50 to 75 feet.
The first two days were dry, so
this could be called fun. Few riders retired and penalty points for lateness
were low. The island, which has become an incarnate spirit through the years and
years of racing traditions, appeared to be smiling on its guests. The
professionals were calling it a cakewalk.
Old Ellan Vannin must have
taken insult at this, for, on the third day, she cranked up the wind, called
down the rain, and covered herself in Menannin's Cloak, the Manx name for the
driving fog which cuts visibility on the island to ten feet.
The third day was the first day
of a long nightmare, For many, including the American teams, it was no longer
fun, it was heartbreak.
USA vase teamster Bud Ekins
cracked up in an irrigation ditch, and missed the maximum time limit by only a
few minutes after he struggled his way free. He was disqualified .. . bad luck
after a perfect first two days. USA private entry Bryan Slark just had to stop:
"I couldn't see any more. My goggles were useless. I had mud in my eyes and they
kept going out of focus. I kept running off the road." Slark had also had a
clean slate up to then.
Ed Kretz, Jr., team alternate
from California, had an argument with a wall that put his front forks out of
action. Third day over, both USA teams were wiped out.
Three members of the Finnish
team were in the hospital for x-rays after assorted crackups in the fog. A
flying Frenchman collided with a car. All members of Sweden's vase B team were
retired.
Even those well-drilled British
mud runners had their moments of difficulty, which gave way to such expressions
of delight as this: "Well (chuf, chuf) I hear so-and-so made a mess of the
acceleration test today."
Only 129 of the original field
of 300 were able to start the fourth day.
The calamity of it all may give
you chuckles, but for the riders who wanted desperately to finish, it was a
question of sheer guts.
It was the Dutchman who took a
tank slapper when his rear brake rod went out. Two members of the press found
him on the road by his bike, his eyes going around in circles. They packed him
and the bike into their van. When he came to a few minutes later and realized
that they were taking him in, he pounded on the win-down. He wanted out. He had
to make the next time check.
It was the German who arrived
at the Cronk for an acceleration-braking test, his nose gushing blood and the
muscles taut on his face. He went off the line smartly with his front wheel up,
banged four clean shifts down the strip, slammed on his brakes at the 30-meter
mark and slid his bike sideways to a perfect stop in the high-point square. He
didn't even pause to wipe his face. He was running late.
In spite of the ISDT's ravages
against man and machine, it's a sure bet that every one of the 300 riders who
rode this year will be back next year for ISDT No. 41 in Sweden, if he can make
it. The event has an attraction that none other has — perhaps its worldwide
renown, perhaps its Olympian shades of "posterity," perhaps its reputation as a
rough trial. Whatever the reason, it draws riders.
One can only hint at why and
perhaps you have to ride it to 'find out.
ISDT SCORING SYSTEM
International Trophy — One
national team of 6 men with bikes of at least 3 sizes, manufactured by country
which team represents. Team losing fewest marks wins.
International Silver Vase — One
or 2 national teams of 4 men each, with machines of at least 2 sizes, but not
necessarily made in country team represents. Scoring as above.
Club Team Diploma — Club entry
from any country; 3 members on at least 2 different makes; all must complete the
run for the club to get diploma.
Manufacturer's Team Awards —
Mf'rs may enter team of 3 on own make. Gold medal to each, providing none loses
marks for lateness.
Individual Awards—FIM Gold
Medal —no marks lost & min. of 500 bonus pts. in spec. tests; Silver Medal — up
to 25 marks lost & min. of 300 bonus pts.; Bronze Medal — more than 25 marks
lost, but trial completed & 1 or more bonus pts. won.
Penalties — 1 mark lost for ea.
min. late after 1st 3 mins.; 20 bonus pts. lost for failure to start bike &
cross line 22 yds. away (test held ea. morn. of 6 days); riders losing more than
100 marks in any 1 day or more than 60 mins. late at any checkpoint
disqualified; in final day's 1/2-hr. road race, marks lost for failure to
complete required no. of laps.
Winning Bonus Points — Each day
there are 2 speed tests with possible 60-pt. gain in each. Pts. calculated on
performance in relation to average of best 3 performances for that test in your
size. (This is why several countries sponsor "private" speed specialists, to
raise the averages and cut their opponents' bonuses.) Tests involve
cross-country, hillclimbs or acceleration-braking.■
ISDT- A VIEW FROM THE AMERICAN SIDE
By Lynn Wineland
This Was Only The Second Time A
U.S. Team Was Fielded. We Sort Of Got Knocked Out, But Let's Not Stop Now!
The fortieth running of the
International Six Days' Trial, held for the first time on the Isle of Man in
1965, will go down as the toughest test of man and machine's endurance since the
event was begun in 1913. This was only the second year of U.S. team
participation, but American interest has grown rapidly, and private U.S. entries
bolstered this nation's activity in the 6- Days to more than twice that of the
year before. Twenty-one Yanks were listed as entrants, while several more were
there as hopefuls, but unable to ride due to oversubscription on entries.
Two U.S. Vase teams of four
riders each and a Manufacturer's Team of three were the official standard
bearers, since no Trophy Team (6 men) to meet the requirement of having ridden
the products of their own country could be mustered. The Vase Teams were similar
to last year's Trials in East Germany in that Vase A was composed of Triumph
riders, while Vase B riders were mounted on Jawas and CZ. The A Team was again
headed by Bud Ekins and brother Dave Ekins, and John Steen, last year's
alternate, took the place of Steve McQueen. The three rode 500cc machines, while
fourth member Cliff Coleman mus- cled a 650. Team alternate on Steve's bike from
last year, which like the others was rehabilitated from '64's 6-Days, was Eddie
Kretz, Jr.
The Vase B Team was captained
by Walt Axthelm ; like all the A Team, an experienced ISDT rider. Dick Vick,
Mike Patrick and Bill Thorwaldson rounded out the roster.
The Manufacturer's Team was
headed by U.S. Greeves distributor Nick Nichol- son and included Max Switzer and
Bryan Slark — the latter filling in for Lloyd Linglebach who was unable to start
due to a high fever and virus. These dozen riders were primarily veterans of
western desert racing with little or no experience in the mud or rains.
Similarly, other Californians included Klims Cox (250 Greeves), Al Rogers (650
Matchless) and Mil Green (650 Matchless). Of these, Slark is originally from
Britain and had trials background, but now lives in Los Angeles.
Another duo from the West were
Idaho compsters Dale Richardson and Dale Deyo, riding a 650 Triumph and 250
Greeves, respectively.► |
Competition 
