Hare Brained!

Author: Words by Sutty Photos by Lord Jonty of Wales

Hare scrambles are big business in the UK with the promise of major saddletime at a sensible price drawing converts from all off-road disciplines. Sutty - the DBR crash test dummy - took on a pair of WOR events and didn't quite go the distance...

What can last around three hours and leave you feeling tired and dirty but oh-so satisfied and slightly euphoric? Well aside from the obvious (and, no, it's not a six-mile hike) the answer has to be hare scrambles - the generation-X label for hare and hound enduros (which as a name for an off-road motorcycle event quite frankly never made any sense).
 Hare scrambles are without doubt the fastest growing off-road sport in the UK right now* with a whole heap of event promoters running events of various length - two, three, six or even 12 hours long. The idea behind them is pretty simple - turn up, pay up, line up, start up, ride as fast as you can for as long as the event is, load up and go home with a grin across your chops. And it's that simplicity along with the great value for money aspect (you get a minimum of twice as much on-bike time than at a motocross event for roughly the same fee) that attracts hundreds of riders to hare scrambles events each and every weekend.

 One of the higher profile hare scrambles promoters in the UK is WOR's Steve Ireland - the main man behind events such as the Tough One, the Dark One and the Motul Great Britain Hare Scrambles series.

 I've known about Steve and his events for a good few years now and actually vividly remember the moment a fellow off-road enthusiast filled me in on who he was and what he did. Even though the only off-road experience I'd endured up until that point was getting lost in an overgrown AMCA paddock while searching for the parc ferme I used to thoroughly enjoy watching the Brinks enduros that were held in the hills high above my house.

 At one such event I was stood by one of the many Brinks bog sections watching a giant of a man aggressively plough through the bottomless black bilge on a Husaberg. "That's Steve Ireland - he's a right sadist," offered a Wulfsport-jacketed Mancunian who sounded something like ex The Word presenter Terry Christian would if he smoked 40 Woodbines a day. "You should see the bog sections he has in his Wirral Off Road events." I pondered the information for a moment but drew my own conclusion about the big fella - surely if he chose to ride a Husaberg for hours on end at a weekend that would make him a masochist...

 Anyhoo, aside from the season-opening Tough One the six-round Motul GBHS series is undoubtedly WOR's flagship group of events, running from April to September with pretty much every corner of the country visited at least once. The series regularly attracts up to 300 riders over a weekend with races for everyone from nippers on 65s to over 40s on big-bore four-poppers.

 After missing a hellishly wet opening round near Ashbourne I decided to get in on the action at the hellishly wet second round at Nantmawr Quarry near Oswestry. As a hardened veteran of two Tough Ones at Nantmawr I figured something as innocent sounding as a hare scramble had to be a proverbial walk in the park - I was wrong!

 My travelling partners for this event were my old mate Eddie Holmes and his boss Steve Malone - an ex AMCA motocrosser and more recently a Dakar DNFer. Eddie and I have been friends ever since we attended the same playschool and as two dirt-eating snot-goblins who liked nothing better than running around making motorbike noises while holding on tightly to invisible handlebars we got along well.

 We've both grown up - and out - a fair bit since then and Eddie's even gone so far as getting a snot-goblin of his own - my god-daughter Harriet - to prove the point. But even now we're fully paid up members of the over-18s club we still like nothing better than flying around making noise - except now our handlebars are real Renthals and they've got Hondas attached beneath them.

 With Eddie enjoying a little bit of everything he opted for a CRF250X when it was time to splash the cash on a new bike. And the X is a good all-round weapon which seems to be pretty much competitive in most situations. I on the other hand am keeping it real - MX stylee - with the CRF450 magazine-machine. They're very different bikes for sure but that's the beauty of hare scrambles - you can ride pretty much whatever you like!

 After arriving, signing on and scrutineering - WOR events are pre-entry only so there's no faffing about on the day filling out forms and whatnot - it's time to pick a place on the start. There's no startgate at hare scrambles, instead it's a dead-engine flag start with riders setting off with their class competitors in rows. The pro class set off first followed by the experts and sportsmen - both classes are split into two groups by engine capacity - then the over 40s and so on.

If you're running a bike without a sidestand then it's worth trying to remember to bring a sturdyish length of wood to prop under your bars to hold your bike in place. Either that or do what I do - turn up on the line ready to go five minutes before the flag drops. Of course this means you get a ***ty starting position but with three hours to make up lost time it's not exactly the end of the world.

It's also worth remembering to drop your fuel, some drinks, a selection of tools and some spare gloves and goggles in the work area. Some people have a full-on pit crew to tend to their every need during the three-hour races but Eddie, Steve and I were all on our own so we'd have to sort ourselves out.

 By the time all the pre-race rituals were sorted it was more or less start time. After a couple of minutes warm-up everyone's engine has to be killed and Steve gives the riders a final briefing. I can't remember exactly what it was he saying but I'm pretty sure it was something about enjoying the race and anyone who cuts the course being excluded from the results or shot by a sniper or something.
 I didn't have much time to sit and figure it out though as before I knew it the pro class were fired-up and away followed by the first wave of experts meaning my line was next. Looking back I suppose I should have practised my dead engine starts as when the flag dropped it took me almost a minute to fire up the hot Honda before setting off after my long gone class mates.

 Three minutes after setting off I realised I'd made another fundamental error. From previous experience I'd found that the going at Nantmawr was pretty rocky so I figured I'd be okay running a worn-out rear tyre at about 20psi to combat punctures but when I noticed the course swung left away from the quarry and into the boggy Welsh countryside I realised I was screwed!

 The first lap was hell (being lapped by Knighter didn't help me feel any better about it) and the second wasn't much better (being lapped by Knighter again still wasn't doing much for my ego), in fact it wasn't until the third lap that I found anything to smile about.

 Imagine this scene...there are bikes, bodies, steam, obscenities and mud flying everywhere and after struggling to man-handle my CRF upright on the Welsh equivalent of Hamburger Hill I was about to head back down and have another crack at making it to the top.
That was until Eddie came flying out of a bush totally sideways with his legs waving wildly and the X's throttle pinned as he attempted to reach the summit. And he'd probably have made it too if I hadn't accidentally rolled into his path - oops!

With a girl like scream and a fistful of front brake Eddie came to a halt narrowly avoiding any contact while I tried my hardest not to laugh up a lung. And as if the situation wasn't laughable enough Knighter blasted by the both of us to lap me yet again - the three-legged Manx *******!

With the race about half done I pitted for fuel, water and fresh gloves then pottered off on my way. Unfortunately I didn't get too far as my bike cut out on me barely a quarter of my way around the lap. After kicking for what seemed like an eternity (and watching Knighter blow by lapping me again) the beast finally fired up and ran for approximately 30 seconds and that's how the rest of my race went.
I wasn't the only non-finisher though - Eddie went out with a cracked clutch cover and Steve decided to save himself for another day while Knighter went on to lap everyone on his way to the win. Being no quitter I vowed right there and then I'd be back to finish off the job, make it to the finish no matter what - and this time I'd be better prepared. Kind of...

With the following round of the GBHS series scheduled a couple of weeks later I made sure an entry was sorted and a pair of new Michelins were blagged. I made sure I got to the bottom of my Nantmawr problem (see magazine machine on P40 for details) and after a mid-week ride at Rhayader I was all set to go the distance. All I had to do was turn up, fit the new tyres and ride my wheels off. Sounds simple don't it?

Turning up was easy as the kick-ass new Maerhills venue was well signposted from the A53 between Stoke and Shrewsbury. Fitting the tyres was less easy and after pinching two extra-thick tubes I finally got the new rubber in place with a little help from Welsh enduro legends Ed Jones and Edmunds.

After chucking my spares, tools and fuel - for both bike and body - in the pit area I kitted up and headed to the start area just in time to catch the riders meeting which never sounds quite right with your helmet on. "Blah blah blah blah watch out for hidden tree stumps...blah blah don't go course cutting...blah blah warm your engines blah blah..." blah blahed MC Ireland before being drowned out by the noise of over 200 bikes firing into life.

This time I had a cunning plan for the dead-engine start. I barely warmed my bike up as I reckoned it'd be easier to start with the choke on and for once my plan worked! When the flag dropped for my line to go the Honda fired first kick and I was away well inside the top 10 and I even managed to flick off the choke in turn one - result!
With the course being mostly forestry-based things were a little hectic on the single track course on lap one as riders went nose to tail as they tried to get by the guy in front. I was feeling quite upbeat about things and I was definitely moving forwards when the first of a few small setbacks hit me.

Setback #1 was the moment my roll off string pulled away in my hand. Setback #2 was the moment I hit a hidden tree stump - sorry blah blah...hidden tree stump...blah - with my right foot. Although my foot hurt like hell I figured the endorphins would kick in and it'd be fine in no time. My final first lap setback - that's setback #3 for those of you who are keeping count - came when I was headed up a steep hill and a Gas Gas rider rolled backwards into me sending us both, as well as another rider who mounted me from behind, floorward bound. The moment was so intense I got a 'Nam-style flashback to Hamburger Hill but this time it didn't seem nearly so funny.

In fact it seemed even less funny as I spent the next 30 seconds or so trying to restart the hot Honda with my poorly foot only to stall it again as I tried to set off through some dense bushes. So just 15 minutes into my second hare scrambles experience and I was already playing catch up with broken goggles and a foot full of broken toes.
The next two-and-a-half hours of the race are something of a blur, albeit a mostly enjoyable blur - a heady mixture of both pain and pleasure. The pain coming from my foot and the pleasure coming from riding some of the finest off-road going in the UK while hurling verbal abuse at DBR's regal photographer Jonty.

With just 20 minutes left on the clock I notched up my fifth lap which meant I could pretty much cruise around for one final time to put a very respectable six on my scoreboard. But it wasn't to be...
I'm not sure if it was dehydration that finally finished me, the increasing amounts of pain from my foot injury or just a general lack of fitness but a third of the way into my final lap I was totally shot and after two stupid slow-speed crashes I had to call it quits. Luckily help was on hand in the form of super travelling marshal Alex 'Chimp' Nicholls - the only rider ever to beat me in an AMCA senior grade race.
Even after sitting down for five minutes to cool off I knew there was no way I was ever gonna finish the lap so I had no option but to follow Alex back to the pits the easy way - what a failure! So after two attempts I still haven't finished a GBHS but I have had a forest-full of fun!
Like I said before I'm no quitter (that statement contradicts actual events - SL) and you can mark my words I'm gonna finish one of these things even if it kills me (although I'd probably DNF if I were dead - hmmm)! It's gonna happen and it's gonna happen soon!

Cheers dudes...
There are a few people who I'd like to thank for helping make this feature happen. First of all a big thanks to Wirral Off Road's Steve Ireland who - with the help of his awesome team - ran both the top-notch hare scrambles I attended (didn't finish/quit - SL). I'd also like to thank Jonty Edmunds for getting me into this fine mess and for liaising with the good guys at Michelin. Eddie and Steve from Proseal deserve a big DBR pat on the back for putting up with my moaning at Nantmawr and also Chimp who helped me back to my van at Maerhills. Finally a big cheers to the team at Lancaster's A+E department for diagnosing and fixing my broken toes and also giving me p-p-p-plenty of heavy duty pain killers.