Exeter Trial 2024

On the way to Clinton and killing a tyre

In 2023, I was a non-starter for the Exeter and a non-finisher for the Land’s End Trial. This was caused by a double whammy of a dying engine ignition module and oil seals crying enough on the back axle and contaminating the Arkley-MG’s rear brake shoes.

An intense remediation programme with the critical help of Adrian Booth enabled Graham Beddoe and me to complete both the Tamar Trial and the Camel Classic later in the year. Our performances were unremarkable but we had grand days out with our motorsport family.

I reckon these intense local one-day trials are an important forcing ground for exploring what the car can do. It also shows up what the driver can’t do - or ought to be doing.

Front tyre on the inner edges had increased significantly, despite several adjustments to the tracking. Prior to the Exeter Trial, I had the car checked on a four-wheel alignment rig and this revealed how much the front camber can change when the suspension is compressed and or extended.

After checking all fluids, re-fixing the horn, alternator and headlamps which had all been shaken loose on recent trials, I felt we should at least make the start this time.

When Graham arrived at my secret hideout, he had a very croaky voice. Often he loses his voice during the trial but starting out with a comedy croak did not bode well. Although I prefer top-down motoring, I decided we should keep the roof up in deference to my navigator’s health.

Graham was new to the MCC route book and night trials but took to it straight away. Instead of three starting points across southern Britain, this year we went straight to the Haynes museum at Sparkford. We set off eagerly for a departure time of 03:17hrs and passed muster at scrutineering. Without the prescribed route from Okehampton. we had unlimited time to socialise with our mud brothers and sisters.

The museum was open to competitors and was even better than the last time I visited. Graham became frankly over stimulated by the exhibits and bounced around randomly saying “Wow! Check this out! Amazing!”

Check THIS out

Every time he was right. Fantastic stuff. According to his fit bit, he walked hundreds and thousands of steps around the museum.

Before we did anything else, we had to pass a handbrake test. I was nervous about this because of the problems we had on last year’s Land’s End but we were fine. Possibly as a result of that, I found Windwhistle Observed Test went smoothly.

Graham was already fretting over our timeliness as we approached Underdown in the dark and it’s an impressive approach in the dark, almost as much a challenge slithering down through the woods as the section itself – until you actually get to the section with its sharp curves and inclines. Minimum tyre pressure allowed throughout the trial was 10psi.

Graham’s voice was holding up though so I kept the roof up and we got toasty inside.

We fuelled up at Musbury and successfully got away from our first restart on Gatcombe Lane. In the dark and with the top up it felt like we were looking out through a narrow slot. It was just 2 miles then to the Normans Hump and Clinton complex of forestry tracks with Class O competitors lining up on the left of Jobbles Lane.

I marshalled on Clinton last year so knew how rough it was but the restart was flattish and kindly and we got away with plenty of momentum to take us out of the top.

We looped around again but bore right inside the gateway to cross Norman’s Hump under the guidance of the marshals only to encounter an enormous tractor towing a Peugeot 206 lacking its front bumper.

There was a queue for Clinton. No restart for us but a very thought provoking one for Class 8s. After a sharp right, the section dipped and, in the dark, seemed to keep on going into the night sky. It looked horribly rough in our headlamps and I may have over driven this section. We nearly bounced off course a couple of time but didn’t flush any marshals out of the bushes. Graham may have uttered an oath or two. Near the top, a tinkling sound accompanied the crashing and banging but we leapt out passed the Section Ends boards and headed off for the exit. The tinkling sound continued, however.

“Have we got a puncture?” asked Graham.

I stopped and checked my rear tyre with a head torch. Sure enough, that rim was like a crinkly pie cutter. In contrast, the tyre was flat, but only at the bottom.

We struggled on to a parking place to change the wheel but nothing appeared until we re-joined the metalled road. By then the tyre was rotating on the rim and we couldn’t climb the hill, so I reversed and tucked the car in by the gatepost.

No amount of rubber glue can save this. The wheel may see further action

Regular viewers will remember Professor Booth equipped the Arkley-MG with a hydraulic ram powered by a tipping trailer pump. This makes wheel changing a breeze, even in the dark, although I wouldn’t want to have done it against a stopwatch. The ram was sagging a little initially once it had the weight of the car but held up with a couple more tries. I put this down to air in the oil. It was probably quite fizzy after the ride up Norman’s and Clinton.

The tyre had two massive splits opposite each other and ought to go into the Boogie Wundaland black museum of damaged parts. I stuck a spare on but this meant we had a mis-matched pair of Kingpin and Woosung on that axle. Also, having hesitated about keeping the car up, the jack didn’t want to go down again. I fiddled with cables and pipes and persevered and at last it pumped itself down again.

I pumped up the tyres for the next road section and checked their pressures on my nice new gauge with the big dial that only goes up to 30psi. It’s so much easier to see at night.

The tyre still holding air looked like it wasn’t going to last much further. The wheel rim had bent right over near the tyre valve, almost obscuring it entirely. The bead had clearly been breached at this point but the plucky inner tube still did its stuff.

“What happens if we get another puncture?” asked Graham.

Good question. I could either A) retire gracefully from the event or B) chance it and carry on until we were completely stranded in the middle of nowhere.

“We haven’t had many punctures recently,” chancer Graham pointed out helpfully.

Still holding air!

Ben Ballardie in his BMW 318 later told us he’d had a puncture on Clinton but had not cleared it. “We tried hard but we were going nowhere. The marshal said he liked the sparks flying from the wheel rim, though!”

We emerged back onto the A3052, avoiding on coming competitors, but in 50m took a sharp left for Waterloo where Napoleon did not surrender. After turning in by Gay’s Farm and being very quiet, we met many familiar faces among the marshalling team.

“I though you lot were marshalling on Simms,” I said.

“We are,” James Shallcross replied. “We’re going on there later.”

Top bananas! That must have made for a very long day.

The queue was quite short here. Behind us was the Model A Ford of Stephen Hill. He expressed concern that his car – not quite a Yank tank – might struggle to get round the tight corners on Waterloo. He was very complimentary about the Arkley-MG and I explained the provenance of the various components on it.

“It’s practically a Booth-Arkley-MG,” I said and asked Stephen if he’d heard of Adrian Booth. 

“Adrian Booth?” he echoed and even in the dimpsy light I could see that he had.

“He developed this car for Ray Goodwright for many years,” I said.

“Yes,” James put in, “and he used to have that white Peugeot 205 over there as well!" 

Wicked Uncle Adrian misses his old Peugeot 205. James has continued its development over the years he's had it. Meanwhile, Age now has a 3 door as road transport these days. I wonder if that one will end up on the hills....

Waterloo was very windy and narrow but must have posed no problem for Stephen as we heard a chugga chugga chugga just like the Ant Hill Mob in Wacky Races and he overtook us on the A3052 heading towards Stretes and Core Hill. What splendid torque!

In the lane for Stretes - one day I might get a Go-Pro

Proceeding in an orderly fashion towards White Cross, we pulled in to allow an oncoming “civilian” to pass and fell into a ditch cunningly disguised as flat leaf mould. After trying reverse and forwards we were soon pulled out by David Sullivan in his Reliant Scimitar.

We later heard that Mike Warnes had done the same thing in his TR7. His rescuer on that occasion was Paul Jones in Class 6 Beetle.

Stretes had a queue and we were now behind schedule. After our venture into Soft Verge City, I had to dig the nearside tyre valve out of accumulated leaf mould. The tyre seemed none the worse for that escapade, however.

I was careful not to overshoot the finish line on the Core Hill special test and Graham helpfully suggested pulling up with the line next to my shoulder as we’d come perilously close on previous trials whenever I’d tried to get just a wheel over the line. The exit to Core Hill was just as rough as ever with diagonal storm drains to cross.

David Sullivan and his Reliant Scimitar wot towed us out of Soft Verge City.

At Greendale Fam Shop, we had a very welcome breakfast with Kevin Copplestone and Andrew Woolrich who told us all about their 2.5 litre beach buggy. They were especially pleased to have solved a throttle body issue just before setting off and were flying along.

We could have left earlier to make up some time but made a point of enjoying a good trough. In the car park, I had a quick look at the nearside rear tyre again. I sensed a heroic effort from the inner tube almost visible through the gap between outer cover and buckled rim. 

I've never seen a statue of the titan Atlas giving a reassuring thumbs up while supporting the world on his shoulders. Our stoic inner tube had the same concentrated expression. 

I thought about changing the wheel to have a matched pair of tyres on the back but the inner tube seemed especially brave after breakfast so I didn’t bother. I just pumped bot rears up to 30psi for the trip along the M5.

Just after Woodleigh Junction round about, we arrived at the holding control prior to attempting Tillerton Steep. The sun was out now and after all the rain we’d had recently the weather was glorious. We had a chat with the Cundys and the Keats as their immaculately prepared motor cars were alongside us in the layby. It turned out they knew the dad of one of our Imping friends.

In the queue for Tillerton Steep, I thought we might get a Finisher's Certificate if the tyres held up

I approached Tillerton Steep with a sense of impending doom. The clue is in the name. Tillerton is a BOAT (Byway Open to All Traffic) and one must never say “rabbit” on a boat. It’s well known that it brings bad luck. I'd never got away from the restart before and my previous Exeter silver with Binky was only because Tillerton Steep was scratched.

The recent rains had washed a lot of mud away but the underlying rock was bound to be polished. I increased pressure slightly to 12psi from just above 10psi in an attempt to conserve tyres. We approached the restart box and saw its tricky change of camber but I must have done something right for we pulled away when the marshal dropped his flag.

This achievement was worth a high five with Graham beyond the Section Ends boards.

This year Fingle Hill had been split into two. The starting marshal told us MSUK had decreed that no trials section could be longer than a quarter of a mile. That was always part of the charm of Fingle. It went on and on and on….

In its new form, the start line on Fingle 2 was proving tricky for some to get going again and there was a big queue. More socialising followed. I was good to see Dennis Greenslade, out gain in his Class 4 Beetle, as well as father and son Jon and Calvin Moores respectively in their MG J2 and Marlin.

In the queue for Fingle, there was all manner of interesting motor cars

Fingle Hill attracts walkers and we came round one bend to find some on the section. It wasn’t exactly a baulk because we didn’t need to stop but the start line marshal on Fingle Hill 2 was on the case and made a point of asking if they’d posed a problem for us. I think they might have done for the Ben Bishop in his Baja Bug (don't you just lurve alliteration) in front of us. 

On the start line of Fingle. Somewhere ahead someone was burning their clutch out

From the top of Fingle Hill, we exercised EXTREME CARE and to be Q for Quiet by the farm. The Arkley-MG can crackle on the overrun so I went especially slowly here. As we approached this farm, we saw a lady getting out of her car and she waved, giving us a sense that our considerate behaviour had been endorsed by a local resident.

This year Class 7 and 8 cars didn’t do Wooston Steep, which I have usually enjoyed. Instead we had Seamans Borough, which felt rather like the forestry sections on the Tamar or Camel Classic – a little back and forth to get ourselves aligned properly and start marshals gently reminding us 10psi was our minimum. Class 8s had a restart but we didn’t and we emerged out of the trees near the foot of Wooston Steep.

In the sawmill yard at Clifford Sheds, I re-inflated our tyres for the jaunt to Ilsington. Amazingly, the battered nearside tyre still looked like it had life in it and - most importantly - air.

This is the appropriate face to make when you see over 2.5 litres of Beetle engine. Behind these fellowes, lurks 1172cc of raw flathead power under the bonnet of the Dellow.

There was a lot of standing water remaining on the roads after all the rain and we ploughed into one on Dartmoor that was so deep the bow wave came right over the windscreen. After that we reverted to top up motoring except for attempting observed sections.

At the Lenda Lane holding control who should we meet but previous owner of my car, Ray Goodwright. He’d been persuaded into marshalling by Wicked Uncle Adrian who was also marshalling, his Triumph TR2 being not quite ready.

Straight away, Adrian spotted severe tyre on our front tyres. The following appraisal confirmed the issue was tired front springs. There was much more negative than when we’d started out the day before.

The state of our front tyres took my mind off the state of our rear tyres and we climbed Tipley alright. It was rough but we didn’t snap a halfshaft like we did in 2019.

The next section was Donkey Trot. This was on the outskirts of Ilsington and not one I’d attempted before. Marshalled by member of the Silverton MC, we saw a couple of cars come back down again. I began to assume it was one of those “up and downers” where you get so far but then come back down again.

But no! The final few metres were bleddy slippery and my little car had to dig in to get out on full throttle in first, wheels spinning and a ground speed of something like one mph.

In the queue for Simms behind Ben Ballardie in his Beemer

Ridiculously pleased we had coffee and cake in the village hall and contemplated Simms and whether it was wise to change that dodgy looking rear tyre.

In 2022, I’d gone for it but got bounced off to the right and we ended up with a Silver. This time I kept sufficiently left to not get into trouble and we succeeded to proceed. The lovely Sally was spectating and videoed us. She can be heard whooping with delight on some vids on YouTube.

After a celebratory with Nigel Cowling at the Stop boards – “I shouted out to you at the top of Waterloo!” – we set of for Slippery Sam wondering how we would fare there.

Our elation was dampened somewhat by the sight of Team Sample’s Rickman Ranger with the back end jacked up and Lee Sample presumably underneath somewhere.

We now entered into one of the strange bubbles of isolation that sometimes occur on long distance trials. Nobody appeared up ahead and nobody followed us.

When we arrived in the farmyard at downtown Rocombe, we couldn’t even see any marshals, just a Section Begins sign. I checked the tyres (would the nearside one finally let us down?) and wandered over to look up the hill.

There was a start line marshal. “Ready? We’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

We asked what things were like on Slippery Sam and he said it was rough as a badger’s ass at the top and – sho nuff – that’s where the restart box was. Fortunately, it was quite wide and I tried to keep things central and the wheels out of the ruts.

As we passed the Section End boards, it dawned on us that we were clear so far and, subject to ratification by the MCC, in line for a gold award and that’s what we claimed when signing off at the Passage House Hotel.

Lee Sample and his family made it to the finish having repaired his axle and claimed a hard won Finisher’s Certificate.

Dave Middleditch also demonstrated mechanical heroism. At lunch time on the Friday, he lost a wheel. All four wheel studs snapped from fatigue. Having mended that using his copious stock of on board spares, his battery expired so he had to bump start his Dutton from Haynes. His throttle cable snapped ten metres after clearing Stretes. We subsequently heard he lost oil pressure going home on the M5. His sump was cracked but he managed to get some oil in Bristol after a bit of a walk. Anyway, he put in for a gold as well!

This is the hydraulic jack in action on the morning after

Our journey home was an adventure, too. We finally changed that battered rear rim. The tyre still held air. However, we ended up returning to Wicked Uncle Adrian’s on an AA truck having discovered a severe rear axle leak and a rumbly diff on the overrun. I think we bashed it in on Slippery Sam.

Graham said the event exceeded all his expectations. His croaky voice was almost cured despite all the shouting of instructions.

"How many people are involved behind the scenes? The organisation is superbe!"

Answers on a postcard please!

I’ll be entering the 100^th Land’s End but obviously have a few jobs to do on our brave little car including new front tyres and springs.