NEWS

The perfect conditions for a great day of Trialling

Enjoy Steve Arkell's write-up from the Lakes

"There was the usual buzz as we rolled into the Lorton lay-by, cars scattered in every direction, engines ticking, people shouting greetings across the drizzle, and the familiar reunion of faces we hadn’t seen since the Cotswold Trial. Our scrutineering time was 7:30am, and before we knew it, we were signed on and heading out along one of the most breathtaking roads in the Lakes. Buttermere shimmered beside us, Honister Pass rose ahead, and we cruised through scenery so dramatic it almost made us forget we were essentially queuing for the famous Drumhouse. And then, of course, the weather remembered we were in Cumbria. The rain came in sideways, but just as we started the climb, an enormous rainbow stretched across the valley as if someone had ordered special effects. With crowds lining the hill, cheering and shouting encouragement, we clawed our way to the top, always a victory, always a relief. Buttermere Old Road was next. We flew off the start stop and were immediately engulfed in a cloud of smoke and the unmistakable smell of burning. My stomach dropped, clutch issues. Brilliant. I was sure the day was done, but after a lot of chin-scratching and advice from fellow competitors, we pushed on… only to discover we also had a puncture. And once again, like a well-drilled pit crew made up of friends, competitors, and total strangers, everyone piled in to help. It’s a level of camaraderie I honestly think exists only in this “sport”, if you can call it that. Still, spirits were high after nailing a disappointing 3 on low Bank, and we blasted into Wythop Forest, which never disappoints. Then onto Derwent Hill, where I floored it, fully expecting to burst out onto the top and coast down majestically into the stream and get a 25. Instead, we reached marker 8 and immediately hurtled backwards at the same speed we’d just climbed. Quite the adrenaline spike. It was then that we realised we’d missed a hill back in Wythop Forest. Cue my newbie navigator; until then, we’d been following Rose and Martyn Quilter, but now she had to earn her co-driver stripes. Out came the map- upside down - cue glasses, muttering, and a confession that map reading is not her strongest skill. But to her credit, once she had it oriented correctly, she found the hill, and we ticked it off… before discovering yet another issue: fuel trouble. Again, everyone rallied with theories and tools, and we limped on toward Whinlatter Pass for the final Hills. Miraculously, the fuel problem solved itself the moment I bled the banjo and wiped the engine with an oily rag—clearly the most technical repair of the day. Then came the final hill, my favourite. I don’t know how we made it, but we flew to the top, bouncing all over the place, mud flying everywhere like an explosion in a compost heap. This is why we do these ridiculous things, moments like that. When we reached the top, Victoria was plastered in mud, but underneath it all, she was still smiling. I think. Hard to tell through the mud mask. Victoria, who had spent the day laughing and bouncing like she was on a budget amusement park ride, is apparently still keen to buy her own car. Despite it all, we had an absolutely cracking day on the Lakeland Trial. I don’t think I scared Victoria off entirely, though she did practically run to the pub for a well-earned cider. Massive thanks to the organising team for another brilliant event, and to all the marshals who stand out there in all conditions. Without their dedication, none of this chaos, laughter, or shared madness would be possible."