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Other Club's Events

It's me, your friendly idiot. I thought that I would let you know about
my trip to the Lanes and Cheshire territory. It was stardate 8th of February
1981, a fine (I think) Sunday morning. I thought that I would set off nice
and early so that I could have a nice quiet run to Accrington (that's where
they make bricks!) It was lonesome on my ownsome, I didn't even get a
copy on my way over (Apart from Itie's). It was 9 o'clock when I arrived
at the field. Ace cartoonist Gareth was already there, and I might add with
a circle city bear in tow. It made a change to get ready for the trial in first

gear instead of overdrive, nice and steady, having a rest between wheels.
Screw balling was conducted by Sir Williams and Sir Jeffery, with the
latter even checking wheel nuts and tyre pressures. You were split into two
groups, with six sections before din dins, and four after, followed by a
team recovery.

The morning didn't go quite right for me, not only was I getting high
numbers, I was doing damage, crushed front pipe (of the exhausting kind),
and slightly modernised front bumper, and if that wasn't enough after din
dins I split and buckled a front dumb iron. Good job Janet wasn't with me,
or I would have been walking funny with a high pitched voice. 'Foggy' Paul
Dewhirst was having hiccups with his new trialler. Keith Schofield was his
usual competitive self. The sections were good and varied, the marshalling
could have been better (NO offence meant to L&C).

In the afternoon it started raining as usual. There was no screw balling
for the team recovery, straight in and at it. Six teams entered, with most
of the teams being scratched crews (Hint, hint Silver Dream). The recovery
was a tough one I thought, with one longish steep hill, one short vertical
hill. Eddy Bantham and partner did their usual V8 stuff. Plenty whip, no
grip. Foggy and partner got stuck in with a little too much enthusiasm,
with Foggy pulling Andy sideways down the hill. He rolled completely over,
doing a lot of expensive damage, smashed truck cab, windscreen, bonnet,
wings, doors, etc. Andy was shaken but OK, but his girl friend fainted onto
Carl's shoulder. He thought she was just leaning on him (Typical upperclass).
I teamed up with Mr Schofield, we were going great until I had to pull
Keith up the hills. Could I pull him up? Could I hell. The last team away
made it look too easy. Needless to say they won. By this time the rain was
through to undies, skin, and whatever else you have underneath. It's not
right nice changing wheels etc. in semi darkness, pouring rain and cold. I
was last away 'cos I had no one to help and cheer me on. When I got home
Janet and I fell out 'cos I was dragging mud and stuff through the house.
I would like to thank Neil Williams for a good bit of land, 'TA Neil', also I
got the results. Incidentally there were 17 Pennine Motors, 9 L&C, and
9 Novices. There were no Class 1 Landies, so Class 2 and 3 were joined.

That's it for now folks


David West

Now you know why other clubs tremble when a Pennine raiding party
arrives! Thanks Dave, I'll give you a BB pen and pencil cub reporter set for


And still with a Lancashire accent I shall now move on to Gareth
Almond's account of the day before the 'do' or as he aptly entitled it ....

The Day no one appreciates.

8.30am Saturday 28th February. 'Clear the drive!' came the delicate
bellows of my beloved from upstairs. 'Yes precious' I replied, followed by
a few articulate gestures and unprintable adjectives. So off I set armed with
a large brush to clear the snow. To my great relief I found that a thaw had
set in and it merely took a quick brushing. After finishing my daily chores
which include feeding the family brat which to all intents and purposes
would be easier to feed a bloody ape, I set off to meet Harry Haigh and
Michael Chaloner at Haggate, to lay out the comp safari course.

'One nine for one armed bandit, one nine for one armed bandit!'. Who
the heck's the one armed bandit? I thought, as I listened in on my CB.
'One nine for a one armed bandit in a green wrapper'. Suddenly like a bolt
of constipated lightening it struck me. Fact 1. 'THINKS' I have one arm.
Fact 2. Me Landy is green. Heavens it must be for me!

'Would that be a 4x4 blue wrapper?' I replied. 'Yes! It's Strider here,
I'm stuck up the lane so get your skates on!'

Stuck, how the hell has he got stuck?? Without further ado I drove
with the speed of a thousand antelopes to the rescue. Who's strider? I kept
asking myself. As I reached the bottom of the lane it became quite apparent
even to a thicket like myself how he had become stuck, it was all of 7 inch
deep snow, magic I thought. I've waited 12 months for some of this to play
in! Now, where is he? As I trundled up the road slipping and sliding like a
majestic pig I came across the one and only well and truly stuck Harry Haigh,
with horsebox. 'Doctor Strider, I presume!' 'I didn't know if you had a
name for your CB, and one armed Bandit seemed rather appropriate' said
Harry. After informing me of how much fun he had had in getting the horse-
box as far as he could, we decided to see if it was possible to get a motor up.

So off we set in mine. It was by now beginning to snow again, and the wind
was blowing at a fair rate of knots. Aren't 2a wipers great, they're about as
much use as an ash tray on a motorbike. Eventually we made it to the top.
After a quick drive round Harry decided that we could pull the horsebox
up between us. The main concern for me however was how to get backdown.
With my bum muscles pulsing we set off back down. Talk about slippy, I
was as much contribution to the direction of the vehicle as Cyril Smith would
be to hang gliding. We did however make it back despite my eyes being
closed half the way. After roping up Harry's motor, we set off back up the
hill. Things weren't going so bad until we reached the bend near the top.
Have you ever tried driving on ice and snow? Well you ought to try it with
a 2 or 3 ton of Land Rover and horsebox in tow. The wheels were the only
thing moving forward.

A weird sensation struck me. I had a feeling of moving backwards, the
jolly old reactions being as keen as ever, I slammed on the brakes. 'Phew,
that was close,' I thought. Then I realised that I was still moving. Opening
my door I lent out and shouted to Harry in my best local dialect with a
distinct hint of panic stricken warble 'Put your ?@*&@* brakes on you berk!'
'I have' came an equally panic stricken reply. After what seemed a life time
we eventually stopped about 200 yds down the track. The horsebox jack-
knifed, me in a ditch and Harry somewhere between us. Well this is bleeding
marvellous, I thought, what a great start. It was at this point that Michael's
absence became apparent. 'Where is he?' I asked. 'I don't know,' said Harry.
Then as if by magic, a little 2a could be seen chugging up the road. It's
Michael. 'Michael', I shouted. 'Drive your motor round us and pull us out.'
'Sorry, I can't do that I'm afraid', it's not my motor and I don't think the
owner chappie would be too keen as it's his first time on the rough'.

Back to square one, I thinks. After much thought and plenty of wheel
spinning and petrol guzzling I eventually got my motor out with the aid of
a couple of brave pushers and Vi a dry stone wall that we had to strip for
traction. With mine out of the way Harry was able to get his going. We then
drove both motors off the track and anchored them down with the aid of
another dry stone wall (Handy little things, aren't they?) so that Harry could
winch up the trailer. Having winched it round the bend, we coupled up again
and set off across the first field. The gateway to the second field was blocked
by a snow drift. I was eventually volunteered by my brave colleagues to blast
a way through it. It was a funny feeling, rather like someone pelting you
with a 1000 powder puffs, not that I've ever been pelted with a 1000 powder
puffs I hasten to point out. Anyway there was no stopping me now as I tore
across the second field looking for a clear route. I eventually came back for
Harry and coupled up again. 'Now hang on a minute,' said Harry, 'just make
sure I've got the horsebox square into the gateway before you go busting

Well ... I got my motor through and Harry got his motor through,
but then he stopped. Then he tried to set off again. Ah! he's bogged, I
thinks, time for a snatch, so with the power of ten billion butterfly sneezes
my trusty 2% shot forward. It was as I peeled my nose off the windscreen
that I realised that Harry had stopped and got out of his motor to examine
the horsebox which had jammed on the gatepost. 'You &(a*&(a*' I said,
holding my aching hooter. The 0/S/F trailer wheel was toeing out a treat.
'Oh Dear!' I said. 'Not to worry', said Harry, 'accidents happen', and with
that we set off again. As we drove into the events field we were descended
upon by hordes of sheep brandishing some hungry looks and mean sounding
baahs. It was at this point that the local farmer appeared on his tractor with
a trailer load of fodder and led the sheep off like the Pied Piper of Accring-
ton, or something like that.

'Well lads', says Harry, 'It took us about 2 hours to do a mile and it's
just about lunch time. So it's nose bags on and we'll set the course out later'.

After scrounging half of Harry's butties, 'cos there was no way I was
going back to the pub, we set off for a nice brisk walk to find a good course.
By gum there were plenty of snow on that moor. We were even getting
wheel spin in us wellies, I spent as much time on my bum as on my feet.

After deciding the route we loaded up our motors with sticks and
arrows and set off into the snow covered hills. It was misty and damp and
everything was going fine, dicey at times but no casualties. That was how-
ever until I reached the notorious hollow which had most people stuck on
the day of the event. My motor was still well loaded, and could it climb
out? ... No it couldn't. We must have been there % of an hour, it was a
toss up which I would be out of first, the hollow or petrol, until Harry
eventually pulled me out. What a day and now it was beginning to rain, so
we did one quick lap in Harry's motor to make sure everything was OK,
and it was nearly teatime, so we decided to call it a day till tomorrow
morning at half past eight, well we had to be there before you lot. Anyway
you've got a rough idea what goes into setting out a comp safari course, let
alone the actual work in running and organising these events. This is the
first one that I've been asked to help to set out and I enjoyed it, but I was
well and truly cream crackered when the whole weekend was over. So next
time you want to bellyache over a specific route just spare a thought for
the few to whom so many owe so much, 'cos without them you wouldn't
have an event at all. So thanks to all you lads who set out every Saturday
to do the work that not many appreciate. Unfortunately the weather can-
not be guaranteed, so don't moan till you've tried it! Thanks to ALL for
the good turn out despite the miserable weather.

Gareth Almond
Thanks again Gareth, are you sure you don't want promoting??


MSA and ARC club members are welcome to come along and join our events. Phone Mark on 07866 506521 / 01282 703718



Pennine Land Rover Club, Pennine LRC