- Event Location:
- The Weald Site
- Event Format:
- night punch with camping
- Organisers:
- Jeremy and Simon M
- Winner:
- Stodd
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Round 3 was many things. It was a night punch safari, it was well planned, it was talked about for a long time, it was very much anticipated,
then it was postponed. It was also loads of fun and very very cold. Until it got very hot! I shall explain…
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At last we were on our way to round 3. I had even remembered all the paperwork without having to go back for it. Stoo and I had been talking about our tactics
to claim the trophy for a few weeks, and didn’t talk about much else all the way there (apart from wondering where Simon had gotten to when we couldn’t keep up).
We rolled into the site just before 4 o’clock to find Jez, Tom and Madgers putting the final touches to one of the special stages, and Ian and Andy putting up
their tents. This did make a change, the only place they usually beat us to is the pub!
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The usual procedure of scrutineering and form filling in was followed by the usual procedure of waiting for Graham. With everyone briefed we were buzzing,
everybody was ready to go. The pre-competition butterflies had given way to excitement, and we were given the order to line up for the start.
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There were 20 punches to find, numbered from 1 – 23 and marked with a glow stick. We had clocked several green and blue markers through the hedges already,
but quite how we could get to them we didn’t yet know. Seven vehicles lined up along the edge of the first field, Jez marched out front, a high-viz jacket
clutched in one hand above his head. Engine revs held high, ready for the off (I love the smell of diesel in the evening). The jacket fell and everybody raced
forward toward the scattered markers, except two idiots in a discovery.
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The plan all along had been to get far away from where everyone else was heading, making sure we weren’t waiting in a queue to get the same punches. We didn’t
see or hear anyone else for the first 20 minutes or so, which passed by in a blur. It wasn’t until Simon caught up with us deep in the woods at the far end of
the site that we first slowed down, and realised how much of an issue navigation was going to be. Si could have climbed in the truck before I knew he was there.
The darkness was total, especially in the trees. If a torch wasn’t shining at it, you simply couldn’t see it. Looking for glow sticks in the dark is all very well,
but finding routes large enough for a vehicle to get to them is another matter, not to mention trying to find ways from one field to another.
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Noticing we weren’t cold anymore, Stoo and I decided to crack on. We were happy with our performance so far, but had no way of knowing how anyone else was doing.
Other than Alex, who had managed to sink up to his axles in what must have been the only hole deep enough to do so. Back in the main section of the weald site, we
got lost. There were headlights and glow sticks twinkling all over. Choosing the blue glow that appeared to be closest, we set off in a cloud of exhaust smoke, churned
up grass and cow sh*t. The punch was the other side of a hedge! Whilst finding our way round to that punch we located several more, discovered another whole field
and shot off at a tangent, forgetting altogether about what we had set off round this hedge row to achieve. We were having a whale of a time. At this moment, about
40 minutes in I glanced a look at the dash, and then looked at it again. The temperature gauge was standing almost upright. It would be the last time I was at an
agreeable temperature all weekend. With the heater on full bore in an effort to try and cool the engine down, I had to remove my jacket and Stoo spent most of his
time running round outside. Luckily we were nearly finished. Only four more to find and Stoo eyed a collection of glow sticks in a corner we hadn’t yet visited.
With Stoo running along in front I stole momentary glances at the heater read out, it was dropping, hooray, I could speed up again. Looking up at where I was
going I realised Stoo wasn’t there. I slowed down again. He stood back up a little to my left and shouted something about a large hole round here somewhere,
and then the ground disappeared. Of course I was obeying the strict 10mph site speed limit, so no damage was done and we both arrived at a collection of
unfortunately only three punches.
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On the plus side:-
We decided to consult Jez as to the whereabouts of our last punch. When he wouldn’t give us a clue we insulted him for a little while instead. After a
couple of minutes we deduced the punch we were looking for was hidden in a trough. I had noticed hundreds of those. I had, ironically, been giving them
a wide birth all night not wanting to hit them. After a long while we happened across Ian and Andy in the corner of a field and asked if they had seen
anything in a trough. “I might be looking at it”, was the reply. They were, of course, on the other side of a hedge. When we got there Graham had turned
up too. This was bad news. Fairly certain that we were all finished apart from this one Stoo wrestled for the punch. It was tied to a rock, which had been
dropped in the water in the trough. Next thing I knew Andy’s zook was leaving at full tilt. Stoo had the rock, but would we be in time. Throwing the punch
back in the water, just to make sure G got his hands wet too, Stoo dived into his seat. Not knowing exactly where we were, we made our way back to mission
control, praying the Suzuki hadn’t beaten us there. Luckily for us, that hadn’t been Andy’s last punch. Feeling pleased with ourselves, and glad to be out
in the cool night air after heat of the truck, we headed for the snacks in Simons car. Stoo needed beer, I was medically in need of chocolate. Then we checked
the truck for any previously unseen damage. Then we pocked fun at Bunny for a bit so he drove off. Then I got cold! Wearing all the clothes we had bought with
us, Si, Stoo and myself waited for the other competitors to get back. Jeremy had cooked up some bolognaise and smelling it but not being able to eat it was torture.
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As is usual with Twin Axle events, the camping was every bit as fun as the event itself. The bolognaise tasted even better than the smell led us to believe,
and after dinner attention turned to Jeff’s lack of drive to his front wheels. Jeff was adamant we could fix it that evening so he could compete the next day.
Madgers said if we knew which parts were broken he would bring them back in the morning, so we pulled it apart. We chose the drivers side, for no reason other
than we were stood next to it, and took out the half shaft. Or rather Jeff did, under instruction from everyone else. Unfortunately neither the half shaft or
cv were broken. Even more unfortunately, it wouldn’t go back in either. He had managed to snap the centre pin in the diff, which had fallen out when we had
removed the half shaft. We reported this to Simon, who informed us he didn’t have one of those.
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A disgruntled Jeff re-assembled his car and joined the congregation under Bunny’s gazebo. He had bought with him, as only Jeff could, red wine, cheese and biscuits.
After a while I was finding the conversation hard to follow, either everyone was drunk, or I was really tired. One thing I was sure of, I was gonna need some sleep
if we were going to do as well tomorrow as we had today…
Stodd
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