Christmas Lights Rally 2016

It's holiday time again! Who doesn't like to get out and enjoy the Christmas lights displays on houses and in gardens that people spend days, weeks and even months preparing?
We do, and so do other members of the Twin Cities Rally Club. Every year TCRC member Mark Larson puts on a Road Rally based around a tour around some of the best lights in the Twin Cities metro area. The rally has been a Christmas fixture for many years and is very popular and a good turn out is guaranteed, drawing members of the TCRC, both road rallyists and stage rally crews too as well as the general public.
The location for this years tour was the same as last year, South St. Paul and Inver Grove Heights. But with many, many lit houses in the area, we were not guaranteed to see the same lights again. Some of the major displays were kept on the route, but there were also new ones to see, and as one of the property owners, (or perhaps it really was Santa) told me that every year the day after Christmas he's in the stores looking for new elements to incorporate into the following years display. So even the same displays change over the years.
Lack of snow in Minnesota imparted a different feel to the event this year. It certainly made driving around easier but there was a definite atmosphere missing that only snow at Christmas can add.
As usual my wife did the driving and I navigated using the map given to us at check in. We then headed out touring the lights and answering questions on the displays we saw on a pre-prepared sheet.
Having just finished my first stage rally as a co-driver I have to say that it was often easier to do that than navigate the route of this event. At least in the frozen Minnesota forests I was only concentrating on one set of instructions, whereas here in addition to following the route, I was keeping an eye out for limousines and mini coaches as well as trying to answer the questions along the route. Questions like "How many lighted Poinsettia plants are there between 54th street and 59th street?"

"How many lights on the tree?" Just kidding, that wasn't one of the questions.

How many Santa's? Snowmen? Polar Bears?

Minions seemed to be very popular choices for displays this year.

Plotting this route must've been quite the task for organizer Mark as he managed to keep nearly all the displays on the right hand side of the car so people wouldn't have to worry about crossing roads in front of traffic to get a closer view of the displays to answer the questions.
This is not a serious rally at all, and much hilarity often ensues at the scoring after the event when peoples interpretation of what constitutes a star or a snowflake differs from the official results. The generals for the event state. " A snowflake is not a star and a star is not a snowflake" and  also stated "you are expected to know the difference between a camel and a donkey." With so many of the answers to the questions being down to personal perception sometimes there were elements of a trap rally involved
I said this last year and it's worth repeating again. That if your local rally club is looking for something different as a holiday celebration then you might want to look at an event something like this. We're already looking forward to next year.
With that I'll say a big thanks to Mark and crew for putting the event on and I'll leave you with a picture my favourite display on the course. Merry Christmas!

A Santa recreation of the famous Belgian Manneken Pis statue.

Nemadji Trail Rally - The in car video

Now let's take a look at the in-car footage from the Nemadji Trail.

Stage one: As I mentioned in the blog post we almost forgot to turn the camera on. You'll get a feel for how slippery the conditions were as we enter the first corner, aquaplaning on the slushy, icy mud. All the way along the stage you see how very busy Dan is with the steering wheel, I was so busy concentrating on the course instructions I was barely aware of all that activity. On a lighter note, watch out for the snowmen built by the course marshals as we travel along the stage. I think there's four, perhaps five. Perhaps the fifth one was the one placed on the route for the 000 course inspection car driven by Joe Lipinski to demolish.

Stage two: About halfway through the stage you'll hear me give the instruction "entering the complex" this was because I couldn't read the instructions as they were printed on the course notes. Coming from the other direction, as the trail looked totally different here was no problem with reading the instructions. In another area of the course you'll also hear me describe a very, very long right as "superduper long" I doubt this term will enter the rally lexicon. 

Stage three: We did actually forget to turn the GoPro on.

Stage four: I think some caution is evident as we set off on the final stage, the most important thing for us to do now is finish. But by the end of the stage we are flying as much as the conditions would allow us to "fly". In the dark, everything looks different again. Even though we travelled the same 8 miles of road four times each time it was different. As we cross the finish at the end of the stage our joy at completing the event is evident.

In closing, I want to properly thank Susi Little and her team of volunteers for putting on the event. An event like this can't be put on without a great team of volunteers, even more so when you realize that Susi was actually co-driver in one of the other cars as well. The course workers were clearly having a great time, witness all the snowmen built along the stage. Next year I hope to see even more snowmen and perhaps a Christmas tree or two lining the way.

Nemadji Trail Rally report

The big day arrived.

It doesn't seem like it was September when Dan asked me if I'd be interested in co-driving for him, it all went by so fast. All the fun and games of fitting seats, dismantling gear boxes and studying in car videos was about to bear fruition.

Duquette, MN is only 90 minutes drive from home, so my wife and I arose early for a Saturday to make the trip up there. It's a small town, all you can see from the main road is a store, the community center and a bar, all of which were "Rally Headquarters".  When we arrived activity was just starting, but pretty soon the place was teeming with car transporters and rally cars with workers busying themselves with all kinds of tasks.
My co-drivers tasks will eventually include supervising the set up of our service area, but as it's my first rally and I have novice entrants briefings to go to, coupled with the fact it's a small regional rally and there's not much to do I was excused that.
I was able to register the car and collect my Rally America license, this was a big deal for me. I felt "official". I just wish I'd taken a better picture...

I don't like the picture at all, it's my fault, I took it.

Novice briefing is important. Lets face it I'm about to do something dangerous.
Very dangerous. If we have a serious "off" it's not like NASCAR where aid would be there to us in seconds. Here, in the middle of a forest in the winter it might be as much as an hour before medical assistance could arrive. Procedures are in place to make sure aid gets to incidents as soon as possible and it's every entrants duty to know them. I will have to attend mandatory novice safety briefings for at least the whole of next year to make sure I'm familiar with them.
With the all important safety out of the way Dan and I clambered into his F-150 and went out on recce to check the stages. We had been given course notes, but it was important to get out there and see if we agreed with them and make our own notes, we certainly felt the need to make changes. Seeing the course for the first time was a shock. I had watched some in car videos of the course and I immediately notice that the course looked nothing like the videos. We might as well have been on a different set of roads.
The Monday before the event had seen about 4" of snow fall on the stage route, but unseasonably warm conditions during the day and some nighttime freezing during the week had left the course in a mess. Frozen sections covered in snow, and muddy, slushy sections with no traction. In some places the inside of a curve was frozen and the outside a slushy mess or vice versa. Some of the more experienced drivers said these were some if the worst conditions they'd seen.
One particular short section mid course caused me some problems, for no matter how hard I tried I just could not say the instruction.
"Left 5 short, Right 6 over crest short, Left 6 short into Right 3 into Left 3 into Right 3". So Dan decided on. "Entering complex, Right 3 into Left 3 into Right 3." I could say that. If the car was lined up right it was almost a straight shot through the fives and sixes, so calling them was almost a moot point.
With that tongue-twister conquered we headed back to service for lunch and some pre-race reflection.
I strolled around the service area looking at the other cars, wondering what it would be like when I got nervous, for I had been so busy doing things I hadn't had a chance to dwell on it. I didn't eat much for lunch for I had been cautioned that perhaps I should take some dramamine for motion sickness just in case. But I'd left it at home, so I wasn't going to give my stomach an excuse to deposit its contents all over the inside of the car. It turned out I needn't have worried.
I chatted with a few other crews, everyone was very friendly. Even more so when they found out it was my first event.
The appointed hour grew near, and we changed into our race gear. Still no nerves.
I was strapped fully into the car for the first time. The belts were awkward to find, the central catch seemed too far away. Nothing seemed to fit properly. It was a good job crew chief Ben Anderson was on hand to adjust the belts to fit.
I'm in. The HANS is strapped down. Head movement is more than I thought it would be. Arm and body movement is almost non existent.
"I can't reach to turn the GoPro on." I told Dan. He knew where to find the on/off button so our efforts would be recorded.
With that, the engine fired up and we were on our way. Pulling up at MTC 1 on time and heading out to the stage.
It was only a short transit to the stage start and we were soon lined up at the arrival control with everyone else I handed my scorecard in for the first of many times.
"Hello." Said the control worker. I knew that voice. It was Dave Fuss, Twin City Rally Club member whom I knew well. It felt good to see someone I knew just as I was about to set out. I remarked to him that it was nice to see a friendly face.
One by one the cars departed.
"Look at that." Dan muttered to himself as he watched a car leave. "No traction. It's taken over 20 seconds to do that 300 yards to the first corner."
The start line. The starter counted us down.
"Ten seconds!" His voice was clear despite the burbling engine note of the car and my crash helmet blocking other sounds out.
"Shit Dan! We've not turned the GoPro on!"
He calmly reached back and it beeped into life.
"...Four, Three, Two, One, GO!"
We're off.
I'm not going to bore you with a blow by blow account of the runs, you can watch the videos when I have finished the editing and posted them.
I wasn't nervous, not at all. The level of concentration it took to keep one eye on the notes and the other on the road obliterated everything else from my thoughts. I was peripherally aware of Dan working the steering wheel hard and at times I felt the back end slide around. It wasn't until I saw the in car camera footage that I saw how incredibly busy Dan was at the wheel. Occasionally I glanced up to see where we were and would catch a glimpse of one of the many snowmen the course workers had made along the route.
Just over 12 and a half minutes later we crossed the finish line. Stage 1 done. I've done something I never ever thought I'd do.
We were exhilarated. The conditions had been dire but SS1 was in the bag.
We were all allowed about half an hours respite before turning around and heading back. It was a chance for everyone to laugh and joke and compare experiences out there.

The car rests at the turn around.

Then it was back in the car to head the other way. The course looked totally different coming from the other direction. The abbreviated instructions to get us through "the complex" worked and I was now relaxed enough by the end of the stage to wave to my wife who was a stage worker on the last corner. In a smidge over 12 minutes after we left stage 2 start we were at the finish line. Our scorecard was marked and we headed to the mid event service. Even though we had completed two clean runs Dan wondered if perhaps we hadn't flattened a tire.

mid event service.

Ben was on hand at the service to check things over. No puncture, no damage. Perhaps a fender was a bit loose. I want to put out a big thanks to Ben for being there for the car on a Saturday afternoon in December in the middle of Minnesota.
A handful of trail mix and a Gatorade and we were off back to the stage. This time it was dark. The course once again would be totally different.
It was an eerie sensation watching the car headlights sweep across our field of view illuminating the way, sometimes things were a little indistinct, but my calling of the route helped to find the way. All to soon SS3 was over and there was another half hour break to chat and compare notes.
We pulled up to the start of stage 4.
The final stage.
We had 8 miles to go to finish our first rally together. Crashing off now is not an option. Not on the last stage. We had no idea how we were doing. If we had known we might have pushed harder and had an accident. The most important thing was to get to the finish. It was a cautious start, but after a while we were up to speed and Dan was in his groove. I'd seen his confidence grow in the last run. He went from repeating my instructions to him early in the run to asking for them by the end.
We weren't heroes entering the final corner but we sure as heck did gun it down the final 300 to the finish.
Now we were ecstatic! First bumps all round! We had finished our first rally together!
Heading back to the final control there were mixed feelings, we were happy that we had finished but the conditions had put paid to any fast times. We had enjoyed ourselves and had a good time overall.
The car was trailered and everyone gathered around for a final time to discuss the goings on. Cigars were passed around because I had completed my first rally. The camaraderie amongst the crews is something else. Everyone laughs and jokes together afterwards. Even during the service break there was sharing of tools and bits, everyone is everyones friend and we're are all out to have a good time. I was made to feel very welcome every step of the way, so a big thank you to all my fellow competitors, both drivers and co-drivers for that.
With cigars smoked and the world put to rights, we headed into the awards ceremony. I had no expectations of winning anything. This was a good competitive in class G2 so fourth or fifth would be very good according to Dan. So imagine my shock when after checking the results Dan walked over to me, shook my hand and said.
"Congratulations partner. Third in class. We scored a podium."
Seriously?
I was amazed. I wasn't prepared for that. Those conditions that were bad for us were just as bad for everyone else. We had made good decisions, worked well together and ultimately it paid off.

The happy crew of car #958 with their trophies

The trophy.

At the very start of this quest I labelled the experience "Interview at Nemadji". If we worked well together and were successful then I'd probably be in the co-drivers seat next year. I think I passed.
So with that, we will see you at the Headwaters Rally in Walker, MN in May.

Here in my car I feel safest of all...

Gary Numan, and it fits in perfectly with todays post.
The Nemadji trail Rally is less than a week away. I've spent my time busying myself learning how to read course notes and Dan has been working hard preparing the car.
I've been measured up to fit in the seat, yet I haven't actually sat in the seat while the car has been moving.
Until today, that is.
Today was shakedown day.
The chance to see if everything was working after the fitting of the limited slip differential, and more importantly, how I was going to cope with a car driving at speed on a gravel road.
But there were some other tasks to sort out before we could get out there. Principally the installation of the in car camera, after all, you all want to see how I cope out there don't you?
In car camera is actually a requirement on a national rally, not so at a regional level. But it's easy to see how invaluable they are to any crew, enabling them to see how well they work together; the co-driver calling the route and the driver following the instructions. After throwing some off the wall ideas out there that at one point involved a live stream we settled for a GoPro mounted behind the crew, like everyone else.
The other task was to adjust my safety harness.
But let's just stop there a moment and take a step back. To put the safety harness on you first have to get in the car.
You open the door and...

The door bar of the roll cage impedes my entry.

There's a bloody great big Red bar in the way! The door bar of the roll cage. All of a sudden a task you don't have to think about becomes difficult. Left foot first? Right foot first? The first time I got in the car I had no idea what to do. After a couple of visits to the car, getting in and out isn't that much of a problem anymore.
When you're only used to regular seat belts (or in the case of my Studebaker, lap belts) a six-point harness is a horse of a very different colour.  But after 20 minutes or so of loosening and tightening the straps in various combinations. I ended up tightly, but comfortably held in the seat.

Yours truly, well and truly strapped in.

It is a very different sensation being restrained by a six-point harness. You'd better make sure that anything you need is within arms length, because you can't lean forward to reach anything.
Now at last, the next task was to fire up the car and get out there.
For me, there wasn't any feeling of claustrophobia strapped into the seat surrounded by a heavy roll cage in a stripped out car interior devoid of carpets, stereos and other such luxuries you take for granted these days. Inside it was pretty noisy when we were accelerating and the experience did leave me with something of a pounding headache, but I'm assured that with crash helmets on during the event this background noise will barely be noticeable.
Driving on gravel roads and other loose surfaces, even after nearly 20 years in this country still makes me nervous. They are not something we have in England. So I'm always happy to turn those duties over to someone else. Some snowfalls in the days previous meant that there were slippery patches in the shaded parts of the roads, which would make me double nervous if I was at the wheel but Dan clearly knew what he was doing driving on gravel roads in these conditions and I felt very at ease with him in the driving seat. I once glanced up at the speedometer to see we were traveling at... let's just say we were going at a speed considerably faster than I'd ever consider driving on such a surface and I wasn't bothered. So I clearly trust him at the wheel of the car. Now all I have to do is get him to trust my instructions. That might take a while.

Car#958 after its shakedown run.

The next time I'll be in the car is but 6 days away as I write this. 
I'll be counting down. "5-4-3-2-1. Go. Three hundred. Right four tightens..."

We could jam in Joe's garage...

It's Dan's garage and we're working on the rally car not jammin' on a Stratocaster with a whammy bar. But it's my blog and I've already established a musical theme to the blog entries and I'll post whatever I jolly well like (besides, Joe's Garage is one of my all time favorite albums).
Being that this is amateur motorsport and in many cases the driver works on his car with help from friends, I figured I should offer to help, even though my automotive repair abilities are somewhat lacking. The day before I had been doing an oil change on my 1976 MGB and had drained the oil from the gearbox and refilled the sump and wondered why the oil level was ridiculously high before I realized my mistake.
So not exactly brimming with confidence after that episode I went round to Dans garage to see how I could make myself useful.
For those of you looking for a picture of car #958 here is the sight that greeted me that morning.

The car, ready to be worked on.

Up on jacks, wheels off, gearbox removed, all in preparation to fit a limited slip differential. The seat had also been removed ready for the task of lowering it so that I could sit in the car without banging my head on the roll cage.
I asked Dan how I could make myself useful.
"Well, I need to work on lowering your seat and fabricating the fixing bracket, you can break down the gearbox if you like."
"Break down the gear box? You do know what I did yesterday don't you?" I said, referring to my oil change escapades.
Dan laughed. "We have a full set of illustrated instructions, besides you know as much about dismantling a Mazda gearbox as I do. That's why we have the instructions."
The instructions seemed pretty easy to follow, so I donned my overalls and with a set of spanners and sockets, I set to undoing the myriad bolts on the gearbox casing. In the meantime sounds of cutting, grinding, and welding came from the other side of the garage.
A couple of times I would stop and be called over to test fit the seat but the gearbox breakdown was mostly a piece of cake and when the casing was finally removed all you can say is that it was a thing of beauty. Dan came over and studied it deeply.

A mechanical marvel.

With the gearbox opened and the counter shaft removed that was as good a place as any to stop for lunch, about three hours had flown by.
During the mornings work the mail had arrived with a package and a task for me that was special on a couple of levels.
I'd get to apply the names and flags.
My name and flag.
To me that was pretty serious.
You see, rally cars all over the world have the driver and co-driver names on them complete with a national flag. It's in the WRC and Rally America regulations. The WRC regulations (rule 19.1) state that the flag has to be the flag of your passport. The Rally America regulations (article 3.1 subsection B, number 2b) allow for competitors to display their state/home region flag alongside their name. 
My original decision had been to go with the flag of St. George against my name, but then when I saw Dan had the flag of Minnesota against his name on the car I thought it would be extremely neat to have the flag of my home county of Lincolnshire on there. So I read the rule book, it might cause a second look or two. But the flag of Lincolnshire would be legal.
On another level, I've spent about 16 years working in sign shops in England and America, and applying vinyl lettering was an everyday task so I was looking forward to seeing if I still had the technique.

I remembered how to apply vinyl lettering.

The co-drivers side. Things just became very, very real.

With the names on the car, the reality of what I'm going to do set in, I can sit in front of my computer going over course notes as much as I like, but there is an air of permanence when you see names on the side of things. Everyone can see that. I was a little speechless.
That was as good a place as any to stop the days work. The limited slip differential hadn't returned from the workshop, so that couldn't be fitted. We had done about as much as we could do for the day.
I had felt extremely useful and hadn't broken anything or spilled any fluids all over the garage floor, So that was a win. We had a car that I could sit in and had my name on the side, it had been a very good day.

(Hopefully not on a) Road to nowhere

I'll wager David Byrne and Talking Heads would be surprised to find their songs associated with a persons quest to be a stage rally co-driver.

Hopefully come December 5th I'll be good at my job and car #958 won't end up lost in a forest on a road to nowhere.
Our visit to the Little's was twofold. Firstly, as we've discussed, was to see how I would fit in the car. Secondly, was to get some co-driver instruction from Dan's wife, Susi.
Susi is an experienced co-driver herself, navigating for another local driver Paul Johansen, who had also joined us all for the evening to contribute extra sound advice from a drivers point of view. Susi had agreed to give me some pointers as to what a co-drivers job entails. This was an enlightenment in itself. 

If you think that a co-drivers job is just to sit in the seat and call the turns, you'd be very wrong. In a big pro team that might be the case. But on a small regional rally team, that could barely scratch the surface of the co-drivers tasks. It's probably more accurate to say that all the driver does is turn up and drive.
Everything from booking hotels, and supervising the submitting of entries, to making sure all the tools are packed and in the right place. All could fall under the perview of the co-driver. If Dan says he's going to order a "woofle sprocket for the hyperdrive" then it's my job to keep at him until said mysterious part is delivered, and that's the easy stuff.

On the day of the event a co-driver can be everything from Team manager to minder/babysitter for the driver.
Who is responsible for all the paperwork at registration?

The co-driver.

The car will have to go though the technical inspection. Who's going to make sure it gets there?

The co-driver.

Who's going to make sure the support crew knows how to get to the service point to work on the car in the service break?

The co-driver.

Who is going to make sure the driver goes to the bathroom?

NO.
Once I'd got over the shock of all that, it was on to the things that I knew about. Reading the course notes.
"Right four tightens, fifty, Left four over crest". If you've ever watched any Rally cockpit videos on YouTube or seen James Mays efforts in a Bentley on Top Gear. You'll know what it's about.
Quite why it's this element of the sport that interests me so I don't know. I think when I was first interested in the co-driving as a kid, the co-driver was more often referred to as the navigator, perhaps I thought there was a lot of map reading involved and I love looking at and reading maps. Once the truth was discovered I was certainly no less interested in the role.

I had become fairly conversant in the terms used in the course notes. I knew what "Left four tightens over crest" meant. So I was feeling pretty confident about this. But hold on there! Reading notes off a sheet of paper is one thing, relating those to what is happening on the road in front of you is another. That actual experience is going to have to wait until the day of the event, in the meantime Susi said that I should try reading course notes along with one of the many videos on YouTube.

Course notes for SS1 of the Ojibwe Forests Rally and Nick Roberts and Rhainnon Gelsomino cockpit video

Perhaps you think this would be easier than the real thing. But I think you'd be very much mistaken. Watching a cockpit video on a computer screen in two dimensions is different to the real world. Thirty yards can look a lot like fifty, it's difficult to make out a crest on the road on the screen. So a R4/Cr 30 can look a lot like a R4 50. There's no feedback from a rough road, you're not lurching around any corners feeling G-forces, you're sat in a comfy chair sipping a cup of tea. If you're not concentrating very hard you can easily get lost on the course notes. I've already spent many hours over the afternoons and evenings reading along with the road, struggling with it. I would quite literally blink and loose my place.
Then all of a sudden it clicked. I thought it was like learning lines for a play where the instructions and the turns became memorized. I thought that made sense. I started out by learning on a 2012 Nemadji trail Rally Stage 1 video which after nearly 20 viewings I had become familiar with. But then I tried following the corresponding stage 2 video which I ran all the way through the first time of watching having not seen it before. At all. So something was beginning to work somewhere along the line.
There we are then. I now know that there's much more to being a co-driver than I originally thought. A whole world I wasn't expecting when I signed up for this adventure. A world that should "the interview at Nemadji" be successful will present me with a whole new set of challenges.
I know what you're thinking.
"He's got this far and he's barely mentioned the car. When do we get to see the car?" That is all part of the plan and will wait for another entry.

You may say to yourself... My god! What Have I done?

"Hmm..." Muttered Dan Little, driver of the #958 Mazda MX-3 Rally car. "You'll be banging your head against the roll cage here...and there. Not unusual. The seat needs to come down about an inch, inch and a half that's all. I can cut a hole in the floor, drop the mountings and weld everything back up. No problem."
It's a Friday night and I'm actually being fitted to the co-drivers seat of a stage rally car.
In the immortal words of David Byrne and Talking Heads. "How did I get here?"
Well, about a month ago I received a Facebook message from fellow TCRC member and stage rally driver, Dan Little.

"So, having volunteered at Ojibwe, do you have any interest in co-driving in a stage rally?"
(I'm sure he had probably forgotten that a couple of times I've mentioned my dream of being a co-driver of a stage rally car in this blog.)
To me, this was not an opportunity to be missed. I looked on it as some kind of reward, a treat if you like, for the blog post on volunteering at Ojibwe. That post is now the most popular one on this blog, and very well received by the rally community in Minnesota. I never got invited back to the Goodwood Revival when that post was the most popular, so I thought this was Karma evening itself out.

We arranged a meeting and over some proper English cider and fish 'n' chips he explained the situation. He wasn't just looking for a co-driver for the upcoming rally but for the foreseeable future.
So, I could look on this as a "job interview". If I can cope, If Dan thinks I can cope, and we work well together, then the seat could very probably be mine.

Oh my giddy goodness.

Things very quickly took a whole new turn (L3/Cr, left three over crest in rally parlance). Getting the chance to experience something you dream of is one thing, to have the potential of turning that into something more permanent is a different kettle of fish altogether.

The first thing I had to do was get myself a Rally America co-drivers license. A task that is as simple as it says. Just fill in the form online, answer a medical questionnaire, send them some money and Bob's your Uncle! You are licensed. (Actually, the person in charge of licensing at Rally America is called Bob, but he's not my Uncle. That would be too much of a co-incidence).
With that, our entry into the Nemadji Trail Rally could become official.

There it is. All official as of Nov. 1st. Dan Little and Ian Holmes in Car #958.

As you can guess from the first lines of this post, we are a little way along from the official entry acceptance, but to cover everything would result in a huge unwieldy blog post, the very simple act of something as basic as actually getting into the car is worthy of mention. So you can be sure I'll be sharing more experiences in other blog posts as things develop and race day nears.