Not exactly a race report but ...
So, Stevie boy fires me a text a couple of days out asking if I wanted a ride to the Cliffhanger. I was keen. I'd wanted to go this year but things conspired against me until he gave me a yell.
Friday stright after work Megan drops me off at his place and we saddle up and start heading south. The plan was to get down there, check into the motel, get a good nights sleep and turn up looking a million dollars. What actually happened was we ended up passing the Mangatainoka Brewery after midnight (so there goes checking into the motel) when, 2k's along, there's a loud kinda pop noise and the windscreen was suddenly covered in stuff. I threw the mighty Hilux Surf into neutral and slowed us to a stop at the side of the road. The stuff on the windscreen was water so it looked like we'd blown a hose. After a quick look under the bonnet (note people ALWAYS carry a decent torch) we couldn't find a thing wrong. So Steve pulls out the cellphone and dials the AA. To cut a long story short, his membership wasn't what he thought it was and mine had expired. We were farked. It's at this point we both regret not bringing my riding gear. We could've rode the bikes there. Would've been a real adventure that. Riding a 190 horse superbike with no lights on cold slicks on a freezing, dewy 1:00am morning for 90ks. I was game. But not without some gear!!
So it's decided that we'll ring Drew and tell him if he wants to ride the hillclimb the next day he has to come and get us. Meantime, the AA arranged to have a dude come out and tow us to the nearest contractor. They weren't sure if the contractor could take both the vehicle and the trailer and we were absolutely certain that trailer wasn't being left behind. The vehicle could sit there all night and get firebombed, we didn't give a fook. The bikes were worth 5x what the vehicle is.
The young fulla from the garage pulled up with a flatbed that had a tow bar. Excellent, we could take both. He dropped the shitter at the garage then dropped us and the trailer at the 24 hour BP in Pahiatua. We're thinking "wtf?? a 24 hour petrol station in Pahiatua??". But hey, it was warm and dry and had hot coffee and girly mags. For those things we were willing to put up with the local hillbillies that came in and out in various states of inebriation for a couple of hours. We hung out, talking to Eddie the night man until Drew turned up.
About 3:00am Drew gallops to our rescue. Fantastic. So we hook up the trailer, climb in the car and head for Gladstone. After only 1 wrong turn we arrive at a very quiet paddock with about 4 vehicles in it, the owners of said vehicles all blissfully unaware. At that point I say fark it, grab my sleeping bag and a ground sheet and head for the Willow tree. I got a solid 2 hours of sleep before the organisers turn up and all I can hear is Deana saying "if I can't farken sleep then neither can they". Arse. I pack up and head back to the car. I had a far better kip than The Scottish Whining Society did. Apparently he had to try and sleep in the front passengers seat, sitting upright cos Drew absolutely was not letting him cuddle up in the back.
People started arriving but we pissed off to the nearest town to grab some food and petrol. Drew paid for all of the gas (the car + 3 fuel jugs) and nearly had a heart attack. So we went and found an open bakery and got some caffeine and greasy stuff. Back to the hill climb paddock and I absent mindedly say "yeah" and end up signed up to be a marshall. So, after a 30 second briefing I'm off up the hill and get point #1.
The 1st point is after turn 1, about 50m before the kink that is turn 2. Turn 1 is the fastest of the course. The bikes are mostly flat in 5th gear before they button off for the rise immediately before turning into the blind turn 1 corner. After that there's a dip which sees a couple of bikes overrevving cos the back wheels left the ground before they pass me, where there is a slight bump that gets a few front wheels airborne. On Saturday there's quite a few people who hit the 1st turn hot and understeer their way almost into the grass. Lucky nobody crashed there cos it would've been very nasty.
The 1st runs are nice and quiet with the only problem being Doug Fairbrother throwing away his Trumpy. The silly old bugger goes past on the trailer with a big grin on his face and just rolls out another bike. Hard or crazy?? Fark knows. Things go well through the morning and afternoon until the last session when the young Irish fella that bought Shaun's 675 stuck it into a strainer post and left a metric crap load of oil on the road. Things are called off for the day because it won't be cleaned up properly before the road has to open again.
Back in the paddock the beers come out and everyone crowds around the very bent 675. The front wheel points straight ahead, but the top triple clamp is pointing 60 degrees left. Rat shit buddy. Dinner is pretty good, mutton chops, spuds and veges. After that, it's back into the beers and the band crank up. They're not half bad and later in the night crank out a half decent version of Stinkfist. The guitarist and drummer were pretty bloody good.
I head back to find Scotlands finest all tucked up in his wee tent and sleeping bag already asleep. Silly bastard lost his wrist band and so wasn't allowed into the beer tent. How's that for a shit way to end a disaster of a day? Hels is shit faced and all I can hear for a few minutes is "I've got to race tomorrow so you guys fuck off. Love you all. Now fuck off.". Anyway, I lowered the legs on the EziUp down until the roof was touching the bikes and then climbed under, curled up in my sleeping bag and was nodding off when my phone rang. It was my darling wife ringing to inform me of the price and timetables for various transportation services back to Hamilton. We'd been texting/talking all day trying to find the best way for me to get back to Hamilton as I wasn't able to find anyone from up Hamilton/Auckland way. W-T-F-? Were the Scottish Soft Core and I the only ones hard enough to go to the Cliffhanger?????
Why is it that everything is quiet as a grave with not a mouse stirring until you get up in the middle of the night to take a piss and that's the exact time the only farken car to go past the entire night drives by getting a surprise viewing of your knob? Why is that?
I wake up to find Steve laughing like an idiot cos I'm tucked up nice and comfy between 2 bikes. He's the idiot that has to pull down a wet tent and pack it all up, taking well over 1/2 an hour to piss about doing so. Whereas I get up, warm, dry and well slept, put my sleeping bag away and 2 minutes later I'm wandering off to breakfast. How is farken around with a large soggy thing, looking for pegs that have been dropped the sane thing to do?? Bacon, eggs, mini omelettes and fresh bread buns followed by a hot cuppa is a great way to start the day. After shooting the shit and hassling Steve about being a soft cock we find the headlight on his 748 took a large stone hit and the lens if farked. Even when the lens isn't broken the 748's headlight is a joke (not a very funny one either) so that's it, he's had enough. He packs up and heads north without doing a single run up the hill. He wants to get home well before dark as he won't be able to see a farken thing after dark.
After that little drama it's time to head back up the hill to my alotted spot. They do 2 sighting runs again and then get into it. Drews 1st run was a relatively quick one but he looked ragged and very lucky. Funnily enough, very few people ran wide at turn 1 on the Sunday. Not sure why. Most people were starting to really apply themselves and were going faster and faster, most starting to look smooth. One of the locals came out to have a chat to me and I somehow ended up being the Cliffhangers unofficial PR Officer for about an hour. Wierd.
Things went surprisingly smoothly for the majority of the day with only 3 crashes all day. Kyle has the distinction of being the 1st person to toss a bike off the Cliffhanger. He lost it on the same corner as the Irishman, hitting almost the exact same piece of fence. A section that was already broken. Apparently his bike was 30m down the bank. He bounced and rolled to a stop on the road thankfully. There was an R1 that found some gravel. The rider was alright and slowly rode his bike back down with his father (the next bike up the hill) following him. Worst of the day was an orange chook chaser that arsed off a relatively fast, sweeping corner between the 2nd and 3rd marshalls. The Saint Johns 1st aid van had to struggle up the hill to fetch him. The young fella had a pretty bad concussion and they put a neck brace on him, then called for an actual ambulance to come out and get him so he could be taken for precautionary x rays. He was in lala land. They took his pulse and 10 seconds after that he asked if they were going to take his pulse. Hope it's nothing serious!!
The last run ended at 3:45 so the organizers called it a day. I gave all the riders a big clap as they cruised down past me for 1 last time. They'd all done bloody well, they were all good bastards and they all stepped up. Good onya's.
I didn't get to hang around for prize giving and a beer though as Jay and Rach had said they'd get me to the airport in time for my flight home. We quickly said goodbyes and then headed off in the Beemer, aiming for the airport. They got me there 15 minutes early. Nice one. After jumping on the plane and having a chat to the old girl next to me who asked what it was on the front of my kb shirt, I had a pleasant flight back. Those things have got some grunt. It was mildly impressive. Had a bit of a giggle when the stunning little honey of a hostess dropped some empty cups on a woman near the front. They still had a little wee bit in them so there was a bit of a quick clean up to be done. When we landed I was surprised at how quickly the pilot got on the brakes. The lad wasn't shy. The nose wheel hadn't even hit the ground and he was throwing out the anchors full noise.
I climbed off the plane to find Megan waiting. She fussed and bundled me off to the car. We went through the BK drive through on the way home so I could get something to eat. Once I got home, I demolished the BK, climbed into the shower and then crawled into bed. I didn't even realize I hadn't turned the light out, I was that knackered.
Drew won the hillclimb by about 3.5 seconds I think so he gets to be #1
Jay is still King of the Hill though because nobody was quick enough to push Drew into doing a really quick run
Drew scores Wheely King though. Almost every time he came past me he'd hoist the front to 11 o'clock and piss off down the hill on 1 wheel. Nice
Nicko gets a thumbs up for wheelying the 999 a few times. It was a stubborn beast that didn't want to come up so he did well to get a couple of nice ones in
Hels gets the Funny as Fark, ADHD Poster Girl award
Koba gets the Best Mullet award
He also gets the Shittiest Looking Bike award for the NC21. The thing went like a bastard up the hill though. Nice one bro
Kyle gets the Superman award for tossing his bike off Cliffhanger. RG150's are very light but not light enough to fly mate
Deano gets the Big Balls award for being the only person on a bike over 400cc to hold it pinned through turn 2. That was magic
Bill and Clive share the Good Bugger award
Garry gets the Farken Plonker award for accidentally deleting all of the times from the computer about 2:30 Sunday afternoon, right in the middle of the timed runs
Thanks to Steve for the ride to Pahiatua
Thanks to Drew for rescuing us from Pahiatua. Owe ya bro 
Thanks to Jay and Rach for getting me to the airport on time. Hope you're riding next year Jay
Thanks to everyone involved in the Cliffhanger for putting on a great event. I want to ride in it next year
Zen wisdom: No matter what happens, somebody will find a way to take it too seriously. - obviously had KB in mind when he came up with that gem
Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity
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Originally Posted by Mental-Trousers
see you next year 
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