Taking on the TT

Ballaugh Bridge proved a tricky part of the TT course to judge for approach speed, which is why Colin and his Scott Flying Squirrel lived up to the bike’s name as they crested the famous landmark.

Brooklands Motorcycle Volunteer Colin Wood took on the Isle of Man TT course on his Scott Flying Squirrel. Here’s how he got on.

Words: Colin Wood Photos: Fred Wade, Colin Wood

In late August 2019, a group of Brooklands Motorcycle Volunteers went on their annual trip to the Isle of Man TT for the Classic TT and Manx Grand Prix. I joined them to enter the Classic TT Lap of Honour on my 1937 Scott Flying Squirrel Racer. Four vans were hired, nine bikes loaded, and we were on the road to Liverpool to catch the ferry. The outward crossing was very pleasant and soon we were settled into our Douglas hotel. The first thing on the agenda the next morning was to start learning the 37-mile circuit. I had a rough idea of the track as I had completed three laps in a car three years previously, but that was not going to be sufficient to learn the detail such as the

changes of camber, bridges, kerbs, drains and even trees casting shadows over some parts of the circuit.

The one corner that I could not practice is Governor’s Bridge. This is closed to everyday traffic and only opened up for race days. It consists of a very tight, slow right-hand bend and was to become a problem on the parade lap.

The Bank Holiday Monday was the big day and, as is often the case, changeable weather on the mountain section had caused a delay to the proceedings. I was assisted by my two ‘carers’, Motorcycle team members Fred Wade and Duncan Headley. However, we were only issued

Duncan Headley, left, and Fred Wade, right, acted as Colin’s support team and ‘carers’. Or were they still on the run from the Hatton Garden Job?

with one paddock pass, but after chatting up the secretary Fred was able to secure a second. Their pictures were taken and they looked more like a couple of villains, causing much amusement and leading some to wonder if the authorities had got all of the gang from the Hatton Garden rider, that got moved on out of parc fermé by an overzealous marshal who was willing to accept the mugshots, leaving Fred and Duncan to enjoy the bikes on display. We waited from 1pm to 4pm before there was any movement, and even the paddock marshalls were uncertain when we would finally be off. Some riders had their bikes running for ages, but the problem with my Scott is it’s water-cooled and without air flow through the radiator it can overheat and boil the water. Therefore, I always like to wait until the last moment before starting the bike. Once the first riders were making a move, I started my Scott and found the bulk of the riders quickly disappeared out onto the circuit. I was further delayed leaving the paddock when I locked a front wheel on the plastic matting used to protect the grass. As I applied the front brake, the bike slid into the railing and I fought to recover the Scott without dropping it. By the time I got out on the circuit, I must have been plumb last as all the others had disappeared, and my plan to follow a few riders round to show me the way was dashed.

The plunge down Bray Hill was not as daunting as I imagined, but as the realisation of being on the world-famous TT course sank in, I thought to myself this is going to be interesting. On through Quarterbridge and Braddan Bridge, where I knew that Brooklands Volunteer John Gentleman would be marshalling, and I was even able to give him a wave. The Scott was flying, hence the name, I guess! On through more iconic places, The Highlander and Greeba Castle.

Next was Ballacraine and Laurel Bank. All around the circuit spectators were waving and I did my best to wave back. Perhaps they felt sorry for me as the last rider on the road, but I did manage to catch and pass three or four others. On through Kirk Michael and the infamous Ballaugh Bridge. I was not sure how fast to take the bridge, but on arrival found the apex is a lot steeper than I had imagined and promptly took off. After Ballaugh it’s Sulby Bridge, a fast right

The Brooklands Motorcycle Volunteers team take a well-earned rest from checking over the Scott.

hander, and then Ginger Hall. Next up is Parliament Square and then Ramsey, another iconic place where once again the spectators were waving, so I tried to put on a good show. Then it’s the famous Ramsey Hairpin and the Gooseneck, after which I was on the legendary mountain. I was not expecting the Scott to perform that well over the mountain, but it did, virtually flat out past The Bungalow and the long drag up Hailwood’s Height. The Scott never missed a beat. I passed Kate’s Cottage and then began the drop down to Creg-ny-Baa, which is magic and I was able to see the crowds waving at the hotel. At least I think they were waving: they could have been telling me to get off the circuit!

After the Creg, it was on to Signpost Corner and then to the awkward Governor’s Bridge, which as previously mentioned cannot be predicted. It’s a very tight and slow right-hand corner. I had gained in confidence all the way round the course but arrived there far too fast and went straight on, scattering a few marshals in the process. Almost immediately, I collected it all back together, proceeded through The Nook and on to Glencrutchery Road for the finish.

The bike and I had completed the course in one piece. I would like to thank all those who assisted in making it possible to complete this very enjoyable event and John Ferris who sponsored my entry. I would like to extend my special thanks to my fellow Motorcycle Volunteers who without their help it would not have happened. Lastly, thanks for the Special Certificate they produced for me after I moaned all week about not having had any acknowledgement from the organisers for completing a successful lap.

The rest of the week was very pleasant, watching the racing and generally socialising. The homeward ferry was far from pleasant, though. According to the others in the group who have done the journey many times, this was the worst crossing anyone could remember. The sight of beefy motorcyclists clad in leathers lying ill on toilet floors was a sight to behold. Still, we were okay but relieved to see Liverpool Docks at the end of what had been a splendid week.