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TEXT ONLY | CREDITS | APPLY FOR SCRAPHEAP 2005 | |||||||||||||
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| DON'T MISS SCRAPHEAP ON CHANNEL 4 EVERY SUNDAY, 6.30PM |  |
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Off Road Rescue | |
Result | |
Riders' diary | |
Bakewells' diary | |
Science | |
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All challenges | |
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Rough Riders' diary
Arrival We arrived at the rendezvous point and checked in like clockwork at the hotel near Reading. We had a nice bar meal and as we were focused on the challenge ahead, we limited our intake of liquid refreshments. Acting in a professional manner, we were prepared and ready for the early 6am start the next morning. Our opponents were in the bar but we had strict instructions not to speak to them. I gave them a sussing glance and poked my tongue out a couple of times. Jason gnashed his teeth, twitched his unshaven jaw like Burt Lancaster and sneered at them. Barry, stood Beckham-like at a penalty shoot out, flashed his BMW key fob and with a nonchalant flick of the neck, threw back his blond hair. The producer introduced us to Tim, our expert. We later found out he was a course designer and had worked around the world with Land Rover setting out and mapping the route for the trans-North African Ultimate Rally Challenge for off-road vehicles. We happily chatted and tried to extract from him the details of our challenge. Like an SAS member under interrogation, he failed to crack and explained he was held to a confidentiality clause in his contract. As we began to relax, an alarm sounded in the hotel. In response, Barry, Jason and I immediately ran out and mustered in the car park, it's second nature off-shore to move quick and jump in the lifeboats. We realised we were the only ones responding, so we went back in to finish our beer. It turned out to be an alarm from the hotel system monitoring the car park, a vehicle had been broken into. Bazza panicked, quickly searching for his beloved car. All was okay. The locals must have thought it strange, seeing us speed run out the pub like Bill Oddie and The Goodies, but we regularly train for emergencies and take all alarms seriously – off-shore our lives can depend on it. A couple of lagers and laughs later, with the bar still open, we reluctantly went to bed. Build day We arrived at the heap and it was just like in TV-land – truly amazing. Like a Hollywood film-set encampment, cameramen, technicians, security and sound men were all busy milling around us as we tucked into a hearty breakfast under white canvas gazebos. We were in the surreal world of behind-the-scenes television. This was for real. We were actually going on to make the programme. Like secret agents, we were wired with microphones and recorders, transformed into the Rough Riders. Although we were wearing a shade of lilac which could have been chosen from the Dulux 2004 summer range, we felt good and looked the part for television ... although for which show, I'm not sure. Come Dancing, perhaps. A couple of breakfast sausages and a coffee later we met the stars of the show. Lisa Rogers is petite and gorgeous, even in that silver metal helmet and Robert Llewellyn ... well, he just looks like his Red Dwarf character Kryten in the flesh. 'Your task is to build an off-road vehicle, capable of rescuing and recovering a family saloon car from the middle of a lake. Once loaded and secured you must then return the car and cross the finish line having tackled the multi terrain assault course,' Robert said. So we were to take part in an off-road rescue. We just had to build something capable of going across country, into the water and that could lift up a car full of pond slop. We looked at the floor, then at each other, wishing we had entered Come Dancing after all. We came up with a plan for an all-terrain, monster-lift truck and decided on a shopping list. Then all we had to do was gather the parts. Tractor trouble Bazza quickly spotted an ideal tractor for us, wedged in a pile of scrap. Jason, having had a countryside upbringing, was quite used to dealing with temperamental tractors so, when the thing would not start, he booted it. The lads quickly swapped the flattened battery and tried again. It turned out that fuel was the problem and we found out later that the pump had been tampered with to test our faultfinding skills. We towed it back to the build area. We had our tractor, now we just had to get it to work. While Jason and Baz went off searching again, Tim and I got on with fixing the fuel system on the tractor. Once that was sorted, we checked the wiring for any more deliberate sabotage faults and readied it for ignition start. With a fully charged battery fitted and fuel on line, she spun over and barked into life spitting and coughing out a choking exhaust cloud of smoke which blacked out the sun for a few seconds. The noise of our baby running was met with cries of jubilation from Barry and Jason, who were still out hunting. The hydraulics also worked fine, so we could drive the lifting rams for our design. Tim and I patted each other, Tim celebrated with a cigarette, I had a cup of tea and half a Kit Kat. Then I had the other half. We found the other bits we needed, including a lorry chassis and yards of pipes to fabricate an articulated joint to connect up to the tractor. Grinding wild screeches and showers of molten sun-hot orange sparks shot across the set. Blue-white blinding light flashed from Bazza's welding and lit us up in freeze-frame mode. The clanking of steel became louder, our monster truck like a new species was evolving from the gathered tangle. Like a monster-truck beast, the thing just fitted in the build area. We tested the hydraulics, the rams pulled the bars over and easily lifted Jason, Barry and me over the arc of its range. Darkness was upon us. We had built the biggest monster machine Scrapheap Challenge had ever seen. Exhausted and full of tea, we retired back to the hotel, too late for the bar. My arm muscles ached and my toes were blistered, my team pals had pulled out all the stops to make this happen. I was happy with the machine, yet still anxious to get on with the challenge. I can't remember even hitting the pillow. Race day We rolled up to the start line, viewing the target of our rescue, a blue family saloon car sat up to its wheel arches in the middle of the lake. The route was marked out it in chequer tape and Lisa started us off. We accelerated down the hill and wobbled a bit, just missing a marker post. Tim soon got used to the steering, though, and mastered it at speed. Arriving at the lake's edge, we jumped out of the seat harness and put our lift plan into action. Wading in, I smashed the car windows silently. I could not scream because of the cold water shock on my belly. Jason tripped and went full length under the water and came up like Triton the sea god in Jason and the Argonauts. Barry started to open the doors to let out the water. Tim reversed the machine into the lake up to the car. Jason and I put the lift chains on and wrapped them on the frame of the car windscreen and up she went – the hydraulics worked a treat. Tons of water flooded out as we tried to get our breath back and control our bladders. Once out of the water, we were off to tackle the swamp track. Speeding along, we approached a deep-tank scar in the wet sand and sure enough we sank up to our axles. Incurring a penalty for being rescued ourselves put extra pressure on our time – we needed to get going again fast. The tractor struggled to get traction on the sandy soil and as Tim powered up again, she dug in and stalled. The sweat of frustration was stinging our eyes, the clock was ticking and we still couldn't see the finish line. Once we got on the dry flat again, we turned and gathered up speed for the race down to the water trap. The line of approach was good, so was our speed. We still had the rescued car hanging on the back. Jason and I emptied the water from our work boots to lighten the load. Barry braced for the turn as we looked to choose which hill climb would be the best route to the finish. A sudden, sickly metallic crack rang out as we reached the bottom of the hill. We nose-dived into the mud. The tractor casting at the back had snapped, leaving our chassis pointing in one direction and the tractor front end bent forward. Our race was over. We had failed in our challenge. Repairs to the tractor were not possible in the time allowed, so sadly we marched back to the start and drowned our sorrows with runners-up champagne. Like gentlemen, we congratulated our competitors and applauded their efforts, wishing them good luck for the next round. Scrapheap was an experience to remember. We had a testing time and we didn't let anyone down. After all, worse things can happen at sea. Ozzie Senior |
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