Rennie Scaysbrook | July 13, 2016
A spectacular early morning on the mountain at Pikes Peak. This time of day is particularly treacherous due to the icy conditions on the mountain.
Fear and exhilaration.
That’s what you feel racing up Pikes Peak.
Fear is relative, as is exhilaration, and I’ll admit to being an addict of both. Fear is healthy because it keeps you on your toes. It helps you distill decisions into the absolutely necessary and those that can wait.
Make the right decisions, and fear is replaced with exhilaration. A euphoric feeling people chase over the course of their lives with sport, business, money, alcohol, whatever—exhilaration is your body’s way of telling you you’re alive. Really, really alive. Not the kind of rush a cup of coffee can give you, but the kind boxers feel when they knock out an opponent, or when a stockbroker makes a billion-dollar trade, or when a mother gives birth. This feeling, this point, is where you feel the blood coursing through your veins, your senses heightened, pupils dilated.
This is being in the moment. Nothing else matters.
You can read the original magazine story by clicking HERE.
The Pikes Peak International Hill Climb is the second-oldest motorsport event in the United States. Its name conjures up heroic images of incredibly brave human beings, male and female, charging up America’s Mountain in what many consider a completely archaic and dangerous race. If you are a racer who complains about the safety at Road America, this race is not for you. This is racing at its purest. It’s most raw. A machine and a mountain, and you in between.
I have wanted to race at Pikes Peak ever since I found out motorcycles could do it. Which was not all that long ago. I love road racing. More so than circuit racing. I don’t know why, but the danger excites me. And Pikes Peak gives a rush unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Racing this event is the realization of a dream. But dreams take work, time, patience, and partners to achieve. I was incredibly fortunate KTM North America agreed to align with me and Cycle News in this endeavor, because without them the project was nothing but a pipe dream. Over 12 months we took a standard 1290 Super Duke R, turned it into a sport tourer, then a streetfighter, and finally a full-blown racer capable of taking on the mountain. Entering into the Heavyweight division, I set a personal goal of Rookie of the Year and a time of under 10:30. Once I hit send on the entry form, I had no idea of the emotional rollercoaster that lay ahead.
The first day of practice across Devil’s Playground. The magnitude of the mountain smacks you in the face.
The Buildup To Pikes
Enlisting the help of KTM’s ultra-fast former factory superbike racer Chris Fillmore, we set about turning the Super Duke into a real race bike. Luckily for us KTM North America had a back-door entry to the PowerParts catalog, meaning we could build a real race bike that would have otherwise cost as much as a down payment on a house.
The list of parts we put on the machine read: Akrapovic full titanium exhaust system, PowerParts air filter, race fuel mapping, PowerParts triple clamps, race bodywork, wave rotors, rear sets and axle sliders, WP racing fork internals and race shock, Pirelli SC1 slick tires and later, a belly pan from Airtech, and Drive Systems sprockets to shorten the gearing.
Six days of suspension testing ensued at Fontana, Chuckwalla and Buttonwillow, each throwing up their own sets of issues and each ultimately proving to be nearly useless by the time we got to the mountain. Spring rates were constantly changed, shocks revalved and revalved again—it was proving a bit of a challenge just to get the KTM handling in a manner that wouldn’t see it buck me off the cliff at the first opportunity.
We finally found a base setting that seemed reasonable, realized we were out of time and packed our boxes for the mountain.
Video of practice on the top of the mountain between Devil’s Playground and The Summit.
Practice, Practice, Practice
Prior to landing at Pikes Peak and our base of Apex Sports in Colorado Springs, the last six months had been spent learning the course by playing the Sebastien Loeb Rally Evo game on PlayStation and watching re-runs of Greg Tracy’s sub-10 minute run in 2012 on the Ducati Multistrada. I had a special affiliation with Greg, not just because I was so impressed with his run, but because he was chosen by Ducati to be my race mentor as part of the Squadra Alpina program. The program was a fantastic initiative by former race winners to pass on some well-earned knowledge by race winners Carlin Dunne, Greg and Gary Trachy (Greg’s brother, with different spelling) and Micky Dymond. It was a program I would use almost to exhaustion.
Ducati’s Greg Tracy (left) was Rennie’s Squadra Alpina race mentor and provided huge amounts of knowledge and insight into Pikes Peak.
Arriving in Colorado Springs with KTM’s Tom Moen, our first glimpse of the mountain came during the official tire test, held two weeks before race day. Nothing can prepare you for seeing the mountain at speed for the first time. A feeling of woeful ill-preparedness washed over me as I blasted through Boulder Park for the first time, the KTM feeling totally alien, like someone had taken my child and corrupted it. The magnitude of the place smacks you in the face. It’s so, so enormous, and you are but a pimple on its ass. And just as insignificant.
The first tire test, held from Glen Cove to the finish line at the summit, freaked me out. It was a real “I’ve bitten off more than I can chew” moment. It looked nothing like it did on the screen in the game or the YouTube clip. Last year’s winner, Jeff Tigert, said this would be the case. I didn’t believe him. He was right.
I was pleased as punch to see the end of that day. I survived, didn’t crash, and began to feel okay about the situation. A bit more study, a bit more thought, maybe I could conquer this mountain.
The second day of tire testing went much better. Held from the start line to Glen Cove, I set the fastest time and left Colorado with a newfound belief. I’d outpaced a bunch of veterans who’d seen the place many times, and I now I really did think I belonged there.
Better still, the KTM felt like mine again. The Pirelli SC1 slick tires felt how I knew they should, the bike handled like it did before, and I felt in control. To say that feeling was a relief would be something of a gigantic understatement.
Our Super Duke 1290 R came a long way over the last 12 months. Stripping it down and building it into a racer was great fun.
Video of the second day of official practice on the mid-section of the mountain.
Race Week
Race week started with the usual administration stuff every racer goes through—scrutineering, sign-in, the dos and do-not-dos of racing. If you’re a rookie like me, you are required to make the obligatory orientation lap with your race mentor, which for me was an absolute pleasure as I picked the brains of one of the fastest guys ever to grace the mountain, Greg Tracy.
His knowledge on the place is without peer and his method of imparting it was both easy to grasp and encouraging. It made for a great afternoon as he told me the ins and outs of a place with infinite intricacies, me trying to do my best sponge impersonation as the words spewed forth.
You wake early to ride Pikes Peak. Think 1:30 a.m. early. You’re on the mountain by 3 a.m. and riding by 5:15 a.m. Just that alone is uniquely crazy, let alone the race itself.
KTM’s Tom Moen and Rennie atop the mountain. It was so cold in the mornings the team had to use tire warmers.
Tuesday practice started with the top third of the mountain between Devil’s Playground and the summit. Devil’s is aptly named due to the fearsome nature of the blind, fourth-gear bends that dot the landscape—in this place more than ever, knowledge is power. Some corners are plain scary, especially the nameless double left that leads to Bottomless Pit, a corner you have to trust your instincts on or the outcome isn’t worth thinking about.
I finished that day after getting only two flying runs. A French sidecar detonated and coated this most dangerous of places in oil, so the organizers made the right decision and called off practice. Annoyed? Yes. Relieved I wouldn’t have to hit an oil-stained track? Absolutely.
Trying to tell yourself to push when there’s snow on either side of the road takes a bit of practice.
Devil’s Playground, 5:15 a.m. There is nowhere on earth remotely like Pikes Peak.
For Wednesday, we left the machine alone—didn’t even change tires—and hit up the second section. Tuesday was a write-off and the times didn’t mean anything, but Wednesday was a different matter. This section was from Glen Cove to Devil’s and suited the point-and-shoot nature of the Super Duke more than the open fast sweepers of the third sector.
By the third run, I was still four seconds behind Kawasaki’s Bruno Langlois of Corsica. I couldn’t figure out what was going on, until I realized I was using first gear for all the hairpins. Switching to second gear netted immediate speed, and I ended up only one second behind Langlois even though Cycle World’s Don Canet and the Victory Electric machine were another two seconds up the road. But I felt good, I’d cracked a nut and now I needed to get my head right for the top section. But it still wasn’t to be.
Thursday’s practice wasn’t great. Again on the top section, I finished four seconds behind Langlois after riding as hard as I could. I couldn’t for the life of me figure it out. He was so much faster than me, despite having a slower bike. All I could guess was he was holding it on longer than me and gapping me where I was backing off.
Practice morning rider’s meetings were often held in the dark.
Video of the final day of official practice before qualifying.
We tried to leave the bike alone (Tom and I) and just concentrated on gaining speed. But it wasn’t coming and I was starting to worry.
I went back to our base at Apex Sports in Colorado Springs with a problem. From where was I going to gain this speed? It was plainly clear I wasn’t going to catch Bruno over the top section, but the bottom section, I thought, might be a different story.
Friday was official qualifying. Held between the start line and Glen Cove, this section was all me—its nature is fast and flowing, like a real road racing course. I liked this section in the tire test—why should it be any different now? The best part was, it wasn’t.
Between the trees, I topped the timesheets with a 4:14 pass, 10 seconds clear of Bruno. For some reason or other, everything just worked. It was one of those days where all my movements were the right ones, the bike felt perfect and I didn’t make one mistake on my fastest run. The two runs prior to that were not so pretty, with a missed gear halfway up the run on both the second and third attempts, but the fourth run is one I will remember for a long time. When I saw the time I couldn’t believe it. The paddock was going nuts, there were high-fives everywhere, and I felt on top of the world. All we did to the bike was two clicks of rebound on the shock, and the bike was on rails.
Now I started to believe I could do it. I really could win this thing.
Qualifying netted pole position and renewed optimism for the race.
We topped the day off with a massive afternoon at the Fan Fest. It was such a thrill to sign autographs, pose for pictures, and generally feel a bit special. Colorado Springs really gets behind the Fan Fest, with over 20,000 people attending the event in Tejon St.
The Fan Fest in Colorado Springs was great fun with over 20,000 fans coming out to enjoy the action.
We had a day to recover on Saturday, so Tom put on new tires and, as I put my head on the pillow for Saturday night, I couldn’t quite believe I was about to race Pikes Peak.
The video of the official qualifying for Team Cycle News and KTM North America.
Stay tuned for Part II where we head into the race itself and the feature video in next week’s issue of Cycle News.
You can read the original magazine story by clicking HERE.
