(Click here for part one)
Lunchtime on Sunday. Watery sunlight is filtering through the Raceway's skylights. It lifts the gloom but can do nothing for the temperature. If I stand still for more than a minute I get an ice cream headache in my feet.
With an hour or so until my final heat, I grab a hot dog and chat to a couple of new faces - Sam Guntrip, who is having an excellent run towards a B-final place, and friend, whose name escapes me. Both seem to be enjoying their first experience of the BRKC.
Not so a couple of the old-timers.
"Terrible!" says Lee Jones, with a rueful grin, when I ask how it's going. "I just can't get the qualifying right..."
It's a similar story for our British 24 Hours captain Alex Vangeen. He's had to wait a long time to get going, and finished somewhere behind me in heat 14. Not the most auspicious of starts.
He's next on in heat 18, and quickly gathers a chorus of approval from commentator James and everyone on the pitwall. Alex always drives as if karting's about to be made illegal; I can almost see the corners cowering in fear as he bears down on them. We groan in unison as he aims for a narrowing gap between Oli and the wall, then lift the roof as he makes a series of brilliant overtaking moves to gain back the lost places.
Also a late starter - and making an instant impression - is Sean Brierley. With two down and one to go he has a win and a second place to his name, and has an excellent chance of making the coveted A-final. He looks a little busier at the wheel than Lee or the Belgians, but it all stays pointing in the right direction, and he's maintaining good momentum out of the corners - so important, and so difficult.
He and I share heat 21, where I make my only critical error of the day. On the out lap, the kart feels very lively at the rear; wary of unsticking it, I'm much too cautious into turn two and lose several tenths. I line up a frustrated sixth and spend the race within a few metres of fourth place, but unable to get past the squabbling (and occasionally lairy) drivers in front. Sean, meanwhile, has won and lies second on the leaderboard with three heats to go. I'm 30th out of 80, and expect to drop a few before the end.
With the last heat finished, the noise level drops from deafening roar to echoey chatter; James announces a short break while the final leaderboard is calculated. A few minutes later we're crowding around the central pillar in the paddock as Brad pins up the lists. I'm 35th overall, which will put me fifth on the grid in the D-final. About what I expected; the mistake on my last qualy lap probably cost me a C-final slot. Right now, there are fifty similar stories of woe floating about the Raceway.
The A-final grid makes interesting reading. Lee Hackett is on pole, as expected - nobody else managed to win all three heats - and Sean has retained his second place. Superstars Boutens, Grooten, Pineiro and Elliott are there, as expected, but there are some real surprises. BRKC regular Alexandru Damian has, on the quiet, had a superb day, as has heavyweight Russell Endean. It's been a day to forget for most of the Scots, but Stephen Dailly has bucked the trend. And my saviour/chauffeur Craig is clearly rather handy: he's made the A-final on his BRKC debut, against world-class competition.
As the finals get underway I take a seat with Lee Jones and Anwar in the restaurant, whose soundproofed windows overlook the fast banking at turn 1 as well as the turn 3 hairpin. The H and G-finals fly by with some great entertainment, but it's the battle at the front of the F-final that has us biting our nails. BRKC regular Daryl Warren is on pole, chased hard by Matthew Hamilton - who is normally to be found much nearer the sharp end.
Always committed, Daryl is prone to errors: the smart money says that Matthew will have him before long. But time after time they flash through the banking in front of us, disappear for a few seconds, then reappear in the braking zone for the hairpin - nose to tail with Daryl in front.
"I can't watch," says Lee, around lap 6; Anwar and I crane our necks to try and keep the battling pair in sight through the danger area at turn 2. Matthew's trying every (clean) trick in the book to intimidate Daryl out of the way.
But Daryl shows no sign of the huge pressure he's under, keeping it neat, tidy and in front. We're holding our collective breath as the chequered sign begins to strobe, and the cheer almost drowns the engines as Daryl takes it. There's no sign of Matthew, though - his rotten luck with machinery has continued with a broken throttle cable in the last metres of the race. It's a great drive by both, and is greeted with noisy appreciation by everyone in the paddock as well as James on the Tannoy.
But now it's time to don my helmet for the last time today. There are one or two familiar names in the D-final, but most are an unknown quantity. My biggest concern is former winner Michael Weddell, who's had an uncharacteristically bad day and starts right behind me. As we walk out into the pitlane I realise that I've been allocated the same kart I had in my second heat; my heart drops. It's the weakest of the five I've driven this weekend. As we roll around the out-lap I'm reminding myself of its pros and cons. Engine and brakes are fine, but the front is very skittish. It's not terrible; I'll do my best to adapt.
The start is messy, the marshals slow to give polesitter Connor Marsh the green flag, but we keep it together and by turn 2 I'm all over the bumper of the driver in front, who looks tentative. I can already feel the pressure from behind: there's a disgruntled Scot breathing down my neck. All nine stone of him.
On the second lap, trying to hold the kart flat on a defensive line through the fast left-hander, the front abruptly lets go and I clout the outside wall. I'm expecting Weddell to come through, but he doesn't. Maybe I've scared him as well as myself.
For a couple more laps, the status quo remains, until the driver in front of me has a tardy exit from turn 2 and baulks me slightly. I start to jink right, but Weddell is already alongside and passes cleanly into the hairpin. I mentally kick myself - my overtaking has been poor here - and set about making amends.
Weddell's up to fourth within a lap, and I pull a decent move through the fast section to regain my fifth place. But disaster strikes a lap later: midway through the endless left-hander with tortured right tyres screaming, I feel a big thump at the rear and am instantly a passenger. The kart snaps backwards into the wall, someone else pirouetting behind me as the field rushes by.
I get going again and find myself chasing Lee Jones. I'm quicker, but he defends neatly and cleanly; we finish nose to tail, 9th and 10th. We're both disappointed but philosophical: it's not as if we were fighting for the win. Later, Adam Sharp owns up and apologises for causing the accident, which is much appreciated.
With my day over, the adrenalin drains and my body starts to complain. Lack of sleep and fatigue are compounded by a worsening headache, sore throat and the prospect of a slow trip home to Winchester by train and bus. I take a break to get changed and miss the C- and B-finals. But it's a sign of the quality of this field that some big names - Borremans, Laporte, Spinnael, former winner Danny Henney - found themselves in the C-final.
I return to the paddock to find that KWC organiser Gregory Laporte has made up for his mixed results in the heats by winning the C-final and fighting his way up to 4th in the B-final. Great stuff.
But now it's time for the big race, and we line the pitwall to watch. I think Lee is going to be as imperious as he's been all weekend; the big question mark lies over the inexperienced head of Sean Brierley: he has two of the best karters in the world hunting down his second place. Will he be able to take the pressure?
As the green flag drops Lee makes another perfect start and heads Sean by three metres as they cross the startline. There's a flurry of activity behind as Ramon Pineiro overtakes Jonny Elliott for fourth place and begins to hound Ruben Boutens. Further back, BRKC regulars Endean, Damian and Dailly are locked in battle with former world champion Grooten; it's hard to know where to look.
Boutens is keeping Sean honest but no more than that; Pineiro is all over him, and squeezes by into the tight left-right. I miss the move, but Boutens has a hand up in protest, and the marshals are locked in discussion. Three laps later Pineiro is shown a blue flag, ordering him to give the place back - which he does immediately by running wide into turn 1. But he's clearly not happy: there's a bit of Latin headshaking going on.
All of which has given Sean some breathing space. As the laps count down he begins to reel Lee in, tenth by tenth. But Lee is serene, and takes the flag a couple of seconds ahead to seal an utterly dominant weekend. Sean is a brilliant second ahead of Boutens, Pineiro, Elliott and indoor specialist Russell Endean, who takes his second heavyweight win.
We cheer the podiums, dash clear of the champagne showers and begin to scatter into the freezing night. I get the sense that we share a similar thought: the BRKC just keeps getting better. It's in a myriad details, from the swanky new race programmes to the influx of national and international talent: this series has jumped to a new level.
Many thought that the international drivers would dominate, but they had to fight every inch of the way. Better still, they've been unanimous in their praise and support for the series, and those without conflicts will be back for round 2. It would be great to count them amongst the ever-growing band of regulars.
Again, Brad has done a magnificent job behind the scenes to make round 1 the huge success it was, and I've no doubt that Rebecca has regularly gone well beyond the call of duty to back him up. The recruitment of sometime competitor James Auld as commentator was inspired, and he'll be back for rounds 2 and 3.
The Raceway is a very impressive venue and seems to have found favour with most of the drivers. I thought they did a superb job to run such a huge event with minimal delay. They seem to 'get' the BRKC - which can't be said of all circuits - and the staff were friendly and efficient without fail. I hear we're likely to return in 2014, and look forward to that.
For myself, I knew that with competition of this standard, making the top half of the leaderboard would be a decent effort. I managed that - just - and enjoyed myself enormously on and off track. It's very heartening to hear that people like my ramblings, and I enjoy writing them. But I'm in the BRKC first and foremost to race, and my consistently average results nag like a splinter. During round 1 I discovered a few chinks in my armour, which I'll be working on before my next race.
Sadly I can't be at Buckmore, despite my best efforts to rearrange a group skiing trip, but I'll be present and correct for round 3 at one of my favourite venues: Herefordshire Raceway.
So I'm relying on you, BRKC massive. Lee Hackett is a lovely guy and a brilliant driver. But if he wins again, he might start giving everyone the (index) finger and saying things like 'Now THAT'S what I'm talking about..."
We can't have that, can we?
(Click here for part one)
Thursday 17 January 2013
Wednesday 16 January 2013
BRKC round 1. The Raceway, London, 12-13 January 2013 (part 1)
(Click here for part two)
Saturday 12 January 2013
Craig Martin is my new best friend.
It's 11pm on a freezing night in Docklands. I'm nursing the beginnings of a cold, ache from head to foot, and bed is a mile and a half away. Craig and his friend John are staying at the same hotel - the Woolwich Travelodge - and have graciously made space in their car for me. Result.
Wind back three hours, and I'm wondering - not for the first time - why the hell I'm not at home with my wife and a glass of wine. The walk from Charlton Station to the circuit is less than a mile according to Google. The first half is along a reassuringly bright, busy dual carriageway. But the second half takes you deep into an unlit, deserted industrial estate. Wind is moaning through chainlink fences, flapping loose bits of corrugated iron. I feel like a character in a schlocky horror movie.
But the Bogeyman's taken the night off; I find the circuit's narrow access road, right on the bank of the Thames, and am soon pushing open the imposing double doors. At which point I forget all about the Bogeyman, the cold, and the fact that I need to pee. The Raceway's main reception area is cavernous and marbled, and wouldn't disgrace a luxury hotel. A lifesize model of a Ferrari F1 car hangs on the wall behind the reception desk; legendary race helmets line the walls at regular intervals, each in its own individually lit display case. We're not in Birmingham any more, folks...
I follow the signs and encounter a staff member (whom I later discover is race director Luke) who directs me along what seems like half a mile of corridor. I pass a bar, multiple changing rooms, a restaurant... I'm beginning to wonder if they've left any space for the circuit when I push open a door to be assaulted by the throaty roar of a dozen karts.
Thirteen hours before the official start of round 1, the Raceway's spacious paddock is already dotted with familiar faces. I wave to BRKC organiser Bradley and regulars Sean Brierley and Lee Hackett, and watch from the pitwall as a corporate jolly finishes on track. First impression are good: the circuit looks big by indoor standards, and the karts blast over the finish line at pleasing speed. The surface is asphalt (not the nasty, slick concrete which spoils many indoor circuits) and there's even a bit of gradient built in. Good stuff.
As I suit up for the first of my two test sessions, the long schlep to the depths of East London suddenly feels worthwhile: the tingle is back. I have forty minutes to learn my first proper indoor circuit.
It's a baptism of fire. This place fits some tricky corners into its 700 or so metres. There's impressive variety, too - from a not-quite-flat banked left-hander to a deceptively difficult right-hand hairpin and two left-handers which tighten on entry - forcing you to brake while turning. I quickly learn that the rear of the kart must be kept in check to avoid losing chunks of time; while its natural tendency is to understeer, it quickly flicks into oversteer when the brakes are applied. With no kerbs to kiss and only walls to hit, it's probably as near to a street circuit as karting gets. I've always thought myself reasonably precise and smooth. But I'm not precise or smooth enough for this.
After 27 laps I'm aware of considerable mental and physical effort, as the chequered sign over the startline strobes to signify the end of the session. The paddock has filled up rapidly in the last half hour - along with series regulars Rhianna Purcocks and Daryl Warren I spot multiple karting champion - and F2 race winner - Ramon Pineiro, distinctive in his yellow overalls. He'll surely be a contender for the outright win tomorrow.
I'm 12th out of 16 in our session, over a second off the pace. Reigning BRKC champion Lee Hackett is quickest, unsurprisingly. I watch the second group from as many vantage points as I can: the pit and paddock bisects the circuit, affording good views of many of the corners. I make some mental notes to add to the pointers I picked up in the opening session, and approach my second run with renewed optimism.
The second kart is pointier than the first, with much heavier steering. I'm not at my physical best, but I'm surprised at how drained I am after a mere 20 minutes. Still, it's better: I'm heartened by having pegged Kart World Championship frontrunner Ruben Boutens for several laps. I'm learning some of the counter-intuitive techniques needed to be quick here: leaning away from the corner to put weight over the loaded wheels, hugging the barriers instead of taking a normal line.
I've only found a couple of tenths, but am 9th quickest out of 19. The circuit seems to have slowed: I'm now half a second shy of Lee. It's solid progress, but I can already see that getting anywhere near the points tomorrow is going to be stiff challenge. While getting changed I chat to BRKC - and karting - newbie Fred Harvey-Love. He's jumped in at the deep end and looks wide-eyed at the speed on display tonight - but is looking forward to his first proper race tomorrow.
I hitch my ride to the hotel with Craig and Jon, find my room, and settle down in the lap of luxury. Sleep comes fitfully: when I close my eyes I see nothing but tyre walls. I can't wait to get going for real.
Sunday 13 January
Battleship grey dawn light isn't doing much to improve Docklands' aesthetic appeal, although the Thames Barrier does look suitably menacing. It's the first and last daylight I see all day.
The Raceway is buzzing, karts already on track well before 8am. My two companions - both BRKC newbies - elect to do another practice session. I don't blame them.
This championship has seen some impressive talent in the last couple of years, but never anything like this. Joining the regular frontrunners will be the aforementioned Pineiro and five of the best indoor karters in the world - including the current world champion, Robin Borremans. No less than 80 of us will compete over 24 heats and 8 finals. It's the biggest, most competitive event the BRKC has ever staged; today I reckon that making the top half will be an achievement.
The BRKC table is set up in the paddock and groans under the weight of silverware, bubbly, programmes and merchandise, as usual. Having spent Saturday night out on the town chaperoning the Belgian contingent, Brad's positively saintly other half Becca is in attendance. She's joined by Alex Vangeen's equally haloed fiancé Lauren. It's lovely to see them; half of me wishes I'd persuaded Marianne to come along.
Brad could be forgiven for showing a touch of strain at a time like this, but there's no sign of it. He informs me that he's saved me a job by writing the round 1 blog. Something like:
"BRKC Round 1 at The Raceway was simply the best kart race I have ever attended. All of the drivers were entirely happy and everything was perfect. The end."
As the test sessions come to an end and briefing time approaches, I catch up with the old guard - Alex, both Lees (Jones and Hackett), Anwar, two very dedicated fathers (Rhianna's dad Graham and Lee Hackett's dad Lawrence), Daryl, and others. James Auld drops by to say hello before assuming his position as commentator for the day. Clad in a shiny scarlet Daytona 24 Hours jacket, and armed with a wireless microphone, he's every inch the showman.
Soon his voice is booming over the Tannoy, summoning everybody to the pit area for the briefing, which lives up to its billing: it's brief. With a packed schedule and the added complication of qualifying for each heat, time is very tight.
We have five minutes of free practice, split into four groups of 20. I'm in the first group, and spend my seven or so laps working on dealing with the understeer that dominates the handling of most of the karts. With no laptimes I can't really tell if I'm making progress, but it's starting to feel more natural. Once out of the kart I relax: my first race is heat 11. I have at least two hours to wait.
Fortified by coffee and an excellent bacon sandwich from the nice ladies in the café, I join the others on the pitwall as the first heat begins. I'm running a stopwatch to keep tabs, and the initial news is bad. Heat 1 takes 18 minutes to complete. At this rate we'll still be here on Monday.
Heat 2 takes longer still. Brad has been back and forth across to Race Control a couple of times; we gather that the computer isn't functioning as predicted. After a couple of tweaks on and off track, heat 3 takes 12 minutes. With two sets of karts running alternately, there's no delay between heats, and the marshals are quick to form up the grids after each qualifying run. We're soon rattling through them at whipcrack speed.
Rhianna Purcocks - at 15, the BRKC's second youngest driver - is in an early heat, and her father Graham shows me a nifty bit of technology which enables him to watch a live video feed from her GoPro camera on his phone. The quality is patchy, but I get the sense I've seen the future. Rhianna is always exciting to watch. She's talented but tends to intersperse nuggets of genius with moments of madness: we cheer as she pulls off a stunningly opportunistic move into the fast left-hander at the back of the circuit, then groan as she runs wide into the tight left before the pits, losing a couple of places.
Always fascinated by contrasting driving styles, I spend time observing some of the frontrunners. All of the Belgian KWC experts adopt a similar approach: upright in the seat, pronounced lean on the outside wheels, a model of precision. F2 refugee Pineiro is a little more flamboyant, turning into the hairpin with a single sweep of the wheel and holding it steady, with no correction, all the way to the exit. Multiple champions Anwar Beroual-Smith and Jonny Elliott are a masterclass in fluidity, not a hint of raggedness, keeping both ends of the kart in perfect harmony.
And by heat 8 it's clear that Lee Hackett is operating at a different level to everyone else. He drives as if in permanent slow motion replay - effortless, all the time in the world, the steering wheel hardly moving. The spectacle has all the drama of a trip to the shops, but his speed is devastating. With all of his heats done he's scored a perfect 30 points: three dominant wins from three pole positions. After the race he's typically humble when interviewed by commentator James - who is doing a magnificent job of keeping the excitement sky-high through the marathon run of heats.
I take a short break from the biting cold and aural assault of the circuit, and kick back on one of the comfy sofas outside Reception. My eyes are barely shut when a familiar voice shouts:
"Oi, Lazy! Why aren't you writing?"
It's Sean Brierley and Daryl Warren. I mumble a riposte - scathingly witty, I'm sure - shut my eyes again, and try to get warm. I wish I felt better.
Fifteen minutes later, the adrenalin is doing its thing; I wait in my kart as the Tannoy booms and heat 10 roars around me. There are no nerves to speak of. I know what to do.
I'm 7th in the line of karts, of 10; along with everyone else I need to make space in front of me before the start of my qualifying lap, while getting a sense of what I have to work with. This kart's steering is quite heavy, which indicates a grippy front end: good news. As I boot it out of the final corner and head for the startline, the kart in front is almost down to turn 1: plenty of space, unless he bins it. He doesn't.
I drive a clean, if slightly conservative lap; as I roll to a stop on the back section, I'm expecting to be somewhere in the middle of the grid... and am slow to spot the marshal pointing at me.
"SIX!" he bellows, for the third or fourth time. I trickle forward into third position, pleased. In seconds we're waved forward, the pole sitter keeping us at walking pace through the tight left-right before the pitlane entry. I'm glued to the back of the kart in front, but still lose a couple of metres as he bolts.
I gain it back into the banking of turn 1, and we're nose to tail as we concertina into the tricky tightening left of turn 2. I feel the fourth-placed kart nudge me at the apex, then we're powering down the hill to the hairpin. This is intense stuff, and just like the preceding heats, the quality of driving is sky-high. We don't have a lot of space and there's no margin for error - yet there's virtually no bumping. Over eight laps I slowly lose ground to the pair in front, pull out a small gap to the kart behind, and finish a satisfied third. It's a better start than I had hoped for.
I'm next on in heat 14, so barely have time to draw breath before I'm sitting in the pitlane waiting to go again. Brad comes over to tell me that there are six heavyweights in this race, so nothing less than pole will do. He neglects to mention that my rivals include superstars Robin Borremans, Mathias Grooten and Sam Spinnael. Still, I'm at the front of the queue, so there's no need to make space.
Three minutes later I'm bemused to be lining up fifth. I drove what felt like a better lap than my first attempt, but this kart is looser at the front, less predictable in the fast corners. No matter - I make a good start, and am quickly past fourth-placed Oli Nitch-Smith. I expect to pull away, but can't: he comes right back at me and makes a neat move a couple of laps later - into turn 2, I think. I push him hard, and get my nose in front with a clumsy move in the tight left-right. But it's questionable, and I let him past. We finish inches apart. Although I've been generally happy with the karts, I think this one did dictate the result to some extent.
I glance at my watch: just after 1pm. We're not yet halfway - 14 races down, 18 to go...
(Click here for part two)
Saturday 12 January 2013
Craig Martin is my new best friend.
It's 11pm on a freezing night in Docklands. I'm nursing the beginnings of a cold, ache from head to foot, and bed is a mile and a half away. Craig and his friend John are staying at the same hotel - the Woolwich Travelodge - and have graciously made space in their car for me. Result.
Wind back three hours, and I'm wondering - not for the first time - why the hell I'm not at home with my wife and a glass of wine. The walk from Charlton Station to the circuit is less than a mile according to Google. The first half is along a reassuringly bright, busy dual carriageway. But the second half takes you deep into an unlit, deserted industrial estate. Wind is moaning through chainlink fences, flapping loose bits of corrugated iron. I feel like a character in a schlocky horror movie.
But the Bogeyman's taken the night off; I find the circuit's narrow access road, right on the bank of the Thames, and am soon pushing open the imposing double doors. At which point I forget all about the Bogeyman, the cold, and the fact that I need to pee. The Raceway's main reception area is cavernous and marbled, and wouldn't disgrace a luxury hotel. A lifesize model of a Ferrari F1 car hangs on the wall behind the reception desk; legendary race helmets line the walls at regular intervals, each in its own individually lit display case. We're not in Birmingham any more, folks...
I follow the signs and encounter a staff member (whom I later discover is race director Luke) who directs me along what seems like half a mile of corridor. I pass a bar, multiple changing rooms, a restaurant... I'm beginning to wonder if they've left any space for the circuit when I push open a door to be assaulted by the throaty roar of a dozen karts.
Thirteen hours before the official start of round 1, the Raceway's spacious paddock is already dotted with familiar faces. I wave to BRKC organiser Bradley and regulars Sean Brierley and Lee Hackett, and watch from the pitwall as a corporate jolly finishes on track. First impression are good: the circuit looks big by indoor standards, and the karts blast over the finish line at pleasing speed. The surface is asphalt (not the nasty, slick concrete which spoils many indoor circuits) and there's even a bit of gradient built in. Good stuff.
As I suit up for the first of my two test sessions, the long schlep to the depths of East London suddenly feels worthwhile: the tingle is back. I have forty minutes to learn my first proper indoor circuit.
It's a baptism of fire. This place fits some tricky corners into its 700 or so metres. There's impressive variety, too - from a not-quite-flat banked left-hander to a deceptively difficult right-hand hairpin and two left-handers which tighten on entry - forcing you to brake while turning. I quickly learn that the rear of the kart must be kept in check to avoid losing chunks of time; while its natural tendency is to understeer, it quickly flicks into oversteer when the brakes are applied. With no kerbs to kiss and only walls to hit, it's probably as near to a street circuit as karting gets. I've always thought myself reasonably precise and smooth. But I'm not precise or smooth enough for this.
After 27 laps I'm aware of considerable mental and physical effort, as the chequered sign over the startline strobes to signify the end of the session. The paddock has filled up rapidly in the last half hour - along with series regulars Rhianna Purcocks and Daryl Warren I spot multiple karting champion - and F2 race winner - Ramon Pineiro, distinctive in his yellow overalls. He'll surely be a contender for the outright win tomorrow.
I'm 12th out of 16 in our session, over a second off the pace. Reigning BRKC champion Lee Hackett is quickest, unsurprisingly. I watch the second group from as many vantage points as I can: the pit and paddock bisects the circuit, affording good views of many of the corners. I make some mental notes to add to the pointers I picked up in the opening session, and approach my second run with renewed optimism.
The second kart is pointier than the first, with much heavier steering. I'm not at my physical best, but I'm surprised at how drained I am after a mere 20 minutes. Still, it's better: I'm heartened by having pegged Kart World Championship frontrunner Ruben Boutens for several laps. I'm learning some of the counter-intuitive techniques needed to be quick here: leaning away from the corner to put weight over the loaded wheels, hugging the barriers instead of taking a normal line.
I've only found a couple of tenths, but am 9th quickest out of 19. The circuit seems to have slowed: I'm now half a second shy of Lee. It's solid progress, but I can already see that getting anywhere near the points tomorrow is going to be stiff challenge. While getting changed I chat to BRKC - and karting - newbie Fred Harvey-Love. He's jumped in at the deep end and looks wide-eyed at the speed on display tonight - but is looking forward to his first proper race tomorrow.
I hitch my ride to the hotel with Craig and Jon, find my room, and settle down in the lap of luxury. Sleep comes fitfully: when I close my eyes I see nothing but tyre walls. I can't wait to get going for real.
Sunday 13 January
Battleship grey dawn light isn't doing much to improve Docklands' aesthetic appeal, although the Thames Barrier does look suitably menacing. It's the first and last daylight I see all day.
The Raceway is buzzing, karts already on track well before 8am. My two companions - both BRKC newbies - elect to do another practice session. I don't blame them.
This championship has seen some impressive talent in the last couple of years, but never anything like this. Joining the regular frontrunners will be the aforementioned Pineiro and five of the best indoor karters in the world - including the current world champion, Robin Borremans. No less than 80 of us will compete over 24 heats and 8 finals. It's the biggest, most competitive event the BRKC has ever staged; today I reckon that making the top half will be an achievement.
The BRKC table is set up in the paddock and groans under the weight of silverware, bubbly, programmes and merchandise, as usual. Having spent Saturday night out on the town chaperoning the Belgian contingent, Brad's positively saintly other half Becca is in attendance. She's joined by Alex Vangeen's equally haloed fiancé Lauren. It's lovely to see them; half of me wishes I'd persuaded Marianne to come along.
Brad could be forgiven for showing a touch of strain at a time like this, but there's no sign of it. He informs me that he's saved me a job by writing the round 1 blog. Something like:
"BRKC Round 1 at The Raceway was simply the best kart race I have ever attended. All of the drivers were entirely happy and everything was perfect. The end."
As the test sessions come to an end and briefing time approaches, I catch up with the old guard - Alex, both Lees (Jones and Hackett), Anwar, two very dedicated fathers (Rhianna's dad Graham and Lee Hackett's dad Lawrence), Daryl, and others. James Auld drops by to say hello before assuming his position as commentator for the day. Clad in a shiny scarlet Daytona 24 Hours jacket, and armed with a wireless microphone, he's every inch the showman.
Soon his voice is booming over the Tannoy, summoning everybody to the pit area for the briefing, which lives up to its billing: it's brief. With a packed schedule and the added complication of qualifying for each heat, time is very tight.
We have five minutes of free practice, split into four groups of 20. I'm in the first group, and spend my seven or so laps working on dealing with the understeer that dominates the handling of most of the karts. With no laptimes I can't really tell if I'm making progress, but it's starting to feel more natural. Once out of the kart I relax: my first race is heat 11. I have at least two hours to wait.
Fortified by coffee and an excellent bacon sandwich from the nice ladies in the café, I join the others on the pitwall as the first heat begins. I'm running a stopwatch to keep tabs, and the initial news is bad. Heat 1 takes 18 minutes to complete. At this rate we'll still be here on Monday.
Heat 2 takes longer still. Brad has been back and forth across to Race Control a couple of times; we gather that the computer isn't functioning as predicted. After a couple of tweaks on and off track, heat 3 takes 12 minutes. With two sets of karts running alternately, there's no delay between heats, and the marshals are quick to form up the grids after each qualifying run. We're soon rattling through them at whipcrack speed.
Rhianna Purcocks - at 15, the BRKC's second youngest driver - is in an early heat, and her father Graham shows me a nifty bit of technology which enables him to watch a live video feed from her GoPro camera on his phone. The quality is patchy, but I get the sense I've seen the future. Rhianna is always exciting to watch. She's talented but tends to intersperse nuggets of genius with moments of madness: we cheer as she pulls off a stunningly opportunistic move into the fast left-hander at the back of the circuit, then groan as she runs wide into the tight left before the pits, losing a couple of places.
Always fascinated by contrasting driving styles, I spend time observing some of the frontrunners. All of the Belgian KWC experts adopt a similar approach: upright in the seat, pronounced lean on the outside wheels, a model of precision. F2 refugee Pineiro is a little more flamboyant, turning into the hairpin with a single sweep of the wheel and holding it steady, with no correction, all the way to the exit. Multiple champions Anwar Beroual-Smith and Jonny Elliott are a masterclass in fluidity, not a hint of raggedness, keeping both ends of the kart in perfect harmony.
And by heat 8 it's clear that Lee Hackett is operating at a different level to everyone else. He drives as if in permanent slow motion replay - effortless, all the time in the world, the steering wheel hardly moving. The spectacle has all the drama of a trip to the shops, but his speed is devastating. With all of his heats done he's scored a perfect 30 points: three dominant wins from three pole positions. After the race he's typically humble when interviewed by commentator James - who is doing a magnificent job of keeping the excitement sky-high through the marathon run of heats.
I take a short break from the biting cold and aural assault of the circuit, and kick back on one of the comfy sofas outside Reception. My eyes are barely shut when a familiar voice shouts:
"Oi, Lazy! Why aren't you writing?"
It's Sean Brierley and Daryl Warren. I mumble a riposte - scathingly witty, I'm sure - shut my eyes again, and try to get warm. I wish I felt better.
Fifteen minutes later, the adrenalin is doing its thing; I wait in my kart as the Tannoy booms and heat 10 roars around me. There are no nerves to speak of. I know what to do.
I'm 7th in the line of karts, of 10; along with everyone else I need to make space in front of me before the start of my qualifying lap, while getting a sense of what I have to work with. This kart's steering is quite heavy, which indicates a grippy front end: good news. As I boot it out of the final corner and head for the startline, the kart in front is almost down to turn 1: plenty of space, unless he bins it. He doesn't.
I drive a clean, if slightly conservative lap; as I roll to a stop on the back section, I'm expecting to be somewhere in the middle of the grid... and am slow to spot the marshal pointing at me.
"SIX!" he bellows, for the third or fourth time. I trickle forward into third position, pleased. In seconds we're waved forward, the pole sitter keeping us at walking pace through the tight left-right before the pitlane entry. I'm glued to the back of the kart in front, but still lose a couple of metres as he bolts.
I gain it back into the banking of turn 1, and we're nose to tail as we concertina into the tricky tightening left of turn 2. I feel the fourth-placed kart nudge me at the apex, then we're powering down the hill to the hairpin. This is intense stuff, and just like the preceding heats, the quality of driving is sky-high. We don't have a lot of space and there's no margin for error - yet there's virtually no bumping. Over eight laps I slowly lose ground to the pair in front, pull out a small gap to the kart behind, and finish a satisfied third. It's a better start than I had hoped for.
I'm next on in heat 14, so barely have time to draw breath before I'm sitting in the pitlane waiting to go again. Brad comes over to tell me that there are six heavyweights in this race, so nothing less than pole will do. He neglects to mention that my rivals include superstars Robin Borremans, Mathias Grooten and Sam Spinnael. Still, I'm at the front of the queue, so there's no need to make space.
Three minutes later I'm bemused to be lining up fifth. I drove what felt like a better lap than my first attempt, but this kart is looser at the front, less predictable in the fast corners. No matter - I make a good start, and am quickly past fourth-placed Oli Nitch-Smith. I expect to pull away, but can't: he comes right back at me and makes a neat move a couple of laps later - into turn 2, I think. I push him hard, and get my nose in front with a clumsy move in the tight left-right. But it's questionable, and I let him past. We finish inches apart. Although I've been generally happy with the karts, I think this one did dictate the result to some extent.
I glance at my watch: just after 1pm. We're not yet halfway - 14 races down, 18 to go...
(Click here for part two)
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