Mag & Turbo Trophy. - photos here   (opens new page)

another report from Lloyd Knowles is further below

“I know that Lloyd is writing a trip report but you’d better do one as well.” This was relayed to me at the Belgrove Hotel. Mmmmm, seems a bit odd to me but who am I to argue with the organizers. My day started when my watch alarm snapped the eyelids back at 6am. The unrecoverable dream I was having, faded into the distance as I recalled the words our dear editor said on the phone the night before. “My house at 7.45am. DON’T BE LATE.” I couldn’t be late because the last thing I wanted was an angry editor as a navigator. Heaven only knows what he would print about me.
With him suitably buckled up beside me, and the spare wheel lashed down in the back seat to give me more visibility, we headed off to Kikawa for my first go at the Mag & Turbo trophy.
I’m glad we started early for it was nice to arrive at Alistair & Sue Nichols place to be told by a happy young boy that dad was still in bed but to follow the road and we would find the organizers. Good on you Harald, I could have had another hours sleep and still arrived in time to be first there.
Harald quickly removed his black jersey, “to keep those damned sand flies off me.” They seem to love dark colours so I tried dreaming up a way to remove my dark skin but gave up and got on with removing disconnects and deflating tyres.
People slowly arrived and as we gathered for a briefing, Lloyd Knowles nominated himself for the trip report by being late.
Sav explained to us that each course was marked out with pegs. The red pegs were to be passed on our right and the green ones on our left.
“That’s just bloody lovely.” I mumble to no one in particular. “I’m colour blind and can’t see red & green very well”
I quickly checked out the navigators eyes, which were a bit bloodshot, and he guaranteed he could see colours ok. Feeling confident we moved into the first challenge. “Number 3!” we yell out to Scotty, identifying our number for the day. All looked good as we rolled into the first corner with the navigator yelling “That’s red. That’s red.” I quickly replied “That’s that. That’s that,” as I jumped out to see why there was a loud hissing coming from my front right hand wheel. Like a scene from a Dracula movie a wooden spike had been driven deep into the heart of my beautiful BFG Muddy. There was a 10cm rip in the wall of it. Our day wasn’t looking too good. We had only moved 10 metres.
We crawled off to one side to let the other competitors go on through. From out of nowhere a small boy appeared. “Its buggered mister. Can I have it?” He’s a clever boy that.  He must be building an off-roader from the bottom up, starting with our tyre. We appeared to be doing the opposite.
With the spare wheel installed and the dead one on Scotty’s trailer we get under way again. I have the comforting sound of the navigators voice singing gently in my ear. “Red! Red! Green! That’s good. Tight turn. Red! Well done,” as we finally complete the first task. “Why did you go the wrong way around that peg over there?” asked Scotty. “You’re joking. I thought you said you could see colours,” I grinned at the navigator. “Well I got one wrong then, didn’t I?” was the dumb answer.
We moved on from one challenge to another with the navigator occasionally vacating his seat to shoot some video footage. My poor start was not helped by the continual appearance of the sheriff and his deputy (Chris & Graeme) popping up from behind hidden obstacles. They made me nervous as I pondered the depletion of my wallet contents at the next club meeting.
There was quite a range of vehicles participating, but we set our eyes on Sav’s Cherokee parked at the marshalling yard as a source of spare wheels should we have another mishap.
The day crept along with us missing the odd peg but generally getting most things right. About mid-afternoon we came to the speed section. “ I should be ok here,” I thought to myself, “I’ve just read the book on Burt Munro and The Worlds Fastest Indian, so with a bit of luck I can get this little Cherokee Indian through here in super quick time. I guess up in heaven Burt’s going to be proud of me.”
“Follow the pegs and be careful going over the small bank over there. Finish with your back wheels stopped between these blue pegs here,” was Murray Browns instructions.
 I carefully watched as Peter Lowish manhandled his Pajero from peg to peg. It was an impressive display of flying mud & debris as the poor Pajero maxed out towards the finishing line, completely missing the last 20 meters of the course, out the finishing gate and kept going. As the clock kept ticking he was told to back up and complete the course. I’m secretly thinking “What a fool. I won’t do that,” as I charge around the circuit minus my navigator again. I ease the speed off as I clear the bank and then foot hard down again as I completely left the track and nearly took out a fence. Sorry about that Pete. Looks like I’m the fool. In the distance I can see the ever-prying eyes of the constabulary shuffling about like a pair of hedgehogs. “Damn. I guess another fine. I’m going to name them ‘Rust’ & ‘Corrosion’. They never sleep.”
The event rolled to a close with the hum of engines returning to the marshalling area from all corners of this beautiful Kikawa playground. While the judges compiled the results, the boys decided to play. The main target seemed to be a steep climb of about 50 meters. ‘Corrosion’ wound his way to the top, turned in limited space and drove back down. Leo Van Workum followed, easily taking his HiLux to the top and then carefully reversed down. Then some fool shouts, “Come on Lex. Give it a go.” I set off quietly trying to crawl to the top in a display of beautifully controlled Jeep power. MISTAKE! Half way up we lost traction, the motor stalled, and with no vacuum assistance on the brakes, we charged down backwards with all of my 112 kgs pressed hard down on the break pedal. I was too ashamed to look at the terror in the navigator’s eyes as I listened to the cheers & jeers from the on looking crowd. On the second attempt we climbed effortlessly under ‘aggressive Jeep power’ (well it sounds good) and had a controlled reverse back down with brakes this time.
Everyone gathered for the final results and I was stunned to be presented with the Mag & Turbo overall winner of the day trophy. “Jeez the rest must have been bad,” I whispered to navigator.
The biggest cheer came when the ‘Dick of the day’ trophy was jointly awarded to ‘Rust’ & ‘Corrosion’
Aptly deserved I feel, the way they sneak about with their beady eyes ever searching.

So that’s why, as I sat with my fist wrapped around a nice cold beer, Sav told me, “You have to write a trip report too. It’s tradition for the winner to do one.”

Thanks for cleaning my truck while I was at work ‘Navigator’.

Cheers people,
Lex Bloomfield

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Sunday 3rd December,
Trip Leader Sav & Browny
with help from Kooze, Scotty & Tracey
Trip Reporter Lloyd Knowles
I sneaked in late hense the trip report. The property was 4km south of Kikiwa, 12 hazzards were set out mainly in and out of the creek. Lots of gravel and large stones.
14 vehicles started, all was going good until Lex spiked his tyre on a stump. After negotiating the first 4 sections we moved on to the next 4 which got a little harder.
After lunch we did these 4 again, the bog got deeper and the bank coming out of the section was only just clearable for those with lockers.
The last four hazzards were further down the creek. An ugly bank was all but the best and the creek got a bit tight for the long wheel base vehicles.
I saw someone backing up in the speed mud section so that must have been rather deep. Most trucks got around the course with little to no damage and had a great day in the mud and rocks.
Thanks to Sav, Browny and team.
Could someone fill in the results as I had to dash off to my domestic chores that were still waiting at home.