A passion for rally-going

Brian Early

SPECIAL TO THE STAR

If everyone looked at rally spectating purely from a logical perspective, nobody would ever go.

Let's face it: you'll be lucky to see more than a few hundred metres of any one particular stage at a time, and unless you're in radio contact with the organizers, you likely won't have a clue as to how well (or poorly) the competitors are doing (beyond their running order) until you return to rally HQ.

If you don't live or stay locally, you'll have to get up pretty early in order to get to whatever remote venue it is that's hosting the rally, not to mention getting to the sections of the route where spectating is possible. The roads that are being used for the rally itself are, of course, closed, upping the level of difficulty in accessing those locations.

Speaking of challenges, unlike nearly any other kind of competitive auto racing, rallying occurs pretty much regardless of weather. At this year's Perce-Neige Maniwaki Rally, which took place in Maniwaki, Que., in February, a stage had to be shortened because a snowplow broke down and got stuck in the middle. That's tough.

Bancroft in late November might not be Quebec in winter, but its Rally of the Tall Pines has its own unpredictability. Two years ago it was raining and misty for much of the day, the roads (and spectator areas) sloppy. Last year it was well below zero and the stages snow-covered.

This year the day started with an ice fog and frozen road surfaces, warming up to a sunny, T-shirt-friendly 12C around midday, before dipping back to the freezing point for the night stages. Boy Scout-style preparedness was required to be sure.

So what is the allure? Well, just as sitting in your den watching a hockey game fails to capture the essence of being at the venue — hearing the echo of the puck off the boards, feeling the energy of the crowd, even the tactile sensations of having beer spilled on you when the home team scores — watching a rally in person immerses you in the experience.

No high-definition big-screen TV can hope to reproduce the scent of burned race fuel that lingers after some of the more serious competitors pass by. There isn't a home theatre made that can effectively recreate the staccato sound of gravel ricocheting off the underbody of a Subaru Impreza WRX in mid-corner drift as its engine bounces off the rev-limiter, all less than a few metres from you.

Perhaps attempting to stave off hypothermia, your fellow fans will scream, cheer, wave and sound air horns as the cars fly by — and the activity level increases substantially during the night stages, as the temperature drops and the crowd's alcohol content increases.

Day or night, near "offs" and displays of brilliant driving — or simply perversely lucky recoveries — often elevate the crowd response to near manic intensity.

For many of these attendees, being a car nut must be a factor, but part of the passion has to be due to how accessible Canadian rallying is. Not only is it free to attend (even the parking), fans are also allowed to wander around the pit areas; the drivers, co-drivers, and crews are happy to talk to you; and you can watch the service crews working in their improvised pit areas between stages. That amount of interaction gives you a real sense of involvement.

Vehicles range from the high-end, professionally constructed open-class cars and factory-supported Suzuki Swifts (competing in P2), to nearly "run-what-cha-brung" home-built efforts — they're often as much the crowd favourites as the pro entries. Who wouldn't cheer for such underdog contenders as a vintage 1967 Ford Cortina in full Lotus Cortina livery, a pylon-orange 1977 Porsche 911 Targa, or even a noticeably battle-scarred Toyota Paseo?

The running of "real" vehicles has got to make it easier for the spectators to relate to than something like an open-wheel racing series.

You get the impression as you walk around the staging area that if you really wanted to, you could be participating next year — and you honestly could. This is a sport where 20-year-old Volkswagens and well-worn Civics can be competitive. There are several "stock" classes where big budgets are not necessarily required — the aforementioned Porsche was said to be a $4,500 eBay purchase. Just don't expect to take the overall championship.

The rally program itself offers alternative forms of competition to performance rallies like Tall Pines — such as Navigation (accuracy in time and distance, not speed) and Rally Cross (the "Solo 1" of rallying) — that don't require temporarily shelving your self-preservational instincts or installing a roll cage in your daily driver.

If it's just involvement that you are seeking, much of the rally is operated by volunteers, who play such crucial roles as marshal, traffic controller and timekeeper. They can always use more help.

Still, it's not hard to feel a part of the whole thing just by being there. That's the beauty of it, and that's why I go.

This was the third year that three buddies and I have attended Tall Pines. Hitting the 35/115 at around 6:15 a.m., we made it to Bancroft in time to have a quick breakfast at the Eagle's Nest Restaurant before catching the 9 a.m. ceremonial start at Rally HQ.

We went with the "VIP Package" offered by the rally organizers the first year to get a feel for the event, and have continued to do so because, well frankly, we're lazy. We paid $135 each for the convenience of being shuttled around in coaches and fed throughout the day.

Available through the Tall Pines website (www.tallpinesrally.com), the cost isn't unreasonable once you factor in the meals, snacks and the heated tent provided at the "Iron Bridge" spectator area.

Otherwise we'd have had to drive ourselves a few kilometres east of town to the bridge to catch the three daytime passes the competitors make on that stage. There's plenty of free parking in a nearby field.

Following the Iron Bridge stages it was back to HQ for the "No. 3 Service" at about 2 p.m. It's an opportunity for many fans to relax and grab some food before trekking southwest on Highway 28 to Dyno Rd. in order to catch the two nighttime runs at the Castledine's Corner spectator area. (The VIPs drive a stage in the tour bus and then have dinner before being bused to Castledine's.)

Arrive early at Castledine's, though, because the spectators' cars are parked literally for kilometres down the sides of the only access road — there'll be some walking involved. After the final "sweep" cars have gone by, it's time to head back to HQ for the finish podium and awards ceremony, plus a post-rally party.

Not for us, though. Now a little after 11 p.m., it was time for us to make our way home, where after a long day that included a 350-km round trip and many hours spent on the side of gravel roads, all we wanted was our beds.

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