2008 Northwest 200 - Luck Of The Irish

Umbrella girls maybe aren't as fetching as those at a MotoGP round, but we're not complaining.

Umbrella girls maybe aren't as fetching as those at a MotoGP round, but we're not complain

The Main Event
The triangular-shaped Northwest 200 race course is a spectator's Valhalla thanks to the endless viewing opportunities afforded by the undulating landscape. In the minutes just before the small army of marshals announce the "roads closed" directive, swarms of sportbikes zip along the course in a mad dash to find the best viewing spot. Though ignoring the posted speed limits may be an accepted way to travel in these parts, the motorcycle cops here are no joke. Many ride Honda CBR1100XXs or Kawasaki ZX-10Rs adorned with sirens and police lights. "We don't get anyone trying to outrun us like you would in the States. Instead, we pull them aside for a friendly taking to," explains officer Paul Symignton, who works with UK motorcycle safety program Bikesafe. The police superbikes have proven popular with the crowds, and Symington claims the program has even fostered a sense of camaraderie between Irish Republicans from the South and the Northern Irish police, something solely lacking in previous years. "I stopped to chat with a bunch of lads from the Republic and now they've invited me for a day of off-road riding. That's something a sporting event can do that politics can't."

Conditions have improved a great deal in this area in recent years, reckons Jim Tate, a marshal from Belfast who's worked in the Northwest for 45 years. He mentions "the troubles" that made Northern Ireland a war zone for 30 years as reluctantly as possible, and is elated to see no signs of political infighting during the race. Anyway, he says, there are more important matters at hand, like making sure the riders who leave the start/finish line end up there again. "Back in the 1950s and '60s, before the safety standards were up to date, you had riders at York Corner failing to make the turn and riding right into the water. I was there when Martin Finnegan was killed and I've seen a lot, but you get this in your blood and you'll come back. I'll bet I see you here again," he says with a wink.

Many of the locals are aware of the appeal of the Northwest 200 and take full advantage. Private homes erect construction scaffolding for viewers and charge a couple of pounds for a "seat." On the long, blindingly fast straights from Gavally to University Corner, the event has the homey atmosphere of an Irish county fair, with farmers, local hotties and would-be boy-racers all lining the fences for a look. Grandmothers proudly show off infants born over the previous winter, the smell of greasy fried food wafts in from mobile kitchens and grizzled old men who look like characters from a frozen fish package openly wager on who'll finish where. Race day feels like a scene stolen from one of those quirky Irish independent films on late-night cable TV. This being a British protectorate, my bold red Triumph draws approving glances from locals. Nationalism is fierce, and I'm told many times there will be a huge celebration once Triumph wins here.

Watching practice, I notice a Honda CBR1000RR trailing the racers, the rider's leather-clad frame overloaded with dayglo-orange satchels. That's Alistair Murray, an emergency room physician from Dublin who's part of a trio of very fast and competent physicians who chase the pack around the course, attending to fallen riders. Murray has run the course for five years, reaching speeds of 180 mph. He doesn't have a race license as do the other two doctors, but he has no problem staying just behind the roaring pack of superbikes during the race. "We're as fast as the backmarkers because we have to be to deal with those first crucial 10 to 15 minutes of care," he says. It was one of Murray's crew who reached Robert Dunlop after his practice accident, administering CPR in an attempt to save the fallen rider's life.

The surrounding towns and the Northwest paddock took Dunlop's death hard, and for a while on the Friday before Saturday's big race, there were serious discussions of whether the event would continue. Both of Robert's sons, Michael and William, were slated to compete, and though officials leaned toward preventing 20-year-old Michael from competing, he insisted on taking to the grid for the 250cc race. Unlike the Isle of Man TT, the Northwest 200 features a mass-start, and mine weren't the only fingers crossed as the wailing two-strokes filed past. The little 250s can reach some impressive top speeds, and the four-lap event goes by in a haze of blue exhaust smoke and stolen glances at the massive video screens fed by heli-cams. Though young William's machine failed to launch on the starting line, the crowd let out a cheer as Michael beat last year's winner Christian Ekin to the checkered flag. In a scene fit for a movie, Michael took the podium and then broke down in tears as he dedicated the win to his late father.

Later that evening, under teary-eyed toasts in a Colerane pub, I was asked whether I'd be back to see the Northwest 200 again. "I think John McGuinness summed it up perfectly," I replied. "I don't know what else I'd want to do."

By Simon Green

Enjoyed this Post? Subscribe to our RSS Feed, or use your favorite social media to recommend us to friends and colleagues!