I could see it from the driver's
point of view. The bikes always
went first, thus ensuring the best
weather, and you had to be within
the top 20 percent of the fastest
drivers to even stand a chance of
making it to the summit before the
clouds rolled in and the organiz-
ers progressively cut the course.
Usually this first stoppage was at
Devil's Playground, then it would
stop at Glen Cove, about a third of
the way up the hill.
I always felt bad for the drivers.
Imagine prepping a car for a full
year with only the smallest hope
you'd be fast enough to beat
the rain and make it to the top?
When you consider the financial
outlay that concerned, it seemed
like a waste at best.
At this point, the blame lays
squarely at the feet of the race
organizers. The first year I raced
there in 2016, there were (from
memory) 100 entries—cars and
bikes—that needed to get up
the hill. That's an extraordinarily
optimistic number, especially
when you factor in the inevitable
crashes and breakdowns and
stoppages that will occur, not to
mention the weather, of which
they were acutely aware. It only
got a little better in the proceed-
ing years, where less cars and
bikes were admitted to the start,
thus enabling at least a glimmer
L
ast week, the Pikes Peak
International Hill Climb for-
mally canceled the motor-
cycle racing portion of the Pikes
Peak racing activities.
Following the death of Carlin
Dunne in 2019, the race was put
on hiatus for a couple of years as
the race organizers conducted an
"analysis for long-term viability" of
the bikes being a part of the event.
When I was told of this, I im-
mediately met it with suspicion.
Having raced the last four
PPIHC events, I always got the
sneaking suspicion we (the rid-
ers) were, not so much as unwel-
come, but a nuisance at an event
primarily run for cars.
P126
CN
III LOWSIDE
BY RENNIE SCAYSBROOK
No more will
motorcycles take on
one of the greatest
challenges in racing.
THE
RACE TO
THE
CLOUDS
