TeamD Adventures

Friday night was unseasonably warm. My first trip to the car Saturday morning said so; descending the stairs from the second floor balcony at the hotel, I heard the sounds of escaping water in the downspouts. The roof’s snow cap was disappearing.

We went to breakfast, early, so as to stay out of the crush later. The short drive to and from the Coldwater Cafe brought out our sunglasses. With temperatures up, I bled off a bit less air from our BMW’s tires than I’d planned to – since rocks and potholes now seemed more likely than rivers of snow. By start time, Reid was walking about without a jacket. Our own AlCan-spec coats and pants stayed stuffed in their bags.

At 4:00 p.m. on Saturday, we’d been through three full sections… and no snow. We weren’t having much trouble holding the CAST, and we expected others weren’t, either. At The Thunderbird, both Unlimited cars and Historic cars run full computers, which meant that a dozen cars might then share our score. Perhaps even that estimate was low: no less than ten cars carried at least one past winner, and the hungry not-yet-winners with A-boxes filled a half-dozen more. Unless something changed, and quickly, the first day’s scores would be shockingly (someone said unnaturally) low.

Two things changed.

The first was perfectly predictable. Our GPS, stuck to the dash in front of the co-driver for its occasional hints about hairpins, steadily ticked up in elevation. 900 meters. 1100 meters. 1370 meters. 1604 meters. Climbing, we found snow. But it wasn’t widespread, and not too deep, and the roads were not too icy underneath. Some new was falling, medium-sized flakes out of a concrete sky.

The second thing that changed turned the rally … into a rout. Within minutes, less than half an hour, certainly, the wind had come up. It pressed on the trees, steady, and firm, and inescapable. It constrained whatever it touched, and captured whatever was loose. Sprigs of evergreens stripped from branches tumbled along the road. The falling snow marshaled into channels, and crashed in wintry rapids. Wherever the ground gave shelter, broad streamlined drifts were forming. Banks of snow in the air, thick as pea soup, moved over us and instantly blotted out our surroundings, then moved on as suddenly as they’d come. Dusk was approaching, though to this point we’d not turned up our lights.

A little breezy

We were the second competitor car on the course, and naturally we were monitoring the rally’s HAM frequency. Car One called, “Rallymaster stuck”, just before we arrived. Along a slight hill, an oblique drift was erasing the road, and the front-wheel-drive Car Zero hadn’t made it through. It took a quarter-hour to pull him down, and break trail sufficiently with higher rigs to proceed. During this exercise, the blizzard got its footing; and thus braced, its power forced us to abandon the section.

Rallymaster, standing in front of his extracted car, hoping the Forester can break through the drift

Our return to the highway coincided with nightfall. The succeeding transit down to Merritt (for gas before the final section) had the tenor of a full-scale retreat. Perverse mechanical maladies appeared; broken wipers, shorted alternators, flickering taillights, sputtering engines, pulling brakes. Bands of wounded cars limped through the slush and, lower, standing water toward the service station. Some went single-file, and some went three abreast – but since the lane markers were obscured, we drove wherever we could. It was rush hour in Naples.

The organizers kept their senses, though, and were counting noses. Before long everyone was accounted for – but by this time, it was getting late. Kamloops, the overnight stop, was still 80km away, and the storm was coming after us. Rather than send 50 cars southeast again, up toward the lodge of the Snow King, the last section was canceled. Heading for the hotel and banquet spot, we diced with fearless semis and eased past petrified minivans, and made… good time … to Kamloops.

After dinner, we saw the day’s preliminary scores. The low end of the scale was packed. The trail-breaking Forester, with multiple past winner Glenn Wallace driving and R. Dale Kraushaar navigating, had 0 points for the entire day.

Next, a pair of Historic cars each had 1 point — and each of those cars had broken at least once by Saturday night. Another pair, Unlimiteds, including last year’s winners, sat at 2. Then FIVE cars at 3 points. And so on… Most couldn’t quite wrap their minds around it. “We’re only 4 points off the lead!” “Yeah… that’s ten places.”

Renee noticed one team conspicuous by their absence from the single-digit region. Thunderbird first-timer Larry LeFebvre, driving for past winner Brandon Harer, had 300+ points. “Yep, we went off”, admitted Larry. Fair enough; they weren’t the only ones. But Renee saw something else: a certain twinkle in Brandon’s eye. We’ve seen it before.

Thunderbird had 49 cars (wow!).  The sheer number of people, combined with our early arrival, and the close proximity of the hotel, meant we had the time and the inclination to work on the restaurant’s stock of refreshments – ’til they ran out of beer.  Back to the hotel, where rooms on every floor stood open for more hospitality. Most folks were asleep by midnight, though, and up early for Sunday’s 8 a.m. start.

The tireless organizers finished scoring overnight, incorporating the time decs that the preliminary scores hadn’t. The corrections showed another tie existed. Brandon and Larry matched Glenn & R. Dale, point for point. Errr, or no-point for no-point. The loss of Saturday’s checkpoints might be blamed — but these experts run so well they might’ve sailed through even the blizzard cleanly. With just four sections to run on Sunday, only very difficult conditions or gross errors could push these teams apart — if neither occurred, some complex tie-breaking seemed inevitable.

But the roads on Sunday ran lower, and the skies were clear. Some folks went off Sunday, but not the front-runners. T-Bird’s last chance to give out big points fell along with a monstrous fir. The tree blocked the road, and the reroute skipped the best (by that I mean worst) part of the final section. In Merritt, the rallymaster reported, with a mix of surprise and accomplishment, that everyone had finished.  I got the sense that this was a first; in each of the preceding 23 years, at least one DNF occurred.

We still had two cars at 0. The leaders, all four of them, are gentlemen and good sports, too. They all seemed a bit embarrassed to argue that they should prevail over a competitor with the same null score. Normal tie breakers fail under this kind of pressure, and The Thunderbird’s failed. But I think the right answer was reached.

Time-Speed Distance rallies are contests of precision. The superior team is that which demonstrates greater precision, as measured by a lower score. Alas, these two teams perfected precision. So much so that their skills exceeded the rally’s ability to measure them. As odd as it sounds, The Thunderbird’s challenges of time, and speed, and distance were insufficient to indicate the superior team.

The organizers, a bit spooked, tried to apply a higher standard of precision to the existing measurements. But once the vessel’s empty, once the spirits are exhausted, gazing at its drying walls will not bring forth new insights on the quality of the contents. At best, we measure memories, impressions of that substance that is no more. Once the graduated cylinder of precision is empty, the rally’s intrinsic power to anoint the better team has failed. Trying to cleave more and more finely through segments is futile once the kerf is wider than the slice. At that point, you’re just making hash.

When we can no longer discriminate by precision, we must find another measure. It can’t be something internal to the rally; that yardstick’s spent. What can take up the task, then, when precision’s discrimination is too crude? I’ll tell you: it’s difficulty on the road.

For instance, suppose a Calculator class car and an Unlimited class car have the *same* score on a TSD rally. The teams’ precision is equal, by definition: scores are how we measure precision. But which is the superior team? Is it not the team that faced more difficulty, the Calculator car? Their achievement has more substance, does it not? Who will deny that the Calculator team is superior?

What about two teams at the same score, but one’s done the job despite a vehicle deficiency? (like two wheel drive; but I digress…)

Or two teams at 0 points — and one team’s gone off, but dug themselves out, and get moving again, and despite pounding hearts and sweating brows, blasts through the rest of the section at exactly Car 0 plus their number plus TimeDec minutes?

The point is — for teams which have identical scores  — which team had it harder?  Doesn’t that signify something? Remember, we’re already past splitting hairs, these two are tied up tighter’n a constrictor band at steering day.*

Back to Sunday afternoon… there was a hasty decision on the winner, based on a penalty for use of a time dec — but the steward vetoed that easy answer, as the time dec rules were clear and no penalty was due. Instead, a “more precise” timing method revealed the team that was “cleaner longer” than all other teams, and Larry and Brandon, were crowned as Overall Winners of The Thunderbird.

It’s the right answer, according to my “more difficulty on the road” tiebreaker, because they did go off… and yet came back to zero both days.

The Thunderbird is one of the great rallies of our time. Next year is the rally master’s Silver Anniversary. Watch for it to be announced in 2012 — and let’s make it a sellout of 60 cars.

* yes, I’m betting most folks won’t get that.

(Dan’s photos are here) (Warwick’s photos here , and Event web site will have results and links)

First I want to thank co-driver Hans for all the help prepping the car. After doing such dirty jobs as installing the power steering pump and bathing in PS fluid, he went on to navigate us to the smallest amount of points we have ever scored on a two day event.

Well, it would have been the smallest score …

48 cars entered the event and all finished. I think that may be a first. Of those who went into a snow bank or ditch, all were extracted with little or no damage. Probably the most harrowing experience was had by the Sonnet and 240Z with windshield wiper problems that made proceeding in the blowing snow and then later mixed rain/snow more than a slight problem. Always good to think about those ancillary systems and how they can shut you down if not working properly.

We left Seattle for Merritt, B.C. on Friday afternoon. With the car properly timed and running well, along with clear roads, the climb up and over the Coquihalla pass was uneventful. That would change in 24 hours. In Merritt we connected with event teammates in an ’01 Subaru WRX (Jeff & Marvin, winners of last year’s event, Unlimited, car#1), an ’83 Audi Quattro (Steve and Eric, Historic, #8) and an ’05 Subie Impreza (Steve and Kathryn, Paper, #17). To round out the team Jeff signed up a novice class car from BC, a 2011 Subaru STi (Scott and TJ, #38). Jokes about them sailing off the first curve proved unfounded. We were assigned #9 and were happy to be behind our friends in their loaner Audi.

TeamD stalwarts Renee and Marinus abandoned us to be part of the formidable Team AFRICA and were in car #2.

Saturday’s weather broke cloudy and warm. The start at 1100 took us to the first section, one we’ve seen before. Hans had the computer serving his every whim and while the road wasn’t very icy or snowy, it was a bit slimy in spots due to mud. Subsequent sections saw the weather turn colder and windier, then the snow began. We started the penultimate section near Peachland and heard on the radio that the rallymaster (car 0) was stuck in a significant drift. Due to the amount of time it took to get things going again, the remainder of the section was canceled as well as the final section and we drove to Kamloops; in the other direction the Coquihalla was closed due to ice and blowing snow. Our novices didn’t get the word and they drove that last cancelled section — the only car to do so, apart from the worker car that was trying to catch them to turn them back.

Scores for the first day revealed that competition was going to be incredibly tight. Two cars had finished with no penalty points. A number of others, including cars #1, #2, #4 (Saab Sonnet), #8 and #9 had one, two or three points. We were quite pleased to be sitting with three points for the day and contending for the Historic class title. The problem with that class is that all of the other old cars are piloted by very experienced teams who would make us work hard to stay in the running. Just for reference, a typical top score at the end of the first day has been 5-10 points in prior years. The combination of fairly snow-free roads, excellent navvie work, and loss of checkpoints due to cancelled sections all combined to produce the low penalties.
On Sunday morning the storm had passed and we were on the road at 0830. The Audi was having problems with loss of brake fluid, eventually diagnosed to a broken plastic nipple on the clutch master. After scavenging enough fluid to get to the break in Barriere, Eric fabbed a fix that allowed limited clutch time using a piece of BMW brake line. Genius.

The first regularities passed quickly, and we had Jeff’s GoPro camera on the car for Adams Lake where we were entertained by a coyote dashing across the road and a Ron and Max in a checkpoint trying to hide behind branches and a snow fort.

And then the Westsyde regularity. Just a couple of kilometers into the section, on a twisty uphill section with decent grip, I managed to go slightly more straight than the arc of the road demanded. I thought it was a mild off, but the car was high centered with one wheel off the road in deep snow. There was no backing out of this one. While Hans deployed the warning triangle I began digging under the skid plate. With only one shovel we had to trade off – that’s a mistake we will avoid repeating. A number of teammates and competitors stopped to ask if we wanted assistance but we refused due to the assistance penalty we would incur. Unfortunately it took repeated attempts of pushing and digging along with 28 minutes of effort to extract ourselves from my mistake. Instant 300 point penalty.
After getting back on the road we wanted to continue the event with as few points as possible. As long as we made up time, we’d not be penalized further. We were able to safely pass rally traffic a number of times, and we appreciated the room that was provided when needed. Just as we made our way through Kamloops to the start of the final scored section, we learned that a downed tree required a re-route and we were back on our minute due to the delay.

At the Merritt finish, we learned that the 0 point cars from the prior day had kept their streak alive. Most everyone else took a few more points, but not enough to make scoring easy to determine placement. Tie scores were broken by most number of actual zeroes, resulting in Larry and Brandon (BMW 325 iX) edging out Glenn and R. Dale (Subaru Forester). The four (or was it five?) way tie for third was decided in the same fashion. The team prize is still undecided, but we know that with the Audi’s mechanical and the Saab’s operator problems, Team Rainier is not a contender. And the Saab’s score? 303. We scored 3 points on Saturday and I scored 300 on Sunday. Those points are mine, all mine.

The Thunderbird Rally is the premier BC event. We never know what the weather will throw at us, and that’s part of all the fun. Thanks to Paul and his crew for another primo rally.

Welcome to another edition of Fundamental Physics In Everyday Life. Today we’re contemplating the subset of the universe demarcated by the 3-space boundaries of your vintage car. We’ll be diving into the car’s electrical system to explore power flows.

Let’s start with a quiz question:  What does the second law of thermodynamics assert?

• 1.   A pointed object or sharp edge concentrates energy at the tip or along the edge.
• 2.  Energy flows from hot to cold.
• 3.  An increase in the volume of electrical energy lowers its pressure.

I’m glad we’re all on the same page here — the answer is #2.

But I hear the smart-alecks in the back asking,

“This law nicely describes the working of the radiator, but what has it got to do with the electrical system?”

Well, I could say that the physics of energy do not depend on of the form of the energy; thus a similar (in the strict sense) law would describe the working of the auxiliary lighting system — but I’d rather admit that my scientific-sounding opening was a mere gambit* to attract your attention, and jump quickly to the photos.  I’ve been working on the

Here’s the nose of the ’83 Audi, showing half of the aux light brackets and a moose-pipe full of wires.

Yep, I’m omitting the inner factory headlights, which would have been obscured by the driving lights anyway.  I’m hoping that the additional airflow through those empty headlight-holes may offset the flow blocked by the Hellas.

Here’s the fresh ground point for those lights.  Ah, that battleship grey enamel makes me homesick for the service. “Lay it on, cut it off”.

A couple of circuit breakers bolted to the alternator. When I got it, the car had a hot lead coming off the alternator output running straight to a relay and then to accessories… and not a fuse in sight. <yeek!>

Custom “Y” jumper to feed the breakers.

I’d have routed all the juice through one, but (does some quick figuring of watts divided by volts…) 420 watts of lighting pretty much eats up one AWG 8 cable. If you’re gonna run the radiator fan, too, ….

* Well, okay — I was thinking that earths are terribly important in older cars, and isn’t it funny how a car’s isolated from the Earth by the rubber tires, so has its own “relative” ground. Er, earth potential.

We left Anchorage early Wednesday morning.  We made it home today, Saturday, about 1pm.  Three days of 700+ miles each day to get to Portland.  Last night, we stayed at the Sumas Mountain Lodge.  It’s a very nice place.

We discussed the rally at length over dinner two nights ago with old friends and new in New Hazelton.  Gave us all a sense of closure.  (We recommend Rob’s Restaurant there, BTW. )  All in all, we had fun on the rally and we learned a few things, too.

It’s summer still in Portland.  The wagon is unpacked.  It was the right car to bring on the summer AlCan.  Marinus took it to get a wash and detail at the local car wash.  It’ll go to the Q-tip place soon.  The windshield has one serious rock chip, but the front doesn’t seem any worse for wear. There’s at least 50 pounds of mud underneath. The wagon has been appropriately named Bette after Bette Davis.  Jeff gets credit for that.

We’re weary, having driven 7,000 miles in the last 14 days.   The trip from Sumas to Portland seemed to take more than the 5 hours, more like 15.   We observed more troopers between Bellingham and Everett this morning than we had during the entire 2 weeks prior.  Still a great deal of stuff left to do: post photos, get Marilyn’s windshield repaired before Totem (instead of Bette), 2 weeks of laundry, etc.

wXYZ did well:  Jason (Z) on bike 17 finished 12th overall, 4th in class IV, his first rally. Webb/Hines (Y) in car #1 finished 4th overall, 3rd in class I.  The w was to have been Jones/Gould, but they were unable to attend this year.  We will see them though in 2012.  Congratulations go to Wallace/Kraushaar/Pierce in car #2 for their overall win and class II, Watt, bike 23, won class IVS, Chatigny, bike 20, won class III, Brisendine, bike 14, won class IV, Garner/Jenkins, car 8, won IIS, Hanson/Toney, car 5, won IS. Everyone finished the rally including all the staff.

The Summer AlCan has a different feel to it, not better nor worse than the Winter version.  Everyone just seems more independent.   It’s the extroverted AlCan compared to the introverted Winter version.  There’s still all the practical jokes, radio chat and competitiveness.   I think Glenn captured it best:  the team boundaries broke down and it became a group of ralliers traveling together.

All the cars in the driveway have a full tank of gas.  Must be another rally right around the corner.

See  you all on the road.

Ahhh.  We finished. Tuesday started with a troublesome TSD called Valdez.  A couple of transposed numbers and a few mileage reference problems resulted in the section being tossed.   We headed north and west to Anchorage.  In Glenallen, we ran a straightforward section and finally on the last day accomplished one of the goals we’d made at the beginning: gets zeroes at every control in one section.   The final section was called Wasilla.  Team 1 was troubled by a school bus, but our luck held out.  Bike 17 nearly didn’t run it due to difficulties with the bike starting a few minutes before the section started.

In the end we finished 2nd overall, and first in class I, 10 points behind car #2, Wallace, Kraushaar and Pierce in class IS.  Class II was won by car 5, Hanson and Toney, Class IIS was won by Jenkins and Garner in the yellow FJ Cruiser.

Results should be posted later at the new site:  www.alcan5000.net.

The 2012 Winter AlCan will follow a course similar to the 2008 one, except that it will end in Valdez, reputed to get the most snow of anywhere.  Sounds about right.

Time to head back home.  It’s Whitehorse tonight.