To Hell and Back - Nurburgring

by Gary Theron

Nelson's Column bade me farewell as I rounded Trafalgar Square and headed off into Southwark and down the Old Kent Road towards Dover.  I normally take the train into work from the sleepy Kentish village where I live, but today the BMW GS was kitted and left parked outside the offices in London, in prep for departure.  I'd decided to return to the famous Nürburgring in Germany, after last year's thwarted attempt to get onto the circuit.  The plan was to leave London at 2pm and charge hard across Europe for as long as I felt strong.  Road works slowed proceedings considerably, and when I finally cleared greater London I was running well behind schedule, so the GS was given its head and allowed a little turn of speed.

I arrived at the Channel Tunnel in time to drive straight onto the boarding ramp, and then onto the train.  Parked there were a (rather brave) chap and his partner on a Ducati 916 Biposto and a Honda Hornet respectively, both kitted up and ready for a trip to Paris and beyond.   In the natural way of things we chatted up a storm, and then wished each other safe passage as the train pulled into Calais.  It was 6pm as the GS rolled out onto French soil, and began the charge eastwards.  As I headed in the direction of Lille it struck me again just how much the average motorist is abstracted from the elements.  The smells, the road texture, and the changes in temperature all contribute to make the motorcycling experience so much more involving.  The road rolled on, past Lille (which is like Witbank, but not as pretty), and into Belgium.  Near Mons I stopped for petrol, and had a ten minute chat to a chap on a 1098R who spoke no English.  Given that I speak no French it was interesting, but the commonality we had discussing tyre choices and exhaust modifications, along with his genuine intent to converse meant it was brilliant.  Then au revoir and back on the road again, heading ever eastwards to use the last of the daylight.  The sun was hanging low in the sky by now, not in an African-style explosion across the horizon, but rather as a solitary red orb bidding a lonely farewell to the day.  I left Flanders and entered Wallonia, and by the time I approached Liège it was 21:45 and I was feeling tired.  I stopped at some decidedly budget accommodation next to the motorway, but was informed that there was no room in the inn.  And that, due to a big exhibition in town, I was unlikely to find a bed.  Nice.  Some intense haggling, allied with the promise of an early exit yielded a room, and I crashed for the evening, knackered.

The view from the window at 6am was damp, misty, and a little miserable.  Undeterred, I pulled the leathers on and set off for Germany.  On my way to one of the world's great racetracks, I passed by another - Spa-Francorchamps.  I made a mental note for a future trip, and carried on towards the Eifel mountains.  There's a special place your mind goes to when you're alone inside the helmet, the earplugs serving to focus your imagination.  Into Germany now, and the road through the Naturpark Hohes Venn-Eifel was very slow due to the heavy mist.  The Nürburgring Grand Prix Circuit (a separate track) was having an event for vintage cars, so after getting lost by following old MGs and Triumph TR6s, I eventually found myself at the Nordschleife circuit by about 10am.

Wikipedia says "It was built in the 1920s around the village and medieval castle of Nürburg in the Eifel, which is about 70 kilometres south of Cologne.  Nicknamed The Green Hell by Jackie Stewart, it is widely considered the toughest, most dangerous and most demanding purpose-built race track in the world."  This 20.8 km circuit is open to the public on certain days, and technically forms part of the German road network.  In theory it's a public toll-road that happens to be one-way, which means that road rules (with the exception of speed limits) apply.  European insurance companies long ago stopped treating it as a normal road though, and almost all of them explicitly exclude it from their policies.  The circuit was supposed to open at 11, but was kept closed due to poor visibility.

I decided to be positive about the prospects, and bought a lap for the princely sum of €22.  I sat down to wait with a cup of coffee and surveyed the scene.  There was a huge array of vehicles parked and ready, with an excited conversational buzz from the owners.  Everything from highly-modded Aston-Martins to the ubiquitous 911s and some classic BMWs (635Csi / 3.0 CSL).  Plenty of Lotus 7 replicas and Cobras too, as well as any superbike you care to mention.  I got chatting to a group of Geordies, with accents so strong I had to keep asking them to repeat themselves.  They’d long since dispensed with any use of consonants, and I swear it’s easier to understand German than English in that form.  A buzz went through the waiting area as the circuit was declared open around midday, despite the conditions still being pretty poor.  I got the GS into the queue, through the barriers, and onto the circuit.  I managed to find some blokes on Suzuki K8s that were going conservatively, so I settled in behind them to watch for braking points & lines.  The first flurry of Porsches that came belting past me gave me a bit of a fright, because I’m just not used to cars overtaking me.  It’s not the natural order of things.  I peaked at around 200 km/h, but probably did the slowest lap in Nordschleife history.  Utterly amped after the lap, I sat down to discuss it with other riders, and to compare notes.  While we were doing this the visibility was deemed too poor, and the circuit was closed again.  We were unbelievably fortunate to have got onto the circuit.

I wandered over to the Ring Taxi area, and got chatting to some Americans who’d bought a few laps.  Their son is an amateur racing driver in California, and they’d treated him to a trip to the ‘Ring.  The euphemistically named “Ring Taxi” is a decidedly non-standard BMW M5 that you can buy passenger laps in, for the paltry consideration of €185 per lap.  BMW have modified the brakes, suspension, and probably a good few other bits on these cars for the purpose.  Such is the state of tune, and the toll extracted on the cars, that they replace the tyres every 10 laps, the brakes every 20 laps, and the entire suspension every 50.  The actual cost to BMW is reputed to be €480 per lap, so they run the exercise at a massive loss in the name of marketing to petrolheads.  These laps are piloted by professional racing drivers, and are normally fully booked months in advance.  The Americans kindly offered me one of their seats on a lap, and I was overjoyed at the prospect.  Although the circuit was closed to the public, these professionals were still out there doing laps.  So at 3pm my turn arrived, I stuck my name badge on (I was now a Mr K Norich, no indemnity forms required), and strapped myself in.  The circuit was still misty, and empty but for us.  Mr Norich Junior (the amateur racing driver) informed our driver that we were Not Your Normal Passengers, and therefore he was Not To Spare The Horses.