Racecourse A-Z Part Two

Part Two of my thumbnail sketches of our racecourses, this time G-P.

Goodwood

Set on the South Downs with stunning views on a clear day the racing is generally of a high quality.

Spacious enclosures and good viewing make for a great days racing.

My biggest gripe is the ultra-strict dress code in the Richmond Enclosure where gentlemen may only remove their jackets when somebody at the course decides they can – I’m more than capable of deciding when I’m too hot. 7/10

Hamilton

One of those so-so courses, nothing to really complain about but nothing to get over excited about either.

If there is such a thing as an “average” racecourse then Hamilton would be the one.

Haydock

I could write War And Peace about Haydock but this is a thumbnail so I will try and be succinct.

Haydock used to be one of the top National Hunt courses in the country, in the past few years it has been ruined to the point you wonder why they bother with National Hunt racing.

The course has superb enclosures and a lovely parade ring but one is left with the impression their priority is to get as many drinkers into the course as possible and never mind the racing. 3/10 where it has the potential to be a 7/10

Hexham

When I was describing Hexham to someone a few weeks ago I described it as the Goodwood of the North.

At first glance that may sound an odd comparison but in terms of a stunning natural location the comparison is apt.

On a clear day there are stunning views of the Northumbrian landscape, the trouble is clear days are the exception.

With no grandstand as such racegoers are exposed on a wild day but that should not detract.

The quality of racing is not high but a day at Hexham is invariably a pleasure. 8/10

Huntingdon

This may come as a surprise but I love Huntingdon and when I retire from covering racing the end of the year this is the course where I will take out an annual membership. (Plus they have some great reciprocals)

Visually bland, a flat (physically) course on first impression it doesn’t look much.

However the racing is of a reasonable standard, viewing is good, although a big screen at all meetings would be good. There is a very knowledgeable and passionate crowd. 8/10

Kelso

A really difficult course to get to, unless you live in the Borders of course, but well worth the trip.
Although it is probably one of the most difficult tracks to get to if you rely on public transport.

A “proper” National Hunt course, with a good knowledgeable crowd. Again not the highest quality racing but a venue for a great days racing. 8/10

Kempton

Another course which has been ruined. It was a great turf track but now flat racing is restricted to Polytrack.

Notwithstanding my not being keen on artificial surface racing, the track being set inside the turf course is too far from the stands. The floodlighting is not that good with very poor light on the far turn of the outer loop.

The one redeeming feature is the course still hosts national hunt racing. 5/10

Leicester

This is a course where my heart rules my head.

Being cold and unemotional it has little going for it.

The track itself is variable, it’s the only course I can recall seeing both” good to firm” and “soft” in the same going description. The members stand has seen better days and the racing is invariably low grade.

But I really like Leicester. They course is welcoming, I love the old stand, viewing is pretty good and the Aberdeen Angus Hot beef stall is the best food stall at any racecourse.   7/10

Lingfield

An all weather track redeemed by its turf racing.

Lingfield is one of the prettiest, best maintained tracks in the country and the Leafy Lingfield tagline is justified.

It’s a physically large track with good viewing. A good selection of food to suit all pockets and they have very informative information boards (which other courses should take note of) for the not so regular or new racegoers. 7/10

Ludlow

In my sketch about Chester I said most racegoers wouldn’t care if there was three legged donkey racing at the course.

I feel the same about Ludlow – even if they staged three legged donkey racing I would still want to go there – if only for the best stand anywhere in British racing.

If they ever think about demolishing that stand I will get contracts taken out on all those who make the decision. (that is a joke by the way, lest anyone with humour failure decides to call Knacker of The Yard – but you get my drift)

Looking like a refugee from a Victorian esplanade the magnificent flat roofed stand offers stunning views of the course and the surrounding hills, making racing a delight (although often cold as the roof is exposed)

There is no need to worry about the racing either as it is often competitive with a loyal, local crowd. 8½/10    

Market Rasen 

Rasen is another of those courses which seems to be a long way from anywhere if you aren’t a local but another where the journey is worth it.

Well laid out with excellent viewing the quality can be pretty decent as well. 8/10

Musselburgh

Musselburgh seems to have its own microclimate as when the rest of Scotland freezes they still seem to be able to race.

It’s another of those middle of the road courses, nothing flash but nothing to complain about. A good days racing and reasonable crowds.  6/10

Newbury

Newbury is an odd course – it seems too big!!

The stands are a long way back from the track and if in the stands you almost feel detached from the action.

Due to the size, unless there is a big crowd the place feels empty. On the other hand when the crowds are big they tend to get a bit “lively” - so finding the balance is difficult.

It’s a shame because the racing at Newbury is usually of a good standard but something does not feel right about it. 6½/10

Newcastle

On the plus side the enclosures are well laid out and viewing of the racing is reasonable but not perfect .

The downside of the track, especially at the “big” meetings is it mirrors the City’s nightlife – drink as much as possible and lets all get bladdered.

Perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration but it’s not far short. I know press room colleagues who refuse point blank to cover some of the big Saturday meetings because of the atmosphere. Quiet midweek meetings 6/10, big meetings 2/10

Newmarket (July)

Viewing is poor, races over 1m 2f use a dog leg out of view of the enclosures and because it is a straight course most of the viewing is head on.

That aside it is a truly delightful course – no other course in the country has a thatched weighing room or saddling boxes.

The Friday evening concerts can be packed with people not interested in the racing and teenyboppers if a boy band is performing.

Ignoring the music nights it is a delightful course and much more relaxed than it’s neighbour. 8/10 (non-music nights)

Newmarket (Rowley)

In complete contrast to the July course I find the Rowley Mile course soulless and depressing.

Viewing issues are the same as the July course but the grandstand is a concrete monstrosity which is in complete contrast to the atmospheric buildings on the July course.

Indeed the Rowley Mile course is one of those courses which is much more attractive behind than in front of the stands.

I don’t know why but the Rowley Mile seems to attract a more rowdy crowd than the July Course. 4/10

Newton Abbot

Another of those courses which offers no frills but just an honest to goodness, down to earth, grass roots National Hunt experience.

There are some knowledgeable locals but with most of their racing in the summer they attract the holiday crowd and more than their fair share of occasional racegoers.

They do have some of the best value meals you will find on a racecourse. 7/10

Nottingham

For some reason Nottingham always seems a difficult course to get to, not least if you come from the M1 you end up having do go through the city to get there.

Another of those courses which is prettier behind rather than in front of the stands. The course is functional rather than flash.

The racing is reasonable and there are worse courses to visit. 6/10

Perth

This is the course I have visited fewest times and I have not been there for five years (although I hope to rectify that next week).

From what I recall there is a loyal local following for what is another good, small, national hunt course.

Viewing isn’t particularly brilliant with the low Grandstand. 7/10

Plumpton

I’m going to start to sound like a cracked record here but we have another perfect small NH course.

Functional buildings, a testing course – especially after it has rained for a few days – and a loyal local following.

Another course with grass roots racing at its very best. 8/10

Pontefract

Look at the horizon and you will see Ferrybridge Power Station look around you and you are in a delightful park setting.

Impressive old red brick stands, four enclosures to suit all tastes and a management team who love the course.

The welcome is warm, the racing competitive and a great place to while away a summer afternoon. 8/10

The Joy Of Travel

I think I have said this before but one of the advantages, arguably the only advantage, of living where I do in Milton Keynes is every UK and most Irish racecourses are reachable as a day trip.

Admittedly it does, occasionally, mean availing oneself of the services or a low cost airline or the railways but it is usually well worth it and with some canny advance bookings some really good bargains can be found.

Normally when I fly to the races, unless the course has very good public transport links, I hire a car for the final point of the journey. On this occasion I have made the mistake of going for the public transport option.

I have begun writing this in the departure lounge of Glasgow Prestwick airport. Actually I am not 100% sure if “Glasgow” is part of the official title, as the airport is actually on the outskirts of Ayr. However by Ryanair’s flexible interpretation of geography Glasgow is certainly what they call it.

Anyway I am in Prestwick airport and I am, to put it mildly hacked off.

Or to be absolutely precise I am mainly hacked off with public transport and a little bit hacked off with the airport.

When you are planning a trip from the comfort of your own working out the public transport options are relatively simple, especially in the internet age.

A few clicks of the mouse and you have access to rail and bus timetables, almost for anywhere in the world – even Scotland (that should hack off my Scottish reader – only joking!!!).

Well that is the theory, the reality is they lie.

There are two options for getting to Prestwick to Hamilton by public transport (well there are probably an infinite number of combinations but two realistic ones).

Simply one could either go by train about 1hr 50mins or by bus about 1hr 15mins, although with early and late flights times were not a major concern, both with hourly services on a Sunday.

My plan was to catch the train as, on the return journey, I would then have time to grab a meal in Glasgow on the way back.

Well that was the theory until I approached Prestwick Airport Station to discover there was engineering works and the trains were to be replaced by a coach service into Glasgow. No mention on the Network Rail web site the previous day!!!

Luckily the bus to Hamilton departs within five minutes of the train so the bus it was, not a very comfortable trip, but when are bus journeys comfortable? Also a bit of a shock when told it was £9.65 return.

So I found myself in Hamilton 11:15 on a Sunday morning – the bus arrived 15 minutes early, so presumably anyone who wanted to catch it later in its journey would have found they had missed it, unless they were at the stop very early.

With three hours before the first race I didn’t really fancy spending that amount of time in the Portakabin that is the Hamilton Press room.

So it was off to find a coffee shop.

Is there anywhere more depressing than a town centre on a Sunday morning, when almost all the shops are closed?

Eventually I found a coffee shop and I have to say it was a delight. They even had power points so you could plug in a laptop, the earl grey tea actually tasted of earl grey and the Panini was excellent, a great way to kill half an hour or so.

Time to go racing.

Now it is about a 1½ mile walk from the town centre to the racecourse and had I not been up since 04:30 and had I not been carrying a heavy laptop bag I would have walked to the course.

Being tired and lazy I decided I would catch a bus. Now Hamilton bus station has no information desk, however it does have a destination finder, which conveniently omits to make any mention of the racecourse.

Now I did know, roughly, the course would be on the way to Glasgow and as luck would have it two busses then pulled into the bus station, on different sides, both going to Glasgow. I went to the nearest bus, joined the queue, then asked the driver if he went past the racecourse.

He smiled, replying, “no, you want the one that is just pulling out over the other side,” pointing to the other Glasgow bus, “there is another one in half an hour” he happily added.

Now I know why bus drivers sit behind protective screens.

All was not lost as there was a taxi rank outside the adjacent station, no taxi’s there mark you.

Anyway I stood there, alone, forlorn and something really surreal then happened.

An empty taxi pulled up, he wound down his window and, in a broad Scot’s accent asked me, “are you wanting a taxi?”

Before I had a chance to respond “no I am just standing here taking in the air” he carried in, “this taxi rank isn’t used on Sunday’s, you need the one down the end,” pointing over his shoulder.

At which he drove off.

Now there was no sign saying the taxi rank was only part time but I strolled down to the other taxi rank – it was, of course, bereft of taxis.

I stood there for around 10 - 15 minutes, no sign of any taxis.

So I decided to stroll back to the bus stop where, supposedly a bus would be along in five minutes.

Would you believe, as soon as I sat down at the bus stop three taxis arrived at the taxi rank.

Anyway the bus arrived and I was able to have my day at the races.

The last race was at 5:10 and my flight back was not until 10:45, so I had plenty of time to kill post racing.

My bus timetable, printed off from the internet told me the last bus to the airport was at 7:45, getting there at 9:00. This gave me plenty of time to grab a bite to eat in Hamilton before going back to Prestwick.

Typically, when you are not in any great rush, a bus arrived within two or three minutes of me getting outside the racecourse and I was back at Hamilton bus station by 6:00.

Call it providence, or whatever, but I decided to double check the times of the busses back to Prestwick, I am so glad I did. The timetable I printed off the internet had lied.

The last bust to the airport was not at 7:45 but at 6:45.

So no time for a meal and 45 minutes to kill. I wasn’t overly worried about the meal part as I knew there is a restaurant after security at the Airport and I could eat there.

Have you ever spent 45 minutes waiting at a bus station? It seemed the longest 45 minutes of my life and it was not a pleasant experience. There were two lads, probably no more than 16, high on booze / drugs or both, whose vocabulary seemed to be defined by the Oxford Dictionary Of Profanity (if there is such a book), one of whom seemed to be boasting about having a three hour incestuous relationship with his mother that morning.

Then, just behind the bust stop where I was waiting, were the public conveniences and I soon got the distinct impression that the people using them either had some medical condition or they were there for other reasons!!!

Luckily the bus did depart on time and I found myself back at Prestwick Airport at 8:00, longing for something hot to eat.

It was quickly through security and off to the restaurant and the hot food was calling, or was it?

It seemed very quiet when I reached the counter, not much sign of any hot food.

I enquired.

I was rebuffed, “no, the kitchen is closed.”

I was not a happy bunny.

It summed up the day perfectly.

So may I issue a couple of pleas. To travel companies, if you are going to put timetables or travel information on your websites please, please make sure it is up to date. Having out of date or incorrect information is, in my view, worse than having no information at all.

To the managers at Prestwick Airport, if you are having two evening flights departing, with a couple of hundred passengers it would pay to have the restaurant you heavily advertise actually serving hot food, as restaurants should. I was not the only one looking for a hot meal – they would have easily have recouped the cost of having the kitchen open.

Meanwhile next time I fly to the races I will be hiring a car, I cannot be done with this public transport malarkey.

A Scottish Jinx?

I have to say I consider myself a reasonably level headed person. Coming from a scientific background I tend to believe fact and evidence rather than more nebulous facets such as fate and superstition.

However I am, just ever so slightly, beginning to wonder if I am jinxed when it comes to going racing in Scotland.

Now being based in the soulless concrete monstrosity that is Milton Keynes I have to confess that racing trips to Scotland tend not to be spontaneous. Usually they are planned weeks in advance and they are generally carried out with the assistance of either Mr O’Leary or Stelios – aren’t budget airlines a boon?

My problem is my last eight attempts to go racing in Scotland have all been thwarted for various reasons.

It begins last summer when I was planning to go to Perth. It was a lovely, sunny, summers morning as I left home for the airport at 5:30. The flight was uneventful and I landed in Edinburgh in glorious sunshine. My hire care was waiting for me at the airport and I was on the road by 10:00. Requiring some refuelling myself I stopped at the motorway services for some breakfast and decided to take advantage of the free wi-fi to check for any non-runners.

I had to do a double take as my screen was emblazoned “Perth Abandoned” – despite the current glorious blue skies Perth had seemingly been hit by a cloudburst of near biblical proportions overnight, resulting in patches of false ground making the track unsafe.

To make matters worse the next flight back south was not until 6:30 in the evening so I had to kill the day being a tourist – although that wasn’t all bad as I did drive up to Arbroath and treated myself to some lovely fresh “smokies” for lunch.

Next up was Hamilton. As I get older I am starting to become a creature of habit and one such habit has been my annual “pilgrimage” to Hamilton Park’s final meeting of the season.

Now last year I managed to double book the day having, without initially realising, bought my wife some concert tickets for a concert in Dublin the same evening and no matter how many times I looked at the airline schedules, doing both was a non-starter.

No problem, there were plenty of other meetings at Hamilton, so I booked flights for one in August. Now August was a busy month for me with my nephew getting married in the middle of the month. Luckily he was considerate in planning the wedding for a quite racing day (although I somehow suspect that was more due to luck than any consideration for his Uncle). It did mean I had to miss the Shergar Cup for the stag day but there you go.

My nephew is half British / half Australian, my wife’s brother having emigrated out to Oz some 30 years ago. Of course they were all coming over, on a very rare visit, for the wedding and it was great to see them. Indeed it meant me meeting two of my nephews for the first time.

Their travel plans were quite fluid and not clarified until the last minute but it was decided, whatever dates their flights were, on their last night we would have a big family meal.

I will allow you one guess as to which day was their last day and the big family meal!!! Yep, the day I was meant to be going to Hamilton. Two meetings thwarted.

Less dramatically were a number of attempts to get to Kelso (twice) or Musselburgh (three times). All five attempts thwarted by either the meetings themselves being abandoned or the flights being cancelled due to snow in south east England.

Which brings us onto the most recent attempt – last weekend.

As I have already said, I am becoming a creature of habit and another “tradition” that seems to be developing is a trip to the Scottish Grand National. Normally I have gone on the Saturday as a day trip, this year I decided I would do both days.

The weather building up to the meeting was glorious and the forecast was equally promising.

What could possibly go wrong?

Unless you have been living without radio, television and newspapers for the past week you will know precisely what can go wrong.

A cloud of volcanic ash from Iceland, which grounded all flights.

I was due to fly up on Friday morning and on Thursday afternoon they were hoping the restrictions would be lifted by 07:00 Friday morning. However I received an e-mail from my airline early Thursday evening telling me my flight had been cancelled.

I got in touch with Richard Hoiles, who I knew was also going to be flying up on Friday, albeit with a different airline, and he had also received similar news and he was going to start driving up Thursday evening.

I toyed with setting off then but decided I would get up very early on Friday and try to miss the traffic.

I set the alarm for 4:00 Friday morning but, as is often the case when you know you have to be up early, I hardly slept a wink all night. So when the alarm did go off I was absolutely shattered.

I then had one of those rare sensible moments, where I decided it would be foolhardy in the extreme to attempt a seven hour drive, feeling as tired as I was. So I went back to bed.

I think the decision may also have been swayed by the fact I would have to face the seven hour drive back again on Saturday evening.

So that was Scottish meeting number eight thwarted.

This is now where I switch into public service mode and I issue two warnings to you all.

May I strongly suggest you avoid Ayr (which may be subjected to flash flooding) or avoid flying on and around May 27th – as that is when I next plan to go racing in Scotland.

An even more serious warning will apply in the last three days of June, when I plan to visit three Scottish racecourses over three consecutive days. The Scottish Parliament may wish to declare a state of emergency as they may be attacked by seven plagues.

Alternatively if any Scottish readers would like to pay me substantial sums of money never to plan going racing in their country again, I can be contacted by e-mail.