FEATURE – 2017 Noosa Hill Climb
It’s known as Australia’s toughest hill climb for a reason.
I’ve been attending Noosa’s picturesque Hill Climb for the last ten years, and racing here the past three, and there’s always – very sadly - a sorry sight of mangled metal at the end of each weekend’s play.
This is not a slur on the event organisers, the track or even the drivers themselves. It’s merely a reflection of how hard and very unforgiving this 1.5km 14-turn hill climb course is.
Truly quick and talented drivers have come unstuck here and lost out to concrete blocks, rock-lined walls or gum trees when the worst happens and you spear off down one of the steep drop-offs. But as many racers will tell you, part of the perverse appeal of racing at Noosa is the challenge and danger involved.
The 2017 mid-year edition of the Noosa Hill Climb, organised by Noosa Beach Classic Car Club and HRCC, marked 20 years since the event’s first running. Some 150 cars and drivers lined up for two days of warm and sun-blessed winter racing (not that this part of Australia really gets a winter), while spectator numbers were buoyed by having five-time Australian Touring Car champ Dick Johnson in attendance both days, happily re-united with his 1981 Bathurst-winning Tru Blu XD Falcon.
Johnson was on hand for pit-lane autographs and selfies with gathered fans, while the traditional “marque of the event” simply honoured muscle cars instead of just one brand. No complaints about that decision. The pre-race Friday evening saw Noosa’s glamorous Hastings St shaken by the rumblings of dozens of muscle machines, including a Shelby Mustang, AC Cobra, XB Falcon GT and a range of Bathurst tribute Holden Commodores.
Come race morning these liveried replicas of VT, VX and VE GTS Commodores took proud place beside Tru Blu and the ex-John McCormack Ansett Valiant Charger Sports Sedan. Throw in race-ready Mustangs, Torana SSs and GTR XU-1s, a Corvette and a Chrysler E49 Charger and the paddock muscle was in overdrive.
An aspect most attendees note about Noosa’s hill climb is the friendly aspect of the paddock area where spectators can easily mingle between the race cars, chat to drivers and feel involved in the whole occasion. It’s all very informal, young kids are regularly hoisted into race cabins and the eclectic mix of vehicles is a delight.
There’s your expected abundance of Ford Escorts, MG Bs, Mitsubishi Evos and Subaru WRXs, while standouts this year included a giant 5.7-litre 1959 Indy 500 replica Watson Roadster, a hugely valuable 1958 Porsche 356A, 6.0-litre 1979 Jaguar XJS Sports Sedan with a rear wing the size of a Fiat 500 and an excellent replica of a 1967 Brabham BT24 Formula 1 racer.
As for me, my steed was somewhat less exceptional being a 1989 Peugeot 205 GTi hatchback. You want cheap motorsport, this is it. These little Peugeots – arguably the finest of all 1980s hot hatches – aren’t easy to find, but for under $10,000 you can step into one of the best bang-for-the-buck machines available on our market.
Not powerful with 94kW from its 1.9-litre engine, but tipping the scales at a mere 875Kg it is a darty little point-to-point funster offering driver reward sadly missing on most modern cars. Although still road registered, my little Peugeot has been mildly upgraded for the odd weekend racing frolic. On has gone a Quaife limited slip differential with short ratio gears, a short shift kit, GAZ coilover suspension, slightly more modern Peugeot brakes and some road legal cut slick tyres. Oh, and the odd period racing sticker too because I’m a tart.
My 205 GTi certainly wasn't going to be one of the quickest things up Noosa's hill, but in my eyes would be one of the most enjoyable to throw around.
Hill climbs like Noosa keep things simple and relatively cheap to ensure participation is within the grasp of most. As long as you have a CAMS racing license and your car is sound, doesn’t have bits hanging off it, and has a fire extinguisher fitted you're basically good to go.
You’re divided into classes depending on your car’s age, its driven wheels, engine size and body type (there were 30 different classes at Noosa this year), and each car is launched individually up the hill at about 30-second intervals. Green light, the clock starts and it's reach the top as quickly as you can. Motorsport at its purest.
The fastest car – a Formula 3 Dallara F392 single seater with Hayabusa engine – cracks the 1.5km climb in the low 50-seconds (over 100kmh average from a standing start), while tardiest is a near-100 year-old Austin 7 Sports Special typically taking well over 100 seconds. Anything under 60-seconds is reserved for the super-brave in the super-fast machines, while putting things in modern-ish road car perspective, a 2008 BMW M3 with 4.0-litre V8 was climbing in 74-seconds (73kmh average speed).
We drivers were given a quick sighting lap to get to grips with the road surface before the proper timed runs started. The first effort up the hill always brings with it a healthy dose of fear. Cocooned in my Peugeot’s tiny cabin, helmet and race suit on I waited as the cars ahead were launched up the climb. Eventually I was called to the start line and was staring across at the traffic light and the impressive amount of spectators gathered to watch the launch. For God’s sake, don’t stall it.
With the crowd no doubt expecting great things it was revs up, clutch dumped and a decent amount of wheelspin so as not to disappoint. What followed was just over 70-seconds of pure joy. A delightfully twisty road all to myself, no speed restrictions and a little car darting from one corner to the next seemingly having as much fun as I was. There were moments when the walls got a bit close for comfort, or when the rear of the car felt a bit lighter then looser than planned, but what a thrill to push a little classic car close to its limit.
Over too soon, and the 14 corners dispatched, I was already working out where I could go faster on my next attempt. It's a complex course however, and some of those getting braver began slipping up as the day progressed. One of those Bathurst replicas was hauled back to the paddock on the back of a tow truck, its front and rear ends heavily damaged. Had the driver actually managed to roll it?
A beautiful orange 1975 Holden Torana SS lost the back end at one of the faster parts of the course and took a trip over the edge, incredibly being stopped by a bush rather than a tree so was able to be pulled out ready for the next run. A 2002 Maserati 4200 with blissful-sounding V8 also finished its weekend on the back of a tow truck with one flank heavily scarred, while a delightful Lotus Eleven replica re-arranged its sleek fibreglass body. The hill climb gods can be cruel at Noosa.
So treacherous was the course that even the spectators suffered. A poor woman had a tumble while climbing the trackside path to watch the action, resulting in a halt to the action while an ambulance could head up the hill and tend to her and her broken ankle. Then in true “only in Australia” fashion an echidna on the course meant another pause in play while the spiky critter could be shuffled along to safety.
After two days of action and up to seven runs per car and driver the results were in. Fastest, as predicted, was a young ace and perennial Noosa champ Michael Von Rappard in his 1992 single-seater Dallara, managing a course record of 50.55 seconds. Fastest of the tin tops was the beastly 1979 Jaguar XJS Sports Sedan of decorated racer Mark Trenoweth, who claimed a best time of 58.62 seconds despite its talented driver insisting the mighty Jag is far from an ideal hill climb car due to its sheer size. It looked a hell of a lot of fun, even so.
Yours truly scored a 71-second best time to finish mid-table in class. Not as quick as previous years (I have a list of excuses prepared should anyone want to listen), but most importantly went home with a car, and driver, in one piece.
There’s a summer edition of Noosa’s hill climb – often with a good dose of humidity to contend with too – and I know I’ll see the same faces amongst some new ones later this year. It's an intoxicating formula you see, and despite the risk to man and machine over that slithery stretch of Noosa bitumen it’s an addictive thrill. In my case I pilot an underpowered little car at its limit, rediscovering the joy of driving that most have forgotten in our over-nannying modern cars and ever-stricter road regulations.
And just being a racing driver in a pitlane with like-minded enthusiasts is a delight. We share stories, tools and advice - dreaming up new excuses why the next guy was faster. The fact that it all takes place in the winter paradise of Noosa simply makes it all the sweeter.
Words: Iain Curry
Photos: Iain Curry and Richard Avery
