Racing on the edge

The devotion, danger and draw of road racing

“Hello."

The word is muffled in a helmet and drowned out by the screaming engine of a motorbike pushing 200mph.

The greeting is not to be heard by anyone living.

It's a high-speed nod to the memory of the dead.

For David Madsen-Mygdal, it is a road racing ritual on the Isle of Man - a rock in the Irish Sea that is home to the world's most dangerous race.

"We have lost a lot of friends. On a lap of the TT, I find myself saying 'hello' to people we have lost along the way."

David Madsen-Mygdal

Since the Isle of Man Tourist Trophy (TT) began in 1907, more than 250 have died racing on the mountain course in both TT and Manx Grand Prix events - including three last year and another this week.

And yet about 200 motorbike-mad men and women continue to race, negotiating the 260 or so bends that make up the thrilling course, surging along the island's tarmac veins like high-octane adrenaline.

David Madsen-Mygdal

Over the past four decades, 63-year-old Madsen-Mygdal has clocked up thousands of miles tearing around those roads, finishing more than 120 Isle of Man TT races - a record for the event - since making his debut in 1985.

What first drew him to the road is what compels him, as it does many, to return time and again.

"We definitely don't do it for the limelight and we certainly don't do it for the money. And it isn't for the buzz of winning," he said.

"It's the buzz of taking part. That's what gets you."

Victories at the TT, a race meeting with an island summer party backdrop, are ones made for celebrating and savouring.

Last year Peter Hickman claimed his first TT victories – but his Senior TT triumph wasn't any ordinary win.

The Lincolnshire rider set a new outright course record with an average speed of 135.452mph, covering the 37.73 miles – a distance little more than Manchester to Liverpool - in just 16 minutes, 42.778 seconds.

“Not much else comes close to riding round the TT. Never mind setting a lap record and getting my first TT wins, it is just epic all round,” he said.

Hickman - twice a British Superbike series top-six finisher who has also triumphed at the North West 200, Ulster Grand Prix and Macau Grand Prix in the past 12 months - is now looking to go even faster, studying where time was lost on the most spectacular run ever seen on the mountain section of the course 12 months ago.

Peter Hickman

“The perception is maybe we're all a bit crazy," he said. "And maybe we are just a little bit.

"It's all calculated - you're in your zone, you know what you're doing. It looks more dramatic from the outside than when I'm on the bike.

"I come to the TT because I enjoy it. I want to do it. I want to ride a bike, I want to have fun, I want to go and do 160mph wheelies down a road and pull some big skids.

“The by-product of that is that we’ve managed to win some races but it’s not the ‘be-all and end-all’ for me.

“Of course I want to win but I’m here to enjoy myself and have fun and that’s why it works for me so well. I don’t over-think the thing.”

David Madsen-Mygdal
Peter Hickman

But this is a race and sport as infamous for its perils as it is famous for its thrills and spills.

Cemetery on Isle of Man

The race starts and finishes on Glencrutchery Road, also known simply as the A2, a stretch right beside a cemetery in the island’s capital of Douglas. For a sport with such dangers, the juxtaposition could hardly be more stark.

Riders don't shy away from its reality, nor do they want it to define what they do.

Madsen-Mygdal, a mechanic by trade, sums up the road racing existence as one of "terrific highs as well as devastating lows".

Road racing has been the source of both professional delight and personal despair for him.

His son Mark followed him into the sport - a sport he was killed competing in at the age of 23.

It was at the Southern 100 race on the Isle of Man in 2013 that Mark died instantly after hitting a wall at high speed as he was contesting the lead.

And still, Madsen-Mygdal rides on.

Thoughts of quitting put the sacrifices of two lifetimes into focus.

"When Mark was killed it wasn't his fault and I thought about it (quitting racing)," he said.

"But I thought 'well, then my life would have been worth nothing and then his life would have been worth nothing'. So you just carry on."

These are not words uttered nonchalantly.

The risks of road racing, on the Isle of Man or anywhere else, are accepted by riders.

Dangers line the entire course.

These are events staged on public roads that usually drive everyday life, be it delivery of post or pizzas, getting children to school or a tractor to the next field.

Bikes flash by lamp posts and red telephone boxes, and roar along stone walled streets, zip past houses and pubs and zag over mountain passes with unforgiving drops.

Mark Madsen-Mygdal and David Madsen-Mygdal

Anything that goes wrong could be costly.

Floral tributes

Dan Kneen

Dan Kneen sustained fatal injuries at the Churchtown section during Superbike qualifying. He was 30 years old.

Dan Kneen sustained fatal injuries at the Churchtown section during Superbike qualifying. He was 30 years old.

Two perished at the event in 2018 - leading local rider Dan Kneen and first-timer Adam Lyon.

A third, Alan 'Bud' Jackson, was killed racing in the Classic TT on the same course later in the year, while James Cowton, a joiner from Yorkshire and winner of a number of international races, also died on the island competing in the Southern 100.

In November, English motorcyclist Daniel Hegarty lost his life after crashing against the barriers at the Macau Grand Prix.

Road racing also lost another of the renowned Dunlop family last year, with William killed aged 32 in an incident at the Skerries 100 in County Dublin. He was the third member of his family to lose their life doing what they loved.

William's father Robert died as a result of an accident at the North West 200 in 2008, while his uncle Joey – the TT’s all-time leading winner with 26 victories - was killed in a crash in Estonia in 2000.

And this year, racing at the TT started with a fatal crash as Daley Mathison, an experienced 27-year-old rider from County Durham, perished during the opening race on Monday.

No longer does Madsen-Mygdal ride in the Southern 100 that claimed his son's life, although he made an emotional return soon after to race Mark's bike at the Manx GP.

"It put too much strain on my wife, Jill," Madsen-Mygdal said.

"I would personally still do the Southern but I have to think about Jill and the family. It is hard on them knowing that it could happen to you.

"I don't want to pack it up. To me it's a bit like saying if you had an accident in a car would you never drive again."

Madsen-Mygdal counts himself among racing's fortunate ones, as he hasn't "hurt himself too much" as a racer.

This being a man who, along with once breaking his back and twice breaking his ankle, had his hand broken and his front teeth knocked out after crashing into a hedge in Ireland.

David Madsen-Mygdal

"You do get nervous. But you don't think of the ‘what ifs’," he said.

"As you get older you learn from your experiences. You are more cautious than you were as a young rider.

"Where you used to ride close to someone, I now give myself a few more seconds and overtake when it's safe.

"You know what could happen and you get wiser as you grow older - or you should do anyway."

This is a sport that gives "street smarts" all new meaning.

TT rider on no wheels

Rider liaison officers are on hand to help get newcomers up to speed before they ever set a wheel on the epic course.

Details of every twist and turn, and secrets of the braking points and apex markers, are shared.

Carolynn Sells, a road racing history maker when she became the first woman to win on the mountain course in the ultra lightweight race at the Manx GP in 2009, now works as both a rider liaison and Auto Cycle Union (ACU) coach on the island.

For her, formally helping riders is an extension of something she has always done.

Carolynn Sells
Carolynn Sells
Carolynn Sells

"Road racing is like a family because of the danger of it," she said.

"In circuit racing there are a lot of rivalries and everyone keeps their secrets to themselves. But in road racing people share their knowledge to help each other.

"Everyone wants everyone to do well and be safe. It is a dangerous sport.

"The camaraderie is amazing to see - people will check that you are on the right tyres and say if not.

"It's about looking out for each other - everyone wants to be in the beer tent at the end of the day."

Sells is among a number of former racers who now tutor riders.

It's a part-time gig that can see them sat in a car on a rainy day, showing hopeful racers the way around the course while going with the flow of island traffic within the speed limit.

For all involved, these are the most sedate and vitally important laps they will make.

Before the fortnight of racing revs up, the newcomers then get a chance to go out for a closed-road lap following a liaison officer - a team of which is headed up by former winners Richard 'Milky' Quayle and John Barton.

Richard Quayle gives advice to a rider
Richard Quayle

It's only "if and when" a rider liaison officer says someone has "sufficient course knowledge" that a rider is allowed to enter a practice session.

"I'm like an old mother hen when I teach people because I want them to be safe - be fast but safe," Sells said.

"By being smooth the speed will come to them. If they chase the circuit it will never come.

"These days we get people without a lot of road racing experience and that's what I teach them. It is a very different sport."

And it's not for everyone.

"I don't actively recommend road racing to anybody unless they have a genuine desire to do it," Sells continued.

"It is a completely different style of riding compared to circuits and some people really take to it while others don't.

Lap time board

"You get circuit riders who are always at the front on the track but you put them on the road and they're nowhere. I was the opposite.

"This isn't a place you want to dive under someone at corners and come in all hot. It is more methodical than that.

"You have to think about the long game. The mindset is to endure.

"It is like reversing an articulated lorry and a car - it's different. In fact, you approach circuit and road racing the complete opposite way."

Knowing a road course means anticipating what is around the next unsighted turn, be it bumps on the road or how dappled late afternoon sunlight can trick the eyes on a high-speed stretch.

The TT is essentially a time trial as riders head off every 10 seconds, so the rider is left pushing body and bike against the clock in an attempt to beat the course.

Preparation is key, not only for riders but also race organisers.

Gary Thompson

Since January, Gary Thompson, the clerk of the course and man in charge of racing at the Isle of Man TT and the island's yearly Festival of Motorcycling, has done between two and four on-board laps daily.

Why?

"Purely and simply it's because when I'm in race control and we have an incident called in from the marshals, I want to have confidence in my own ability to be able to picture exactly, to the nearest tree or nearest gate post, where the incident is so I know where the access points are for emergency vehicles and where the potential landing site is for a helicopter," Thompson said.

"If someone sends me a photograph of a tree, I could identify where it is on the course.

"When riders come over and say 'there is an issue with this part of the course', I know what they are talking about and that gives me a bit of credibility with them."

Every tree, post and lick of paint on the circuit is his business.

"It is incumbent on me to make the race as safe as possible," Thompson continued.

"That is why I listen to a lot of what the riders have to say and react to anything they give feedback on.

"At Sarah's Cottage (a right bend and popular vantage point) a few years ago, the Department of Infrastructure put some new white lines down, the paint they used was applied a bit too thick and the riders found they were starting to lose the front end.

"The very next morning, the road was closed down and we took that level of paint off to make it a lot grippier."

Riders line-up at start of race
Rider racing next to wall
Rider racing through dappled light of trees

The former soldier most certainly needs to have a grip as he oversees the 14 days of action at the Isle of Man TT with military precision.

Every minute of every day is accounted for and known by memory.

The burden that comes with the title of man in charge of the world's most dangerous race is inescapable.

"I'm acutely aware of the responsibility and acutely aware of the consequences," he said.

"You don't take up an appointment like this not knowing the full facts - I'm passionate about road racing, passionate about motorbikes and more passionate about the TT than anything.

"It does (take an emotional toll), I've got to know a lot of the riders over the years - some more than others.

"When you do lose someone through racing it does get to you and anyone would say the same. That is the downside of road racing.

"Riders who sign up accept the risk in full knowledge that it may happen. As officials it is in the back of your minds and you hope it never happens. When it does, it is upsetting."

And still, it is a posting he cherishes.

"To be the one that puts the racing in motion, there is no better job in the world," Thompson added.

He also knows when not to race.

In 2012, his first year as clerk of the course, he called off the Senior TT - the only time the event has been run without its blue riband race taking place.

The course was deemed too damp to race on. The heavens had beaten him.

Pit lane closed sign
Practice cancelled

The weather is just another element to road racing, so he has the Isle of Man Ronaldsway Meteorological Office on speed dial.

"When the weather is good and conditions right, there is no finer place to be," he said.

As someone with 23 years' experience in the army, serving in the Falklands, Gulf and Bosnia, Thompson knows what fearlessness looks like.

And he sees it by the hundreds every year rocketing around the island.

"I met some pretty brave people in my time in the army, but anybody who competes around the TT course is both incredibly skilled and incredibly brave," Thompson said.

"Some people say they are barking mad and that they have a screw loose, but I don't think that is true.

"They are incredibly skilled and brave people who love what they do."

Gary Thompson stands in the rain
Bike wheeled through rain

It is full-throttle racing, where the blood-pumping thrill of leaning to within millimetres of a stone wall to whip around a bend can be felt with a rush of wind by the many spectators who descend on the Isle of Man each year.

Spectator watches rider close to wall

"You're a part of it," says 79-year-old Ian Huntly, who first experienced the event as a child and has frequented the TT for seven decades.

"You're in the hedge a couple of inches from the action. It fills you with adrenaline to watch.

"At MotoGP meetings you're miles away and watching a dot in the distance. In road racing you’re in the thick of it, watching and feeling bikes flying past at more than 200mph on public roads.

"I've seen people go white as a sheet as they pass. They stare transfixed.

"It is brilliant and hard to explain - it is a feeling like no other."

For a race so closely associated with death, it is the liveliness of the event that has drawn Huntly back for almost three quarters of a century.

Rider racing with both wheels off ground

The island is home to about 86,000 permanent residents and, when racing comes to its streets, so do more than 45,000 visitors.

"More than anything else, in my experience, road racing is a family with a shared passion and love of the sport," he said.

"Unfortunately there are accidents, but they are not going out purposefully to kill themselves - you don't climb Everest to kill yourself do you?

"I've worked with them, I've been a mechanic to them, I've sponsored them and I admire what they do."

Fans arrive on Isle of Man
Fans watching Isle of Man TT race

The Isle of Man TT was born as an act of defiance by riders 112 years ago, as racing on the roads of Britain was forbidden by an act of parliament.

Rider line-up before start of race

Back in 1907, machines lacked the power to cope with a mountain climb, with the fastest lap of the then 15-mile flat dirt-track course being 42.9mph.

Hickman, last year, was the first to average more than 135mph.

Peter Hickman celebrates

Even for someone who tutors riders on a course where she earned a history-making win, Sells says such speed is "bonkers".

"It does scare me. I'm not going to lie," she said.

"Road racing used to be more about racing within your limits, riding at 90%, and now they are riding at 110%.

"The stakes are too high. You see people come through wanting to ride that way but there are only a handful that can. For everybody else it has got a lot more serious because of the speeds."

John McGuinness

In 2007, John McGuinness was the first to break the 130mph barrier when he completed the mountain course.

Last year, 10 riders beat that mark.

"Technology being technology, bikes will only get faster," said clerk of the course Thompson.

"We take that into consideration and we place course furniture - the protection - accordingly.

"Where they have had protection on a certain part of the course 15 or 20 years ago, it will still be in that area but it might be moved further down to accommodate the extra increase in distance and likely trajectory of where the bike may end up in the event of an incident. We always bear that in mind.

"Also, riders are more professionally prepared than they were 20 or 30 years ago.

"Going back many years, if anyone wanted to do the TT for the first time they just bowled up, having never been around the course before, and away they went. Those days are long gone."

Over four decades of racing, Madsen-Mygdal has lived through those changes and endured in an unforgiving sport.

"Perhaps the riders used to socialise more, but because of the budgets you now have to spend it is taken a lot more seriously," he said.

"It's not just about the rider, it's the whole package."

But at its core, the reasons for racing never change - even when loved ones it is shared with are lost along the way.

William and Michael Dunlop with a statue of their uncle, Joey Dunlop

Brothers William (left) and Michael Dunlop next to the statue of their uncle, Joey, the TT's all-time leading race winner. William died in 2018, but Michael is competing in the 2019 event.

Brothers William (left) and Michael Dunlop next to the statue of their uncle, Joey, the TT's all-time leading race winner. William died in 2018, but Michael is competing in the 2019 event.

READ MORE: Michael Dunlop - The man who lost a brother, father and uncle to biking, but races on

"A lot of the time it's fathers spending time with their sons or daughters and racing bikes," Madsen-Mygdal said. "It is a big family with a lot of camaraderie.

"To race a motorbike you have to have the will to want to beat someone. Road racing is different again because there is that extra danger you have to look out for.

"It is the passion that gets you. It's an addiction."

Peter Hickman with trophy
John McGuinness
David Madsen-Mygdal

Producer: Phil Cartwright

Authors: Andrew Aloia & Mark Edwards

Additional reporting: Richard Petrie & Tom Rostance

Sub-editor: Steve Marshall

Images: Steve Babb, Mark Edwards, Getty Images, Pacemaker Press International, Press Eye, Carolynn Sells family collection & Paul Woodlock

Video: Steve Babb