As far as I recall there was racing at the Eppynt from 1948-1953. It was a triangular course of 5.2 miles, with 3 sharp left hand corners; formed by the Army Range roads. They were narrow and the surface was bad, in fact the deterioration in the surface caused the event’s cessation.

The event was run jointly by the Builth Motor Club and the Carmarthen Motor Club, and was presided over as Clerk of the Course by that colourful doyen of West Wales motorcyclists Eddie Stephens

To attract the crowds it was the policy to have one or two really big names on works bikes, by dangling large starting money to stars such as Maurice Cann on a Gambulunga Guzzi..

That machine, a 500 single with the cylinder lying flat in the old Guzzi fashion, was a real box of tricks, was. The oil would not circulate cold so immediately the engine stopped the sump was drained and before starting the oil was cooked up on a primus stove. Cold, there was a minus tappet clearance, so the tappets had to be slackened off to get started, being reset when normal running temperature was reached, and as I recall at the same time the soft warm-up plug was changed for a hard racing plug. (Onlookers learnt a lot of Italian swearwords).

Then there was Reg Graham on a Matchless Porcupine a very useful 500 twin, or our own homegrown hero Jack Daniels on his Clubman’s TT winning Black Shadow. Being somewhat out in the sticks the course was sometimes used to try out “black art” machines. I recall the Austrian guy Erlich with his EMC which was a two-cylinder 2-stroke with a common combustion chamber the two conrods on a common crank pin. Rather like the 1930s Trojan vans.

The big boys went out ahead whilst the real racing went on far behind them with local lads of mixed abilities and very mixed ironmongery. Favourite was the Manx Norton, but almost any sort of stripped down road bike would do, or if you could afford it the “Over the counter Boy Racer” the AJS 350. Due to the tightness of the course lightweight was more use than sheer power, so something like an Excelsior Manxman 250 could be quite useful, even in the Senior class.

It was all open ground so spectators could plod right around the course, and sit with their toes barely clear of the tarmac but the popular place to gawp was about ¼ mile from the start where the course dropped sharply downhill to a left-hand bend. One would hear the crackling crescendo as the push-started bikes fired up and the roar (No scream in those days with low-revving singles) approaching unseen. Then the stars would appear coming over the crest both wheels off the ground. The problem was that bend was just where they landed, so that they had to land cranked over, with their front wheel right on the left edge of the tarmac, very much a men from the boys situation. The result was that after the stars had spectacularly passed the rest of the field would appear at a much more modest pace, aware that the more firma the less terra. Still I do remember a big boy (Les Graham I think) appearing in the expected airborne fashion, but slipstreaming him and equally airborne was a young lad from Cwmtwrch on his new AJS. Whereas Les landed hard over with his wheel just biting the edge of the tarmac, the lad went straight on, motocrossing for about a half a mile, pursued by a pair of St John’s Ambulance men with a stretcher. Mind you for real spectacle, it was worth waiting for the sidecars – a chair, airborne with the passenger hanging out, really was something! But bad though the course was, there were virtually no obstructions so that if one inspected the agriculture you did not come to any great harm. In addition all three corners were junctions, so that each had a built-in escape road.

Passing was difficult so guile came into its own. The third and final corner was at the end of an uphill and was an acute angle, with the slip road going straight. A favourite trick here for someone who had been trying to get past the guy in front, was to nose in on his left as he braked preventing him from turning left. Get it right and the second man could stop, and heave his bike around, whilst the first man was still disappearing down the slip road. Get it wrong and there were two bikes locked together and an interesting altercation between riders, stewards, marshals and partisan spectators. Of course Aberdare Park filled the void left by Eppynt, but it could never replicate that delightful spirit of amateurism, in the proper sense of the word. Such silverware as there was on offer invariably being grabbed by the professionals, left the lads free to scrap just for the hell of it.

Nor, thanks to the tightening of safety regulations, could spectators get as close to the action on the track or mingle so freely in the pits area.

For a full history of the Eppynt races visit http://www.silverdragons.co.uk/.