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Jahn
to travel
Review Calafat
Review Calafat
20 years of rock ‘n’ roll
Content of
This racetrack is a bit like smoking: you try it and let it be forever, or it’s very difficult to get away from it. Every year at the beginning of January, the most steadfast pilgrims to Spain, to this small, godforsaken race track somewhere between Barcelona and Valencia. why?
Matthias Schroter
11/14/2008
20 years of rock ‘n’ roll
“No you don’t. You are too slow ”, is the clear as well as less diplomatic announcement of the colleague photographer. Crime scene: Calafat race track, Northern Spain, spring 1998, photo drives for a comparison test by the big PS sister magazine. Ex-colleague Jorg Schuller and I wanted to do a few laps on the racetrack, which is mystically revered in editorial circles. Puff cake. “The big boys, from 1:40 and below, they are allowed to. But you are much too slow, ”continues the photographer. So the entire photo trip takes place in a single curve instead of gaining the long-awaited first personal experience. All of this in front of an audience. The assembled world of journalists is celebrating the first modern masterbike at the same time. We’re screwed. Second class execution.
The next day it gets even worse. “I don’t want to see you here all day”, is the clear message from the test boss at the time to the two young and highly ambitious Calafat novices, who follow the busy gasping on the track with big eyes and want nothing more than to finally experience a few laps of Calafat. Not that the country roads around the racetrack are ugly, on the contrary: Absolutely awesome. Wonderful. For this reason alone, Calafat is worth a trip. At the end of 2001 the time had finally come for me: 1000 comparison test for MOTORRAD, together with Mini Koch. With the colleague who practically invented Calafat. With the man who, according to his own statement, has traditionally been spending the days around the turn of the year in Calafat, this year too. In 1988 he drove the first PS tune-up here with a Yamaha RD 350 (for the late-born: a two-stroke) after the busy Herbert Speer had discovered the track for the winter-weary German racing training customers. Speer and the other large training providers are now leaving Calafat on the left and prefer to drive the modern GP tracks in Barcelona, Valencia and Jerez. They are up to date.
Calafat, on the other hand, is almost an anachronism. What has changed in the last 20 years? Almost nothing. Well, one or the other olive tree from back then has grown up. And in the meantime, new asphalt was put on the very frayed corners. If the now stately olive tree could talk downstairs in the Omega, then its stories would be a full-length entertainment program. Alone from the perspective of the two-wheeler fraction of our publishing house. Dramas and tragicomedies have taken place here. In the middle of the 1990s, someone from the MOTORRAD colleagues had the idea to run the annual 600 series comparison test in Calafat. Actually great; the narrow course is clearly 600 country. The undertaking ended in disaster because Messrs Koch and Gerhard Lindner (most famous Supersport DM champions of all time) processed the test field into scrap metal in a duel with guest tester Stefan Scheschowitz. And Schescho, of all people, the King of the Fall, stayed seated.
Love or leave!
Jahn
Unofficial lap record holder: Arne Tode.
Calafat, not a route that you immediately take to your heart. Love it or leave it! It demands humility, it writes its own rules. Anyone who shoots cheekily will be led by the nose. Knee grinds over the curbs? Not recommended everywhere, as the things are sometimes very high and angular. Rubbish when choosing the line? Punish them mercilessly. Calafat loves discipline. Sparkling clean, round driving is the key here. And a big heart: especially the left bend downhill to the start / finish takes a while. Don’t brake too late, don’t turn in too early, stroke the grass, which is often a bit too high, with your knee, then full shower again, and brake hard again into a tight right that spits you out after hard acceleration uphill towards the Scheibhaus curve. Calafat, the somewhat different racetrack. No mainstream, no Grand Prix layout. Spanish championship, sometime, a long time ago, to top it off. John Kocinski is said to have driven a fabulous time here during a training session with a 250cc: a high 27cc lap. Arne Tode set the unofficial record in 2006 in the PS tire test. Eyewitnesses later reported that it was more about motorcycle flying than motorcycle riding. That is an exaggeration. It was nice to look at, no frills, no show. Arne loves Calafat, he is obviously one of those professional racing drivers who got the track. Controlled offensive, no do or die. Endless gravel beds? Nothing. The ground of the facts is often tougher here. And of course there are also corners where you shouldn’t pack yourself away.
But that’s just a tiny bit of the appeal, for connoisseurs, but also for rookies. Because this route is particularly suitable for beginners. No hacking course and certainly not a high-speed track where professionals ride superbikes at supersonic speed. I speak from experience, gentlemen: A few years ago I struggled around the course with a 190 PS-R1 (!), Colleague Bildl (mind you, a real guy!) Ran his Ducati two-valve youngtimer and not only followed me effortlessly, but then also braked me from shitty. That would never have happened at the Circuito de Catalunya, never! As I said: Calafat demands humility. And rethink. Because in terms of cuisine, too, Calafat is a little different from the rest of Spain. If you want haute cuisine, you’ve come to the wrong place. Those in the know who have a rumbling stomach after an eventful day on the racetrack, freshly showered, walk from their bungalow to the fat host in the center of the holiday village. At the “Thick” (which is not that thick at all) can be eaten formidably, inexpensively and authentically. There is also wonderful Cruz Campo on tap. If he likes one. The shirt-sleeved landlord likes manners: Who is friendly, loud and wonderfully stretched “Guttetaggwieeeegahtsgudd?!” not with an equally clearly audible one “Hola, muy bien”, answered, runs the risk of being disgraced like a little schoolboy in front of the assembled team.
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