Motorsport: A walk on the wild side

Race fans watch during qualifying for the Bathurst 1000 V8 Supercar race at Mt Panorama, Bathurst. Photo / Getty Images

These are quieter days at the No Shit Hotel and the only things being blown up on the mountain these days are air-filled couches (with air), not toilet blocks (with explosives).

Bathurst might be nearing maturity almost 50 years since it first exerted its pull to motor racing fans in a ritual which has seen the Holden Hoons square off against the Feral Ford Fans every year.

The course itself stemmed from a road built as a leisurely Sunday drive for tourists above what's said to be the oldest inland town in Australia - Bathurst NSW - and which has become a Mecca-like attraction for over 180,000 people every October.

One of the world's truly iconic endurance motor races, the Bathurst 1000 is a regular fixture of the 14-round Australian V8 Supercar series.

Fans flock to the Mount Panorama circuit from all around the country, and abroad, to watch drivers hustle, wrench and fight a bunch of big, fast, noisy and ill-handling (by today's standards) tin tops around a public road.

If you are a true fan, according to the stalwarts, the only place to watch the race is from the banks at the top of the mountain.

Fifteen to 20 years ago, making your way across the perceived "badlands" off the top of the circuit from Reid Park all the way back to McPhillamy Park was tantamount to suicide.

Some of the stories in the 1970s and early '80s of strange hairy beasts snatching unsuspecting women from campsites were more urban myths than the truth.

However, there's no getting away from the fact it was a place no sane person would willingly venture after dark. It was rumoured that for a number of years even the police wouldn't venture into the feral landscape of the Reid Park camping area once the sun had set.

Christine (she wouldn't give her last name) has been coming to the race for 24 years and watches from the same place at McPhillimay Park every year. She even has the ubiquitous ex-Army great coat covered in almost 100 badges.

"I wouldn't miss this for anything and I'm just a young one compared to some of the others," she said.

"We've always camped up here at McPhillamy Park and meet the best people. We never went over to the far side [the back of Reid Park] because it was a bad place. But it's calmed down a bit now, but I still like it here."

Even so, you'll still see the strange motor vehicles which are a trademark of Bathurst - the motorcycle-engined "mini-trains" put together in garages and back yards and which potter around the hill towing a spirit-dispensing carriage, a beer keg carriage, a barbecue carriage, a mini lounge and other assorted wagons.

Despite everyone over the age of 18 wandering around with a can of beer in their hand, things are changing. The longest queue was not at the beer van, or indeed the food kiosks; it was at a small tent where a man was blowing up couches.

Not in the old school way when fans literally blew things up (including toilet blocks) and set fire to the couches they brought along - these are big two-seater, bright yellow air-filled things.

"They're flying out the door and we expect to give away over a thousand of these things," said the promotional organiser for XXXX Beer, Wesley Wright.

Further around at Reid Park you'll no longer see the demolition derby in the "bull ring", cars set on fire, or oddballs howling around on motorised couches. Nowadays, if a driver is caught so much as doing a burnout, he'll receive a fine and have his car confiscated for three months.

The police have also successfully managed to reduce the amount of booze brought into the grounds so there has been a corresponding drop in violent crime or alcohol-inspired accidents.

There is still, thank goodness, a slightly edgy feel remaining at Reid Park, especially at the well-known No Shit Hotel.

This shanty-town-like erection at first glance looks like the inside of a dilapidated hotel foyer and bar, complete with liquor licences convincing enough to fool the unwary. The place comes complete with its own DIY toilet half inside a nearby tree.

Brad Olive and some of his mates have been making an annual pilgrimage to the mountain for 23 years with their makeshift hotel and have set it up in the same place every year.

It is so well known that, two years ago, the Team Vodafone driver pairing of Craig Lowndes and Jamie Whincup organised a barbecue at the hotel, to which over 1000 people turned up.

"It was cheaper to make our own pub than go into town," said Olive. "We're all either called Mick or Michelle as it makes it easier to remember each other's names when we're pissed.

"The biggest thing over the years is that everyone is getting old, soft and slowing down. The best thing is the real crazy stuff that used to go on over the back has stopped. Those dickhead 'weekend warriors' were a real pain. Ruined it for the rest of us."

Not that it's all hoons and hooligans. The moneyed are happily paying A$7200 for a three-bedroom apartment, tickets included, over four nights in the newly opened Citigate Mount Panorama perched at the end of the main straight.

Some of the diehards view this palace with sneers but guests have a great view, access to a pool and gym and exclusive use of the bar that overlooks a section of the track.

Since the big police crackdown in 2007, race weekend has become more civilised. There are over 500 police officers on duty over the weekend and year-on-year infringements have reduced both on and off the mountain.

So far there have been 27 people charged with various offences including the seizure of 100 grams of cannabis and 12 have been charged with possession of prohibited drugs. One caught out by sniffer dogs was a 42-year-old Kiwi with 2g of cannabis who was banned for the weekend.

"A bigger police presence had been required to curb a lot of the problems they were having in Bathurst so in 2007 we launched a big operation," said Inspector Amanda Calder. " ... Since then we have been able to reduce police numbers each year."

But there's still a lingering, untamed, slightly feral wildness up in them thar hills.

Despite 100 police patrolling each night, it'll be a few more years before the scantily-clad XXXX Angels (cheerleaders who wriggle and gyrate in support of beer consumption) head up the mountain at sunset to shake their young booty.

There's still too much beer and motor racing-fuelled testosterone in the air to let them loose up there.