Guest Author; Peter Fattorini.
Did you know there’s a lake at Cadwell Park? I certainly didn’t — not until I caught up with Peter Fattorini during the Stonyhurst Car Tour this July. Peter, a veteran of the 1960s single-seater racing scene, revealed how he discovered this hidden water feature in the most unforgettable way: behind the wheel of a Brabham BT21 competing in the Morning Telegraph Trophy.
What followed was a high-speed duel, a daring move at the final corner… and an unplanned meeting with Cadwell Park’s lake — ducks included.
Into the Lake at Cadwell Park: A Racing Memory from 1967
By Peter Fattorini.
Cadwell Park and the Morning Telegraph Trophy
In 1967, the Morning Telegraph Trophy brought together a lively field of drivers at Cadwell Park. Among them were Barrie Maskell, Rod Pickering, and myself in a Brabham BT21 Formula 3 car. The Autosport report summed it up nicely: Maskell, Fattorini, and Pickering were “going at it hammer and tongs.”
Barrie Maskell and I were both Northerners — both born in Bradford. Rod Pickering once held the overall lap record at Mallory Park, his local circuit, in a Formula 2 car. It was a talented trio on that day, and the race would prove to be one for the history books – though perhaps not for the usual reasons.
Of that trio, Rod and I are still here in our eighties, while Barrie sadly passed away some years ago. Barrie deserves a special mention — a driver of real talent who might have achieved even more with greater backing. After a fall from a tree left him in a wheelchair, he remarkably continued racing, driving a Porsche 911 adapted for his needs.
A Duel Between Brabham and Lotus
The race itself was a formula libre event, meaning a mix of different cars and engine sizes. I was at the wheel of a Brabham fitted with a one-litre Cosworth Formula 3 engine, while Rod’s Lotus carried a 1.5-litre twin-cam unit.
The differences were clear. On the long straights after the start/finish line, Rod’s extra power told, and he edged away. But my Brabham was beautifully balanced, and on the corners I could outbrake him and close the gap.
Cadwell Park’s layout made it a duel of contrasts: Rod pulling ahead on the straights, me hunting him down through the bends.
Flying Over the Mountain
Every lap brought its rhythm: fast stretches, sweeping bends, and then the approach to the Mountain. Here, the car would launch over the brow, the revs of the Cosworth climbing beyond 9,000 — not a place to get too relaxed when the wheels were airborne.
From there, the circuit tightened, with a series of bends leading into Barn Corner. This was where I had my chance. If I could edge ahead of Rod at Barn on the final lap, I thought I could hold him to the flag.
From Barn Corner to the Lake
The plan almost worked. I squeezed past Rod at Barn, but in doing so just overcooked it. The Brabham slewed sideways, I corrected too sharply, and suddenly I was off the track.
Down a steep bank I went, narrowly missing a tree, before coming to an abrupt halt in Cadwell Park’s little-known lake. Thankfully, the car settled in the shallows with no damage to the engine, and I climbed out with nothing worse than wet feet.
For the spectators, it must have been quite alarming as I vanished completely from view, backwards down an embankment. One of the marshals later captured the moment in a cartoon featuring the startled ducks — a piece of artwork I still have framed.
Looking Back
Motorsport is more than just speed. It’s stories, and I am glad I lived in an age which allowed me to experience moments like that final corner at Cadwell Park — and, yes, even an unexpected dip in the lake. Rod and I may now settle our rivalries over a table tennis match rather than a Brabham and a Lotus, but memories like that stay with you.
There were other moments that remind you just how extraordinary motorsport can be. During practice for the supporting Formula 3 race at the 1965 British Grand Prix at Silverstone, the tannoy called out:
“Would Mr Jim Clark, Mr Graham Hill, and Mr Peter Fattorini please report to race control.”
Young drivers today know that racing is fun, just as we did. Few will ever achieve greatness, and the closest I came was that tannoy announcement with Jim Clark and Graham Hill. But hang on to those memories — the failures as well as the successes. Store them like trophies on your mental mantelpiece.
And when we oldies say we don’t like to drive in the dark, prefer to go by train, or can’t quite work out the electronics in our VW, I’d simply say: “When you look at us, you’re looking at the future.”