Beltring 2000 - A Travelogue
by Geoff Winnington-Ball
For years now, anyone with more than a passing interest in vintage military vehicles has been aware of the Beltring show. This was my first time over - I was scheduled to go last year, but work committments stalled that effort. For the five-day millenium special, I resolved to go regardless, and believe me, it was worth the hassle and expense!
For details on the history, organization and location of the show, you can go to for detailed info. Suffice to say that this annual extravaganza is largely the work of two dedicated individuals, Rex Cadman and Nigel Hay... how they manage it from one year to the next is beyond me! Their organization, the Invicta Military Vehicle Preservation Society (IMPS) is one of the larger, more active of many such groups in the U.K., and functions on a level we in Canada can only dream about. It is truly amazing to comprehend the general level of interest and energy devoted to this hobby both in the U.K. and on the continent...
The compleat Beltring experience actually begins well before the show, although Hanno and I only arrived at noon on the first day. By that time, many of the exhibitors had actually been there for up to five days, setting up their camps and vehicle/equipment displays. You have to understand that this annual event is much more than a simple, if large-scale, vehicle show... it's a social event in in its own right. In addition to the enormous flea-market stall area (more about this later), there are three large fields in which vehicle exhibitors set up their displays. What makes it doubly interesting is that almost all of these exhibitors camp with their displays, in a variety of setups ranging from simple commercial tents and trailers to elaborate military encampments which include many vehicles bracketted by period tentage, camouflage netting and accessories. Each of these, no matter the size or make-up, becomes its own entertainment centre for family (many wives and children in attendance), friends and guests.
Hanno and I hit the road from his home in Delft about 0550 on Wednesday morning. We used the incomparable European autoroute system to wend our way to Dunqerque, France to take advantage of a new-this-year arrangement with the Norfolk Lines shipping company to provide special show rates on the cross-Channel ferry to Dover. Aside from the obvious fascination with driving through countryside dripping with 2,000 years of history, our first hint of what was to come was passing numerous WW2-era vehicles from as far away as Germany, all heading for the same port (BTW, although I never did meet the gentleman in question, we were told by reliable sources that someone actually drove his GAZ from Moscow...). When we arrived at the Port of Dunqerque for embarkation, we took our place in line with numerous WW2 and post-war American, German and Swiss vehicles; I'd say at least 30 made this trip alone. A British deckhand we spoke to onboard indicated there had been hundreds all through the previous week, from all over the continent... so far so good!
As the ship sailed, we spent part of our time on deck in blazing sunshine, watching the famous sands of this historic beach area fade astern. It was not difficult to superimpose some of the famous photos of that dark time onto the peaceful scene before us - but then again, that is continental Europe to a tee...
Moving into the lounge are of this modern, well-equipped ferry (smooth voyage, good beer!), we were further reminded of our destination by pockets of suitably-uniformed personnel scattered throughout, speaking a half-dozen languages but all on the same subject - vintage military vehicles and the upcoming show. By the time we docked, having watched the classic form of the famous white cliffs materialize out of the haze (and imagining Spitfires and Hurricanes tackling the relentless formations of Heinkels and Dorniers in the same skies) we were only a scant 50 minutes away, albeit driving on the wrong side of the road (takes getting used to if you haven't been there before!)...
Armed with our press passes and the exhibitor vehicle pass provided me as a judge, we made our way to the exhibitors' entrance and signed in officially. Out of nowhere, Nigel Hay himself materialized to greet us, and it was a great pleasure to finally meet not only one of the kingpins of this whole expose, but a fine man totally dedicated to the preservation of historic military vehicles and equipment. Truly a gentleman, Nigel was already beaming at the apparent success of this enormous undertaking, even at this early stage.
First Culture Shock
Having collected our documentation, we then wound our way to the encampment which we would call home for the next five days. As indicated before I left, this was to be the site occupied annually by numerous friends and enthusiasts previously known to me only through email. To get there, we idled past row upon row of green vehicles of every size and description, literally hundreds in this short stretch alone! It was just a taste of what was to come...
We knew we were home when we finally came across the fabled 1943 Ford F15A with Polsten 20mm gun. Restored over a nine-year period by its owner, Dave Ballard, it is truly a sight to behold first-hand, and a suitable marker for MLU's TAC HQ. Alongside was his son Rory's immaculate Morris Commercial 8cwt and a magnificent Canadian Dodge T212 8cwt owned by Alan Tooes. Flanking the exhibit was a desert sand Kettenkrad owned and driven (ridden?) by friend Andreas Mehlhorn of Germany. The latter was to be our on-site transport at the show - what a magnificent beginning!
Initial introductions included not only the above, but also long-time correspondent Doug Greville from Australia ( Doug had provided a sign listing various names and email addresses which would be recognizeable to many with whom we had shared mutual acquaintance through various elements of the internet, and very quickly that day, people with recognizable names began to drop by the say hello. I also immediately posted the 30 by 48 inch MLU signboard I had brought along, which served to indicate that MLU was operational on the ground!
Given that numerous among us at our site are involved in several MV-related mailing lists and fora, we attracted an amazing collection of people from around the world throughout our time at Beltring. Quite aside from those we met by travelling through the hundreds of acres of exhibits, we were literally greeted by dozens at our camp alone. Meeting these individuals alone was reason enough for going, for they are remarkable people, whose dedication and characters define this hobby in a way that few on the outside can comprehend. I shall attempt to list all by name at the conclusion of this missive.
Shortly after we settled in and began to make acquaintance (read - test each other for the limits of ribald humour), yet another significant individual drifted in from hours of wading through the hundreds of stalls in the marketplace. Richard Notton is a tall, eclectic individual with whom some of us have been corresponding for years. He is the next door neighbour of, and best friends with, the aforementioned Dave Ballard, and indeed, Richard's encylopaedic knowledge of vehicle mechanics and restoration techniques was instrumental in helping Dave along with the exhaustive process of restoring the Ford. Richard, himself the owner and operator of an Alvis Stalwart (not at the show due to restrictive operating costs in the U.K.), is also noted for his dry sense of humour and razor-sharp wit, both of which can be highly entertaining, if not deadly to the unsuspecting or uninitiated...
Unfortunately, due to the outrageous cost of internet access and telephone service in the U.K., Richard does not participate in online forums such as our MLU Forum, although he is well-known to subscribers of various mailing lists such as the MVPA's MV List and our own CMP List. Those of you who haven't been exposed to his unique intellect and perspective are missing a lot; our evenings spent at Beltring around the table, with anywhere up to a dozen people from five nationalities were nothing less than instructive... (see below).
Phew! Despite all of the foregoing rhetoric, we've only just arrived at Beltring, and it's only Wednesday afternoon!
Exploring the Site
Just walking the site is an experience in itself, not easily forgotten by either an increasingly addled brain or unforgiving muscles not used to this extent for years. Until you see how much space several thousand military vehicles can take up, you can have no idea of the true size and scope of the show. Depending on what time of day you venture out, suitably armed with cameras, film and canteens of water (dehydration onsite is a real danger in this weather - ask me, I found out the hard way!), many of the owners/operators are there to happily answer your questions and generally chat on for hours if you wish. Even if you restrict your active interest to a small class of vehicles (such as WW2 British and Canadian), you simply can't see every one in the way that you might wish in the the time available! Displays are haphazard in that, with the exception of most of the German stuff, there is no specific area set aside for any given class or type - people generally seem to set up with friends wherever space is available and allotted. Thus, you might find a small brood of outstanding CMPs 25 minutes' hard march from your own site, and that's without being distracted on the way! We found great stuff in our interest group alone in all four corners of the site, and if the owner didn't happen to be 'home', you would go back later to find him.
If based upon a good conversation and mutual understanding, you were lucky enough to be invited for a ride sometime later, you'd make the trek again... and again...
Andreas' Kettenkrad was used as regular and welcome transportation around the site by numerous of our group, and for that, he has our singular and everlasting thanks. He says he put on over 40 miles during the show, including two runs to a neighbouring village to reprovision! Of the five KKs at the show, his was the only one on regular move, and to his great credit, he even took it through the mud bog on the cross-country course, something none of the "serious" display types would not even contemplate. At the end, it looked like something straight off the Ostfront, and ran better than ever - you tell ME who's serious about this hobby!
A Constant Flow
Speaking of driving, you have to understand that Beltring is not just a static show. From approximately 0800 in the morning until after dark, there was a constant flow of vehicles moving around the site at all times. Although heavy tracked vehicles require escorts and guards to ensure safety, the flow of anything less was constant and unique. With literally miles of grass tracks to cover through and between the displays, there was a constant flow of some remarkable vehicles all day long. Some would be simply their owners cruising around to see the sites, others loaded with friends and family, and still others going point-to-point on missions unknown, or to visit others with the same type of vehicles. The ambiance of the site is like none I've ever known, in that at any given time, hundreds of vehicles of every sort, nationality and size might be on the move, just putting about. It gives the astounded bystander an opportunity to see and experience that much more than one would ever at an equivalent (ha! - there isn't one!) North American show. Beltring is an amazing, constantly-flowing tide of olive drab and khaki energy and synergy...
...and then there's the Arena. Daily, from approximately noon onwards, there's also a steady succession of individual shows of different vehicles and re-enactment groups. All heavy armour was paraded in the Arena only (due to the aforementioned safety requirements), as opposed to the seemingly endless and aimless (but invigorating!) drive-bys in the site itself. If you were lucky, and positioned yourself accordingly, you could experience the heavy stuff moving back and forth from their own camps to the Arena, followed by demonstrations of their capabilities therein. Both old and new paraded accordingly, with daily performances by several Stuarts (M3A1 and M5A1), David Russell's remarkable, restored Churchill Crocodile, and much more.
Also in the Arena, there were periodic displays by special interest areas, such as that of early British and Canadian trucks. I was privileged to ride in the roof hatch of Dave Ballard's Polsten F15A for one of these, during which, as one of about twenty such vehicles, we paraded around several times for the benefit of several thousand spectators, against the backdrop of a running commentary by Nigel Hay himself.
This itself lead to an event of dubious distinction, as when we were leaving the Arena after the final drive past, I made the mistake of making a small but significant gesture (friendly!) to Nigel, who was ushering us out on his open mike. The bugger then walked over, introduced me, and shoved the damned thing in my face for comments! Goddammit, you've never seen anyone ad lib the way I had to then! It was the source of endless ribbing by our esteemed comrades at our camp thereafter... I must have done OK, because they were still talking to me afterwards...
Nigel owes me a LARGE drink for that! LOL
The Weekend Draws Even More
Beltring just didn't "start" on Wednesday and "end" on Sunday. As mentioned earlier, it really began well before, and as I understand, carried on well after, as everyone packed up for next year. For Wednesday and Thursday, there must have been over 2,000 vehicles on-site, but by Friday morning, and continuing through Saturday, new arrivals for the weekend boosted that number to close to 3,000.
Included in these was our own Nigel Watson, who brought his early Canadian Mk.I* carrier all the way down from Scotland - again, I was privileged to ride in same, and I can tell you all without reservation that our Nigel is a true gentleman whom it is a great pleasure to now know personally.
I also had the very great pleasure and privilege of meeting one Mike Ebeling, whose restored Canadian Lynx won the Best Of Show last year. This time he brought down his Otter recce car, restored some 15 years and 18,000 miles ago from scrap, and I spent a great deal of time and film looking through same. Riding in it was even better!
Friday also brought two new arrivals to our little MLU encampment. Brian Kitcher brought in his complete but unrestored 1943 40mm Bofors... towed behind his newly-restored, immaculate CMP LAAT. What a treat to behold! Missing only the interior racking, this truck was otherwise a joy to behold, something we over here can only imagine. I took MANY pics...
At dusk on Friday also appeared Carl 'Multibank' Brown and his fresh Sherman M4A4. Several of us were up near the stalls eating something unidentifiable from the food vendors, when suddenly a low-loader appeared, threading its way through the throng of pedestrians. On the back was the magnificent sight of a newly painted M4A4 in all its glory. Food was forgotten as we raced after it, catching up in time to watch it start up - nothing in the world sounds like a brand new multibank - move off the loader, and drive a klick down to park itself in our enclosure. It was so new that you could smell the paint burning off in the exhaust! Carl's multibank is one of three running in the world that we know of, truly an amazing feat. It went on to perform in the Arena on Saturday, and was a joy to behold, both static and on the move... and you bet, it attracted an instant crowd of cooing onlookers...
All of these and much more have been recorded on film. Most of my pics are of related British and Canadian stuff, for to cover the rest appropriately would be runinous both financially and timewise. Suffice to say that there's a ton of everything you can think of, from all nations and all eras. To me, it's worth even a weekend jaunt - fly in Thursday, camp, and leave Sunday afternoon. You won't regret it! If you can spare more time, even better, for there is a wealth of things to see in the U.K. alone. Don't talk about it, just DO it.
The Judging Experience
I want to mention a little about the experience of being a judge at this event. I was asked to take this role the instant I informed Nigel Hay that I was indeed going to make it over. Although having been advised otherwise, due primarily to the time required for such responsibilities, I accepted happily, in that not only was this an opportunity for MLU to put its stamp on the event, but also out of gratitude for Nigel & co. for the considerations shown us. I don't regret it, and I will happily perform the same function next year!
The judging process at Beltring is different than anything we are used to here in North America. First of all, given the size and complexity of the show, there are no specified criteria in any given class - the judge of any particular class makes up his own. My assignment was 'Best Canadian [-manufactured] Vehicle' - easy enough at the outset, until you start to look at the individual vehicles. Obviously, it would be simple, albeit patently unfair, to give the awards (1st Place & Runner-up) to people you know, or to vehicles you personally favour for any given reason. As a judge, one has to first evaluate one's own perspective, then set and apply criteria to all you see within the class. In this process, numerous questions arise - does one go for the go for the newest, most 'factory-fresh' vehicle? The best-kitted-out? The rarest? That which took the most work to build, even if it means most of the vehicle has been remanufactured? That which has the most original body bits restored regardless of condition?
What seemed to be a simple prospect in the beginning proved to be a difficult, time-consuming process in the execution. I'm just glad I didn't have a larger, more complex field to judge! I spent a lot of time talking over criteria with numerous people I knew, including the judge of the wheeled armour class, our old friend Chris Shillito (, a man whom I trust implicitly. We agreed that our criteria for judging had to be a combination of factors, including rarity, effort put in, kitting out and originality. We simply couldn't in all conscience afford to simply award the prize to the 'guy with the big bucks who could afford to buy a new piece and display it with a paint job sub-contracted out to professionals'... we had to acknowledge hard work and dedication, and encourage others striving to join the field.
It was a tough call, even in the small Canadian Vehicle field (as I'm sure it will be next year!). In the end, there was little choice. I awarded the First Prize to a newcomer to the business, one Richard Curtis of Steeple, Essex. He's a younger fellow, who outdid himself remanufacturing the rear 1/3 of an HUW, then proceeding to equip it as per 1944, right down to the 19-set and table, accessories, operational chorehorse and all interior markings. Truly a commendable job! Our own Brian Gough can tell you much more about this vehicle considering his own interest and his time spent with this individual, but to my mind, it was the best vehicle with the best effort put in, which I saw. We need more like this man!
Although Richard Curtis has my card, I don't know if he's on the internet, and it is to my great chagrin that he was not around when I showed up to award the prize. I wrote him a note, and left that and the certificate in his windshield; I hope he was suitably pleased. He deserves it.
As I said, it was a tough call. After much deliberation, Second Prize was given to our own Pete Ashby for his immaculate 12-cab Chev C15A. Another outstanding job! Pete didn't buy it that way, he had to MAKE it that way. Pete, are you there? Take a bow, my friend, it's your due. I was damned impressed by not only what you've accomplished, but by your attitude. I am pleased and proud to know you!
BTW, Pete also won 'Best Medium' for this same truck, along with 'Best Self Restored In Show', so I reckon he didn't go home 'down in the mouth' after all!
Mike Ebeling took Runner-up in 'Best Wheeled Armour', as well he should have. He remanufactured that Otter from a cab shell and chassis - true dedication in a costly and time-consuming hobby. It was truly magnificent...
There were MANY 'runner-ups' in my class alone... in one sense, I hated having to choose. Almost all of the contenders deserved a prize, and I only hope that those who didn't win understand the magnitude of the process. This includes the two young lads who drove their early 13-cab F15 GS from Jersey! The prize could equally as easily have gone to Dave, or Brian, or Mike, or Alan... and I hope I expressed my appreciation to them adequately.
Funny how the Canadian stuff seems to dominate Beltring year after year...
Hanno and I had to leave Beltring a trifle early this year, given the extensive drive back, Hanno having to work on Monday morning, and me with Monday appointments in the Netherlands. I suspect we missed little, although leaving our friends behind was a little tough in its own right, and in retrospect, I would have liked to have been present for the formal awarding of prizes. Next year I'm coming the day before, and staying the day after!
A Typical Day At Beltring
One of the things I didn't mention above, which was tied to the incredible air of companionship and good fellowship alluded to earlier, was our ritual of daily activities.
Basically, our days go like this - given that we've been up until approximately 0200 the night before, First Conciousness is usually around 0800. At that time, the first intrepid soul will be driving his vehicle around, someplace close-by, so the first sound you hear is an engine of some sort. Then, of course, you realize that you have to pee...
So you shake off your lethargy and actually get up. Living in a tent, of course, this involves a certain degree of physical agility of which you are plainly incapable at this time in the morning. So be it. Nature's call, however, eventually inspires you to greater efforts, and before long, you are swaying in the dew-laden grass along with hundreds of others within view, wondering about the physical commands necessary to take you to the bogs. Instinct wins, usually anyway, and that task done, you can't help but marvel again at the scope of the whole experience as you approach your camp and look at it from the outside in. Coffee calls.
You arrive back and inevitably (at least in our camp), someone else is up and brewing tea on the gas cooker. For us, it is always Alan, and he's the first to offer you a cuppa, or at least hot water for your coffee, if you are so inclined. While you were sipping yours and summoning up the demons which might carry you forth to the showers a kilometer or so away, he inevitably excuses himself politely, then wanders into the caravan enclosure where Richard sleeps... this invariably leads to a loud and outrageous string of hysterical invective from Mr. Notton. With Alan's emergence from said enclosure, radiating a shite-eating grin, we know another day at Beltring had begun...
After a suitable period of regaining sufficient conciousness, the business of the day resumes. We usually go our own ways, to displays we wish to revisit, or to the stalls. The odd one will simply hang back, quite comfortable in watching the site come alive at its own pace, sipping tea or coffee in quiet contemplation of the pleasure of another morning which promises a lethargic, steamy afternoon much later. Time is not important.
The Industrous break out the frying pans and other implements of culinary destruction, and proceed to prepare their own breakfasts. The Intrepid begin the Long March to the cafe where one can buy a 'real English breakfast'. The Insane boil up enough water for a second cup of coffee, to which is added a healthy dollop of Jack Daniel's, or whatever else may be suitable to ward off the previous evening's fog. Ahhh, Beltring....
Regardless of one's culinary persuasion, one always makes a trek in the AM, before it gets really hot. Early on, it's different, in that nobody is truly awake, but at least everyone is by their vehicles; some surprisingly lucid conversations can be had during this time. Later, we drift back to the site in ones and twos, always commenting of what we've seen or found. By this time, those of us who weakened and stayed in local B&Bs have arrived, and the pace steps up. Motors roar, and Kettenkrads, or jeeps, or 8cwts embark upon their rounds, crewed by those of us too lazy or too resourceful to walk. The rest of us watch in awe...
Somewhere to the left, there emotes the unmistakeable aria of a heavy engine, in symphony with a chorus of clinking tracks. The 'Germans' are on the move, again. Sooner rather than later, a Hetzer comes into view, and despite the fact that you've seen it move a dozen times so far, you still wonder how the driver can see anything at all through its tiny vision slit. There are one or two uniformed individuals out front guiding it down your narrow lane, and you have to smirk at the fact that they must be already uncomfortable in their WW2 woollen uniforms. And that oh-so-stern visage... ah, but it takes all kinds!
Despite its size, the Hetzer is loud, and its passing denotes that it's time to get a move on, for Beltring is truly alive again...
And so goes the day. We wander in and out, the lucky or persuasive RIDE in and out, all with the morning's mission in mind. The far field? The stalls? Someone specific you missed yesterday?
Lunch finds about half back at the camp, and something is concocted out of bags or on the ubiquitous gas burners. The missing have either forgotten to eat, or are feeding at one of the equally-ubiquitous junk food booths. Food purchased at the latter is not something you'd readily feed your dog, but it's hot and there are no corpses lying in front, so you presume that at least you'll live through the day.
The heat of the afternoon finds all but the most intrepid of explorers back at the camp, seeking cold drinks and some form of shelter from the inexorable heat of the day. Ironically, this seems also when most friends drop by for a visit, in some cases people whom you know not, but have recognized your display sign or logo, and simply wish to make themselves known and chat a while. It is a fascinating but lazy way to pass the better part of a scorching afternoon at Beltring.
The Chopper Jock
About this time, The Helicopter becomes an issue. Located on a small grass pad in the next field, this innocuous commercial Bell 206 Jet Ranger becomes a Vietnam-era gunship whenever the pilot sobers up enough to figure out the controls. When he winds it up, you know it's loaded with paying passengers, and he proceeds to demonstrate every manoeuvre possible in this machine, including, but not limited to, low-level wingovers and high speed, tree-level passes. We are told he's ex-RAF, and while he appears to know his stuff, one can't help but wonder how many of those fine English breakfasts have ended up on the deck of the passenger compartment. At our end, it is not unknown for someone to climb aboard either the 20mm Polsten or the 40mm Bofors, cursing under his breath in time with the beat of rotors, and practice tracking moving targets while wishing subconciously for uncut actions and full magazines - ahh, progress.
Late afternoon spawns a siren call to the far corners of the site, as the heat of the day finally wears off. When one arrives back at the camp in early evening, the process of socializing and cooking is already under way. Those without food or the paraphenalia to prepare same can usually cage a ride up to the junk food stalls at this time, where a filling but tasteless meal may be purchased from an idiotic, grinning attendant for far too much money. You do it anyway, because you haven't the energy to cook after a day of walking miles under the merciless sun. The vendors count on that, I'm sure.
The smarter exhibitors go to the pub just off-site for a few hours, pints and real food. It may be significant to note that we weren't among their numbers.
The Evening Begins
As the sun falls and the air cools rapidly, the tone of the evening is set. In ones and twos, our friends and guests drift in to sit around Alan's picnic table under his awning, scrambling for both place and whatever drinks might have been left from the previous evening. Cold beer appears, and drinks are poured. The game is on.
Once Richard secures his post-dinner cuppa, and Alan his post-dinner Scotch, An Evening At Beltring has begun. There are no holds barred, no taboos. Ribaldry, sarcasm and wit rule the night. By dark, there may be up to a dozen around the table, from four or five different corners of the globe; each has something to offer the conversation, and each riposte is taken as a challenge to one's personal honour. You must better the next man. Hysteria rules the night.
After midnight, those feeling the effects of the day's trek fade away, literally or figuratively, and the rest decide to pack it in sometime thereafter. Another day is done, but there is always tomorrow.
As you burrow into your sleeping bag for a dreamless few hours until it all starts again, you can't help but marvel at the fact that you've never been quite so comfortable in your whole adult life, nor quite so amused or entertained. Life is good.
This too, is Beltring.
The People Make The Show
The people... ah, yes, the people. OK, here's a list - or, inevitably, a partial list - of those we met, with a few notes. If your name's not here, it surely will be as soon as I recover from this time-zone thing! Anyone, feel free to add to the list as your own experiences dictate - let's make this a record!
In no particular order and without references at hand:
Geoff Winnington-Ball (me)
Hanno Spoelstra (Sherman Register)
Richard Notton (silly English person, friend-for-life)
Doug Greville (Aussie Extraordinaire)
Andreas Mehlhorn (Herr Oberstkettenkradfixennführer)
Alan Tooes (another loonie, beautiful Dodge T212)
Tim Panton (foil for Richard & Alan, can hold his own)
Dave Ballard (Ford F15A Polsten)
Rory Ballard (Son of Dave, Morris Commercial)
Dennis Deck (California, C8 in the making)
Carl 'Multibank' Brown (say no more...)
Brian Kitcher (LAAT & Bofors)
Robin Craig (Canada)
Brian Gough (Canada)
Barry Churcher (Canada)
Dirk Leegwater (Holland)
Michael Grieve (Australia again)
Nigel Watson (Scotland)
Eric Delcommenne (Belgium)
Stefan Fredriksson (Sweden, TankNet)
Jim Mackie (Canada - bought Ferret at show...!)
Chris Shillito (Armour in Focus)
Gavin Broad (Bangkok Thailand, MV List)
Gordon McMillan (Scotland)
Ken 'Muttguru' (MV List)
Nigel Hay (Show Organizer Extraordinaire)
Richard Curtis (Best Canadian Vehicle)
Tom Woodburn (USA, MV List)
John Bizal (USA, MV List, just recovered a UC1* from the north woods of Minnesota)
Raimondo Torelli (Italy, MV List)
Pete Ashby (builds CMPs ... well!)
Who have I missed? No doubt many... send me your names and I will include!
MV people, history people, you haven't lived until you have experienced Beltring. Just do it and don't argue...

Geoff Winnington-Ball
Zephyr, Ontario, Canada

Doug Greville's Beltring Page | Andreas Mehlhorn's Beltring Links

Top  |  Back to Beltring Pics  |  MLU Contents Page  |  MLU Forum  |  Email Us

Copyright © 2000 Geoff Winnington-Ball. All rights reserved.