Ron Clark pays tribute to a young Scot who has battled his way to the top in three very different sports despite being profoundly deaf since birth

THE chainsaw whine of a tortured motorbike engine, the howl of the wind as Scotland's weather vents its spleen, the roar of the crowd in salute of a winner - this is the music which accompanies the progress of Crawford Carrick-Anderson as one of his country's best trial riders.

But he can hear none of it. Nor can he hear the cheers of his parents as they watch him seize honour after honour. For the 26-year-old Scottish motorcycle trials ace is profoundly deaf and has consequently impaired speech.

And if they handed out a medal for the ability to benignly accept one of life's lousier deals, Carrick-Anderson would be adding it to the silverware he already has on the shelf.

In a sporting career which has consumed more than half his life so far, he has risen to the top in swimming, international skiing, and now top-class motorbike competition.

If it all seems effortless, his father Chris, who is a lawyer in Dunblane where the family are based, is quick to dispel such fancies.

''Success like this does not come easily,'' he said. ''For many, many years, Crawford has sweated through the rigours of a fitness regime - weights, running, cycling, mountain biking, endurance, and flexibility training. It can be awfully lonely at times.''

Carrick-Anderson laid his cards on the table for his family early on.

''He was always very determined, always extremely athletic,'' said his father. ''He was irresistibly drawn to individual sports.''

He was born into a family who enjoyed their sport. ''But none of us would have considered taking it to the stage that he has,'' says his mother, Fiona, who runs a successful kindergarten in Dunblane. In one of these bizarre quirks of circumstance, her trade was speech therapy, and by the time her son was 18 months old, she was aware that there was something wrong with his hearing.

''It was hard to tell at first,'' she says. ''If the doorbell rang and the dog went to the door, Crawford would see it move and go too. We couldn't tell at first that he couldn't hear the bell.

''When it became clear, however, I decided that my main aim had to be to help him learn to talk. Sign language is all very well, but the number of people who understand it is limited.

''To make yourself understood, you have to have speech, and we kept that side of it going. Crawford has a fair amount now; certainly enough to get himself around the world.''

His introduction to that wider world was effected by Scots Ski Club coach, Hans Kuwall, who spotted Carrick-Anderson's potential on the blizzard-lashed slopes of Cairngorm's M1 and White Lady. By the time he was 17, he was Scottish Junior Slalom Champion.

Progress to the British Ski Team was rapid and the next six years were spent in a whirl of activity in Europe's perfectly-groomed competition courses rubbing sticks with the world's best. Before he packed up at the age of 23, he was Britain's best-ranked slalom skier.

''It was a full-time job,'' comments Fiona. ''The winters were spent in Scotland, but the training had to be kept going in the summer so the team went to Europe to ski on the glaciers. With all the fitness and flexibility training Crawford was kept busy for those years.''

One of the things which kept him busy when he was at home was his growing addiction to bike trials. He had been agitating for a motorbike before he reached double figures and, by the time he was 11, says Fiona, ''we had run out of excuses''.

At that time the Carrick-Andersons lived in the country, so they were able to set their helmeted and beleathered prodigy roaring across the fields.

Needless to say, as parents, they had chosen entirely the wrong kind of bike. ''He knew it within weeks,'' says Fiona. ''For another year, he saved up birthday, Christmas, and pocket money and finally bought his first real trial bike from a newspaper advert at the age of 12. We had to buy the first bike back from him.

''Of course we were delighted to support Crawford in any sport he wanted to do, but my goodness, you end up in some strange places when you are involved in trials.''

Father Chris agreed vigorously. ''Much mud, much muck, and much water. Always, it seemed, on a Sunday morning. I distinctly remember on our first trip helping a very determined 12-year-old to pull his bike out of a huge puddle of knee-deep mud.

''But the upside was a very large crowd of friendly youngsters, for whom Crawford's hearing and speech difficulties were never a problem.

''Many of them are still good friends. Crawford is outgoing, friendly, and good at what he does. That was language enough for them.''

Many weekends and even family holidays were dedicated to watching Crawford scramble over huge slabs of rock, rivers with waterfalls and impossibly steep muddy banks of the kind which figure on TV's Kick Start programme. On occasion Chris had to rent a caravan for six-day trial events and act as the cook for four or five bike-mad boys.

It all paid off handsomely, however. At last year's six-day trial at Fort William - an event in which up to 300 international riders cover 100 miles a day over more than 30 moorland sections - Crawford Carrick-Anderson finished an extremely respectable 16th.

Recently, he won the first round of the Scottish Trials Championship and tomorrow he goes for the second round at Kelty Brickworks.

For the last three years he has been attending a silversmithing course at Cardonald College because, as his father says, ''you have to start earning a living at some point''.

He is also coaching children at the Scottish Ski Club. ''The rapport he has with them is remarkable,'' says his father.

''They seek him out. Last Christmas he ran a three-week course for them in Austria and it was a major success. He has to teach by example, of course, but what he transfers to them is an unbounded enthusiasm. That speaks volumes.''