We only had a short wait until The Pride of Portsmouth docked at Le Havre, and being foot passengers we were among the
first to disembark and head through customs, although we did have a short wait
after that before Adrian
and Steve picked up the coach. We were
back onto the coach by 7.20 am, and our journey south to Le Mans began. In the light early-morning traffic we made what
seemed to be very good time and the word went around that we might be
at the circuit by about 11.30-11.45 am, perhaps in time to catch the end
of the morning warm-up, and certainly in good time to take part in our “Personal Race Brief and Hospitality
Welcome” in the M.R.I. marquee at
the Ford Chicane at 12 noon. We made a
stop for petrol and water (petrol for the coach and water for us) at 9.20 am at Lisieux, only stopping for about 15 minutes to give everyone the
opportunity to stretch their legs. It
was then back on the road for the final leg of the journey.
We continued to make what appeared to be good
progress and despite a fast-developing headache for me, we remained optimistic of arriving at the circuit in excellent time. It was as we approached the outskirts of Le Mans, that everything
went seriously pear-shaped. Having been to Le Mans 12 times even though as a passenger and not a driver I've
become reasonably familiar with the route, and it had begun to puzzle me that I
couldn’t recognise any of the roads we were taking. Bearing in mind that Steve was completely clueless (I doubted that he had ever been to Le Mans
before) and Adrian
had definitely never been there before, I suppose I should have expected some
problems at this stage of the journey.
When with Ian we have generally approached the circuit from the
north, following a number of very familiar roads (indicated by
the signs for the four “coloured” parking 'garages'), although, in the previous couple of
years when we stayed at Vendôme on the Friday night (Vendôme being
situated about 50 miles past Le
Mans), we have also approached the circuit from the south. The route we were taking was completely unfamiliar and it was to prove a thoroughly bad
choice. By 11.00 am we were stuck in
a rock solid traffic jam moving at snail’s pace, a pace which did not increase one iota until we were actually parked in the circuit. All hopes of being at the track by 11.45 a.m.
went out of the window and murmurings soon began to be heard about not even getting
there in time for our briefing in the marquee, which bearing in mind it was
all part of the overall cost, would be extremely annoying.
12 noon (and our briefing) came and went by which time we
had travelled about half a mile. It
could be said of course, that the lure of the race was much greater this year
and consequently there were a lot more people travelling to the circuit, but this
just didn’t ring true. What seemed more
likely was that we had got ourselves onto the ring road around Le Mans and were struggling with all those
people who were trying to get away
from the circuit! On and on we crawled
until we eventually saw the shape of that famous ACO grandstand in the distance
- we were nearly there - finally! We were so late arriving that we couldn't park
with the rest of the M.R.I. coaches
towards the front of Parking Bleu (only two minutes from the entrance to the
circuit). Instead, we had to park in a
service road, about ten minutes walk further away - another nuisance. It was by now 12.30 pm, with the start of
the race only an hour and a half away*, and all I could think of was getting off
that damned coach and into the fresh air to try and get rid of what had now
become a migraine. Of course, I
also wanted to get into the circuit as soon as possible to see if there was
some kind of half-reasonable vantage-point still available for the start of the
race, bearing in mind that the tribunes opposite the pits would be absolutely
packed by now.
(*2021 edit - I've racked my brain and searched the internet but I can't remember why the race started at 2 pm in 1998, a break from the traditional start time).
It was at this stage that Steve our so-called
tour guide, showed what a complete waste of space he was. Peter and I had no need for any
instructions at all, aside from being told what time we needed to be back to the
coach on Sunday afternoon after the race, but there were quite a few
others on the coach (including Fergus and John), who had never been to Le Mans
before. What these people needed was
some advice about where to go to get in, where to watch from, how to get to the
best places on the circuit and so on.
They weren’t even told how to get to the M.R.I. marquee! Steve was
hopeless and I felt sorry for those people who were first-timers who
were literally wandering around the coach with no idea where to head for, in terms of
entrances and so on. In the end, two or
three first-timers tagged along behind Peter and I and we took them to the
marquee, where they finally got some advice.
By the time we got off the coach, sorted out our
gear and headed into the circuit, it was about 1.00 p.m. (with only an hour to
go to the start of the race). We quickly
appreciated that there was no point at all wandering around now, and decided instead to try and find a spot for ourselves on the banking just before the Ford Chicane,
directly in front of the M.R.I.
marquee. Fortunately, we didn’t have the
crush of spectators there that we always encounter on the tribunes each year, and we
found a suitable spot relatively painlessly. By then we had just under an hour in which to sort out the cameras and so on,
but first - it was time for a merguez! Those of you who have had the fortitude to
read any of my previous stories will know that for me there are a number of important features
which make up the intangible magic of Le
Mans. The
journey (normally!) into Le Mans and to the circuit, the first sighting of the
ACO grandstand and the Dunlop Bridge, the sound of the cars as they head off
behind the pace car and the smells - the frites, the roast chickens, the Grand
Marnier crepes and, of course, the merguez!
Having been introduced to these foul-looking (but delicious!) black and
red spicy sausages by Ian on my first visit in 1986, I think there has
only been one year when I didn’t have at least one merguez - and it
was now merguez time. There was an eaterie near to hand so Peter and
I were confident that we would still be able to return to our place on the banking and made our move for the food. No matter
how hard I tried I could not persuade Peter to join me in a merguez and
frites, so he had steak instead. I think
he would admit this was a mistake as he ended up with the most gristly and
inedible piece of steak either he or I had even seen! As before at Le Mans, I had little doubt that
Peter’s steak was of the equine variety and Peter soon gave up trying to make
something of it to concentrate instead on the chips (which were very
good). My merguez was as wonderful as a
merguez always is - hot and spicy and made even more so by lashings of mustard!
Feeling a lot less empty, but still with an
excrutiating headache, I headed back with Peter to our vantage-point on the
banking at the Ford Chicane to watch the start of the race. At 1.50 pm the cars left the dummy grid,
led by the pace car, to make a relatively slow lap around the circuit, every
movement tracked, as always, by the helicopters sending back the TV
pictures. As the cars came slowly to the
end of the pace lap, I was able to get some photographs (albeit through the fencing), including both BMW’s, both factory Courages, both Porsche GT1’s, some of
the Nissans and Toyotas, and a number of the other leading entries. As it happens, the Nissans had been my
personal tip for success this year, although it was clear from their
performance in qualifying that they were quite a bit slower than the Mercedes,
Toyotas and Porsches, and would need reliability to get them home,
rather than speed.
