North from Bordeaux brought us to Le Mans just as it was gearing up for the famous 24 hour motor race. This was no coincidence. We met up with the wonderful Lars and Inge and their magnificent Volvo 303. They had travelled directly from Denmark with some fellow Vikings to watch the race. Each year a quarter of a million people arrived from all over the world for this most famous of endurance races. A very large contingent comes from the UK. I am not sure quite why this race is so popular with Brits but they arrive in droves. For the last couple of years, Le Mans 24 has been behind closed doors and that made this year particularly busy. In fact the crowds were remarkable by comparison with any of the half dozen times I have been here before.
We had an allocated campsite and obviously Baloo took up two pitches. Everyone else got set up around us. Mostly small tents, some larger tents and a handful of motorhomes. Each person gets a pitch of just 5m by 7m. Each pitch is adjacent to the next so it gets very cosy very quickly. The Danes were right next to us and Brits on the other side. Baloo is registered with German number plates so it is often assumed that Diane and I are German. Such was the case at the campsite for a while. The Brits ignored us until someone picked up on Diane’s quite distinctive Yorkshire accent. Then they suddenly became quite friendly and asked to have a look inside the truck.
The main premise of the Le Mans 24 hour race is that winner is the car that drives furthest in 24 hours. It is the original endurance race. Most cars have three drivers, each doing stints of less than six hours. There are several classes of race car. The fastest class will do over 5,000 km at an average speed over 200 kph. The race is intense. Fast, hot, noisy, crowded. Part of the 13 km circuit is on normally public roads. These are closed and prepared for the race. On race day, it feels like the whole of the city gets involved.
A typical trip to Le Mans from the UK starts with a mad drive to France. Preferably in a fast car and preferably breaking many speed limits on the way. Once at the campsite the drinking starts. This is continuous until the race is over. Attendees are predominantly male which may account for the catering provisions – almost exclusively barbeque and beer. Sleep is optional. The return trip is often a little more sedate.
Friday was spent relaxing, drinking beer and watching the campsite blossom into a heaving and packed mass of tents, cars and people. Le Mans is all about the atmosphere. Several hundred thousand petrol-heads dedicated to fast cars and drinking beer. Although this might sound like a volatile situation there are very few incidents. Often fans show their support this or that race team or car manufacturer but it is more like a preference rather than an obsession. There is never any of the acrimonious rivalry that you might get at a football match. In the afternoon, the pits were opened up and we could look at the cars close up.
Saturday, 3pm, the race roared into life. At one time the drivers famously ran across the track to start their cars but these days a rolling start is the much safer option. The French air force flew over leaving a trail of colourful smoke. 60 colourful cars thundered down the track to the ubiquitous Dunlop bridge where we saw then at full speed for the first time. A Mexican wave of bobbing heads spread down a trackside absolutely packed with spectators. I needed to stand on tip-toes just to see the track. The noise is phenomenal. Ear defenders are essential. Then there is the smell, high performance racing fuel and burning rubber.
Things settled down a little after the first few laps but only a little bit. We wandered around the track. Had a cold but still overpriced, beer. Wandered round the track some more and generally mellowed into the race ambience. Eventually we looked at some of the commercial stands, considered eating some fries but got put off by the long queues and had a beer instead. A few hours later we reunited with Lars and Inge who we had lost somewhere near part of the track called Tertre Rouge. Overall, the track is 13.6 km long. This would be a good hike but I don’t think it is allowed to walk all the way around it.
Darkness comes late in the evening in June. We turned in around 10pm but then got up a couple of hours later, grabbed a bottle of wine and hopped on a bus to Arnage. One of the great corners of Le Mans. It might sound a bit strange to talk about a great corner but the cars come in here fast and have to negotiate a sharp right hander. At night you see a blaze of approaching headlights. The car turns in, brake discs glowing bright red with heat, tyres struggle to hold on, exhaust popping and flashing with unburnt fuel. In a flash it is past leaving that special smell of fumes and rubber. It is a great way to spend some time but I can imagine it is not for everyone.
We took second bus to Mulsanne and the end of the long straight. These days there is a chicane to slow the cars but even so they can still top 400 km along this stretch. For the brave, late brakers this can be good overtaking spot. Hitting the precise braking point at such a high speed is very difficult. Cars often end up weaving dramatically or even over shooting and crunching through the gravel before regaining the track. All fascinating to watch especially at night with the added drama of headlights, spotlights, floodlights, brake lights and flaming exhaust pipes.
A few more hours of sleep and we were into he closing acts of the race. Over a very late breakfast we tried to catch up by listening to the event radio. Fortunately, such is the size of the English presence here that there is a radio station entirely in English. The effects of 24 hours noise, sleeplessness and beer were making themselves felt. Many people were wandering around with an air of the zombie about them. Some had simply given up and gone to sleep. A few die-hards were still knocking back the beer. We made our way back to the track and watched the final few laps. The very last lap is really just a lap of honour. The cars slow down so the drivers can wave, the crowds applaud and the marshals wave their flags. A strange quietness descends.
Many spectators rush to leave as soon as the race finishes. There are long queues of traffic and many tired, irritable drivers. We chose to simply put our feet up and stay put while the crowds flowed past. Next day we were amongst the last of the stragglers to leave.
Then something very strange happened…