Endurance spectating at Le Mans 2009 - part 1

Question : which motorsport event has a higher death toll for spectators than for drivers?

The answer is Le Mans. The photo (by Alan Mansell) was a bit of a clue. A higher percentage of drivers have died, of course. And huge numbers of spectators have descended on the Sarthe circuit over the years but this doesn't detract from the sense of occasion through being there.

The 2009 event was my third time at Le Mans
(previous expeditions were in 2004 and 2005) and I enjoyed this year's festival of motoring excess just as much as ever. Audi had been the dominant team but this year Peugeot were in the ascendant with the petrol powered Aston Martins having an outside chance. And after last year, in which Peugeot narrowly lost overall victory to Audi, the leading French diesel manufacturer was out for revenge.

With the recent foul weather, I’m enjoying looking back to a fantastic event with some very warm weather.

I would have liked a Morgan entry as they celebrate 100 years this year and their GT3 cars are doing well but the Gt categories only go up to GT2. A Morgan entry would have been the icing on the cake, especially as I was the passenger in my mate Alan's Morgan Plus Four again. However, this conspicuous absence in the entry list was soon forgotten and Morgan cars had a huge presence over the weekend.

Alan Mansell’s been going for years and we were joined this year by the Mevagissey gang John, Jane, James and Fletcher. Alan was like a big uncle to all of us. He knew where to go and when to go there although John Collins is an old hand at this kind of lark, too. (Photo by Alan Mansell)

The plan was very simple and was a repeat of our earlier successful outings. We took the Tuesday evening ferry from Plymouth to Roscoff and then motored down to Le Mans through Brittany with a stop at a little eaterie that we know in Chasillé.

Even at the ferry terminal in Blighty there was the feeling of something big gathering pace. There were some very nice cars boarding for the overnight crossing. If you’re in a low slung sportscar like a Morgan there’s a technique to negotiating the loading ramp. Alan approaches it gently at about 45 degrees. The crew weren’t fazed by this at all. They must see it very year with slammed cars going abroad. Once on board we discovered a load of bikers going to a rally in Brittany, many of them from Mevagissey.

I have yet to get used to sleeping overnight on a ferry and a single night’s practise is never enough. Our bleary eyed departure with our new biker friends was enlivened, however, by a very supple young woman at the end of the car deck. She was talking to a friend and had her back to us and suddenly put a foot in her hand and held it up by her ear with a straight leg. All conversation stopped. Then she did the other side. Some of us were fantasising about her all the way to Le Mans.

Alan dished out ear plugs for our blast to the circuit. There was heavy rain and we didn’t envy the bikers. There’s another Morganatic* practice to driving in driving rain. You must ensure that the flap of the hood is outside the window every time you close the door, otherwise you’ll get wet.

(*Yeah I know that’s not the right word)

Alan is a member of the Automobile Club de l’Ouest who run the event so we’d managed to get camping in Houx, which has good facilities and is handy for the Village and Paddock. As soon as we’d arrived we saw some familiar faces.

A motorised bathtub with strange steering geometry was cruising round the campsite and as darkness fell we saw the motorised settee that we’d admired in years past. I’d like to know what lies under the upholstery – maybe somebody out there knows?

These goings-on are entirely normal. Mini motos and powered scooters were everywhere. They're noisy so their not much of a hazard to pedestrians but the pilots are gravel rash seekers and seem to wear nothing more than shorts and tee shirts. "And this one here? I got this one at Le Mans. The doctors said I'd never be able to race a moped again." There were a surprising number of naked people on them, too, and a rather half hearted attempt at by a female impersonator. This guy was fooling nobody. The extra padding might have come in handy, though, if his skirts got caught in the chain.

Wednesday evening was the first free practice so we were able to immerse ourselves in the event straightaway. We went up to Arnage to familiarise ourselves with the entry field and choose our favourites.

Jane liked the pink and black Pescarolo Mazdas. It was certainly a striking livery but I think she was drawn by its pinkness. Women are very much in the minority among the spectators at Le Mans. I think this is a shame because we always seem to have so much fun. A lot of blokes, though, are clearly off the leash and on the lash, drinking themselves to oblivion and thereby proving, once and for all, that they are probably better off on the leash, where their life expectancy might increase. I got the impression that the ladies had been left behind on purpose, having been successfully convinced that they wouldn't enjoy it. Jane knows better, though.

The Peugeots looked good in their black, blue and chrome. If that was stick on chrome, I'd like some please. It goes over compound curves without creasing and must be lighter than chrome plating. Anyone know where I can get some?

It's a shame it's obscuring the pink and black Pescarolo Mazda. The car in front about to be overtaken is the LMP2 Radical SR9.

But my favourite was the Aston Martin with its 007 race number – proof that the organisers have a sense of humour. The 008 and 009 cars were also in the sky blue and bright orange Gulf colours and this has to be my favourite race car livery. I often wondered about this. For years I thought this was because it reminded me of summer days exploring the waste tips of old Cornish mines but now i know that they are complimentary colours and just go well together. Gulf cars often go well, too. (Photo by Alan Mansell)

Along with the Corvettes and Astons in the GT1 category was a solitary Lamborghini, entered by the Japanese Lamborghini owner's club. This was already struggling to make the pace to qualify. Everyone I spoke to seemed to think this entry was an unfunny joke but I kept thinking that they'd got there - which already outs them in a minority in global populations terms - and that they were probably realising a long kept dream. The word was that calls had already gone out to the owners of any Lamborghini present for spare parts. Such appeals provoke extreme instances of generosity for who can legitimately say they have helped a Le Mans entry? And - so I'm told - the parts are worth a fortune when you get them back, no matter if they're shagged.

The best sounding racing cars bar none were the GT1 Corvettes. Everything else seemed shrill by comparison and you always knew when one went passed. Their exhaust pipes could have been as wide as oil drums. This was their last year and such thunder will be sorely missed.

The GT1 Peugeots on the other hand were strangely quiet. These diesels certainly didn't sound like trucks or perform like them. When I first went to Le Mans diesels were just starting to make an impact. There was one car with a Caterpillar engine of all things. In practice I thought it wasn't going to make the starting grid, let alone last the 24 heures, for on every gear change there was a puff of black smoke. That was the state of the art for diesels back then. The relatively ghostly Peugeots had clean zorts.

Back at the campsite the week long party had already started – it had been going since before we arrived.

Somebody stole John and Jane’s picnic table during that night. This sort of thing is rare. We were all there for the same reason and we felt like enthusiasts together, not knobs looking for trouble. Any wildness was good natured and the perpetrators understood if you didn't want to do join in and do a burn out - I think. I found myself striking up deep technical discussions with complete strangers while brushing my teeth. If you see someone in a Danish hat you accidentally on purpose mistake him for Tom Kristensen and ask him for an autograph. Next time I think I’ll ask for a photograph.

Prime suspects as table rustlers were a large group of Belgians. They had very loud fireworks and let them off throughout the first night but they were actually the nicest bunch you could hope to meet and we were soon swapping food and drink with them.

It’s always worth a look around the campsites. (Photo by Alan Mansell)

There are many wonderful cars and many old nails, some dressed up especially and others on their way to automotive valhalla. Without the restraining influence of the women folk, over the top behaviour was always happening somewhere. You could always find it if you looked or you could pass it by just as easily. But as a non-drinker (it gives me a headache) the single sex drunken orgy some blokes go in for, typically with inflatable dolls, leaves me feeling rather sorry for them.

On the other hand it can make other piss-artists actually turn to art. Piles of discarded beer bottles were already everywhere and as the days passed they became impressive walls or pyramids you could almost live in. One bunch made the Team Lotus logo by wedging their bottles in the chain link fence.

On the outside of the track by the Ford curves wires and cables snaked away into the night from the street lights and some people had organised home made swimming pools made of tarpaulins and 8 by 4 panels. There were horseboxes and old buses, RAF control towers and hearses, all pressed into celebrating the great god Auto at his diabolical finest. Such creativity knows no bounds and it's all part of the highy performance pageant that is Le Mans.

Add the engine noise of the night practice sessions and you’d be forgiven for thinking that sleep would be an impossibility but I can assure you that it’s easier than on a cross channel ferry.

For some of us, that kind of soundtrack is a lullaby.