Le Mans is an endurance sport for all
Buckle in for a 300 km/h cruise
All through the witching hours, they race. Off in the distance, the spinning disc of a glowing ferris wheel makes for a stunning spectacle, but the drivers can’t lift their eyes from the road. Dotted lines blur with the speed and the patterned curbs seem to strobe in the headlights, giving the on-board cameras the look of footage cut from Tron.
But this is no video game. As the race leaders crest 300 km/h, they catch and try to pass the slower-moving GT cars, a dangerous manoeuvre in the dark. There are amateurs behind the wheel here in some of the slower cars, albeit skilled ones, and after a dozen hours of highspeed combat, their behaviour can be unpredictable.
From trackside, the cars scream through the night, the LED lights on their flanks making contrails of light as they charge down the straight. This is a 24hour sprint. This is the clash of armies on the darkling plain. This is Le Mans — and there are still 12 hours left to run.
This year marks 91 years of Le Mans, the première endurance race, and perhaps the most challenging form of motorsport in the world. Held at the Circuit de la Sarthe near the town of Le Mans in northwest France, it is a mix of dedicated circuit and public roads for a total length of 13.6 km. During the 24 hours of the race, the leading competitors will cover a distance of up to 5,400 km, with speeds averaging 250 kilometres an hour.
It is a crucible of speed and g-forces, a merciless forge that hammers away on man and machine until hairline cracks give way. Once, perhaps, it might have been a pure endurance event where competitors held back and settled into an easy rhythm, but for years now it’s been full-scale battle for every minute of those 24 hours.
Le Mans is the equivalent of seven Indy 500s. It’s like running the Monaco F1 race 20 times back-to-back. As part of the unofficial triplecrown of motorsport, it is far and away the most difficult to complete, and is crammed to the gills with drama.
The first sense that something special is happening in this medium-sized town in rural France comes far outside its outskirts. At the toll stations on the highways leading to Le Mans, lines of Alfa Romeos, Lotuses, Ferraris, and Porsches start forming, displacing the ordinary Citroën and Peugeot hatchbacks one might ordinarily expect.
Squadrons of Morgans have made the long drive from the U.K. There are Cor- vettes, too, massively wide and somewhat incongruous among the tiny European pods.
In the stone-paved squares of the town, crowds gather to watch the parade. The World Cup is on as well, and several orange-clad Netherlanders are well on their way to tomorrow’s splitting hangover. It’s a carnival atmosphere amid the streetside cafes, and onlookers scale the facade of a local bank to get a better view.
The parade is a strange mix of supercars and classics. The teams of drivers have been pressing the flesh all week, and here they get a hero’s welcome, signing autographs and passing out posters. The parade committee seems to have found at least a dozen Excaliburs, those Milwaukee-built replicars that look like a bit like a Mercedes SSK, except without the elegance. It’s part of that odd French obsession with Americana; much like their love of Jerry Lewis, they don’t always pick the best parts to cherish.
Still, the crowd is revved up by the sight of several McLaren P1s, a Veyron, a Koenigsegg, and all sorts of other exotic machinery. There’s also the skirl of highland bagpipers, umpteen Harley-Davidsons, and a mariachi band — because why not?
As a result, race day dawns with a buzz of palpable excitement. Thousands have trekked here, and there are entire cities formed of closepacked tents and makeshift huts.
There are three main classes in Le Mans racing: the LMP1 prototypes that lead the way; the LMP2 racers, many of which are still open-cockpit; and the GT classes which include Aston Martins, Corvettes, 911s, and Ferraris. The first two classes are purpose-built prototypes that will race elsewhere, but are designed solely for their ability to excel at this circuit.
This year, there are three manufacturers competing for the overall win, and their racers could not be more different. Where Formula One and Indycars are all very similar, the rules of Le Mans allow for considerable flexibility. Audi, a dominant force in past years, is running the R18 E-tron Quattro, a hybrid turbodiesel that produces over 1,000 hp in a car that weighs less than a Nissan Micra.
Porsche, returning to Le Mans racing for the first time since 1998, is also fielding a hybrid. Its 919 uses a smalldisplacement 500 hp V-4 turbo, which includes such innovations as a generator placed in the exhaust flow to scavenge energy. Think of it as an electric turbocharger.
Then there’s Toyota, with its juggernaut of a hybrid. Forget the Prius, its TS040 racer uses a 513-hp screamer of a 3.7L V-8 and twin supercapacitor-powered electric engines front and rear for a total of 986 hp.
During qualifying, driver Kazuke Nakajima puts the #7 Toyota in pole position for the race, prompting speculation that a Japanese manufacturer might claim victory for only the second time in 91 years — the last was Mazda in 1991.
If that wasn’t drama enough, Audi has just successfully completed a 24-hour endurance race before the race, rushing to repair one of its R18s that was destroyed in a spectacular crash during qualifying. Luckily, the strength of the carbon-fibre monocoque was such that the driver was able to walk away, and the engineering team is able to work a miracle: the car, once a mass of shattered pieces, has arisen like a phoenix to take its place on the starting grid.
Before that, though, early legends of the track make their way out to lap: these are giants of a ferocity that equals the high-tech trickery of their modern counterparts. In days past, the Mulsanne straight saw extremely high-speed runs of beyond 400 km/h. Pull it off once, that’s a speed record. Every four minutes over 24 hours, that’s pure insanity.
After a GT3 cup race, which sees 911s bouncing off each other like the world’s most expensive form of bumper cars, the main event begins to roll. Those with the correct passes squeeze their way into the pit lane, where they can see the cars denuded, their carbon-fibre innards open to the air. The LMP1 cars look like insects about to take flight, their beetle-wing doors flung open as crews work in preparation.
Amateur photographers jostle for space with dapper gents and harassed-looking accredited press. A Roman Catholic priest sprints over to get a better shot of the dart-shaped electric Nissan Zeod. A father gathers a son under each arm to have a family portrait taken in front of the Corvette garage. Best Father’s Day present ever? I’d say so.
The starting flag is delivered by a parachutist for extra flair, and F1 driver Fernando Alonso stands ready to wave le tricolore as the cars set out behind the Audi R8 pace car for an Indianapolis-style rolling start. The order of the LMP1 cars runs Toyota-Porsche-Toyota, with the Audis further back in the pack. As the flag waves and the Rolex time-clock starts counting down, they lunge forward. Battle is joined.
The sound! The Audis make almost no noise, lancing through the air with little more than a creamy purr from their big turbodiesel engines.
If the Ferraris sound like a swarm of angry bees, then the Corvettes have the bassy thrum of the grumbling bear that’s after their honey. The Aston Martins are recreating the diving-Spitfire sound of the Battle of Britain, and there’s the periodic skull-rattling shriek of the LMP2 cars and their stratospherically rattling V-8s.
Then there’s Nissan’s electric ZEOD, which makes nearly no noise at all.
When its turbocharged three-cylinder engine is switched off, it’s pure electric spaceship for the race circuit. Regrettably, despite hitting 300 km/h on the straights during qualifying, it’s an early casualty of driveshaft problems.
It’s baking hot, and already a few spectators are suffering from blistering sunburns.
Where once there was grip, the tarmac is now as slick as ice, and cars go spinning off into the guardrails. As quickly as it comes, the squall is past, and the track dries out. Just as the teams switch back to slicks to gain speed, another weather front blows through, and this time it’s the LMP1 cars that collide, with the #8 Toyota taking out the #3 Audi in a crash that saw splintered carbonfibre spray across the track. The Audi’s race is over, but the Toyota somehow limps back to the pits.
Less than an hour is past, and already the first dramas of the race are unfolding. At any point in Le Mans, there’s a different story to tell — the slow climb of the Audis, the scrappy battling of the Porsches, the thundering Corvettes devouring the Ferraris and going toe-to-toe with the Aston Martins.
“Attention! Attention!” the French announcer breaks in excitedly every five minutes without fail, warning of a near-collision in the pits or another Ferrari in a gravel trap. Some of the corners are soon littered with dangerously loose stones, and the track marshals are out there with brooms, sweeping a clear lane. Between spins, collisions, and mechanical retirements, this race might as well be a particularly bloody episode of Game of Thrones.
Evening brings a low, dangerous light that blinds drivers and makes them miss apexes and lock up the tires. Two LMP2 cars collide, yet one crawls back to the pits on three wheels, grievously injured, but still in the race.
Night falls, and still they race. The Toyota has been leading for hours, and crew hopes are high. The stands have emptied, and sleeping pit crew can be found in corners and couches, but there are still those up and watching as the Toyota disappears from the screen. Something’s happened. It’s stopped somewhere on the track in a dead zone for coverage, and all the TV crews can do is follow the on-board cameras as they flash past in the night. The Toyota, once far out in the lead, is mortally stricken. It’s not moving. Its race is over. Just like that, in the small hours before dawn, Audi is out in front, with Porsche in second.
As the sun pokes its orange rim above the trees, one of the Aston Martins belches a fiery salute out its side-pipe exhaust as it downshifts into the curves. Its formerly immaculate lightblue and orange Gulf livery is now streaked with grime, and its front end is covered in bugs
Close to the end, it comes down to a battle between Porsche and Audi.
For Porsche, the heartbreak comes with two hours left: a fatal engine failure has their #20 car limping home and eventually retiring.
Yes, once again, Audi won this race, first and second in their two turbodiesel spaceships. Toyota finished a strong third with a car they repaired after a wreck in the rain, and both Porsches faltered at the last gasp with drivetrain problems. For those who attempt to go the distance, it’s a test of heart, pride and spirit. Even if you’re only watching from the sidelines, it’s still an endurance sport.