clasic driver goes on tour
Christchurch Airport, Monday 17 June. Terry Marshall, Ian “Barney” Barnard and Paul and Jeanette Jones meet me at the check-in counter and we are on our way. Roger and Katharine Broadbent had left Palmerston North a couple of days earlier and they were already in Singapore, while James Palmer, the part-time member of our little travelling party, had already been in Europe for a month and would meet us in Paris for the drive down to Le Mans. Paul had been to Hong Kong many years ago travelling with Ernie Sprague and Terry had been to Indy to take the photos for Sandy Myhre’s book on Scott Dixon, but none had been somewhere where English isn’t spoken widely, and all, with the exception of me, were European virgins. And where I had in mind for them, English is almost unheard of. Were we excited? Too right!
I don’t like long-haul flights. It isn’t so much the flying as the feeling like a rung-out sponge at the other end which makes it something to be endured rather than enjoyed. It might be different for those travelling in the comfy seats up front but it’s a long time since I had the privilege – now that I don’t work in travel it’s my money being used and there isn’t enough for that! A midnight departure from Auckland and the assistance of drugs certainly helped and after a reasonable sleep we arrived in Hong Kong first thing in the morning and with 16 hours until an overnight flight to Frankfurt. Time then for the first of Tony’s convoluted walking tours. We had already booked a sightseeing tour for the afternoon so we had a morning to take in some sun (quite a shock after a South Island winter), find a pub for lunch and generally get ourselves into a state where we would get back on the flight that night and hopefully pass out in an unconscious heap, ready to hit the ground running in Europe.
Editor Tony took six and, for a short time, seven readers on a two-week tour of Europe. The main aim was the Le Mans 24 Hours but that was just part of what went on. What goes on tour stays on tour... unless I got a photo!
Paris was the ultimate destination but we had a change of flight in Frankfurt and it was here that Roger and Kath were waiting, having arrived only a few minutes earlier from Singapore. I promised Barney I wouldn’t tell anyone about how he mistook a door in the transit lounge, which took him back to the outside world, for a toilet door, and how Terry turned up from a walk to the small room sans Barney, and a little confused as to how and where he had vanished. How he managed to get back in, re-passing through security yet missing passport control, is still a mystery. Still, at least he didn’t end up in jail, which may have made for a rather difficult day for us.
With all of the cats now herded back into line, the 70 minute flight through to Paris seemed like nothing and the little man was waiting in the arrivals area, holding a sign with my name on it and a van outside to take us straight to our hotel. The European adventure was underway. We were in the city by lunchtime and after a visit to the patisserie three doors down for some sustenance we were ready for action. At 1pm our private sightseeing-tour van turned up, with Manuel. (Yes, an unusual name for a Parisian but his driving style proved he certainly was!). By the end of the day, Sacre Coeur, a Seine cruise, a drive around the Arc de Triomphe, a Seine cruise and the Eiffel Tower had been ticked off the “must do” list and a sound night’s sleep was assured.
With the major touristy things done, the next day was free to see whatever took everyone’s fancy. Some to Jim Morrison’s grave at Pere Lachaise cemetery, some to the Louvre while Jeanette took a tour to Giverny’s gardens and probably had the relaxing day we all needed! Getting your body into the local time-zone can take some time and I had a cunning plan to make sure no-one fell asleep at 5pm. We had a Paris Illuminations tour booked for 10pm. That worked, although I have to admit I didn’t see too many of the illuminations!
Of course we were here for a reason, and that was to go to the motor races so on Friday morning it was time to hit the road for the ancient Roman city of Le Mans.
Re-introducing myself to driving in Europe by taking a van full of people through the centre of Paris did not strike me as a very bright idea, so instead we took taxis to Orly Airport, to the south of the city, and outside the périphérique to collect our Peugeot Eurolease van. This is a brilliant scheme if you are away for more than a couple of weeks or (like us) need to drop off the vehicle in another country. A band new car (or van), no credit card guarantee and the associated adding of charges you don’t want, need and have to jump through hoops later to have reversed, and no insurance excess if it all goes wrong (which it didn’t!). I have done this before and that is what we will use for the revised 2014 edition!
Arriving at the circuit for the 24 Hours, especially if you haven’t been there before, is always an eye-opener. Friday is a quiet-ish day, practice is over, the public road sections of the track are open for normal use and most importantly, the pit lane is open for race fans, with all of the cars sitting in their garages while the crews install race engines, repair damage from qualifying or make final set-up tweaks before the Grand Prix of Endurance starts at 3pm on Saturday. Meanwhile, in the back of the grandstands, and in the race village behind the pits, book, model and memorabilia sellers are side-by-side with bars, food stalls and of course, the legendary Le Mans sideshow area, which in the cold sober light of day looks perfectly harmless and almost civilised. At 2 am on Sunday morning it takes on a whole new persona!
There is for me, only one place to eat in Le Mans pre-race; the Le Mans Legends Cafe, which is just off the town square. Le Mans city on a Friday evening is pretty frantic. The drivers’ parade runs through the city and literally 100, 000 people cram the streets for a view of probably bugger-all, as their favourite driver cruises past crowds ten-deep on both sides of the road. I have seen the poor staff at the cafe explaining to impatient Englishmen in their best notso-great English that there is a threehour wait for a table. Our reserved table for 8 people was ready and waiting for us when we got there and the passing shower must have done a great job in reducing the queue of people waiting outside.
We were staying in Tours, an hour’s drive south of the track and as close as is possible to get accommodation without spending terrifying sums of money. Race-day morning and the keen ones, led by Terry, wanted to be at the track at 7 so I dropped them off, went back to the hotel for breakfast and then took the civilised ones to the motor racing. The early drive took me the usual hour to the main gate. It was looking good for a repeat of this for the later journey until we were only a couple of km from the track when the traffic came to a halt. The first 100km took me an hour. The last 5 km took another 90 minutes. Instead of watching Classic Driver columnist Roger Wills in action in the Le Mans Legends race in his Bizzarini I had to settle for listening to it on Radio Le Mans. I could see the grandstands from where we were stopped but it took a little while to actually get there.
My plan had been to drop everyone at the track and then escape to Depanoto, the wreckers yard 45 minutes up the road, which has been in the same family since 1912 and is a destination all in itself! But by the time I had fought my way to the gates and then parked the van, I decided that leaving mightn’t be a good idea if I wanted to be sure I was back in the grandstand ready for the race to start. It probably saved me some money as well as baggage hassles as well!
When it comes to build-up and razzamatazz even the Americans would struggle to do it as well as the French. For me, one of the best parts of the entire weekend was the last hour leading up to the race start. The atmosphere is fantastic, the quarter of a million (no, seriously!) people in the crowd are buzzing, and it’s a spectacle which would get anyone going. Seeing our flag and hearing ‘God Defend New Zealand’ played for our sole representative in the race, Brendon Hartley, was a special moment and I challenge any event to beat the way that the organisers built up the tension as the cars drove off the grid to form up behind the pace car, driven by French Le Mans star Henri Pescarolo. The music (which I usually hate at race tracks) was perfect and everything was timed perfectly for the cars to surge across the start line as the second hand on the circuit clock swept past 12 and it was 3pm exactly. I had my money’s worth already, even if the race was a non-event. Which it certainly wasn’t.
Before leaving New Zealand, Rob Wilby at Gulf Oil had put me in touch with Gulf ’s international brand manager and catching up with him at the track, he had arranged for all of our group to have a tour of the works’ Aston Martin pit garage on Sunday morning. Then, on lap three of the race, tragedy struck. The big screen showed an Aston Martin bouncing back into the middle of the
track at Tertre Rouge with serious damage. Even though the initial impact was never shown at the track it was obvious it was a huge accident, as the safety car was out for over an hour while the driver was extracted from the car and the barrier repaired. It was still a shock when, a little later, the track commentators and Radio Le Mans simultaneously broadcast the news that Danish driver, Allan Simonsen, had died from his injuries in the track medical centre.
Of course we had expected Aston Martin to cease any needless distractions from the likes of us while they dealt with the loss of the driver, who’s family had insisted that the team continue in the race with their remaining cars. When I spoke to Gulf on Sunday morning they were most apologetic that the garage wasn’t accepting visitors, but the Classic Driver tour was invited to spend some time in their hospitality suite above the pits. A very kind gesture, we were warmly welcomed and a very comfortable and enjoyable time was spent. The weather outside was quite changeable, and so being in a warm, covered area with food and drink was definitely appreciated.
Some people like to spend all 24 hours at the race. I am not one of these people. I like sleep, specifically in a comfortable bed, just like the one in our hotel. Terry on the other hand, precious media pass around his neck, had made it plain that the race went for 24 hours and he intended to see every minute of it. Bearing in mind that he had already been at the track eight hours before race start, that is serious stamina!
By 9.30 pm the rest of us were feeling cold and not a little weary so we left him to it and slipped away for the hour’s drive back to Tours.
Bright and early on Sunday morning we were back on the road. For me, one of the great things about the race is to go to bed, wake up and go back to the track, and the same cars, now covered in brake dust, grime and race tape are still thrashing around flat out.
It may be an endurance race but don’t for a minute think that means the drivers are taking it easily. These days the race is a 24 hour sprint, the attitude is to drive flat out, if the car holds together then there is a chance of a result, if it breaks, so be it. With a huge speed differential between the LMP1 Audis and Toyotas and the much slower GT cars, tired drivers and cars also feeling the strain, the action is constant, there
is more overtaking in one race than several seasons of Formula One and with the huge variety of engines, shapes and sizes of cars, Terry, a confirmed life-long open-wheel lover to the almost total exclusion of anything else, is now a sports-car convert.
Practice and qualifying had been an Audi benefit, to the extent that even Toyota themselves were down-playing their chances in the race and when we had left the track on Saturday night it seemed this was going to be the outcome. Getting back on Sunday, however, things had changed. The weather had been changeable through the night (and remained like this for the rest of the race) and the Toyotas were right up there, fighting for and on occasion taking the lead. Audi had the edge (just) but there was a Toyota on the same lap and a single wrong call with tyres or a badly timed fuel stop would change everything. With an hour to go the weather was looking very ominous, Radio Le Mans was talking of a storm within half an hour and the result could go either way. Tension? You bet!
When the flag came down at 3, Audi had their car in the lead with Toyota second, then Audi, Toyota and Audi. The first non-works, non hybrid LMP1 car was Strakka Racing’s HPD Honda in 6th, only a lap ahead of the LMP2 winning Morgan-Nissan. Porsche were celebrating the 50th birthday of the 911 by entering a pair of 911 RSRs in the GT class, the first works Porsche entry in 14 years and they proceeded to come in 1-2 in GT Pro, beating Aston Martin and Corvette, the usual front-runners in the class. To continue the Porsche domination in the GT class, the IMSA Performance Matmut team’s 911GT3 RSR took GT AM.
Brendon Hartley’s race didn’t go according to plan as early pitstops took them out of contention in LMP2 early in the race, but the Murphy Prototypes Oreca-Nissan kept going and they finished 12th outright 6th in class, ten laps behind the class winner, and that gap was pretty much equal to the time they had lost in the pits over the race.
With the race over we were heading for a couple of quiet days in the Loire valley. The first challenge was going to be leaving the circuit. We all know what it is like to get out of Pukekohe, Manfeild or Ruapuna after a ‘big’ meeting. Over 250,000 people are at Le Mans and even though I have been twice before I have always assumed I had somehow fluked a quick getaway and my luck was due to run out.
But no. We got in the van, stated the motor and along with assorted Frenchmen, Danes, Germans and Englishmen, we just drove out. No queues, no hassles, nothing! A couple of hours later we were at our little Chateau in the village of Onzain, beer in hand and organising a little local restaurant for dinner.
Leaving for a day of Chateau visits I spotted in reception a brochure for a Matra museum somewhere localish. I took one and had a look but I wasn’t convinced. It read ok but I had plenty of places to visit in mind which I knew how to get to and I knew were going to be worth seeing. I wasn’t keen on galloping off on a detour to see something which might be a total waste of time and make me look like a prize moron.
That problem solved itself at breakfast the next morning. A fellow guest, an Englishman who had worked in Australia on the works-supported Audi 2.0 litre Super Tourers, run by Brad Jones racing for Jones and Greg Murphy, was in deep conversation with some of our group. “If you guys are into racing, you must go to the Matra Museum at Romorantin. Right! Plans changed and another stop added to the day’s route.
Was it worth it? Oh yes, it is right up there as one of the best museums I have seen. As well as that, the drive there goes past some amazing chateaux and castles and the town itself was a great place for lunch, in a park by the river. It was later that day that we discovered the town was laid out by one L. Da Vinci. Right off the beaten track and a great find!
After the race and the initial arrival in Paris, the Loire was a great chance to slow down, smell the roses and take things slowly for a while and have a look at some history and culture. Staying in small town, the restaurants were brilliant, surroundings stunning and it was a great way to unwind after three days at the motor racing.
Yet we couldn’t stay forever and after three nights we headed east, destination the Burgundy region and the town of Beaune. It was an overnight stop only, as we were heading for Alsace ,which wasn’t long enough but that is always the problem with travelling in Europe – no matter how much time you have, it is never enough and two weeks could easily stretch to two months if we weren’t careful!
Of course we are Classic Driver, so we need to mix motors with culture. Roger and Kath had been there before and knew of something we needed to see. On the outside of town there is an ancient chateau and vineyard. Nothing unusual there, except the owner used to race Abarths and the outbuildings now hold the world’s largest Abarth collection. Then there are the motorbikes and not forgetting the jet fighters (by the dozen) among the vineyards. What an amazing place! Yet again the spare time I had worked into the itinerary was filling itself up quite nicely! The Schlumpf museum was going to have to wait a day.
Alsace is my favourite part of France. The people are friendly, the food is great and the car museums are pretty good too! Not only that but coachloads of English, American and Asian tourists haven’t found the place yet. Our home for three nights was the walled, medieval village of Riquewihr and our hotel was amazing; a collection of 16th century half-timbered buildings in the centre of the village. Normally I just visit Riquewihr while I am in the area. Staying there was a real bonus. This time my return was bittersweet. The last time I was there, among my travelling companions was my cousin Nigel Spackman and his fiancée (now wife) Katie and it was here that I got the call to say that Nigel had been killed. An awful shock, he was a great guy, devoted to his wife and two young children. A call from Katie to give me my instruction for what she wanted me to be doing at the exact time of the funeral (glass of Amarretto in one hand, cigar in the other) helped to get my mind back on track.
Of course, the most important site in the region is the Cité de l’Automobile – Collection Schlumpf. The legendary Schlumpf museum. Still located in the old textile mill building in a grotty area of the grotty industrial city of Mulhouse, nestled alongside the German and Swiss borders, the collection was amassed by the Schlumpf brothers who’s stated aim was to own every Bugatti ever made. They didn’t quite get there but they still amassed a huge collection before having to scarper across the border to Switzerland when the French tax department came knocking. Never one to miss a chance, they instead took the collection in lieu of payment and the French National Motor Museum was established. The museum is no longer wall-to-wall Bugattis and the motorsport hall alone is worth a visit, and after ten visits so far, I am quite happy to go back again!
While we were in Alsace the other place I really was wanting to get back to was Hartmann’s Willerkopf, a French WWI cemetery and memorial, with the trenches and barbed wire still in place at the top of the escarpment which overlooks the Rhine floodplain and across to Germany and the Black Forest. The hard part is finding the place.
I have been several times and each time it was an adventure to find the place! This time I was prepared, with a set of co-ordinates to punch into the GPS. Initially all went well and the road looked very familiar. Then we turned off onto a metal road. Ok, the GPS is set for shortest route (normally I set it for fastest) at the moment, so maybe this is a shortcut through the forest.
When the road degenerated to a one lane track with grass growing in the centre I wasn’t so sure and when the metal surface turned to dirt I decided that when the promised next intersection in 400 metres arrived, and if it didn’t involve something looking more like a road, I was turning back. That decision was taken from me when we came around the corner to see a couple of surprised French forestry workers with a huge tractor and trailer blocking the road. Which left me performing a 47-point turn in order to retreat back to civilisation and try again. A smartphone conversation with the internet came up with new and different coordinates and this time it worked. Moral of the story... don’t believe what you find on the internet and don’t blame GPS, it only follows the instructions the operator gives it!
The final day on the road was back to Frankfurt. I had promised a cruise through the Rhine Valley for anyone who was keen (which turned out to be everyone). The plan was to drive to St Goarshausen, put everyone on the boat and head upstream to meet them in Rűdesheim. That was fine in theory until we got to Rűdesheim and discovered the road to St Goarshausen was closed for the day, open only to cyclists. A bit of quick thinking and I hit plan B. Take the ferry across the river and drive up the other bank to St Goar. A fine plan until we got off on the other side and that bloody road was full of bikes as well! Bastards!
It turns out that, once a year, the road on both sides, through the most scenic part of the valley, is closed for cyclists. Guess what day we got there. Still, there was a plan C. Get on the Autobahn to Mainz, the back toward Koblenz. Take the St Goar exit and drop down the side of the valley into the town. Get everyone on the next ship heading that way and then repeat the performance back to Rűdesheim to meet them, happy and relaxed after a pleasant two or three hours cruising.
Our final night was in Frankfurt, where we met with friends of mine, and James, who had left us in the Loire after Le Mans and was now in town with our mutual friends for dinner in the historic area of Hőchst, the only undamaged and original part of medieval Frankfurt. Again, totally off the beaten track, frequented only by locals and a great place to end our European adventure. I had tried to, while taking in all of the important things that everyone wants to see, keep us a little off the beaten track and go to some of the places which the average traveller from here doesn’t normally see. At the end of our travels, everyone was smiling and telling tales of the last two weeks.
Planning is already underway for the Classic Driver 2014 Le Mans tour. It will be similar to this, but an extra day in Paris at the beginning and a couple of extra days at the end to go to the WWI battlefields of Ypres and Passchaendale, as it is 100 years since the war started and the area is absolutely stunning. Porsche are returning to the front of the field with a new LMP1 challenger so the race is going to be a classic as well. Drop me a line if you are interested!