Last weekends trip to Le Mans.
Several early indications made me think this trip wasn’t supposed to happen. With warnings of Operation Brock being in place on the M20, meaning Junctions 8-11 were a truck park in the coastal direction, my pal and I decided on a ridiculously early start, and get us to the Eurotunnel terminal across country. The plan was to use familiar, but not in the dark, B roads to get to Junction 11 and on to the terminal at J11A. We met at 3am at a mutually convenient 24hour garage, and with tanks brimmed, set off. All went well to the first roundabout, barely 100 yards up the road. Our chosen exit road was closed for roadworks. Great start. With no diversion sign in place I decided on a B road alternative only for this to be closed around 2 miles further on. Backtracking in the opposite direction to where we were headed, finally got us under way, although a good 15 valuable minutes had been lost already.
All went to plan until a crucial right turn onto an A road was reached. Yep, the road was closed. The only way now was to carry on the B roads to J8, which was the last place I wanted to be, as this was where all non freight traffic was diverted off the motorway. Fortunately we were able to steadily overtake the procession of vans, cars, caravans and motor homes as far as Ashford, a town I’m not that familiar with. The diversion signs were thin on the ground and took a while to get ourselves onto the southern section of the A20 and onwards to the terminal. Good progress was made and we were ushered onto an earlier train than planned. Things were looking up.
I’d spent quite some time planning this trip to make a decent ride of it, the only motorway type of road would be the stretch from Calais to Boulogne, where we could get cheaper petrol at a 24hr supermarket. Then it would be a few N roads before the favoured D roads began. The exit off this main road that I wanted was 29, so was not best pleased to find this road was closed at 31. A quick satnav consult, got us onto farm tracks that led to a village I was familiar with, but was beyond the intended fuel stop. A couple of stiff coffees were the order of the day now, whilst I sorted out a new fuel stop in our direction. This completed we were now under way properly. The D roads I’d chosen were a treat, with Anet being our chosen lunch stop. The planned restaurant was shut, much to our consternation, and that of the local people, with much Gallic shrugging and more than a fair share of Zut Alors being thrown about. An alternative cafe around the corner was an admirable substitute, although no seats in the sun were available. After croques monsieurs and panaches(shandy) were tucked away, it was back on the road headed for the track, with just one more fuel stop en route.
The camp ground was just as I’d remembered it some 10 years ago, although security was very tight, with the log book needed to confirm ownership of the bike, and our tickets scanned on every exit and entrance. At the track bags were searched and metal detectors used. This was to be the first outing of my new Lone Rider tent, and once pitched it was off in search of a few well earned beers.
They’ve been hot on people trying to smuggle beer into the circuit for years, and this was no exception, but €8 euros was a bit strong, but then they had a captive audience. Saturday at 3 pm saw the traditional Le Mans start get the event underway. The Yart Yamaha on pole position, failed to start for the 2nd year running. Bradley Smith whose team had qualified quite well in 7th was also slow to get away, and was horrifically rear ended by a back marker travelling at a serious rate of knots. The pace car was out immediately, whilst the 3 downed riders were attended to. Fortunately Brad was ok after being hospitalised. After an early Honda lead, the current champions Sert Suzuki, started to command a slight lead over the Yart Yamaha, whose riders had made a galliant effort in making up the time lost at the start.
Other than a break to rustle up some food, we followed the racing until around 1am. Sleep wouldn’t be easy, as the “Mad Max City” campsite opposite, would have bikes bouncing off the limiters all night, but that’s all part and parcel of the Le Mans 24 experience. The weekends weather had been perfect, plenty of sun and clear blue skies. Sylvain Guintoli took over the final stint on the leading Sert Suzuki, although one more drama unfolded in the last half hour. An engine, on what I believe was a Yamaha, let go in front of the main stands, meaning the pace car, road sweeper truck and cement dust were all back in play again. With the cleanup completed there was only time for a few more laps of racing before the 3 pm finish time was reached, and Suzuki had won the first event of the new season. They were followed by Yart Yamaha and the FCC Honda team, with Gino Rea of BSB fame, riding for them.
After watching the awards ceremony it was back to the tent to pack and make our way the short distance up to Alencon, for a nights motel stay. A nice shower, proper bed, and food and a few reasonably priced beers in the restaurant next door. The following day saw us pick up another D road route as far as Gournay en Bray, where my pal and I parted company. Him to visit an old army pal in Hamburg, and me to Calais and home. There was no early train for me this time despite arriving nice and early, and had to sit it out for almost 3 hours, before completing my homeward journey, clocking up 761 of mainly French lovely miles.