Synchromesh's Nurburgring trip
Discussion
To me, the Nurburgring is, and always has been Mecca for any self respecting petrolhead, the place we make our pilgrimage to worship all that's holy about slip angles and internal combustion. I've grown up alongside its rise to fame within the car fraternity, its increasingly regular appearances in the motoring media, and its broader popularisation through 'Clarkson effect' and that blonde in a Transit van. I've desperately wanted to drive it for as long as I can remember, a desire only compounded by my trip there seven years ago, but that was long before I was old enough to get behind the wheel for myself.
So earlier last month, with the family on holiday in France, I had the perfect opportunity to make it happen. I finally had the right tool for the job in the shape of a leggy MR2, and had spent the last six months getting a good feel for it on tracks across the UK. Circumstances conspired and the trip was on.
It started with an early ferry on a Sunday morning. The roads were empty so I made good progress heading out of south west London and down the A3 to Portsmouth. A tedious and slightly squalid five hour ferry journey later and I was in Cherbourg. I didn't want to hang about, so beetled on down to the house in rural Normandy that the family were staying in for the week.
A few days later, and before things started getting too cultural, I made my excuses and headed for east for the real reason I'd made the trip. I'd be at the track on a weekday, and at the Nurburgring, weekdays mean the public sessions (Touristenfahrten) are only run for a couple of hours in the evening. Knowing my luck, I therefore thought it wise to stay for two nights - track closures aren't rare and weather in the microclimate of the Eifel mountains is unpredictable.
The journey from Normandy to the 'Ring itself was over 500 miles, and after doing that I didn't think getting straight on track would be sensible, so I broke my journey with a stay at a campsite on the France-Belgium border. I then headed to Cologne to meet a friend for a spot of lunch before blasting down the last 60 miles of Autobahn miles to the track itself.
With plenty of time before the track opened I ran over all the usual checks; fluids, tyre pressures, etc and chucked any loose items from the cabin into the boot. Finally, the car was treated to a jet wash (the last thousand miles of autoroute had turned the leading edges of the car into bug cemeteries) and I headed to the Nordschleife entrance car park.
It was at this point it all suddenly dawned on me that this was real. I was here, at the Nurburgring and about to drive it. Coupled to this sense of excitement was an underlying consciousness of what I was really letting myself in for: 20km of sinuous tarmac that takes 100 laps to learn, full of blind crests, and as little as makes no difference zero run-off. I could be sharing the track with anyone, from a bloke who hasn't heard of a racing line to a local won't be happy with me sitting on "his" racing line. Or, as it turned out on one of my laps, a coach full of sightseers. But these dangers are all part of the aura that surround the track, they form part of its seduction and add to its challenge.
Luckily, it wasn't a busy night so there weren't any queues. I pull up to the barrier, reach across to the passenger window, hand over my ring-card, and the gate opens. Lights on and I trickle through the pit exit lane and around the coned out chicane. The Bilstien Bridge looms ahead, before the track below drops down and left into Tiergarten. It feels surreal but this isn't Youtube or Gran Turismo 4. I'm sitting in the driver's seat of my car as the world's greatest and most formidable race track opens out in front of me.
I'll stop the story here for a minute, as I'd need a large dose of journalistic licence to make my first tiptoe round the hallowed circuit read as anything approaching exciting. Suffice to say, it was like nothing else. The length, the crests, the compressions, the cambers, and even the scenery compiled to make it an unforgettable experience.
I come back into the pits buzzing. The car's performed well and the brakes are still game, but I give them a good quarter of an hour to cool down before heading out for seconds. I'm about to go for my third run when I notice red lights at the barriers, and after a long wait an ambulance is let through. I'm brought back down to earth with a sobering reminder of the inherent perilousness of the place, and that its reputation is not unfounded.
Playtime over for the evening I head off to find a campsite, following some fantastic local mountain back roads. After a quick "schnitzel wit pommes" and a beer in a local restaurant, I salvage the rest of the evening light to put up my tent, before promptly conking out.
Day two at the ring and I head into Adenau for lunch, before visiting Ring-Werk, or Nuro-disney as it's known colloquially. The whole complex is a white elephant, a sign of the commercialisation of the 'Ring, and a reminder of the econopolitical fiasco that goes on, but that's a subject for another day.
Checking out the viewing point at Brunnchen, I'm treated to a symphony of Mercedes V8 as the AMG Driving Academy cars scream past. You hear them before you see them, the thunder ricocheting through the hills, then they appear at the top of the hill in groups of three or four, before howling down and being joined but the squeal of tyres as they take the first right-hander of the complex. As they start to move away from you again the howl turns to an eight-track burble, and as quickly as they appear they're gone from view, and the concert of 24 or more cylinders fades again.
The inbuilt mic on my camera hasn't picked up the sound very well, but you get an idea: http://youtu.be/5WcXRjM0K6g
The day's moving on so I top up with petrol and head back to the car park. Today I'm feeling much more confident and start to push a bit harder, although still not as hard as I would on a track back in the UK - those barriers haven't got any further away! I'm still having to obey the golden rule of road driving so my speed in parts is limited by the restricted visibility, but I'm keeping up with bikers through the really tight bits now, and occasionally bringing the limits of front axle grip into the equation. Another couple of laps and everything's going well so I decide not not to tempt fate with "just one more". Looking back through my footage and I see my best lap was 10 minutes and 28 seconds. That makes an obvious target for next year then….
On ferry by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 and S60 in France by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
Campingplatz Denntal by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 in Germany 1 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
Tankstelle Dottinger Hohe by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 at Nurburgring 2 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 at Brünnchen by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 at Nurburgring 3 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 on Nurburgring 2 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 on Nurburgring 1 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 on Nurburgring 3 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 in Germany 2 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
So earlier last month, with the family on holiday in France, I had the perfect opportunity to make it happen. I finally had the right tool for the job in the shape of a leggy MR2, and had spent the last six months getting a good feel for it on tracks across the UK. Circumstances conspired and the trip was on.
It started with an early ferry on a Sunday morning. The roads were empty so I made good progress heading out of south west London and down the A3 to Portsmouth. A tedious and slightly squalid five hour ferry journey later and I was in Cherbourg. I didn't want to hang about, so beetled on down to the house in rural Normandy that the family were staying in for the week.
A few days later, and before things started getting too cultural, I made my excuses and headed for east for the real reason I'd made the trip. I'd be at the track on a weekday, and at the Nurburgring, weekdays mean the public sessions (Touristenfahrten) are only run for a couple of hours in the evening. Knowing my luck, I therefore thought it wise to stay for two nights - track closures aren't rare and weather in the microclimate of the Eifel mountains is unpredictable.
The journey from Normandy to the 'Ring itself was over 500 miles, and after doing that I didn't think getting straight on track would be sensible, so I broke my journey with a stay at a campsite on the France-Belgium border. I then headed to Cologne to meet a friend for a spot of lunch before blasting down the last 60 miles of Autobahn miles to the track itself.
With plenty of time before the track opened I ran over all the usual checks; fluids, tyre pressures, etc and chucked any loose items from the cabin into the boot. Finally, the car was treated to a jet wash (the last thousand miles of autoroute had turned the leading edges of the car into bug cemeteries) and I headed to the Nordschleife entrance car park.
It was at this point it all suddenly dawned on me that this was real. I was here, at the Nurburgring and about to drive it. Coupled to this sense of excitement was an underlying consciousness of what I was really letting myself in for: 20km of sinuous tarmac that takes 100 laps to learn, full of blind crests, and as little as makes no difference zero run-off. I could be sharing the track with anyone, from a bloke who hasn't heard of a racing line to a local won't be happy with me sitting on "his" racing line. Or, as it turned out on one of my laps, a coach full of sightseers. But these dangers are all part of the aura that surround the track, they form part of its seduction and add to its challenge.
Luckily, it wasn't a busy night so there weren't any queues. I pull up to the barrier, reach across to the passenger window, hand over my ring-card, and the gate opens. Lights on and I trickle through the pit exit lane and around the coned out chicane. The Bilstien Bridge looms ahead, before the track below drops down and left into Tiergarten. It feels surreal but this isn't Youtube or Gran Turismo 4. I'm sitting in the driver's seat of my car as the world's greatest and most formidable race track opens out in front of me.
I'll stop the story here for a minute, as I'd need a large dose of journalistic licence to make my first tiptoe round the hallowed circuit read as anything approaching exciting. Suffice to say, it was like nothing else. The length, the crests, the compressions, the cambers, and even the scenery compiled to make it an unforgettable experience.
I come back into the pits buzzing. The car's performed well and the brakes are still game, but I give them a good quarter of an hour to cool down before heading out for seconds. I'm about to go for my third run when I notice red lights at the barriers, and after a long wait an ambulance is let through. I'm brought back down to earth with a sobering reminder of the inherent perilousness of the place, and that its reputation is not unfounded.
Playtime over for the evening I head off to find a campsite, following some fantastic local mountain back roads. After a quick "schnitzel wit pommes" and a beer in a local restaurant, I salvage the rest of the evening light to put up my tent, before promptly conking out.
Day two at the ring and I head into Adenau for lunch, before visiting Ring-Werk, or Nuro-disney as it's known colloquially. The whole complex is a white elephant, a sign of the commercialisation of the 'Ring, and a reminder of the econopolitical fiasco that goes on, but that's a subject for another day.
Checking out the viewing point at Brunnchen, I'm treated to a symphony of Mercedes V8 as the AMG Driving Academy cars scream past. You hear them before you see them, the thunder ricocheting through the hills, then they appear at the top of the hill in groups of three or four, before howling down and being joined but the squeal of tyres as they take the first right-hander of the complex. As they start to move away from you again the howl turns to an eight-track burble, and as quickly as they appear they're gone from view, and the concert of 24 or more cylinders fades again.
The inbuilt mic on my camera hasn't picked up the sound very well, but you get an idea: http://youtu.be/5WcXRjM0K6g
The day's moving on so I top up with petrol and head back to the car park. Today I'm feeling much more confident and start to push a bit harder, although still not as hard as I would on a track back in the UK - those barriers haven't got any further away! I'm still having to obey the golden rule of road driving so my speed in parts is limited by the restricted visibility, but I'm keeping up with bikers through the really tight bits now, and occasionally bringing the limits of front axle grip into the equation. Another couple of laps and everything's going well so I decide not not to tempt fate with "just one more". Looking back through my footage and I see my best lap was 10 minutes and 28 seconds. That makes an obvious target for next year then….
On ferry by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 and S60 in France by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
Campingplatz Denntal by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 in Germany 1 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
Tankstelle Dottinger Hohe by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 at Nurburgring 2 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 at Brünnchen by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 at Nurburgring 3 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 on Nurburgring 2 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 on Nurburgring 1 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 on Nurburgring 3 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
MR2 in Germany 2 by jlewisbarned, on Flickr
Edited by Synchromesh on Saturday 3rd August 11:54
James_N said:
Awesome 
Never been and probably wouldn't due to all the insurance malarky, but looks a good trip
The insurance issue was always in the back of mind, but I've managed three years of road driving without writing anything off, so I just drove it like I'd drive a road. Which technically it is.Never been and probably wouldn't due to all the insurance malarky, but looks a good trip
S. Gonzales Esq. said:
Putting the headlights down should be worth 28s a lap - easy.
The local roads look almost more fun than the circuit.
Those wheels are still gold I see...
Lights on is 'Ring protocol, although I think some racing stripes could find me some extra pace. The local roads look almost more fun than the circuit.
Those wheels are still gold I see...
The local roads were brilliant it must be said. Next time some more exploration is needed, but continental hooning in a RHD car brings its own challenges - just not where you'd expect them!
And the gold wheels? After seven months of Volvo ownership the vulgarity balance is being restored.
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