Race day at Le Mans started with the gentle pitter patter of rain drops on canvas. Which was a little more relaxing than the very loud fireworks being set off at 4am.
Now, at this point you're probably wondering why this supposed 'liveblog' is coming to you 36 hours after the event. Blame a technological disagreement between the PH editorial laptop and the ACO's wireless network but, like many, I was effectively locked out of the internet from Saturday onwards. So you get the blog in one, retrospective hit instead. We'll blame the French.
Previous instalments can be found with the liveblogs from Thursday and Friday, plus Harris's pre-Legends race blog here and a revealing Allan McNish interview here.
Last update: 1100h with additional photos from the weekend
Noon Saturday, Aston Martin Racing paddock
Given the general noise and hubbub at PH's campsite sleeping in is something of an achievement but Stuart and I were a little slow in getting going to make our 9am appointment at the track to join the Aston Martin parade lap. Tense times as we got stuck in traffic and, emboldened by the previous night's guerrilla navigation of the Le Mans parade, I was telling Stuart to just drive past anyone or anything that tried to stop us. Bit more difficult in an Aston DB9 than on a folding bike and Stuart quite reasonably pointed out that turning up a no-entry street guarded by a Gendarme with a gun was probably not the best plan.
Once on-track we were a little more cavalier with the (non armed) guys in tabards, adopting a friendly wave and boot of throttle to get us places we probably didn't have necessary wrist bands or laminates to be. But we ended up in a paddock full of Astons the correct side of a locked gate so the desired result was achieved.
Just as well the DB9 came with a boot-mounted brolly too, because the Legends race was very wet indeed. Watching the steadily decreasing pace out of the Dunlop chicane was telling, Harris doing a cracking job in the Lister to stay in touch with the leading group and comfortably in the top 10. It really poured half way through and via the commentary it sounded like there were several offs but our man held on to a commendable eighth place and brought the car home intact. "I'm off to sit in a darkened room. That was insane." Tweeted Harris once back.
Then it was our turn. The pace was steady, Stuart refusing to bow to my demands to switch the stability control off and showboat for the crowds. Which probably proves why I was better off in the passenger seat. Tooting the horn and waving was considered more appropriate, passing the stricken CC100 parked up halfway down the Mulsanne a cause of buttock clenching embarrassment on behalf of the Aston guys. Our DB9 completed the lap impeccably though and I hopped out, unfolded my bike and entered the pre-race fray in the paddock.
1600h Saturday, Aston Martin hospitality (totally blagged access)
Increasing frustration with the broken internet took me to the Club Dunlop grandstand just up from the start line for the beginning of the race. I was, I can quite confidently say, about the most sober person at Le Mans but I thought a flute of champagne to salute the beginning of the race seemed appropriate, having adopted my default smile and nod response to various people telling me I wasn't supposed to be drinking it in the stands.
With the cars under way I decided to escape the corporate overload of the village and paddock and go native on the Brompton. So I pedalled off beyond the Porsche curves, smiled and nodded my way past various bewildered people in orange tabards shouting 'non, non, non!' at the stupid rosbif on his silly little bicycle. I couldn't actually see cars but I figured I'd just keep riding into the woods until the engines got noisier and I found the track.
With Radio Le Mans plugged into one ear I knew there'd been a big shunt involving an Aston and there was much discussion about the multiple safety car system and how it had seemingly knobbled quite a few people's races.
I made it to some Armco just by the exit to the first Mulsanne chicane, propped my bike against a tree and felt pretty pleased with myself. Barely 15 seconds later a very, very angry Frenchman manhandled me off his land and back from whence I came. Zut!
I picked up an off-road trail round the back of his property but the track remained frustratingly out of sight, though in earshot. Across a golf course, nod and smile at a few more tabards and then, within sight of the track, I met the end of level boss - a man from the ACO. No laminate, 'je suis journaliste' or smiling and nodding was going to deal with him. Defeated I turned round, pedalled back a couple of hundred metres to where the woods were thicker and walked up to the track, expecting a tap on the shoulder. It didn't come but the racers were still under the safety cars so my taste of 200mph+ action didn't quite happens, the organisers very keen on keeping the myth of Le Mans exactly that.
Still, I'd pedalled nine miles so felt less guilt about plundering Aston Martin's cake supply having smiled and nodded my way into hospitality despite a conspicuous lack of suitable laminates.
Brompton parked it was time to seek more appropriate transport.
1830h Saturday, Aston Martin hospitality
Bundled into a van we drove precisely 100 metres before abandoning it and walking to the heliport opposite the funfair instead. A scene not unlike Apocalypse Now presented itself, a worryingly anarchic stream of choppers circulating and speeding off all in startling proximity to each other.
The ride was, it has to be said, awesome. Following the course of a lap we spent the stretch from the Dunlop curves and through Tetre Rouge above the at that point second place (in GTE Pro) Porsche RSR and third place #99 Senna/Makowiecki/Bell Aston, racing for position, separated by barely a second and carving through back markers. I had a little chuckle looking down on the various marshal posts from which I'd been escorted just an hour previously on the Brompton, flicking some symbolic vees at the man from ACO by the Mulsanne Kink.
It was only on the ground that word spread among our group about the terrible news about Allan Simonsen, the atmosphere back at the Aston Martin hospitality understandably sober. More on this in a standalone blog shortly.
2100h Saturday, Nissan hospitality, main paddock
An invitation from Caterham man James Drake to come and join the team for a quick drink in the paddock accepted I pedalled back over and joined them in Nissan's G Drive area. The Caterham liveried car had good pace but had been suffering rotten luck and way down the order in LMP2. Though the racing continued apace there was an unmistakably subdued atmosphere throughout the paddock too now that news about Simonsen had reached most ears.
There was some discussion of joining the guys for an expedition into the woods - this time in a Land Rover and with Caterham 'fixer' and long-time Le Mans man Barry - but time was getting on and I left them to it, pedalling round to Tetre Rouge instead. By now the evening shift was well into effect, the cars settling down into their night pace but still jostling for position on the exit to ensure maximum pace on the long drag up the Mulsanne.
0700h Sunday, Bleu Nord PH basecamp
Hardier, Kronenbourg fuelled members of the PH team carried on through the night but after a long day some tent time beckoned and in the morning I regrouped with Stuart over breakfast in the PH bar tent, catching up on the action with the Eurosport screens and Radio Le Mans broadcast. It always strikes me as ironic that if you actually want to follow the race the last place you want to be is trackside.
After the previous day''s tragedy I was sure I wasn't the only one hoping the Aston team would at least be able to leave with a GTE Pro victory over the factory Porsches and with the #99 car now leading the class it was looking hopeful. And then the depressing sight of Fred Makowiecki's car smouldering in the middle of the track. Makowiecki himself didn't hang around, legging it and tumbling over the Armco so at least we knew he was OK. But a bitter blow for Aston Martin and the signal for yet another prolonged safety car session.
Deflated, Stuart and I packed up, loaded the DB9 and headed off. Deserting the site with six hours of racing to seemed criminal but both of us had more than used up domestic credits and had decided to crack on.
1500h Sunday, Eurotunnel Flexiplus check-in
A smart pace on quiet roads trading places with a Ferrari 599 GTO and various other early Le Mans escapees saw us arrive in Calais in excellent time, only to hit a delay with no trains running. As luck would have it the occupants of another Ferrari 599 ahead of us in the check-in queue had an iPad with Eurosport and with Stuart's phone transformed into a makeshift and surprisingly effective loudspeaker with a spare paper cup we had Radio Le Mans to provide commentary for the closing half hour of the race.
The sight of a safety car made my heart sink but the last 20 minutes were thrilling and properly down to the wire as Toyota desperately hoped for a last minute stroke of luck. In the end Audi prevailed of course but a Dane crossing the line in first place was an emotional result for everyone and Kristensen's subdued demeanour symbolised the mixed emotions of the large and passionate Danish contingent. A shame the #97 Aston ended up locked down by the Porsches but the dignified podium display of Dumbreck, Mucke and Turner holding a large Danish flag in recognition of their fallen teammate was lump in the throat stuff. Clustered around a iPad and a phone in a paper cup, transfixed on the screen with a couple of like-minded strangers it was a surreal conclusion to a roller coaster weekend. One that, perhaps appropriately, ended with a real race in the final throes. And, yes, thoughts are already turning to 2014 and the return of a certain German brand to the sharp end...
1100h Monday, PH office
Taking advantage of some bandwidth here's a selection of additional images from throughout the weekend...
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