Sunday.
Race day.
The Red Arrows made a brief but stunning appearance to entertain the growing crowds. Soon the sound of jet engines is replaced by the scream of F1 cars forming up on the grid. My choice for the start of the race is the photographers’ tower at turn one where I’m joined by 35 other photographers jostling for position. Much as the drivers are when the lights go out.
Making sure I have shots of the grid sweeping through Abbey, I wait until the end of lap two before heading down to Luffield. It’s a bit of a trek and I lose several laps getting there, but it gives me a now rarely seen sight of Bridge and the old Abbey layout. By the time I’m into position, Lewis is still out front (“go on boy!”) but Webber has dropped way back after his collision with Romain Grosjean (Lotus) off the start.
My attention is caught for several laps by the sight and sheer speed of these single seaters whistling through Luffield like they’re on rails. An audible gasp from the crowd draws my attention to Brooklands, one corner further back. I wait for the leaders to come through only to find that Red Bull’s Sebastien Vettel – F1’s current enfant terrible – is now in the lead, with Nico Rosberg (Mercedes) now second. Erstwhile leader Lewis hoves into view shortly after, his left rear tyre destroyed after a massive blowout that has stunned the crowd. It’s just the tip of the iceberg. Ferrari’s Felipe Massa suffers the same problem, as does Toro Rosso’s Jean Eric Vergne. It’s a rubber massacre, and the Safety Car is scrambled. Every marshal takes to the circuit in the biggest mid-race cleanup I’ve ever witnessed. A perfect picture opportunity.
Halfway through the race, it’s time for me to start making my way to the pits. The frustration with a circuit as big and awkward to get around as Silverstone is that you have to leave plenty of time to reach places. As luck would have it, I find a Shuttle driver parked up watching the race, and five minutes later I’m back at The Wing where the pits and paddock are based. Photographers are only allowed onto the pitwall during the race, the required media pass allocated to very few snappers. I don’t have one. So instead, I take up position besides the garages, and have a first class seat for Vettel’s pit stop when the Red Bull comes in. The speed of the stop beggars belief.
With just 15 laps of the race to run, seasoned photographers start queuing at the end of the pitlane, the prime position for post-race podium celebrations. Unfortunately though, from this position we cannot see any of the screens dotted around the circuit, and consequently have no idea what is going on. The only clue we have is the reaction of the crowd, which is deafening either way. One particularly loud cheer goes up, and just under a minute later a dejected Vettel walks past us, gearbox maladies having cut his race short. The predominantly British photographers around me can’t help but snigger.
Now we’re lost. Who’s winning? Who’s second? We huddle around the Sky Sports portable monitor, listening intently to ex-F1 pilot/commentator Johnny Herbert as he runs us through the order: Rosberg first, Kimi Raikkonen second for Lotus, and Webber third. How the hell has he done that?
There’s no time to enjoy the closing stages – even if the noise from the crowd suggests it’s a belting race – since my fellow photographers and I are soon trading elbows for position next to parc ferme after the chequered flag. A shiner or two taken, I manage to secure a spot in front of the #1 board. Rosberg has won, but from nowhere Webber has taken second and Alonso somehow has finished third. Utter confusion ensues at this point, drivers jumping into the arms of their waiting mechanics to celebrate, photographers and cameramen hustling for the prime shots. There’s even a Spice Girl (Geri Halliwell) on someone’s shoulders just behind me.
The pandemonium ends almost as quickly as it began, with podium celebrations ending, cars decanted to their respective pit boxes, and fans making their way towards inevitably hideous traffic jams. It’s difficult to soak up the emotion, but it continues in waves for days after. And will stay with me for the rest of my life.
Like I say, being crowned MSA Young Photographer of the Year has its benefits.
– FULL GALLERY OF SHOTS AVAILABLE HERE – CLICK – Shots courtesy of Sport Stock
