Motorsport Week departed the press room on Sunday and watched the build-up and start of the Monaco Grand Prix from the side of the circuit. It is an event, with surroundings, like no other Formula 1 race on the calendar…
It is about 20 minutes before the start of the Monaco Grand Prix and the lengthy, party-filled, social build-up is about to reach its crescendo with the 78-lap procession around the Principality’s historic streets. The weekend-long clear skies and hot conditions have given way to a close and humid feel, with the blanket of grey cloud releasing the occasional rain drop, though no more, but it adds to an oppressive and tense atmosphere as the clock winds down towards 15:10. Fans in the grandstands and marshals immaculately observe Monaco’s jolly anthem – though it is less recognised by those who adorn the boats rammed into their docking berths, the perfect epitome of money not buying class. Those boats and super-yachts brush against one another in the famous harbour, with those between the Nouvelle Chicane and Tabac pushed back several metres for safety purposes. Those with general admission tickets perch precariously on the hillside overlooking the final couple of corners, clinging to the steep landscape, their support indicated by patches of teamwear, caps and flags visible through the scenery.
(pictured on the sunnier Saturday!)
At the Nouvelle Chicane a throng of photographers, marshals, TV camera crew and firemen hang around anxiously, eagerly awaiting the first lap, while in a nearby hut a few workers polish off the last vestiges of lunch – there was a head-sized block of cheese plonked on a table in perhaps the perfect display of French culture – and prepare for the afternoon’s action, with a recovery truck on standby. Each boat blares out an array of different dance music as those onboard, some dressed smartly, others much more casually (and a few grotesquely) sip champagne and slouch on deckchairs, while on one of the many balconies above (albeit sadly too few appear occupied) a man breaks out his saxophone in a display of musicality that is both bizarre and unwarranted, though welcomed by his potentially mildly intoxicated companions. Luckily his thematic interlude lasts only half a minute as the appearance of the Medical and Safety Cars indicates the five-minute signal, and photographers conclude their small talk to take up positions, and an understandably cautious marshal beckons them to stand half a metre of so away from the waist-height barrier, behind an imaginary line formed by the back end of a small concrete block.
The start of the formation lap is the signal for the boats to at once blare foghorns and sirens to create a cacophonous noise that almost drowns out the sound of 20 Formula 1 cars touring their way along the Beau Rivage, located high above the apartment blocks opposite the outside of the Nouvelle Chicane. The field eventually negotiate their way through the tricky left-right-right-left complex led by Daniel Ricciardo, as the remaining 19 follow at various intervals, some closely pursuing opponents and others leaving a sizeable gap as they prepare their tyres, brakes and select the right settings while mentally gearing up for a near-two-hour drive.
Eventually the area falls quiet, save for only the general hubbub of chatter, until the sound of 20 V6 turbos revving fills the air, before they all drop the clutch and accelerate through the gears, negotiating Sainte Devote to cheers from spectators prior to screaming uphill above us – all of this, actually unseen due to the lack of a big screen in the area. A marshal beckons a few of us over and we crowd around a Fan Vision device, trying to block out the distracting natural light, to watch the pack, order relatively unchanged, negotiate Casino through Mirabeau Bas.
The noise of the cars draws ever louder as the drivers hurtle through the Tunnel before suddenly Ricciardo surges into view between the barriers, applying the brakes and flicking down through the gears to perfectly negotiate the first apex before barrelling over the larger kerb on the second apex, straightening the car up for the exit and brief straight towards Tabac. While he is doing so Vettel follows, then Hamilton, Raikkonen, Bottas, Ocon, Alonso, Sainz Jr., Perez, Gasly, Hulkenberg – all taking largely similar lines to form a kaleidoscopic and hypnotically snake-like motion as the throng of photographers snap away at the action, and the marshals keep a watchful eye in case of any required yellow flag action, Safety Car board deployment or debris removal. Then follows Sirotkin, Vandoorne, Leclerc, Hartley, Stroll, Ericsson, Verstappen (up two places already) and the Haas pair of Magnussen and Grosjean, pursued somewhat later by the Medical Car. A wall of heat washes over those trackside as the 20 cars blast past, the vibrations throbbing through the ground, kicking up tyre debris and various bits as they pass, and in just a smattering of seconds they’re gone – before the motion repeats itself around a minute later, albeit with the train more strung out.
The walk back to the press room, which involves negotiating the narrow strip of land between the harbour and the barriers, means passing by Tabac and Piscine, corners both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure, where drivers need total commitment, almost pointing their machines at you through Tabac before whizzing through Piscine at a speed that feels impossible for the human eye to comprehend.
The boat parties continue and there’s varying levels of interest in the action, with some watching the circuit action, others glancing at a screen, and some more interested in socialising or flicking through their smartphones. But whatever, this is Monaco, a bizarre and surreal enclave at odds with the rest of the world. And a Formula 1 race around such an environment feels both perfectly suited and yet out-of-place in equal measure. The racing may be mediocre at best but as a spectacle it is a totally unique event. Long may it continue.
