Mud Larks & Early Birds - A spectator's view of the Wales Rally GB

It seems like an age ago now that Thrashed Racing decided it would be like a good idea to travel down to watch the final round of the WRC in the land of sheep and funny place names like CwmGwilli (guffaw!). Being awoken from our slumber at 6AM by howling winds and torrential rain hadn't really crossed our minds back then. Browsing through the spectators guide the night before, it stated to "arrive at the given stage carpark with plenty of time". We had chosen to watch the Trawscoed stages as they did not kick off until 8.15am. With an estimated journey time of 25 minutes and allowing 30 minutes to get parked up and walk to the stage (not forgetting to pick up our souvenier programmes) a 6 o'clock wake up would give us plenty of time...

So, dressed like arctic explorers and with bleary eyes, with the obligatory sugary cup of tea inside us to get us going, we ventured off into the dark Welsh hills to watch stages 15 and 17 of the Wales Rally GB.

The day before we had noticed blue signs along the side of the road showing the way to the stage carparks. These were noticably absent on the way to our chosen stage, at least we had taken the time to program in the sat-nav. Obviously the South Wales Police Department (SWPD) had taken the time to line the roads with mobile speed camera vans and taken down the speed limit signs (maybe) with the hope of catching as many unwary rally fans as possible (spit). My only hope is that they don't work too well in the dark, and it was a national speed limit zone...

As time was now against us the pace was stepped up. The roads were undulating and twisty with big rivers of mud across them in places. This was turning into a rally special stage of our very own!! With Andy phantom braking in the passengers seat next to me and Donna threatening to pebble dash the back seats, we hurried onwards towards the car park, slowing only for Police road blocks and blue signs.

Back

8am.

Dammit now we really are cutting it fine. At last we turn off down a fire road and reach the entrance to the car park. I wind down my window and the marshall barks something incomprehensible which I can only guess was "stage passess please". Whatever. At least we're nearly there. Then the carnage began. People were ditching their cars here there and just about everywhere. On the vain hope that they were just following everyone else's example and that the carpark itself would be reletivley empty, (yeah right!) we soldiered on. The road (track) became tighter and tighter with cars on both sides and liquid mud under tyre. Then we stopped. With about ten cars in front of us and the worlds smallest car park (TM) just one hundred yards away we sat and waited.

8.20am.

We can hear the cars but we are still sat in ours. I wind down the window again for a man (who we assumed was a marshall) to tell us "it's mayhem up there, you may aswell ditch the car and watch the stage". Sod it. the people behind us have gone and the ones in front are starting to leave so what the hell. We abandon the car and resign ourselves to the fact that it's likely to be a nine hour wait to get out of the carpark.
Following the hordes of other expectant fans down the muddy track, I feel decidedly under dressed, with people in full wet weather outfits and fishermans boots walking beside me. Hypothermia here I come!

The Action

We find a spare patch of ground to stand on and watch the cars scream past. It's difficult to make out who's who as the cars are splattered with Welsh mud. That must have been Gronholm. Yeah, I'm pretty sure of that. And that was Solberg. no wait, Atkinson, definately Atkinson with that driving style, I recognize it from the telly. "Solbergs flying!" pipes up the man stood next to me. He's wrong (I think).
There is a big roar from the crowd just up the road and lots of airhorns and cheering. What's happened! I crane my neck over the course tape to get a better view. Nothing. I can hear a car popping and banging, and eventually it hoves into view missing most of it's body work. Time to move to a better spot I think.
We walk up about half a mile next to the track and get to see some stunning driving at real close range, the cars were never more than twelve feet away and you could taste the dirt being thrown off of the tyres and feel the rocks pelting in your direction, litterally! we have the bruises to proove it! Great stuff.

Breaking News!

I overhear that Gronholm has stalled in a water splash about a mile from where we are stood and can't restart, so is out of the rally. I waste no time telling Andy the bad news.

We have no real idea as to what cars are going past now, (Group N? JWRC?) but it's fun and we join in the hollering none the less. Everything goes quiet and we assume that this is the end of the first stage. We wander back to the car and find people cursing us as we had blocked the car park exit. Ooops.. there was someone behind us, honest! We spin the car round out of everyones way and tune the radio into 'Rally FM' to get the latest on whats going on. I feel a little bit of a berk as the commentator announces that Gronholm has set the fastest time on the stage and is currently leading the rally. We bung the heater on and thaw out / dry off with a bit of a snooze. Hard work this spectating lark!

The next stage time is 12.45pm and we make our way back to the viewing points at 12.30, only to find all the best spots taken. Time for a bit of muscling in and space robbing! I pick up my rally programme that someone else has left on the ground next to me (yoink) and cheer as Matthew Wilson hammers past. We watch the WRC big boys pound the mud and a few of the Group N's before calling it a day and heading back to the car to miss the mass exodus that's bound to happen, and hopefully get back in time to watch the coverage on the telly. We manage to get out surprisingly quickly from the stage, (okay so the Welsh Police can be useful) and with strict instructions not to speed, I make our way back to the lodgings, where we bung on the box and see the whole weekends racing.

Thrashed overtake the best of the Rally

The next day on the journey home we toot our respect to the rally service trucks heading back down the M4 to whatever country they have come from. It gives us a real sense of belonging, and we feel somehow seperated from the rest of the motorists, with our WRC pass still on display in the windscreen. It was the perfect finish to a great weekend. If you want to know who is winning and see all the action, my advice would be to sit down in the comfort of your own home and fire up the television. But if you want a gritty raw experience and the full atmosphere of a proper WRC stage, then nothing else beats actually seeing the action in real life. Just make sure you plan your days a little better than us here at Thrashed...