Another Enjoyable Weekend

Friday, May the 3rd

Phew. Work finished. Time to sling my hold-all into the boot of the car, set the Sat Nav and head south to meet up with my brother and a couple of mates for our MotoGP weekend. I had already spent Thursday night making certain that I had everything I needed. Clothes, toothbrush, passport just in case we get stopped trying to cross over into Spain and a large bag of butterscotch flavour boiled sweets. The boys and I had decided eventually on Plan C for the weekend. Plan A, which was to pick the lads up at Faro Airport and head straight for Jerez seemed to be a no brainer since we'd then find ourselves putting up a tent in the dark at the race track. Plan B of stay in the Algarve on Friday night and take the tent to the track on Saturday had also been railroaded in favour of the modern comforts of Plan C. Plan C was set up base camp in Albufeira and drive to and from the track in Jerez, thereby make full use of the comfortable ameneties that go with a holiday residence in the Algarve. Obviously, as men of great taste and distinction, we would much prefer to live in the lap of luxury for the weekend rather than slumming it in a field. And that made my life a little easier, since it meant that I didn't need to worry about packing a tent, cooking stove, pots, pans, utensils and all the other necessities that we'd need.

The drive down to Albufeira was one I'd done before, so no surprises there. Kilometer after kilometer of motorway passed without incident, but it is a long drive and I was hungry for both some food and indeed a nice refreshing beer. I found the apartment, parked up, freshened up, and we headed out. We found a nice bar down by the beach, had a nice cool beer (or was it two?) and then headed for the Old Town to eat.

Saturday, May the 4th

Bocadilla de Tortilla

An early start, and with tickets and passports in our pockets, we headed for Spain. We stopped for breakfast at a motorway cafe just across the border and with a mixture of English, my terrible Portuguese and a generous amount of pointing we ordered some bocadillas and coffees. The lads called me names for being a boffin and attempting to order my breakfast in Espanguese, and bless her, the lady serving us was very nice about correcting it into proper Español. Then, back on the long long road to Jerez.

The road led us through Sevilla and then towards Cádiz, until finally we arrived at the circuit. It had been a long drive and we were eager to see some bikes. Initially we were struggling to place ourselves on the map supplied with the tickets, but it didn't take us too long to find both the grandstand and the merchandise village. We bought some caps and t-shirts and headed for our seats. The qualifying sessions were soon underway and we had a good view of turns one and two along with a prime seat for the Jumbotron on which we could watch the action from the far side of the track. Cal Critchlow managed to ditch his bike after a couple of laps, lowsiding on a corner, but wasn't alone in this, with most of the other top riders at some point during the practice or qualifying sessions also hitting the tarmac. Lorenzo on the other hand was managing to stay upright and also put in qualifying times good enough to secure pole. Critchlow returned to the track to continue his qualifying laps, and managed to secure 5th place on the grid.

It was very hot sitting in the grandstand, and we had got through more than our fair share of suntan cream and bottled water. But we'd had a good day. When we left it was a relief to get back into an air conditioned car despite the long drive we had in front of us back to Albufeira.

With a very early start planned for Sunday morning, we decided to go easy on the beers and go off the beaten track to a traditional Portuguese restaurant to eat. And in true Portuguese tradition, we ordered four Menu do Dia's comprising starter, main, dessert, wine and coffee for all of us for 30 euros. A walk along the strip, with perhaps a stop for a beer on the way back to the apartment was in order, but with full stomachs, we cheerfully passed each and every bar, ignoring the repeated attempts by the staff to encourage us in with the promise of free shots and giant screen football. We returned to the apartment, chatted, drank coffee and finally went to bed with heads full of anticpation of Sunday's racing.

Sunday, May the 5th

5 a.m. The sun was not up yet of course. It was a few minutes after six and the sun was just rising up into the sky when we stopped off at the same motorway services for the same breakfast served to us by the same lady that had served us the day before. When she laughed at one of our blokey jokes we realised that she obviously spoke much better English than we had initially assumed. The joke was on us I guess! Anyway, we were shortly back on the road again, and managed to make up a little time by not getting lost in Sevilla, thereby arriving at Jerez in plenty of time for the racing. The grandstand was packed, but with a slight breeze in the air, somehow it wasn't quite as hot as it had been on the Saturday. We watched the Moto3 race. And then the Moto2 race. Finally it was time for the MotoGP race. I will refrain from giving a commentary, as if you really are that interested, then you probably already know by now what happened in the race, or you could Google it! Suffice to say that the crowd was thoroughly enjoying the fact that the Spanish riders were dominating the podium positions throughout the race. Of course the major highlight is illustrated by the picture above, of Lorenzo and Marquez having a little tussle on the final corner of the last lap of the race. Pedrosa, Marquez, Lorenzo, Rossi, Crutchlow. Excellent result for the Spanish. Not too bad either for the English. And a thoroughly enjoyable day's racing for all. Except perhaps a rather miffed Lorenzo?!

On the return journey home, upon every bridge across the motorway from Jerez all the way to Sevilla, there were fans, with large Spanish flags, jumping up and down in celebration and with each and every bike passing beneath horns were sounded and the flags waved again with renewed vigour. After Sevilla the number of motorbikes sharing the roads with us dwindled somewhat but when we stopped for coffee at the last services before the Portuguese border a couple of bikers rode in, clearly also on their way back from Jerez.

To finish the weekend, a curry, at the Clay Oven, which we'd been told was the very best Indian restaurant in Albufeira. Poppadums, Pakoras, Gobi Aloo, Garlic Naan and a large Coke. After all, I still had to drive back to Estoril. It was eleven o'clock when I finally got home. It had been a good weekend. Very tiring, and with way too much driving, but enjoyable none the less. Although next time we slum it, in a tent, in a field.