Le Mans, Spiderman-esque building antics and pepper spray ...

Back at Le Mans again for the 2015 race!

It's always a magical mix of motorsport and festival coupled with lots and lots of beers!

A group of my friends and I convoyed down, via the ferry, me with the van to sleep in, and the others toting tents. Spirits were high, we'd been before and knew what to expect. This time we were prepared!

After getting settled in we hurried up to the track for a pitside walk around. People were arriving and the arenas were filling up. Beer flows easily at Le Mans and it's only a few waking hours before everything slides in to a hazy stumble between padocks, stalls and bars.

There's no drinking for the teams though, as they have their vehicles in bits, building engines and tweaking the machines to give the maximum performance vs. endurance possible.

Le Mans is famed for it's long running time and experimental technologies. This year Nissan were trying out a whole new, all electric vehicle.... We saw it start, along with the other more conventional motors, and promptly saw it finish as it dipped out a couple of laps in to the race. A bit disappointing if I'm honest as the idea of future tech being successful appeals to me.

The Saturday night is renowned for being a boisterous night out on the public roundabouts near the main campsites of Le Mans.

Beausjour roundabout shares its name with the campsite we were based at, it is at the main entrance, making it ideal for some serious car debauchery. It is, infact, this very roundabout where I made a rooky error and thought I could play with a flare and get away with it.... Quite how I didn't learn my lesson.. I dont know.

Basically after a certain time of the evening the roundabout is surrounded by drunken car enthusiasts who then egg on and coax the drivers driving through to spin up their wheels or perform donuts... It get pretty nuts with everything from Aston Martins to Ford Fiestas all having a go.

I've ambled in to this chaos with a certain degree of dutch courage from too many beers in my belly and instantly wanted to get involved. The crowd spills out of the campsite, on to and around the roundabout with a good number of people in the road stopping and encouraging the rubber spinning. The first vehicle to pull up at the line when I arrive is a crappy old Peugeot. I'm standing on the drivers side of the car with giving it large with the arm waving and making backfiring noises (as you do!) shouting 'Bup bup bup bup!' to get the drivers going. He's revved the engine to the limiter and lets it bounce off it for a few seconds before dumping the clutch... Just as the wheels spin up a hand comes out of the drivers window with an aerosol and I'm hit smack bang in the face with an oily substance.

Instantly I'm blinded by the stuff. My mouth fills with saliva and my nose starts to run. It feels like my face had something caustic on it, maybe bleach?  I grab up the bottom of my tee shirt and try to wipe the stuff off. I thought it was WD40 at first, or some other sort of oil. It doesnt come off and I still cant see. I get very disorientated. I'm fully aware I'm stood in the middle of a roundabout with revellers and wheel spinning cars all around me.

I can't see anything and somehow end up on the floor, scared witless as I can hear the next car's engine roaring in front of me as they prepare to get their wheels spinning. All of a sudden I feel a tug on my rucksack and I'm dragged backwards. I feel the curb of the centre of the roundabout on my back and then the grass. "Are you alright?" comes a blokes voice with a thick French accent. "Yeh man... I'm good... Just can't see anything!", "Here, take this" He grabs my hand off of my face and puts a plastic cup in to it. I go to pour it on my face until he shouts, "NO no no no... It's wine, Drink it" So now I'm sat, unable to see, with a stinging face on the curbside of a roundabout drinking white wine.

Hot chilli sauce indeed

"You can't wash it off, It's pepper spray, just wait a minute" he knowledgeably informs me. "This isn't the French way, this isn't what we are all like, they're just idiots" The guy is pretty adamant he wants to get this across and keeps repeating it as he fills my cup and sits with me for the next 10 minutes.

Eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime, I can start to see again. Everything is stinging, like a really bad nettle rash. The guy checks I'm alright again and fills up my cup once more before diving back in to the foray. I'm able to get up and start cautiously staggering around trying to fathom out the chaos that's going on around me and try and find my way to the campsite entrance.

A short walk later and I enter our camp, eyes, nose, mouth all running with various liquids and swollen. "What the fuck happened to you?!" is the response from my mates... "Long story man"

It took the wind right out of my sails. Being a fully abled, fairly fit, 26 year old to a completely defenceless, totally reliant mess on the floor in the spray of an aerosol can. Scary. The plan was to head back out that night but I really wasn't feeling it. It took a good few hours before I could say my face was 'normal' again. I vowed there and then that I would never wish that upon my worst enemy.

The rest of the racing was as good as the start. We ventured out to Arnage corners one evening under the bright track lights. This year each of the cars had distinguished themselves from the others in the night time section with an array of multicoloured LED lights or strips going down the side.

Final day of racing and we were all nursing a hangover so chilled out at at the Ford chicane section just before the start straight. It started to rain a little but we braved it long enough to watch the lead GT3 driver spin out in to the kitty litter right infront of us. After 23.xx hours of driving he'd managed to bin it and subsequently hand the win to the 2nd place driver... gutting

Once the race had finished we all piled on to the start/finish straight for the awards ceremony. A little later we got on the track for a walk up towards the Dunlop bridge just after the start finish line. It felt really weird being stood on the track as it's always very protected during the race. We even walked back to our campsite by taking the track to the Porsche curves! It probably took us a good 30 minutes when it takes the cars a matter of seconds.

Aquaventure, Burj Khalifa and the rest of Dubai... (Video)

How do you describe Dubai to someone that's never been to Dubai?

That is the question I simply cannot answer.... yet I'll try and convey some sort of semblance from my visit here.

Take everything you know and inject a healthy dose of steroids in to it. Actually that's it, I've just nailed it! Everything on steroids. Shoppings centres, motorways, cars, leisure activities, night clubs... the lot. 

The city boasts a myriad of Guiness World Records as its accolades. Most of which are easily viewable, including the worlds largest airport that we flew in to. The Worlds Largest Shopping Mall sits in the middle of town. The Dubai Mall was on our list of must visits. It's the largest mall in terms of floorspace, and is host to absolutely every shop and fashion label you can think of. But it was the other attractions that really caught my attention. For instance this huge dinosaur skeleton was just mooching about in one of the many vaulted atriums. In another was an equally big cascading waterfall with stainless steal sculptures diving downward.

However the most bizarre thing about the Mall is most evident from the outside. A large tubular shape sticks straight out of the mall, reaching skyward at an angle. Initially I didn't have a clue what it was until I remembered that here, in the middle of a desert, was a 1312 foot long indoor ski slope!

After meandering around the American Eagle store for some pants and numerous big label sports shops for some running shoes for my Sister we headed to the bottom of the slope for dinner in the Cheesecake Factory. 

After spending so much time in the Alps snowboarding, and not in an indoor ski slope in the desert, it was very amusing to see Arabs gliding expertly down the slope. It was funny seeing their classic arabic dress, the Thawb, trailing behind them like some sort of superman cape. I was itching to have a go and warm up for the coming winter season, but running a little lean on dough decided I'd save it for a more affluent time.

Drinking in Dubai is somewhat of a complex affair. It's illegal to drink, or be under the influence of alcohol on the street. Non-Muslim, foreign nationals can obtain a 'license to drink' (Not sure if this is only for Martinis, shaken and not stirred) which they must carry and then enables them to drink in specially licensed places, normally hotels, restaurants etc.

This rule applies to everyone, including tourists, however it's not strictly enforced. The hotels do not sell licenses, neither does the airport, but there have been stories where the police have been called to a kerfuffel in a hotel bar and then used this lack of 'license to drink' to book foreign tourists. So the advice is to not be openly drunk on the street and to avoid any interaction with police if you are.

So we set out to Barasti Beach bar after a few warm up drinks in the hotel. It is located at the end of the palm just as the trunk meets the shore, on the south side. A perimeter fence welcomes you as the bouncers check your credentials and either lets you in or not. Inside is a fairly upmarket far, restaurant, dance floor arrangement. There was a band playing on a small stage, disco lights and some comfy leather sofas and pouffes dotted around which we plotted on after getting a Belgian beer at the bar.

The spectacular backdrop of the Dubai skyline and the large stage on the beach really set this venue off. The high rise buildings are magically perched meters away from the sea, Barasti beach bar nestled in between. After a nice meal the music started down on the beach.

The beach was devoid of anyone dancing so I made it my mission to get it started! My Sister, Ellie, joined me and after a while so did a few other patrons. I was prancing about like the usual vaguely drunk Adam dancing to music.

I asked one girl where she was from. "Russia!" she replied, throwing her hands up and mimicking my silly British dancing. Throughout the night we'd have a little boogy and shout "Mother Russia!" while laughing hystericaly, I don't think she knew any much more English. I made weird connections where guys would ask me to get such and such a girl up to dance so they could hit on them. I obliged, pulling sullen looking ladies off of the leather pouffes and getting a macarana circle going. It was absolutely brilliant.

Until a big hefty bouncer came over and tapped me on the shoulder. Within an instant my Dad appeared at my side, he'd been dancing on the side lines but was suddenly in the thick of it. I went to the edge of the dance floor where the bouncer had been standing before coming in to the foray. He moved his head next to mine and half whispered, half shouted over the music... "When the next drop comes can you drag me in as well?!" It was so funny. I grabbed his big bulk and got him trying slut drops, on a beach, in Dubai. The whole evening was brilliant.

Some of the more conservative blokes didn't like my antics, but all I had to do was turn around and give a thumbs up to Mr Lithuania (as I'd nicknamed him) who was the biggest guy in the party. He returned the thumb and carried on dancing with his new lady.

So for a place regarded as strict on drinking, I managed four very hungover mornings after very good nights.

The Aquaventure waterpark was attached to the hotel we were staying in. It was really well put together with a lazy river circumnavigating it like a mini highway. Some of the rides were pretty daunting, including some very long straight chutes, one in particular that shot you through a tunnel surrounded with sharks!

The best by far was Poseidons Revenge. I'm not very good at heights and hate suspense so this was a real challenge for me. You basically climbed in to a perspex capsule that shut around you and waited patiently for the floor to literally drop away from you, sending you plunging to an unknown watery fate. I mastered it the first time but each time after that was just as scary as the apprehension of when the floor was going to disappear was a bigger scare than then actual water slide!

Next stop was the tallest building in the world, the Burj Khalifa, sitting next to the Dubai mall and with some impressive fountains in a man made lake at its base. Over 800 metres high it is pretty massive. It even contrasts hugely against all of the other high rise buildings spread generously over Dubai.

Dubai is a mad mad place. It's a lot more Westernised than Jeddah, and consequently can feel a little less raw and more touristy, but its sheer opulence and extravagances are something to be experienced. The mix of all cultures remind me of a shipping terminal from a Star Wars film. If diversity isn't your thing you'll hate this place. But I love change, difference and try to be as open as I can about most things so I absolutely loved it!

Checkout the video I produced from my trip to the Middle East here

Arriving at the Atlantis on the Palm, Dubai...

Arriving in Dubai and The Atlantis on the Palm

It's only a short flight from Jeddah across Saudi to Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, just over 2 hours, but Saudia Airlines managed to fit in a full on gourmet meal, newspapers and tea and coffee. Their in flight entertainment was also very comprehensive with a touch screen to scroll through what seemed like thousands of categories each with a plethora of multicultural choices.

Being the inquisitive soul I am I went straight for the most unusual (obviously not here) category, Islam... Inside was about 50 films to watch, some of them in Arabic, some in Arabic with subtitles and some that were English speaking. I clicked through and started to watch a couple of the English ones. They all took on the same format, interviewing Western people who had converted to Islam, moved to Saudi or Qatar or another Gulf state and started living their lives with the Qua'ran at the heart of the family. 

The films gave some impressive facts about the good Muslims do throughout the world. I learnt about the Hajj, a once in a lifetime pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia where a number of rituals are performed including spending 24 hours out in the desert as well as walking around, between and under religious landmarks. Some 3 million people are expected in the city over just a couple of weeks each year. Most interestingly of all is a pillar of Islam called Zakat.

From what I could gather Zakat is a sort of moral obligation to other Muslims. Should their financial situation permit, people who follow Islam have to donate a portion of their wealth to charitable causes. My Dad had experienced this living in Jeddah. He is friends with a Philippino woman who also lives on his compound. She has a modest wage working as a hotel chamber maid, however, she still finds enough money to contribute towards a young boy's education. 

The total monetry value given to charitable causes from Muslims following Zakat all around the world is reported to be 15 times that of similar contributions made by governmental organisations. 15 times! 

All of the videos took on the same tact towards the end... that guy in the middle of town screaming about the importance of this religion or that religion and that you should condemn your sins and follow this book or that book. I soon turned the TV over to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...

Mid way through the flight I noticed a lot less of the ladies were wearing abaya's (The compulsory  dress for women in public throughout the more strict Muslim lands) and instead were coming out of the toilet dripping in diamonds, wearing high class fashion and smelling divine every time they walked past me. Whilst Dubai and the United Arab Emirates is a Muslim state, there is a lot more lenience in upholding the customs. The abaya seems an oppressive dress code to me, but underneath, Arabic women really are beautiful.

We landed at the airport and was greeted by a Mercedes Limousine with enough electronics in it to go to space. If you could move it, it had a button to do it for you, window blinds, separate sun roofs, chilled cup holders with complimentary water. Every crevice in the door cards had a thin line of blue LEDs that stretched out to the foot wells. To adjust my seat I had no less than 8 different axis points to tweak so I was as comfy as comfy can be. I noticed a small orange triangle in the wing mirrors, but only at certain times. I asked the driver and he showed me, if he was in the right hand lane of the 6 lane motorway we were on and indicated left to change lane but there was a car in his blind spot it lit up the triangle. Then he asked me to put my hand on the steering wheel and as he started to turn, with the car still in the blind spot, the steering wheel vibrated to further tell him he was about to cave in a bright yellow Lamborghini. I drive a Ford Transit most of the time... I've put LEDs in that flash multicolours until you start to spin out or get a headache.

Our destination was even more lavish than this car. It took around 40 minutes driving parallel to the coast through downtown Dubai. Every building seemed to have at least 20 floors, and they were the small ones. It was all too much to take in really as the driver and my Dad were pointing out places of importance. I was transfixed by the funny shape the sat nav was telling us to drive on to. The Palm. 

The Palm is a totally man made land mass jutting out in to the Gulf sea on the Dubai coast. Dubai's fairly recent push to grab tourists, and the money they bring, is for a very good reason. Once rich in oil reserves that made Dubai what it is today, an oasis of wealth and pleasure in an arid desert, oil only accounts for 7% of the countries GDP today compared to over 80% 20 years ago. The booming tourism industry has stepped in and taken up the mantle of the oil fields. 

But tourists like beaches, and Dubai only had a modest 72 km of coast line. So the simple answer was to build more coast, out at sea. The construction takes advantage of the shape of a palm tree which adds an incredible amount of coast line compared to any other shape. And so it was set about, to build another 56 km of coast line in the shape of a palm tree. There is a very interesting documentary on Youtube you can check out here. It basically means battling mother nature for the rest of eternity as it tries to erode it away. And the Arabs have more plans for palm, earth and claw shaped manmade coastline islands that will give a total of over 1500 km of coastline!

So the Atlantis on the Palm, the shining jewel sitting 5 miles out to sea at the very top of the Palm is a hotel that's 2 km long, has 20 restaurants, 2000 odd rooms and 4000 members of staff. The aquarium puts the great barrier reef, let alone the Sea Life Centre, to shame. I have never experienced (and bet I never will) a more lavish place in my life. As we pulled in to the covered driveway each door was opened by a member of the concierge waiting patiently. We were welcomed in to the entrance lobby that plays host to a 15 metre high sculpture made out of individual pieces of Molino glass. We were ushered in to private concierge room to check in where the kind far eastern looking woman basically told us you can have whatever you want, just pick up the phone in your room, helicopter rides, boats to the Gold markets, jet skis and rental, by the hour or the day, of any of the 6 supercars parked prominently out the front. 

I was completely gobsmacked. It was a barrage to the senses. The opulence of the place, the people, everything. A middle eastern toilet attendant even handed me my personal towel to dry my hands after having a piss. Dad mentioned that he wasn't just in the toilet to hand out towels. You really can get whatever you want here... Whatever floats your boat!

We were shown to our room, which is used in the loosest possible way, as this place was not a hotel room but a full executive suite with all amenities. The bathroom was something to write home about (haha get it?) and had a massive roll top jacuzzi bath in the middle of the room straddled by his and hers sink areas all clad in bright marble. The living space in my van was dwarfed by this bathroom alone!

The view from the balcony was epic. Sat at the top most part of the Palm looking back towards the skyline of Dubai. And it was a comfortable 26 degrees in November.

We were told that we had access to the executive lounge where we would find soft drinks, teas and coffees as well as a range of alcoholic beverages. Well as soon as we were settled in we headed straight for the lounge and enjoyed unlimited mojitos, sex on the beaches, numerous whiskeys, beers and an array of bits to eat including sushi, smoked salmon entrées, onion bhajis, and exotic salad bowls. Then I spotted a mysterious wooden case sat on the side like something out of Jumanji. The cigar box! Containing 10 or so different cigars of all sizes. How tempting! But I was with my Dad and stuck with a couple of packs of Marlboroughs. 

At first I didn't know how to conduct myself. When I fly I try and just have hand luggage. I've managed to get it down to an art. One 20l rucksack from Tescos can fit enough for me to survive comfortably for an indefinite amount of time, as long as the climate doesn't change dramatically and I can wash my clothes somehow. So I'm stood in a hotel where every door is opened for you, the people walking around look like bronzed James Bonds and Miss Moneypennies and you can spend £3,000 on a cigar from a Jumanji box. All whilst I'm wearing my best 5 year old chequed F & F short sleeved shirt and a pair of stained khaki shorts with more holes than a bowling ball. And I'm so appreciative of everything. I thank the guy who calls us the lift profusely even though all he did was hit the button. I thank the Indian guys who clean our room every day. I've been him, I've cleaned toothpaste off of a guests mirror every day, I've scrubbed the toilets clean only to come back 20 minutes later to find soggy loo roll all over the floor. But no one else does. Everyone holds themselves with an air of … I don't know... arrogance? Sophistication? Suave? It's difficult for me to tell... I say my thank you's anyway. 

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia...

I am very fortunate to have received a once in a life time trip to a normally closed-to-tourist country in the middle east called Saudi Arabia. It's host to the home of Islam in the name of Mecca, and somewhere that I would never have dreamed of visiting.

My Dad has recently taken up full time residency in the country and is benefiting from a tax free salary. Bliss some may say, but to his friends he calls it Jail-ddah. I was able to experience all of the best bits. I was only there for a mear 3 days, but I know I have to visit again.

The adventure didn't start in foreign lands though. Upon getting to Heathrow I became very aware that we were headed to the far right hand side of Terminal 5, the club, business, party, first class of airline travel end of the terminal. And low and behold, club class travel had been organised... Just stepping in to the pre-flight lounge was an experience, You are greeted by name, sat in a lounge where you can shower, drink, eat, lounge and are generally waited on hand and foot for, in our case, hours before your flight (because you turn up to the airport early when you have lounge access!)

I took it upon myself to try each and every one of the 6 scotch’s on offer in the complimentary bar, we enjoyed sky television, a buffet of hot and cold foods, cheeses, beers, a mini cinema, and a whole raft of that days newspapers, articles and niche magazines on offer. When I left to meet the plane I was stuffed and pissed!

When I got on the aircraft I was blown away even more.. The seats looked like nothing you've ever seen before. Space craft materials and design. The plane was nearly empty with my family sharing club class with 3 others. We had the hosts undivided attention and with that came unlimited and rellenteless whiskeys. I opted for the Lamb Birhiani and was amazed that that quality could come out of a microwave at 33,000 ft. I started watching the latest film release on my personal touch screen entertainment system but was too mullered to complete more than 30 minutes and feel asleep on my fully reclineable airplane bed. Shoes stowed in the special shoe drawer.

Arriving at Jeddah airport my sister, Ellie, had to don the sexiest of attire, a Saudi custom is for all women to cover themselves with a, normally black, head to toe garment called an Abaya. From what I could gather it is used for men to protect against other men from looking at their women in a lustful manner.

Driving in Jeddah is the most fascinating and at the same time terrifying thing I have ever experienced. There is all of the infrastructure, its like a normal road, all be it a 4 lane carriageway but we have those in the UK yeh? However, here a 4 lane carriageway has no rules, we witnessed a few of the following:

• A bus doing a U-turn in a busy 4 lane, 8 way carriageway
• One chap reversing down the 'slow' lane of the carriageway for what looked to be an indefinite distance
• 'Dangerous diversion' signs notifying you of a dangerous diversion they have constructed across another 4 lane, 8 way carriageway.
• People in the far left lane of the carriageway wanting to turn right at stationary traffic lights, what happens when they turn green is hilarious

Ironically you will see numerous 2 - 4 year old cars with their factory installed door bump foam stickers, windscreen protective films, internal dash plastic protectors and plastic wrapped headrests in the vague attempt to keep a car nice when it's not been cleaned since its inception and has picked up enough bumps, dents, dings and scratches to warrant an English man taking it to the scrap heap.

I'd like to describe jeddah in one, hyphentated word, Oxy-moron. The cold water comes out of the tap at 45 degrees C, if there is a queue on a roundabout drivers just drive round it the other way, there are 4 person families crammed in to the front 2 seats of a micra and there's a La Senza in a country where women have to wear a big black sheet in public. But there are plus sides. It costs my Dad £3.20 to fill the fuel tank of his car... and with that he gets two packets of tissues and a litre of drinking water. Water is literally more expensive than fuel and the local desalination plant burns the oily black stuff to make drinking water.

Dad lives on a compound. There are a number of them dotted around Jeddah and presumably the whole of Saudi. These are places of safety for western people. As you enter the 10 metre high walls of the compound by car you are slowed to a creep with concrete fortifications, everything looks scary and miliary like. There are armed guards supplied by the Saudi National Guard and on one compound we visited, a 50 calibre gun trained perminantly down the entrance road. Yet, in true Saudi custom we were subjected to the most stringent of security measures as a man walks the length of our car holding what looks to be an old CRT TV antenna empedded in to a piece of wooden dowling. Apparently this is a bomb detector and I instantly feel much much more safe!

That day was spent by a surprisingly pleasant pool complex. The compound caters for nearly every interest, offering a barbers, supermarket, bowling ally and no less than 3 swimming complexes. 

That evening saw us and a few of Dads friends piling in to a couple of taxis and making the treacherous journey to a different compound where a French guy was hosting a party. His lounge had been transformed in to a mini night club, disco lasers, smoke machine and full on pole dancing pole in the centre. A group of approximately 30 people turned up over the course of the night and my dancing got even more crazier as the music got louder... until the Tomorrowland 2013 aftermovie soundtrack came on.... BAM .... I'm up and going some! Managing to hold myself upside down on the pole with my feet on the ceiling.

I had averaged 3 hours sleep a night since leaving home and tried desperately to get some kip on the closed off Westernised beach complex but to no avail. We got some take away chicken that evening and settled down for a good nights sleep as we were booked in for a snorkeling trip in the Red Sea the next day.

6am rise and a less hectic drive to the dive centre base on the creek. We joined a couple of Dads work colleagues and an assortment of proper divers with tanks and regulators etc and sped out of the creek towards a couple of coral reefs 23km off the coast in the Red Sea on a fairly large boat. Wealthy Arabs joined us to jump and do stunts off of the boat's wake on their high powered jet ski's, I didn't realise the height some of them could get and was even scared for them when it looked like they may flip over.

Once the skipper had dropped anchor and explained where we could go in relation to the reef in front of us I was first to strip off and take the plunge from the top deck of the boat. It is roasting hot after all! 36 degrees during the day! The water was lovely, not cold, and perfectly clear. I donned my snorkel and was opened up to a completely unknown world. I'd been snorkeling before in harbours and off of beaches, but never had I seen anything like what was on this reef. 

The colours were spectacular, the coral swayed as the waves made me bob like a cork. Fish swam literally everywhere. It was incredible. I was very envious as the 6 proper divers plunged in near the boat and I saw their decent clouded by bubbles.

The day on the boat was very pleasurable. We alternated between floating in the salty sea, taking in the different sea creatures, fish and corals, to soaking up the sun on the boat, refreshments and snacks included. We had seen a school of flat nosed dolphins on the way out. The skipper turned the boat in a big circle so they could play in the wake. Dad and I were floating near the boat when a Polish guy, in Saudi to map the reefs from an aircraft at night, nonchalantly shouted that there was some Dolphins. Dad and I turned around to see the ominous sight of dorsal fins sticking out of the water a little way out from us. I've got to be honest I was a little scared, I'm a good swimmer, but not compared to a 8m long shark. My fears heightened when the fins simultaneously turned towards us and slowly descended under the water. I didn't have my goggles on and couldn't see where they had gone.

Every now and then the Dolphins would come up for air, surprising us as they circled around, one getting within reaching distance of my Dad. It was a truly spectactular experience, and one I craved more of! The fear had gone and I wanted to spend the whole day in that luke warm sea. Through out the day the Dolphins came back to the boat 3 more times. Each time I jumped back in eagerly with my video camera, trying desperately to get close enough for a good shot.

A storm was brewing in the distance, the coast guard had warned us of it when we left the creek, but the Dolphins returned just one last time. 

It was a really incredible moment. I turned around and nearly everyone from the boat was in the water. Even the Sri Lankan skipper had shed his clothes and was in with us.

Who needs Sea World when you can see wild, bottlenosed Dolphins in their natural habitat. I listened eagerly as we sped back to avoid the storm. The divers had seen Baracuda, Manta Rays and Moray Eals. I need to get my PADI open water license!

Le Mans 24 Heures 2014...

Well ... what a weekend...!

Everyone knows what the Le Mans 24 hour is...so I'm not going to reel off facts, figures and other easily obtainable snipbits of information here. Google it... This is an account of what I got up to.

My friends departed for the ferry early doors on Thursday, hoping to get there sometime in the afternoon.  I was let off work at 8pm, quickly jumping on my bike and hooning the 300 miles to Le Mans, and the campsite, like an expectant father to be who's just got the message 'it' is coming...

When I got to Le Mans around midnight the roads were grid locked. It took me 45 minutes just to navigate to our campsite, only trouble being I didn't know which colour sign our campsite had been designated. The majority of the 24 hour track is made up of normally public roads... roads that my new satnav app wanted me to take.

There was a particular road that looked a 50 meter jaunt to another road, but it was barricaded off with some 5 foot heras fencing except for a little gap that the workmen had just made, so I shot through and up to the end of the road. That's when I realised I was now sat smack bang in the middle of a huge race track straight. Parked up every 20 meters or so were flat bed trucks and mobile work lights illuminating a huge army of orange clad French dudes setting up armco barriers. One passing flat bed had an oompaloompa on the back just pointing at the barriered entry I'd just blatantly ridden through!

I eventually got to the roundabout with a drunken Ross standing on it waving his torch beam in every motorcyclists eyes. The campsite was just as much a dilemma, with Alex threatening to violently show me how many beers he'd drank earlier that day. So after a few cold ones myself we all retired by about 1:30am.

Alex, myself and Ross partying hard

After a late breakfast that morphed in to Lunch we headed to a small village on the outside of the track called Arnage, 2km down the road. It lends its name to a section of the track, and has some nice bars, restaurants and a notorious section of the high street known to host all manner of tomfoolery with fans and their cars. It was also convenient that there was a bar showing the Netherlands vs Spain game in the World Cup Competition. For some reason though the morning beers had been flowing too well and we ended up walking back to the campsite for a reason I can't remember. Getting hacked off with walking the same unpathed road some of us ended up hitchhiking with relative success.

The Dutch game was a belter by all accounts. Netherlands wooping their arch rivals Spain 5 - 1. I say by all accounts because I soon got a bit bored and instead took my beer outside to egg on the cars and bikes on the road outside the bar. It's such a mad environment to be in. There's motorheads everywhere and all they want to do is spin up their wheels or get their engines to hit the rev limiter, yet the police seem to tolerate it. Its brilliant!

After another, hop skip and a jump back to the campsite a few of us went out hunting for more tyre smoke, getting to the front entrance of the campsite and being met by a huge crowd of people all encouraging the passing cars to get those rear tyres spinning like a yoyo. We got fully involved and ended up pushing the older cars back and spraying water on to the roundabout road so they would lose traction. There was a diverse number of vehicles too, with sports cars, motorbikes, old bangers, mums out in their zafira's and one notable 7.5 tonne truck that I'm glad I didn't fall under when trying to hold it back.

It's not all about the cars... they just happen to be there!

This is all at around 11 or 12 o'clock at a vague guess. It was dark anyway. And then suddenly out came a red flare that lit up the crowd as everyone cheered and engines roared. I'd probably had waaaay too much to drink at this point and before I knew it I was stood in the middle of the road holding aforementioned flare aloft screaming "WHO ARE YA!" at the top of my voice, turning around and thrusting the flare up in the air. For some reason the entire crown seemed to instantly quiet, just leaving the mouthy Englishman screaming something at the top of his voice while waving a flare about. Phil later said they probably didn't know what to expect from me next. Until I casually put the flare back on the floor and walked back to where my mates were standing.

As with any crowd there was a few who wanted to spoil the fun. It was when glass bottles were broken on the makeshift burnout pad that we all collaboratively decided to leave. The cars that were entering the area had no idea there was glass underfoot and would then try and spin up their wheels to impress the crowd, presumably causing some damage and potentially 4 flat tyres. We couldn't take on everyone and get through to them they were spoiling the fun, so chose to abstain and leave.

Not that leaving was a particularly bad idea. We stumbled across a very noisey and lively party hosted by some German or Dutch blokes. There was a good gathering of about 40 - 50 people all mooching about and dancing to the music.

Saturday saw us all taking the tiny land train up to the start straight for a spot of hat shopping as everyone was getting burnt scalps. I woke up to a badly burnt hand from the previous nights shenanigans. Meeting the Michelin man was a pivotal point in my life. As with the French version of Asterix, I tried my best to explain that I couldn't speak French... in French. He didn't care anyway, he just wanted a cuddle.

We continued North a bit and decided to plot near a chicane for the start and followed the race quite religiously for about an hour and a half, listening intently on the radios to the commentary. There was even a little mention about the Dutch rave in the campsite! But as the afternoon wore on so did the consumption of beer and interest soon faded in the race and became more about going to the toilet every 5 minutes, chatting with people from various Scandinavian countries and relishing in the brief rain shower that cut through the otherwise sweltering weekend for 20 minutes.

I think all of us had a quick alcohol induced sleep around 3pm on one corner. Quite how I'll never know as over 50 unsilenced sports cars hooned round the track meters away from us. That evening we watched some live music on the stage and enjoyed England being thrashed 2 - 1 by some Italian people in the World Cup. Kick off wasn't until 12 at night and the temperature dropped dramatically leaving only me, Phil and Alex left standing at the end, wrapping the three of us in the foil lined rug I'd brought along.

Recovery beer at Indianapolis

Sunday was a bit of a nightmare logistically. The 6 of us were all struggling with life, as comes after a few days full of beer. Getting on the bus to one of the other corners of the 8 mile track seemed like our best bet. Getting on the bus was fraught with French favoritism that I've witnessed in the Alps before, so, when no one was looking, I popped the rear doors open and Ross and I lept in just before they closed abruptly behind us, shutting everyone else out.

When we got to the Indianapolis corner, Ross and I went in to the ticketed arena next to the track and waited for a while, cold beers in hand, to see if the others had made it on to the next bus. An hour went by and it became apparent that they weren't coming and we spent atleast 30 minutes waiting in bus queues, walking a bit, thumbing with no luck and ending up back in the bus queue for a 45 minute ride around the track's Western perimeter until we got off at the start straight.

Up at the start straight we had a walk around, checking out the jam packed stadium and eating some much needed food. The other chaps decided to stay down near the campsite so after watching the end of the race on a big monitor in the Nissan garage Ross and I made a leisurely stroll back.

After what appeared to have been an absolutely quality weekend we all decided that we'd splash out on a big meal together as a kind of closing ceremony... You know, a quite one.. ready for the drive home in the morning. Well.... I know we went back to Arnage, and I think I had some sort of sea food, but after that I have total and utter blankness except for a raging fire billowing out of our BBQ back at the tents as we burnt all of the remaining fuel.

I woke up the next morning in a dire condition. Packing away my tent so the others could take it back home before I rode the 300 miles South and back to Moto Camping Dordogne. I made it 2 miles out of the campsite before I had to sleep with my head on the kurb of a McDonalds car park for 2 hours, eat two big mac meals and ride for 5 hours cursing that 'quiet night' we'd just had.

Le Mans isn't just for car enthusiasts.... It's not for the faint hearted.... It's for anyone who enjoys having fun... And I'm going to have fun at this place for years to come!

The Ancient City of Pompeii...

A strange thing... to walk on streets 2000 years old.

Colosseum with rare solid floor 

But that's what we found ourselves doing after a short drive North and towards the looming Mount Vesuvius. The Pompeii we all know and love is now a district of the modern city Pompei (notice the subtle difference?). Parking the van was comparatively easy and after a few minutes paying for tickets and we were met with a huge Colosseum type building and the slaves entrance through a few tunnels opening out in to the amphitheater.

This theater had a solid floor, unlike other Roman remains, and so gave the viewer an immense sense of immersion. If I blanked out the hoards of old and chinese people (Two seperate groups, sometimes combined) it really felt like I could have been there... doomed by my previous owner as he sold me to the slave master for the measly sum of 2 Denarius's (Roman coinage). Luckily I only had to fight off the urge to photo bomb the Chinese tourists as Kerry and I walked to and through the otherside of the arena.

All around Pompeii there are typical, stepped vineyards. All of the vines are orientated to a certain direction to give greatest exposure to the sun, and consequently increasing yield of grapes. Each yard was owned and operated by a well-to-do Roman aristocrat and produced their own seperate brand of wine with completely different grape varieties. By looking at the grape vines that were buried in the ash, archaeologists were able to determine over 400 totally different types of grape vine.

So what's all this about ash? Who's he? Mount Vesuvius is actually a comparably very active volcano. It's most notable eruption was in 79AD when it spat tons of rock, ash and gases 20 miles in to the atmosphere. It produced running lava flows consisting of 1.5 million tons of material per second. That's a lot of rock!

The result to the neighbouring cities of Pomepeii and Herculaneum was a deposit of ash and rock nearly 3 metres thick in places. This rock and ash was devastating to the cities. An estimated 16,000 people died in the initial lava flow and rock expulsion. Archaeologically, however, this layer protected the site, maintaining a whole Roman city in that one instant, when the volcano erupted. After excavating a large portion it is now open to the public.

Ruins of the Basillica used by Roman Pompeii citizens for prayer

We walked around the streets of Pompeii as if it was a sort of theme park. There was no sombriety shown by any of the multi-national sightseers. And I myself didn't feel like I do when I've visited war graves in Belgium, or any grave for that matter. Because this is what Pompeii is... A mass grave. Granted it's in quite an obscure setting, how many graves ARE a city as well?

Perhaps the whole place detaches itself from the reality of what happened? Maybe it's just too preserved. Walking around the streets and sometimes you could wonder what all the fuss was about. The infrastructure is still there, roads are very definable, kurbs, sewers, swimming pools, even obligatory modern water pipes to quench the thirst of today's unattached spectators.

What was actually quite disturbing to me was the few lost souls who were truly immortalised by the eruption. Some city dwellers met their end asleep such as this guy in the glass case. That is not their actual physical self mummified. The cast is made of plaster of Paris and is injected in to the void that the now rotted flesh left behind. It enforces the very speed in which events occurred.

I found it very vivid. Some buildings and rooms were open. Anyone could walk inside, there were spectacular pictures painted on the walls with barely any empty space. You could walk around the house, as if you were there before the eruption. Shops still had their frontage and pots for their wares. 

T
 There was also some interesting conservation work being done. This photo demonstrated how they use scaffolding systems to support falling sections of wall. It appeared that rainfall had dug away at the foundations.

As we progressed through the labyrinth of streets, some with massive 'speed humps', the landscape opened out in to a sort of square with the ruins of a respectably sized basillica. This was obviously the main congregation area of the city with decorative fountains and large open spaces.

It then transpired that we had come in to the city through the back entrance and we were spat out at the main entrance a few minutes walk around the walls of the city from our van and where we had entered.

Both Kerry and I were hungry when we got back to the van and having an hour left on the parking meter took the chance to grab some cheap food in the form of a kebab. Kebab, chips and a drink dented our pocket to the tune of 6 Euros a head and we were fully satisfied for the drive to Rome which we wanted to get done before night fall.

Vollo del Angelo...

Diego showed us an amazing video.. and it made us want to be in the video...

At dinner on the last night we were at Diego's farm talk turned toward where we would go and what we would do after leaving. We'd already planned to visit Kerry's Grandad, Vito's farmhouse in Contursi Terme but thought it couldn't hurt to ask for other ideas.

The woofer who was staying with Diego was called Rossella. She was in her 30's and had stayed with Diego and everyone else at the farm for a whole year! She had told me how beautiful the landscape was around Potenza and Matera where she came from. So when Diego showed us a video of him doing the Vollo Del Angelo, which is smack bank in the middle of the two towns Rossella mentioned, it seemed like the ideal thrill seeker activity and within minutes we'd booked ourselves a space.

Prepare....... Engage!

The Vollo del Angelo means 'Flight of the Angel' in English. It is a set of zip wires that shoot people 1.5km across a large ravine in the Dolomite mountain range at up to 70 miles per hour! There are two routes on two totally separate wires. Both wires connect the two mountain towns of Castelmessano and Pietrapertosa just in different directions.

When booking online it became apparent that their operational season was coming to an end and we booked on the last day they would run that year! Instant regret washed over me as I read the stats back after booking. 1.5km long 70 mph 400 metres up. uh oh.

I'm petrified of heights. I really am. You know when someone says they go weak at the knees. It's no bull shit. I've had it happen and physically had to sit down. I start to shake uncontrollably, even if I'm desperate to do what ever it is i'm at height for.

Getting to the first town Castelmessano was more eventful than we expected. Three Quarters of the van's exhaust system decided to leave us while we were on the motorway. Luckily all of the boxes were on the front part of the system and she doesn't sound or run any different! A small pit-stop had to be made in a lay-by to ensure everything was safe and to recover the hunk of metal off the road.

Save me oh holy helmet

We pulled in to Castelmessano and was inundated with traffic. It's obvious the Vollo del Angelo is a major tourist attraction, bringing people to an otherwise overlooked section of Italy. I say overlooked because the mountain range is really magnificent. Parking was a nightmare but eventually we were walking to the first platform. Kerry, bless her, found the 20 minute walk up the side of the mountain a little strenuous. The air was definitely thinner.

We got to the first station amid a clatter of Italian hollering and gesturing. I don't speak a word of Italian. We were told to wait a bit. After about 45 minutes no one had gone on the zip wire and I was getting more and more scared. All sorts of thoughts were running through my head. The last person to go had had an accident. They'd found a fault in the cabling. A helicopter had hit the wire. A meteor was scheduled to hit the mountain any minute. The world was just about to explode in to tiny space fragments.

What was more likely is that we'd got there just as lunch started and now they'd all finished it was time to 'fly'. Kerry and I were at the top first and so, naively, thought we would be going first. I always prefer to go first. Then I don't get to see the process, watch how it all works, see any of the mistakes that can be made. I'd already convinced myself that every bolt was tight and every weld was good and strong. Now I had to witness everyone who had turned up behind Kerry and I go on the bloody thing before us!

At long last they pointed at me, dressed to the nines in a sort of suspended sleeping bag. God knows what that tiny helmet is there for. If shit hits the fan I'm plunging 400 metres to the ravine floor, a bit of plastic clad polystyrene isn't going to help me.

I got hooked up and instantly felt more scared. They put on a small piece of material to act as a wind break. Dependent on the last riders landing speed and weight they then determine which size 'wing' to put on. I got a yellow one. I don't know what that means. Then with a little 'Enjoy your flight, Ciao' the woman pulled the release and I was set forth to my doom.

Kerry coming in to land

The first 7 or 8 seconds I was flying fairly low over a small field but then the floor literally fell away as I shot over the cliff and in to the ravine. Instantly I felt calm... I was totally removed from the situation. It was as if I wasn't there. I was simply viewing what was going on. As if through a television screen. In a video game maybe? And it was awesome! Every feeling of fear literally dropped out of me. I was able to simply enjoy the whole experience.

I looked in all directions, whizzing along the steel cable with a constant humming noise. To my left the ravine opened out to a vast pasture, to the right the ravine cut deep in to the mountains. Below me were sharp, stalactite like rock formations and then the road, weaving and winding it's way up the other side to the town of Pietrapertosa. Then it dawned on me. I've now got to 'land', and I have no idea how that works! I could see the platform rushing towards me, oh crap!

It was fine. I hit a small break and was sharply, but not violently, brought to a halt.The attendant unclipped me and I walked away, unscathed, unharmed and with a strong desire to do this all day long! Thank god there was the return journey!

The Vollo del Angelo is a spectacular experience. A must see for anyone in the area, and a worthy cause to travel for it if your not in the area. I've heard there is going to be a similar attraction installed on Mount Snowdon. If that's true... I'm there!

Enjoy the video below. It is filmed by Youtube user David Kilpatrick and shows both flights from each of the towns. It gives a good taste for what to expect, but does not in any way replicate the experience. For that your going to have to head over to Italy and strap yourself in! You won't regret it!

Port Grimaud, Monaco and St Tropez... again...

After leaving Moto camping Dordogne at around 5pm we decided to drive till we were tired. We'd told David and Paul that we'd get there in 4 days, arriving mid-week on Wednesday.

Well the van engine ran alot better that evening. I think the cooler air helped the diesel so we drove until 11ish, stopping to find a place to stop for the night just after seeing Carcassonne all lit up from afar. The sat nav said that within an hours drive we could be in Montpellier and it was decided that we would wildcamp down on the beach and enjoy the sea the next day.

We had parked up to numerous other vans that seem to congregate on the spit of sand called Grand Travers and the next day I woke up needing the toilet quite desperately. Whilst I was doing my thing I smelt a faint smell of smoke but put it down to someone having a cigarette somewhere. Jumping back in to bed I could hear a peculiar noise like someone walking through the trees next to us on the sand dunes. The noise continued and I stuck my head out of the roof vent to investigate. The smell was stronger and I saw a haze in the air.

Fire plane

It was a fire. About 50 metres away in the bush by the sand dunes. We immediately packed up ready to move. The land around here was so dry and the wind was relatively strong. We were worried it would spread quickly towards us. Other van occupants were quickly packing up and we moved down the beach 100 metres and watched as the fire got bigger and bigger, seeing flames licking the tops of the trees.

Over the next hour and a half we watched as the fire brigade arrived in their trucks and a small plane circled over head before sounding a siren and dumping water on to the brush. It took the emergency services all morning to satisfactorily put the fire out and we took up our position on the beach after an eventful morning.

It was hot. Very hot. Much hotter than in the Dordogne and we had to take shelter in the van during the hottest part of the day. We knew that David and Paul were only 150 miles away and took the excuse of driving to get some wind through the van. 

Monaco by Motorbike!

4 hours later and we were driving through Grimaud and in to the aire which was conveniently located just outside Prairies de la Mar, the campsite the boys were staying in and the same campsite Kerry and I met my Dad at a few months ago.

A quick walk around the big site didn't shed any light as to their camping spot but we were determined to find them without giving away our location. It was Monday evening and we weren't due to meet them until Wednesday.  Another surprise!

Of course we found them sat in the beachside bar. I crept up behind them and asked "So does that wheel bearing job come with a warantee" to which they both laughed and turned around to welcome us. The evening was gorgeous with the setting sun illuminating the sky over the sea in purples and pinks.

David and Paul had planned a ride out on their bikes to Monaco the next day. Having one extra helmet they offered for one of us to go with them. Not being able to settle the decision amongst ourselves some straws were sought from the bar and I pulled the longest of the three.

We left the campsite around midday the next day and skirted north on the coast road, me riding pilion on Paul's Suzuki TS1000. I cant proclaim to it being the comfiest bike to sit on but I was appreciative of the opportunity to ride with the boys. As we pulled in to Monaco the Suzuki started to smell and feel very hot so I swapped over to Daves BMW and we blatted round as much of the Monaco Formula 1 race track as we could including through the world renound tunnel. All whilst dodging Ferrari's, Porsche's and other expensive cars all displaying their principality of Monaco number plates.

The sheer wealth of the place is only evident when you're there. The number and size of the boats was incredible. All of them were much larger than my 2 bedroom flat and most were the size of 6 story mansions!

Deciding against getting a €200 euro cheese sandwich we headed back to Port Grimaud and the girls for a spot of BBQd burgers and sausages until dark.

After a nice long sleep we all reconveined at the port around midday for an afternoon on the water. Dave has held a boating license for as long as I can remember, even having his own little vessel named "Boogie Nights" in Brighton Marina. So after a short orientation of our floating palace we were set loose in the Gulfe of St Tropez. Picking up speed and getting the boat planing above the water for 10 minutes until we slowed down and entered the port of St Tropez.

It was an especially novel way of viewing the world famous mooring. Posh and expensive cars lined the dock as tanned, balding 50+ somethings swanned around with an ungarish, more stately air about them. Here in the world of French wealth it seems less is more. Except for the size of your boat!

Shark!

We shot over the bay with extra speed this time as I joined Paul up on the bow of the boat (the front) and our combined weight helped the boat get up out of and on to the waves. We headed for a lagoon the boat rental guy told us about. We dropped anchor in a patch of beautifully crystal clear water and had a lark about, diving for the bottom, drinking the beers and eating the sandwiches we'd brought along.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon and I feel very privileged David was there to take us out. I couldn't thank him enough but tried to make up for it with a dinner of chili con carne and rice.

After the meal we said our fairwells. The boys were headed through Italy and in to Switzerland the next day...