Day two at the Goodwood Festival of Speed.
It only feels like I dragged my sorry carcass out of bed ten minutes ago. In reality, (at the time of writing) around 14 hours of continuous Speedhunting has taken place since I woke to the sound of engines being fired up this morning.
You see I’m staying on-site this year, and it never really feels like you’re away from the energy at Goodwood.
Since first light, we’ve witnessed a hell of a day here at Goodwood. From glorious burnouts to fire-spitting race cars, legendary Le Mans winners, glorious prototypes, incredible Dakar racing trucks and vintage motorcycles.
There’s been the odd crash along the way, too, to keep everyone on their toes.
There never really feels like there are enough hours in the day here. I’ve spent all today shooting the track and barely ventured elsewhere – there’s the energy of the finish line, the insane action on the rally stage, and an entire field of manufacturer stands to explore and so much more.
Every year I come here I vow to stay an extra day the following year, and even when I do I still find myself needing to tag another day on again.
As I write this, the festival site is powering down, and my temporary residence means I’m getting to see a side of things I’ve not seen before.
The frantic energy from the day is still in the air, but the evening is a time for the festival to reset, catch its breath and go all over again in the morning.
For all of the hectic mayhem that ensues during the day at Festival of Speed, the calm after the storm is in complete contrast.
After the day’s final runs up the hill, and once the madding crowd disperses, the festival ground takes on an eerie slumber.
The majority of the festival’s machines are tucked away from sight, under covers and safe from the few of us wanting to catch a sneaky look around the cars undisturbed. It’s almost as if the cars need the rest as much as everyone else.
A keen eye can still make out the shapes underneath the fabric. Some are trickier than others, but there are iconic shapes here that are unmistakable.
Then there are the few of which modesty is trivial. This offers those of us lucky enough to be hanging around ‘working’ after the show a chance to nose around the cars up close and personal, without having to fight through a crowd.
Under the fading light, the paddocks are almost silent, save for a few teams tinkering away making last minute repairs, or the occasional team enjoying a post-festival brew.
Or trying to completely rebuild a NASCAR that’s been opened up like a flimsy can of tuna.
Elsewhere teams of people work tirelessly to restore the site back to its dawn glory, all set for a fresh invasion of fans tomorrow.
Because in a few hours we go again. If you think of the FoS weekend as a four-course meal – Thursday is the soup, Friday is the appetizer and on Saturday we get the main meal.
Although, I’ve got to remember to take it easy – you should always save space for desert.