As the first horse headed out on course, I headed to the 'Zone Mixte' to await the riders' feedback
I’m writing this on the train from Caen to Paris – my WEG adventure is over and it’s now onwards to Burghley.
On the seats opposite me a lady had brought a loaf of bread, some ham and a bottle of water which she and her small son are sharing. It’s 1¾ hours on the train to Paris – a slow journey compared the Eurostar which will whisk me from Paris to London in the same time– and it’s lunchtime so the French stomach must be filled. I must admit I’ve got my ham sandwiches, banana and water in my bag too – it’s a shame that many people on cross country day at Le Pin didn’t come equally prepared as by now you’ve no doubt heard that food was in short supply for many spectators.
I do sympathise with the many people who spent hours on shuttle buses, missing most of the action. However, I also have to say that my 12 days in Normandy has been a logistical breeze although I’m pretty exhausted from reporting on the world’s biggest equestrian event. I guess that’s the crux of the matter; it is a huge event and having multiple venues makes it even more complicated and tiring for both media and spectators. I covered the Opening Ceremony and the first two days of dressage at the Stade d’Ornano (Caen) then was at Le Pin – about an hour from Caen - from Wednesday to Saturday (trot up to cross country day) and then finally back to the Stade d’Ornano for the eventing show jumping. Compared to most journalists or photographers who cover all of the disciplines across the venues, this was nothing.
My home away from home near Le Pin
The days are long and tiring at any major event so, having visited here the past two years, I opted to close to Le Haras du Pin at a lovely little farmhouse I know. Being familiar with the lie of the land and where to buy your baguette certainly means that life is easier straight away. My little self-contained flat (appropriately part of the renovated stables of the farmhouse) came with an inquisitive dog, peacocks, ducks, hens, goat and, the travelling journalist’s nirvana, a washing machine. Thankfully the sun came out in the last few days so I could wash my mud encrusted jeans.
Yes, there was plenty of mud. Whether the organisers didn’t realise how much rain they were going to get or what the impact it would have on the areas used by spectators is anyone’s guess. But again, in my experience, it wasn’t really that bad – by cross country day the pathways had dried up a lot but to be honest, I spent most of my time watching the actual cross country in the ‘Zone Mixte’- a big white tent where the riders would come to talk to us after their rides.
Rupert Bell interviews Sam straight after his XC ride in the Zone Mixte
Maybe the gods were smiling on me but I didn’t even suffer parking problems at either the Caen venue or at Le Haras du Pin. Thanks to being close by I went by car and was at the cross country venue by 8am and left about 9pm, so no traffic by then! As I was leaving the huge trucks with their big screens were also manoeuvring themselves out of position, the riders were preparing to leave for Caen first thing in the morning and some of the infrastructure was already being dismantled, bringing to mind lines from Prospero’s speech in Act 4 of Shakespeare’s The Tempest
“Our revels now are ended.
These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous places,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on;
And our little life
Is rounded with a sleep”
Harry Meade - the man with a medal but no horse
Only hours before I had been sitting in a Press Conference watching a grief stricken but remarkably composed Harry Meade address the media regarding the death of his horse Wild Lone. The last few lines of Prospero’s speech seemed particularly poignant. It seems strange that the focus of the day had been transport, tickets and toilets when a much loved horse had been lost.
However, so as not to miss out on contributing to the WEG toilet stories, an incident just happened whilst I was waiting for my train. The toilet at Gare St Lazaire charges 50 cents and I was scrabbling around for the last of my French change - agonisingly, I was a few cents short and, as I counted it again, a French girl next to me offered me the 50 cents. She then watched my bags while I nipped into the loo
Here’s another literary quote – the kindness of strangers ................
