The Montreux Grand Prix may not be as well known as the more famous race held in Monaco, but in some ways, they are quite similar.
It’s not a race, as such, but the streets of the town are barricaded to allow over a hundred rare and beautiful Ferraris make demonstration runs before an enthralled audience.
Montreux is an elegant Swiss resort town on the shores of Lake Leman, just down the road from Geneva. It’s a nice corner of the earth, laying claim to a few famous inhabitants.
Freddie Mercury had a home in Montreux, and he died here. There’s a life size statue of him in the town plaza, looking out on the lake. Charlie Chaplin made his home in Vevey, just down the road. Jackie Stewart lives nearby, while a certain Michael Schumacher is also a resident on the lakeshore.
My rental budget wouldn’t quite run to a Ferrari, so I rang Hertz to see if I could at least rent a Cabrio. I was in luck. With the temperatures hitting the high thirties, I was going to cruise along in a Peugeot 307 CC.
I insisted on a 2.0 litre model and I’m glad I did, because the extra weight of the bracing, not to mention the complicated roof itself, adds considerable weight. Even with the 2.0 litre, performance is brisk, at best. The 1.6 must be glacial. I was very impressed, though, with the amount of luggage it could swallow. I had visions of having to throw everything on the back seat, but the boot swallowed two large suitcases and some smaller items and the 307 went on to provide very enjoyable transport for the duration.
Arriving at our hotel, the luggage was taken by a uniformed doorman, who whisked the keys out of my hands and parked the car for me. Later on that evening, I needed to get something from the car so I went down to get the keys. The conversation was in French and went something like ‘There’s no access to that car park, ‘the boy’ will bring you down.’ ‘The boy’ duly arrived and escorted me to the secure parking area and when I saw my little Peugeot parked beside a Ferrari Daytona, and directly behind an Aston Martin Vantage, I knew it was out of its league, so I moved it immediately to less exalted surroundings.
The build up to the Grand Prix itself began on the Friday, with participants taking part in a slalom course at a private airfield. Later that afternoon, the cars were on display to the public in the Town Square. Even including the Ferrari museum at Maranello, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an array of exotic Italian masterpieces. Everything was represented, from the original Alfa P3, run by Enzo Ferrari before he started making his own cars, to the latest production cars, with everything in between.
Unfortunately, not all the drivers were as highly developed as the cars. I saw one owner making a complete pig’s ear out of parking his Enzo, even with the help of observers, front and rear. At one point he hit the accelerator clumsily and nearly knocked over a wall. I kept my eye on him throughout the weekend and can honestly say I never saw him go over 40km/h. He should have stayed at home.
The following day, the cars were again on display in a cordoned off area and I overheard a young American pleading to be let in. He had driven ten hours from Cologne that morning and had no idea the Grand Prix was on. He was a huge Queen fan, and all he wanted was to see the statue of Freddie Mercury, which was, of course, in the middle of the secure area. His pleadings fell on deaf ears and he looked so dejected walking away that I ran after him. I ended up lending him my press pass and he got to see the statue up close and photograph it. A very happy man returned, telling me he had been hanging around Montreux for over three hours trying to get in. I think he was the only man in town not interested in the cars.
(Incidentally, many years later, I came across a blog post written by the Queen fan. You can read Sam’s account, A Day at the Races here)
The fun really began in the afternoon, with a rerun of a classic hillclimb over the winding roads outside the town. The course was about 8km long and I drove it before the start. It was winding and treacherous as it wove its way up the mountain to the finish line at Caux, a tiny village. It was like Ballyalban only with sunshine.
I stood on the inside of a hairpin bend and watched the gamut of Ferrari road and racing cars from the past fifty odd years go by. The sounds they made were evocative, especially the V12s and I don’t think you could have found a nicer amphitheatre in which to appreciate them.
Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t as agreeable, with thunder threatening throughout the afternoon, bringing on intermittent showers. It was touch and go for a while whether or not we’d have to make a pretty fast run ourselves, but in the end, the rain held off until the finish.
At the end of the run, there was only one way back down to Montreux, and I ended up driving down in the middle of all the Ferraris. Arriving back in town, the Peugeot didn’t meet with universal approval, being greeted by boos and catcalls from several quarters.
The Grand Prix on the Sunday was held in blazing sunshine, but despite the heat, an enthusiastic crowd turned out to watch the cars throughout the day. Steel barriers had been erected to create a figure of eight track, taking in most of the town. With the lakefront setting and the weather, it really felt like Monaco in miniature.
There being almost 200 cars present, they were grouped, primarily by number of cylinders, but also by year. That being so, no matter what group was circulating, there always seemed to be a few V12s added to the mix – not that I was complaining.
I spent the morning and afternoon walking around to various parts of the circuit taking in all the sights and sounds. It was clear that some drivers were out for a Sunday drive, barely tickling the throttle. Happily, others compensated, with engines enthusiastically hitting rev limiters, and employing ludicrous amounts of opposite lock.
There was a palpable air of expectancy throughout the day. The rumour circulated that Schumacher would make an appearance to drive his 2001 championship winning car, which was on hand in the paddock, along with other examples of Ferrari Formula One cars.
In the end, he didn’t come, although he attended the event the last time it was held in 2002. With the championship so tight this year, I imagine Maranello are far more exercised with overhauling Renault.
The Ferrari Formula One cars made their demonstration runs and a stirring sight it was to see ex Clay Regazzoni and Niki Lauda 1975 312Ts share a track with an ex Jean Alesi F93 and an ex Gerhard Berger F412, of 1994 vintage. Along with Schumacher’s 2001 car, there was a pretty representative collection of contemporary machinery, although I’d love to have seen Gilles Villeneuve’s 312T4 driven in anger to complete the day.
Star of the show was undoubtedly Clay Regazzoni, Switzerland’s best known and most successful Formula One driver. He drove for Ferrari in the early 70s and was crippled when he crashed his Ensign ten years later. He drove an F40 with wheel mounted controls throughout the day and was cheered and applauded whenever he made an appearance. I saw him get out of the car at the end of his last stint and he insisted on getting back into his wheelchair without help, even though it was clearly an effort for him.
The Grand Prix is held like the Olympics, every four years. It’s an event that no self-respecting petrol-head should miss.
Roll on 2010.
