Why Bathurst is perhaps greatest track on Earth
If you only ever go to one motor race outside the UK, don’t go to Le Mans. Don’t go to the Monaco Grand Prix, and don’t go to the Indy 500. Instead get on a plane for a flight that will seem at times like it will never end, then once you’ve arrived in Sydney Australia, rent a car and drive three hours west to Bathurst.
It sounds like a romantic journey, through the Blue Mountains and places with names like Katoomba, but it isn’t. Driving in Australia ain’t much fun at the best of times, and the road to Bathurst is busy, slow, ugly and crawling with traffic cops who are, I am told, entirely unfamiliar with the word ‘discretion’, at least in application if not actual meaning.
But if you are a true race fan, it will all be worth it. For on the other side of the mountains lies the Mount Panorama circuit. You won’t find a driver who’s raced here who doesn’t absolutely love the place, nor a spectator who’s watched them do it. The circuit lies on the outskirts of quite a built-up area but no-one makes complaints to the council about the noise – there’d be no point: the council owns the circuit.
The track is narrow, ridiculously so in places, and with so little run off on the famed ‘Mountain’ section it makes the Nürburgring look like Silverstone. It’s one of the reasons nothing quicker than a GT car can race here. Disappointed? You shouldn’t be – speed is relative and top GT3 cars look spectacularly, heroically and at times frankly worryingly fast around the track. When I went in 2017 the carnage was such that on average there was a safety car period every 45 minutes for the duration of the 12-hour race too.
And what does that mean? Incredibly close racing. There’s no point flogging man and machine trying to build a gap because you know it’s never going to be long before someone sticks it in the wall and all your hard work is instantly undone. When I was there it only became clear who would win with less than 20 minutes of the race remaining. Compare that to the processions we’ve so often seen at Le Mans in the past.
But even that’s not why Bathurst should be on any petrolhead’s bucket list. Its greatest charm is that there is nowhere better to be a spectator. First, it is beautiful up on the mountain, and to be there as the race starts just before dawn and to watch the sun come up over the plateau is a sight you will never forget. But the real draw is how close you can get to the action. No need for field glasses here: the cars come by no more than a few feet away, your view of them unrestricted by fencing or anything else. You imagine this is what watching racing must have been like in the 1950s and you feel a sense of connection to the action I’ve not experienced at any other major motor race anywhere else in the world.
Finally, perhaps a bonus you might not have expected from a place with a reputation for attracting drunk, stoned crowds who’d enjoy nothing more than setting fire to your rental car, this is as civilised a crowd as you’ll find. Compared to the incoherent, abusive morons who make me ashamed to be British every time I go to Le Mans.
The Bathurst 12-hours is on this weekend and I’m truly sad not to be there. With factory or factory-supported teams from BMW, Mercedes-Benz, Bentley and Audi, the competition will be as hot as ever. But the race will be streamed live, starting at 6.45pm on Saturday evening. For me, it is likely to be a late night.