Vuillafans Echevannes: Between a rock and a hard place

Not again. That’s one of the key things I said to myself at the start of this season – no crashes this year. But of course, it’s one thing saying it, it’s another thing doing it. I wonder if I temped fate, having pointed out only a few months ago in the Eurocarparts blog that a crash during this point of the championship would put me in a very difficult position… but then I wanted the people reading to understand the difficulties that I face each time I go abroad to race without any team support. For me, it’s important that people coming across my story for the first time realise this, because it’s a significant factor in everything that I do and it significantly increases the pressure that I have to manage. Late on Sunday I had to face the harsh reality of just what this meant, and staring defeat in the face felt pretty bleak.

I love Vuillafans, it’s without doubt one of my favourite rounds in the CFM. The village itself is split by the Loue river meaning that you’re never far from the peaceful sound of gently flowing water. I sat by the river bank eating something resembling dinner on Thursday evening not long after arriving, alone but for a fisherman stood 30 yards down stream. He was almost motionless at times, chasing his line over the water in the evening sun glow while birds dived down to drink from the surface before nesting for the night. In moments like these I couldn’t feel more relaxed or content if I tried, and it perfectly sums why I keep coming back to race in France.

I’d had a good flight out and arrived in 25 degrees, one of my flip flops breaking as I queued for passport control leaving me temporarily shoeless. I’m a little superstitious and I hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come… Shortly after eating that evening I bumped into friends at the local bar, we ended up at a house party but then Thursday is a good night for chilling out. The next morning Rémi, his dad & I followed up on our decision to run the course which was a good way to look at some of the resurfacing that had taken place since last year. It’s the first time I’ve ran up Vuillafans and it’s interesting to look at the corners on foot, especially the long right after the second hairpin – here I gained an entirely new perspective and could see the corner as actually a pair of corners (a right and a hairpin) that flow as one. 

I spent the remainder of the day split between prepping the car and reccying the hill on my scooter, at 4.9km it takes a while and I was glad that my friend Jessica lent me her car that evening to drive it a few times. Up until now the weather had been perfect, nowhere near the inferno temperatures from last year. During the night we had some huge storms though and I was woken maybe five times as the rain hammered the roof of the van only a few feet from my head. The next morning there was enough rain water hanging in the gazebo to bathe a fleet of ducks, and it looked set to be drizzle all day. Unusually there is no free practice at Vuillfans, and after a few more drives up the hill with Marcel it was clearly going to be a last minute decision on which tyres to take. I was on slicks but opted for wets as the rain came down once more, and it was the right decision as all the other single seaters had made the same choice (it only takes a couple of minutes to change all four).

I placed 3rd after taking it fairly steady, and was slightly shocked to see Rémi 10 secs ahead on his maiden run up the hill, along with Marc Pernot. It dried as the day wore on and our second run was dry but for a few greasy patches, I took a 2.3 secs off my pb from last year to finish on a 2:14, I was much happier keeping the throttle pinned flat through a few of the fast 6th gear corners. My confidence in the car couldn’t have been better.

Sunday’s first run came around late morning, now on a bone dry track. I was a bit too aggressive exiting the first hairpin and narrowly avoided a spin, backing off the throttle completely and then bogging down as the car pulled itself up the hill into the long flat left. I’ve no idea how much time I lost, at least 3 secs. Either way I’d scrapped the run and posted a 2:15…

After a lunch I briefly met Jean Ragnotti as he walked the paddock, I was cleaning my tyres and shook his hand before he carried on his tour with club president Philippe Prost. The afternoon wore on and I was feeling slightly agitated, I chatted to friends to take my mind off the wait whilst becoming increasingly aware of the time – it was now 5pm and there would be no third run. The pressure was on.

Where did it go wrong?

I had some help at the start line, I was focussed and had a very clear picture of my run mapped out in front of me. I was going to try a few different gears in places, brake a little later at the hairpins but otherwise aim to repeat the morning’s run in terms of speed & commitment. Simple.

I knew I was trying hard as I locked up into the first hairpin, the back stepping out in the wrong direction but I managed to get the car round without too much drama. After that I was on it, hard, but there was no drama until crash. I think the video illustrates it well but I experienced the same thing you get as you come in and out of a tunnel in dazzling sunlight, one second my pupils where opening up to let the maximum amount of light in, the next they were struggling to readjust. Simultaneously my visor blanked out orange for a few seconds (if you’ve ever watched Climb Dance it’s the same thing on Ari Vatanen’s windscreen) right at the point I had to place the car and pick my turn in. Gilles sent me a video that showed it from the outside and the simple fact is I turned in too early and ran wide, so although it was bad luck it was nothing that the car did wrong – just the wrong line.

A series of big impacts followed on both sides, hitting the rocks and then the concrete wall on the inside – it’s the biggest crash I’ve ever had.

I was shaken and buzzing at the same time, while my mind fired off in different directions, trying to turn back the clock. Each time I circled the car I saw more damage, and I was devastated at what I was looking at. As a friend said later, it’s not like F1 where I can’t imagine a driver having such a personal connection and investment in a car. This car feels like a part of me, a part that was now semi destroyed and lying broken on it’s belly. Back in the medical tent I took five to just be on my own, I think maybe there were other people there but I didn’t notice them, head in my hands I just wanted some space.

I can’t thank everyone enough, from the marshals to everyone who hauled the car back in to the truck, anyone who came over to give me a hug or messaged me over the coming days to ask how I was doing. The list is endless and I’m thankful to you all, it’s humbling to feel such support and kindness – hillclimbing is one of the best families in the world.

Having left the car with a local team I’m slightly powerless right now to do much in the way of fixing it. I just want to get it fixed as quickly as possible and ready for Glasbach, I just want to drive.

Thank you to everyone who has sent a donation to my Crowdfunding page, you guys are the best!!