I used to think that San Francisco to Europe was a long flight. But San Francisco to Qatar? When you get to Europe, you’re almost halfway there. From take-off at SFO to landing in Doha (with the odd stay on he plane lay-over in Riyadh): 23 hours of travel time. To make that trip you either really HAVE to be in the desert for the season opener, or really WANT to.
Last season my goal was to be in the former group: I was hoping that hard work and good pictures would lead to my getting picked up by a team or sponsor who would want my pictures badly enough to pay me the big bucks. I saw the glamorous life of a MotoGP regular being mine, ALL MINE! Sure, I was getting into the photo game for the same old reasons men do anything, the women and the money. (It’s a funny thing, but with those dashing, handsome, highly paid motorcycle racers mere feet away from them, the umbrella girls are actually hot for the photographers, if you can believe that. And all the photo gear is on the modest end of the toy collection, what with the private jets and vacation homes around the globe. Don’t believe that either, huh?) But one of the regulars I’d gotten to know last season generously explained the necessity of being at every race to earn that type of position. (And he’d done the first season on his on dime! Well, lots and lots of dime, in fact). The reality of financing that kind of investment to begin with, then being away from the fam for every one of the 18 race weekends (with the travel days adding up to a week or more per event) plus testing, plus publicity events… Well, at that point, the season I was finishing up (one where I’d been a credentialed photographer at five MotoGP events plus a World Superbike race and the odd national AMA weekend) was looking just about perfect for my current situation.
It made sense (practical and financial) to attend the 2010 US rounds, but which, if any, away races would I go to? There are several on the bucket list (Mugello, Jerez, Assen (before it no longer resembles the epic layout of the only track to be a part of every Grand Prix since the series began)), but Qatar… The draw back to the desert was powerful, all right.
Which is a bit ironic, since while I was preparing to go last season, every bit of advice I got from racing folk who’d been was to stay away from Qatar if I had any sense. Get in, get the work done, and get out was the consensus. And now I can see why folks used to the massive crowds of Valencia and their infectious enthusiasm for motorbike racing might see Qatar (with its utter absence of same) as a spot to miss. But not having been to Valencia, or indeed having experienced for myself any enthusiasm greater than that of the British GP, I was drawn to the spectacle in the desert and the unique opportunities it presents.
If you don’t know, the Grand Prix of Qatar (which is on the east coast of Saudi Arabia, btw) is the season opener and the only race that runs at night. Even in April, when the season starts, it’s 90+ degrees during the day, and with the desert sun baking the pavement, it’s just not the best place to have a daytime motorcycle race. It turns out it’s not the best place to have a nighttime race either, because though it only rains a handful of times each year, Allah often saves some of those rare occasions for race weekends. This is no big deal if it’s daytime, but at night, with the super-bright NASCAR lights turning night into day, or nearly so, the glare from those lights on wet pavement is too dangerous to combine with motorcycles going over 200 mph. But the photos of the night action look like no others.
Being the first race of the season, it’s also the occasion for rolling out the bikes with their new liveries, the official unveiling of the bikes and riders as a whole. The riders line up by class for the school photos, and generally are more approachable in the paddock due to the utter lack of crowds from whom they need protection. These guys are superstars in Europe, remember. The most famous can’t walk down the street without being mobbed. But Qatar is a location from which to stage a televised event, and the 20,000 seat grandstand is never full, compared to Valencia, which gets 100,000 rabid Spanish fans on Sunday.
So all of those factors called me back, in addition to the fact that last year I enjoyed seeing Doha for a few days before the racing started. Though I’d been nervous about going to a Muslim country for the first time, and also to an Arab country for the first time, I felt safe as could be walking around the city at 2am with a full kit of photo gear. The locals, very few of whom were native Qataris, were friendly and showed no hostility at my pale, imperialistic complexion. The Qataris I did meet were as interested in my as I was in them, and as I wrote about at the time, one even took me to visit the Islamic Museum. I was curious to see the state of construction that had kept me awake with its 24-hr schedule across the bay.
But in spite of the practical reasons for coming back (the unique night photo opps, the relaxed paddock and increased chances to network), I think the main attraction was sentimental. It was in Qatar last year that I began the process of being someone the regulars didn’t recognize to being someone they did. At every event there are locals who are there for the one race. And they stand out immediately among a group of broadcasters, writers and photographers who follow the circus around the globe, thus becoming a community. And for motorcycle racing, this is the show, after all—the major leagues, the F1 of motorbikes. If you remember the piece I wrote about my first flat track experience at Daytona last year, this attitude may surprise you a bit. At the time I relished the purity of brining whatever you could afford to a track set up at a high school and racing your heart out, not for million dollar endorsements or because it was a job better than digging ditches, but just for the love of a race.
But you don’t make it to MotoGP without being a racer through and through, without racing being your passion. It’s just too hard to come back year after year without that being what you are all about. And that kind of passion is infectious, especially when the competition is performed at its highest level. There is something about being involved, even from the other end of a telephoto lens, with Rossi and Stoner and Lorenzo that is inspiring. Qatar is the first chance to get back to that world, and the more I thought about it, the more motivated I was to get on the phone and start writing emails looking for opportunities to sell enough photos to make the trip. I’m still not sure I’m going to pull that last part off. It depends quite a bit on how good my photos are this time. But I’m sure I’m going to come close if all those who committed come through, and beyond what I have lined up, a couple really good photos will make the difference. There’s nothing like the devil at your back to make you run a bit faster. And if you love the race itself, then it’s all good, baby. It’s all good.
