For the first time in three weeks, I wasn’t tour guide – that was Dad’s job. Having landed in Brussels the day before, he’d had a whole morning to familiarize himself with the half-mile radius surrounding Central Station. In that time, he’d memorized exactly the route to take from the train station to his hotel and had a great eatery in mind for us hungry girls. Of course, he was now best friends with the manager at Hotel Mozart.
Us girls trundled our bags over the cobblestones to Dad’s colorful hotel then trundled them some more to a Belgian street pub serving fries, beer and other delicacies. When we’d landed at Brussels Airport, I’d been disappointed in the lack of Formula 1 displays and confused by people dressed as fairies, draped in their country’s flag and signs with Lord of the Rings font all over the place. The Dreamland festival was in its second week and that was apparent when we’d crossed the main square when we saw fairies dancing on a balcony to EDM music with a throbbing crowd below. I’m glad we weren’t here for that!
As we dove into some beer and food, I communicated with Nick and Katy who had recently arrived at the train station. They were in need of sustenance and a non-train station toilet but our establishment didn’t have facilities. That’s when we decided we’d just meet on the platform in time for the 4pm train. Only then did I figure out that N&K weren’t at Brussels Central Station, but Brussels Midi station so it’s a good thing they didn’t try and find us!
With only ourselves to worry about, we finished up and did some more trundling (this time uphill!) to the station. I’d bought us all tickets through the app so we walked straight to the platform and were on a train to Liege soon after. Dad took charge again, finding us a spot on a packed train and tucking our suitcases away beneath the seats. Miraculously, we all ended up sitting together so we got to hear more about Dad’s short time in Belgium and he our time on the boat.
An hour later, we were in Liege and alighted from a beautiful train station to ground level where we got to trundle over yet more cobblestones! Thankfully our digs was only a five minute walk and I was soon fishing a key out of a letterbox in a door to a narrow three-story building. Another moment of trepidation for me as we discovered whether the apartment would be up to snuff.
One floor up, it was nice and open with a huge living space and the loft was a nice addition though it had been built cheaply. The balcony was borderline unsafe and not well maintained and the double sofa bed Deb and I would be sharing could hardly be classified as a sleeping apparatus but we were all happy.
Needing a shop, we didn’t linger long before we ventured out, sad to find the local Aldi was shut. We grabbed a few things at a convenience store, then I worked a little harder on my phone and found another supermarket just around the corner. Here we stocked up properly and with our shopping bags under our arms, we stopped in at a restaurant for our dinner. Nick and Katy were nearby and so we saved a couple of seats for them before ordering a round.
We were just taking our first sips when I heard a very British, “Hello!” Yay, my friends were here! They knew everyone on my team except Deb and they gave her a warm welcome and sat down to join us. It was merriment all round. They’d checked into their apartment and found it to be positively lovely, despite the climb up three flights of stairs.
We enjoyed some delicious food in the late evening sun then it was home time with all of us weary from travel with the exception of Dad who was tired thanks to a spot of jet lag. We were all excited for what tomorrow would bring.
Dick Trough
Dad and I had set an alarm for 8am but we were both up at 7am. I had a shower and we donned our F1 gear. For three weeks I’d been cruising around Europe and for three weeks I’d been carrying three F1 shirts for this weekend. Finally I had my colors on! We ate our breakfast, prepared our tickets and debated how many layers to take to the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps. Armed with our backpacks, we were on the street at 8:30am headed over to Nick & Katy’s place.
Months ago, I’d dug through the internet to find us a private taxi that would transport a team of six to and from the track each day. While the communication had been great, I had no back-up if our guy didn’t show up. I was nervous. Dad and I talked shit on the sidewalk as we waited, then at 8:45am, a small black van parked up next to us and a nicely dressed man stepped out. His name was Astrit, he was a lovely local man and he would be taking care of us the next few days.
Nick and Katy joined us on the sidewalk soon after and we were on our way. It was Astrit’s first time transporting people to the racetrack and so we hashed out the route together. It was highway or byway and that morning we did the highway. It was a beautiful drive through green countryside, complete with properly sized houses on actual farms. It was nice to be out of the big cities for a change.
We got caught in the inevitable traffic as we neared the track and we settled in for the crawl. Astrit’s English was great so we were able to banter with him. Eventually we decided to bail since people were walking past our car and we figured it was better to join the masses. We thanked him profusely for his service and set a meeting point for that afternoon.
Joining the crowd, we were all sidled along a sidewalk past breakfast vendors and big tents selling the merchandise of every team. Of course there was club music playing. It didn’t matter that it was mid-morning, this was an F1 weekend and it was time to party!
For the first time, our tickets came in handy as we showed them to people in vests. We were directed to the left and ended up doing a bit of bush-bashing through some mud to get to an entrance gate but we’d made it to the circuit! After the inevitable (and pointless) bag check, we were through.
It took us a while to get our bearings, but we knew we were on the right side of the track, nearest to our grandstand at the last chicane. We made our way there following the crowd and after crossing the road to the Gold 6 Chicane, we saw Toto Wolff get out of his car and sign a few autographs through the fencing. Wow is he an incredibly tall man.
We scanned our tickets to get into our stand area and were pleased to find that not only did we have our own private bathrooms, bar and food stands, but a dick trough! A name coined by me, it was a gentleman’s bathroom with ease of access and a great view of the track!
In the stands, we were mightily impressed with our seats right at the level of the stair exit, at the end of the row and extremely close to the track. The double layers of catch fencing was a little disappointing but after ten minutes or so, our eyes ignored it. It was the closest I’d ever been to cars on track and the same went for everyone on our team.
We watched some eventless Formula 2 practice from the comfort of our seats which was a good warm-up for the first F1 practice session which we were all thoroughly excited about. This is what we were here to see!
After the session, we were restless to see other parts of the track and so ventured upstream along the back straight to see what we could see. As we did so, two rigged up F2 cars made to look Formula 1-ey were on track filming for the upcoming Brad Pitt racing movie which will be absolutely terrible. It gave us a laugh.
It was fun to walk through the thick forest feeling more like we were on a nature walk than a motorsport event. Dad’s height and his bright red Monaco hat proved invaluable to keep the team together as we moved through the thick trees.
F3 cars kept us company as we continued to wander and after getting turned around a couple of times, we made it most of the way down the back straight before hitting a dead end and turning back.
On the outskirts of the walking path, in an as out-of-the-way place as possible, I was thrilled to find the F1 Outlet store. This is where old team kit is for sale and not-ridiculous prices and bargains are there to be found! Nick and I braved the queue and the mob to get inside and I left with a pair of Checo shirts for me and Dan. This might be our last time seeing him so I was fully committed to being a fan.
Walking back to our seats to be in position for Free Practice 2, Dad was about as thrilled as I was with the F1 Outlet to find a trackside dick trough. What easy access! Never mind the gross porta-potties lined up next to this fabulous invention – that would have required the operation of a door and a latch!
Back in our seats for the next round of F1 action, Nick made us of the photographer’s window in the catch fencing at the front of the grandstand to get some shots of cars going through the chicane while Dad and I listened into 30-second delayed commentary with the F1 app, two sets of headphones and my audio jack splitter. My trusty radio tuned to an AM station was our back-up system but the commentary on those waves was a third Dutch, a third French and a third English so not that great.
With the session over, it was time to make an exit and we all left feeling thoroughly satisfied with our first day at the Spa. It was on our way out we learnt that no scams were to be had. Not only did we have to scan our tickets to get into our stand, we had to do the same to get out! When we tried to go into the pit grandstand just for a look – track action had finished after all – we got solid no’s from the team of people in vests.
We moved slowly with the crowd that seemed to be funneled into too small a channel to leave the track and resigned ourselves to a long slow walk. We didn’t mind. I was in touch with Astrit and he was nearby, patiently waiting.
While we were happy to see Astrit’s car, he’d driven way too far into the crowd and so after getting into the van, we sat almost stationary for a long while before finally overtaking some pedestrians. His Google Maps was telling him it was faster to avoid the freeway and we encouraged him to take that route. It meant we drove through the town of Spa and it was absolutely gorgeous. We almost had the country roads to ourselves but for a slow-as-shit Tesla Plaid that we gave hell to, Astrit included.
On the drive, we summarized our highlights of the day and Katy’s was easily the best and one that we all enjoyed at the time. As we were moving with the crowd on the way out, I’d hustled over a little to see if there was another way and just as I did, cut in front of a British guy doing a job while holding his right butt cheek in his hand. “I NEED A POO!” he yelled as he tried to make his way through the crowd. It had us in fits of laughter at the time and even more so as we recounted the event thinking that he was doing better than all us plebs walking along like sheep. What a great way to get ahead of other people!
Astrit dropped us at the Edwards/Gooding base and we all went upstairs for some beautiful bruschetta that Deb had prepared and some chilled drinks. We heard about the Mums’ day while they sipped on Aperol Spritz and we told them all about the track. They hadn’t been all that impressed with the dick trough or the poo story.
Katy had found a spot for dinner that was around the corner so after we all freshened up, we walked there and got ourselves seated at a large table in the window. Only ten minutes later, Kyle and Vanessa arrived, fresh of the train from Frankfurt where they’d flown into from San Francisco. Yay, more friends!
We drank and were merry and ate some delicious food. Having sat at the opposite end of the table to V&K, I walked alongside them as we meandered back to our rooms and I was just so happy to have the whole team together. They came up to ours for a minute to collect some groceries we’d bought for them then it was lights out for all. It must have been about midnight.
Quali in the Rain
On Friday it had taken us two hours to get from our apartment to our grandstand seats. Today, it was nearly half that. Dad and I walked over to N&K’s apartment building, which conveniently also happened to be V&K’s building. Everyone was on time and spritely, including Astrit who was well dressed as he had been yesterday. Not a weekend for him!
No more freeway driving for us, we asked Astrit to take us on the scenic route through Spa and it was a breeze. Even the pedestrian experience was better with those on foot getting the use of the whole road instead of just the sidewalks. Close to the gate, all eyes were on the fancy modern hotel across the street which looked like a place fit for F1 drivers. I started playing games with the crowd then and shouted, “Charles! Charles!” It was fun to watch people whip their phones out thinking a driver was nearby. The joke was on me only a few minutes later when Carlos Sainz drove by in a maroon Ferrari! He gave the crowd a gentle wave as he drove on into the circuit.
At the entry gate, we were amazed to be segregated by sex for the bag search and “frisk” and the poor guy didn’t know what to say to Dad when he asked, “What if I don’t identify as male?” Vanessa got a thorough patting down while Katy and I barely got touched. We figured the inspection girl was into her.
Having come in a different gate, we walked right upon Turn 1 towards the end of the F3 Sprint Race and watched a few laps until the end. The clouds were grey today and it had already been raining so the track was damp. It got us excited for qualifying later in the day.
With F1 not starting until early afternoon and two new team members who wanted to see the track, we ventured in the direction of the circuit towards the valley. Always on the lookout for a scam despite yesterday’s discouragement, neither Dad nor I could see a way into any form of seating that wasn’t ours. It was impressive just how tight their security was. It wouldn’t be until the end of the day that I would finally stop looking for an “in”.
The descent into the fan zone was ominous. Sitting by the lowest point of the circuit, it looked packed to the gills but once we were in it, it wasn’t so bad. We critiqued every grand stand we walked past and with each one we felt better about our seats at Gold 6.
After the team grabbed some coffee, we came out the other side of the fan zone and there it was – one of the most famous corners in F1 history – Eau Rouge. Shame about the shade cloth covering the fencing but we could at least appreciate the incline of this terrifying corner that had claimed more than one racing driver’s life.
We continued on our walk along the perimeter of the circuit and now we really got to appreciate the gradient of the race track. It was steep!
Porche Carerra Cup began tootling around the track as we walked and none of us could believe just how packed the Kemmel straight was. Ok some of these people could see the exit of Eau Rouge and there was a TV every hundred meters, but there was no cover from the weather and the cars would only be a blur as they sped past with straight steering wheels. No thank you!
Even more no thank-yous were uttered when we’d made our way to the end of the straight. This would be a great place to watch the action but as soon as the Porches finished their session, a DJ pumped out what Dad called “noise” into the stands at twice the decibel level that the race cars had been at.
While we could have walked further along, we knew from yesterday that we couldn’t make the full circuit so we turned back. Everyone’s legs had done more than enough climbing anyway and the last F1 practice session was about to get underway.
After a cloudy day yesterday, we got the full Spa experience when it started to rain. I’d been hoping for this because the unpredictable weather is what Spa is known for and the reason so many dramatic races have been held there.
The crowds on Kemmel straight started putting their ponchos on and while we had a little protection from the forest canopy on the sidewalk, we soon donned our rain jackets too. I’d been carrying my rain jacket in my suitcase for the past three weeks and now, finally, I could justify carting it around. I got everyone together for a team photo – we were a happy bunch.
Nick threw jokes at Dad as he led us down the hill, warning him not to touch anybody on the shoulder because he looked like the grim reaper with his black raincoat. I gave him shit because he was wearing his hat on the outside of his hood? Ha ha, it was too easy.
Back down at Eau Rouge, we knew we weren’t going to make it back to our seats in time for FP3 so we opted to hang around and see what we could from the GA area. The answer was not much but it was impressive to see the spray thrown up by the F1 cars as they drove up the big hill.
When Lance Stroll brought out the red flag, the was our signal to head to our seats and wow were we grateful to have a roof over our heads. I thought about all those poor buggers sitting along the Kemmel straight now watching nothing while getting wet thanks to Lance Stroll. Thankfully the dick troughs were an all-weather affair.
When the action did get going again, it was great to see the cars in the wet. The reflection of their rain lights in the puddles was impressive and it didn’t matter what speed they were going, they always looks fast.
Nick and Katy had wandered off during the session to take a ferris wheel ride but Dad, Vanessa, Kyle and I were happy to stay put and out of the persisting rain. When the session ended, we tucked into our packed lunch. Dad and I had tried out the track food yesterday and it was all too hard having to load credits onto a special card, then use the card for purchases of crappy food. We were much happier today with some turkey sandwiches and fruit.
The whole team was back together when N&K returned from their wander in time for the Paddock Club tour of the track. Taking inspiration from my time at Turn 1 of the Austin Grand Prix, as the paying pleas drove slowly along the track, I gave them my best “OOOooooohhhh” and with Dad backing me up, we got most of the grandstand joining in. Ha ha, I was having too much fun.
Of course the time between session is when people would normally be walking around but the stands were packed thanks to the rain. We were disappointed when the F2 race was cancelled because but the crowd still found reasons to get excited. Tractors got roaring cheers, any Marshall activity mustered applause and when the camera man got his lunch delivered to him, well, that was a standing ovation.
We were all together again for qualifying and it was a ripper of a session with some upsets and I was stoked that Checo had done well. The best part was that we knew Max would be starting ten placed behind where he qualified thanks to an engine penalty. That meant we’d be having an interesting race.
The session went too quickly without a single red flag or interruption but wow was it brilliant. We were going to have a serious race tomorrow! The historic F1 car demonstration got underway shortly after the session so we stuck around, but that was brought to a premature halt when someone binned it. Never a good thing to see a classic into the wall.
That was the end of the track action so we made our way off-circuit thankful that the rain had abated. Astrit knew exactly where to be this time and we found him easily. We drove away from the crowds with ease and along our now-familiar country road. He was always eager to hear about our day and we were eager to tell him. Poor V&K were battling jet lag and despite the lack of leg room in the back of the van, they were catching up on sleep whenever they could.
We made it back to Liege by 7:30pm and Mum was up on the balcony waving us home. The Mums had enjoyed a big day, also in the wet, exploring a Monet exhibition and some famous stairs and so a light dinner was on the cards. Katy found a pizza place down the road so her and Nick took point getting us all fed, picking up and bringing the boxes back to base for a great dinner around the table eating off napkins.
Sunday Fun Day
After a cloudy Friday and rainy Saturday, today we woke up to bright sunshine. We were getting the full Spa experience. It was an F1 lover’s dream with a wet quali to provide a mixed grid and then a sunny Sunday afternoon to give us a fast race. Dad and I packed our lunch and ate breakfast, then waltzed across the block to meet the others.
Katy didn’t join us, needing a day to recover from the crowds and prepare for a wild ride with the family at Disneyland next week. We were stood on the curb, Astrit included, for a nervous five minutes while Vanessa did her finishing touches, but when she appeared at the door, she looked marvelous in her newly acquired Mercedes kit.
There was a sense of anticipation as we drove through the countryside and Nick started laying on the Checo hate. Yes he was on the front row, but just how far backwards could he go? I wore my shirt proudly, along with Dad, and told Nick he wasn’t allowed to sit next to me in the grandstand if he was going to give Checo shit the whole time.
We went through the usual frisk at the entrance and surprisingly, it was our most seamless entry to the track yet! Finding ourselves at turn 1 again, a F2 car was in the middle of being recovered and by standing on a gate, we were able to watch the goings-on and then the restart.
Having seen most of the track, most of us were keen to spend the majority of the day in the grandstand and so that’s where we went. Thanks to another safety car, we caught the end of the F2 race. Having been happy with the roof to keep the rain off our heads, we were now happy to have that same roof keeping the sun and heat off. It was just perfect weather for a race!
Since Kyle & Vanessa hadn’t seen the back half of the track, we left Dad to keep our seats safe while the kids went for a wander between races. I went back into the F1 Outlet store so that Dad could keep Dan’s Checo shirt that he was wearing by buying another one. Thankfully they had plenty of stock.
On our way back to our seats, we marveled at the effort of GA’ers, finding themselves a perch wherever they could amongst the forest and along the fence lines. As Dad said to me earlier in the weekend, “for us, those days are over”. He was right.
After a Porsche race, a display of historic F1 cars and the driver’s parade, we were ready to go racing. With Dad on my right and some of my favorite people on my left, my smile looked ridiculous. I shouted Checo’s name when he drove by on his recon laps so by the time the cars were lined up on the grid, everyone nearby knew my allegiance. It was also obvious to us that we had some Hamilton fans right behind. On every lap, they would shout, “Get in there Lewis!”
We didn’t bother with our radio, prepared to soak up every ounce of the race with our analogue devices. And then, it was lights out and away we go!
The race was a blinder, at full speed the whole time without a single yellow flag or incident. The last chicane was epic for the first few laps as everyone jostled for position and as the race went on, it was awesome to see cars peel into the pits.
At about halfway distance, Nick surprised us all when he said he was going to wander over to the fan zone to try get on the ferris wheel. His reasoning? He had to see an F1 going full-tilt through Eau Rouge. We wished him a happy adventure, but there was no way we were leaving our seats!
Something that you can’t appreciate when watching on TV was the gap between the top 8 cars (Red Bull, Mercedes, McLaren & Ferrari) and the rest of the field. It was like we were watching two different classes with a good 30 second gap having formed after only a dozen or so laps.
As the race drew to a close, there was much anticipation about the track invasion where fans are allowed onto the track. I’d done some asking around and it seemed we’d have an easy entrance from our grandstand area, but we couldn’t be sure. When George Russell took the win, leading his teammate over the line, there was the mandatory fireworks and Vanessa was especially happy that her team had triumphed.
We weren’t in a rush to get onto the track so we stayed put and watched the podium celebrations from a distance as people filed out of the stands to push their bodies against some fences before being allowed onto the track. But where was Nick?
When the flood gates opened, the usual chaos ensued with people clambering over fences, risking their limbs to get a photo of the podium. When the crowds had mostly made their way onto the tarmac, we packed up camp and made our way over to our track entrance. But where was Nick?
We took his stuff with us then without much hassle, we were on the fabled tarmac of Spa! Nick called and we could see him in his bright papaya McLaren shirt, his body pressed up against a fence at the entrance to our grandstand. There were two large men with folded arms preventing the passage of any humans so it wasn’t looking good for him. We lingered at the last corner, soaking it all in, now thoroughly enjoying the sunshine that beat down on us.
When we saw Nick finally get through, he started out at a run, then doubled-back, having a quick pee at the dick trough before joining us. Classic.
With the whole team together, we started really enjoying our track invasion. We stopped at each kerb, looking closely at the marks left behind by our favorite race cars.
By the time we made our way onto the main straight, the podium celebrations were well and truly over but the party had begun. A DJ was pumping out dance tunes and we walked/danced slowly through the crowd all the way down to Turn 1.
It was about here that Nick, Dad and I lost V&K as we lingered along the pit lane. With the cars all lined up in parc ferme, it was a rare chance to see them up close as they were wheeled slowly down the pitlane.
As had been the case all weekend, security was impeccable and there was a body in every possible gap in the fence preventing entry to the pitlane. At the start of the pitlane where cars were lined up in Parc ferme, there was no fence but all it took was a white line on the ground and a hard stare from a person every dozen meters or so. They never had to say a word or lift a finger. As soon as a foot went over that line, they just stared. Impressive.
I just tried to soak it all in as we strolled and was happy I’d managed to stay with Dad and Nick. With the amount of property destruction, sign theft and general misbehavior of people, no circuit really has to allow the track invasion and so I felt it was a total privilege to be walking on the tarmac at all.
Happy to leave the partiers behind, we continued our walk around turn 1 and towards Eau Rouge. We weren’t sure how much of the track would be open but there were people all over the place, including on the Kemmel straight. We were going to walk up Eau Rouge!
As we climbed the steep hill, we could not only see the remnants of wood and titanium floor planks embedded in the tarmac on the racing line, but we could smell them! Amazing!
Tired from our walking and climbing with no apparent impending track closure, I suggested we sit and have a little picnic on the grass of Eau Rouge and so we did. It was great to just watch the crowd, look down on the track that had provided so much entertainment and talk shit about how crappy other grandstands were, looking straight into the sun for the whole race.
We saw a group of guys showing their enthusiasm as they egged on a tiny remote control Ferrari, making its way slowly up the famed corner, but our biggest laugh came from security. A very proud man had a Rolex banner tucked under his arm, walking proudly through the crowd on the phone trying to find his team. When a security man spotted him, he snatched the wad of banner from under his arm and walked away. No words said. No words needed.
When we rose from the grass, we saw a moving people barrier slowly pushing people from the track. Bugger. It meant we couldn’t walk out via Turn 1 and so we descended into the fan zone and managed to sneak by the crazy mosh formed in front of the main stage. These Europeans really liked their techno music.
Once up and over the last hill, we could finally waltz into a grandstand for a look and while the view of the track was stunning, you were sitting on a concrete slab with grass at your feet and sun in your eyes. Gold 6 chicane remained the place to be.
The crowd moved pretty freely as we moved away from the track and we simply went with the flow. I’d shot off a message to Astrit that we would be on time for a 7pm pick-up and I found out V&K had made their way to a wine bar of some sort.
We found our lost friends in the lounge of a private hotel sipping on a pair of beverages and after ducking under a gate and walking past the front desk, we only just managed to join them. The hotel staff clearly didn’t want us riff-raff in their lounge, but it was Vanessa’s charm that convinced them to let us stay. It was nice to sit on a comfortable couch if only for ten minutes and we swapped stories from the last hour.
Needing to get to our pick-up point on time, we departed the lounge quietly and rejoined the people moving away from the circuit. After a few long days of walking, it seemed a long, slow creep up a slight hill but we made it right at 7pm, thoroughly pleased with ourselves. It was disappointing to then receive a message from Astrit that he hadn’t left Liege yet – he’d fallen asleep. We all shared a sigh of annoyance, but then settled in for the wait, reminiscing the day’s events and also catching up on the news that George Russell was likely going to be disqualified from the race for being underweight. The drama never stops!
Astrit assured me with many messages and videos of his focus on speed in getting to us and to his credit, it only took him forty minutes. When he drove right past us, I hustled up a sprint to catch his slowly moving car, only just managing to whack the back window before he pulled away. I’d scared the shit out of him but it made him stop!
The kids (V&K) were fast asleep in the back within five minutes and the traffic returning to Liege was predictably horrendous so we were late back to the apartments. We’d known it might be a late night so we were all looking forward to what had been Dad’s suggestion of an in-home BBQ for dinner. Mum was waiting for us, waving from the balcony and we were ready to sit down.
We thanked Astrit profusely for his services and head upstairs. The Mums all but had the BBQ lit and Kyle was head chef. When the BBQ ran out of gas twenty minutes in, we moved the party inside and our joy filled the room. Dad made a little speech thanking me for organizing the weekend, bringing us all together and I responded by telling these wonderful family and friends that it felt like my wedding day, with all the best people in the room who had helped me through one of the toughest years of my life.
Oh, and George Russell was disqualified. Ha.
Goodbye Friends
The Gooding-Edwards team said goodbye to the young’ens the night before. Nick and Katy were off to Paris for a Disneyland adventure with Nick’s sister and her family while Vanessa & Kyle were headed in the same direction to catch some of the Olympics. Such opportunistic friends I have and I love them for it.
We also had a travel day ahead of us but would be splitting up. Deb and I had a morning train to catch for our flight back to Phoenix, while Mum and Dad were going to slowly make their way back to Brussels for another few days in Europe together.
Deb and I packed our bags for the final time and prepared for one last drag across the cobblestones. When it came time, Dad announced he’d walk us over to the train station so that meant it was time to say goodbye to Mum. I’d been teary when she walked through the arrivals hall in Barcelona and I was teary now. We’d just spent three weeks of quality time together, it now felt like I was losing my left arm. Love you Mum, until the next adventure!
It was nice to have Dad with us all the way to the platform. It wasn’t a big deal saying bye to him because we’d be seeing him again in a few days! I thanked him for sharing such a great race with me then it was the Goodings going solo.
We kept each other company as we trained back to Brussels, hopped on a flight to Washington DC, then another back to Phoenix. When we touched down among the familiar mountains, the heat was disappointingly as expected, but we were both looking forward to some home time.
25 – 29 July, 2024