< Previous Page
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25
Next Page >
Thursday, July 27, 2023 - An F-1 Pilgrimage
A Somber Visit to the Autodromo


Thursday dawned bright, clear, and warm. The stormy weather of the initial part of our trip was now a fading memory, and it seemed like we were in for a long stretch of stable weather.

Devoting the Morning to Aryton

As mentioned already, Luke and I were avid Formula One fans. In fact, being into cars and racing was part of how we became friends in the first place, way back in 1985 at a small University in a small eastern Canadian province. We watched from our dorm rooms, and then when we started working, over a drink and snacks on a Sunday morning. We watched the greats of the time battle it out: Michael Schumacher versus Jean Alesi, Nelson Piquet versus Nigel Mansell, Alain Prost versus Aryton Senna. In our minds, Aryton Senna was the star of them all. His amazing feats of car control and winning-against-all-odds had us rooting for him more often than not.

Aryton Senna
On May 1 of 1994, as Luke and I were both at our respective homes watching the San Marino Grand Prix (which, for those of you don't know, wasn't actually held on a racetrack in the city-state of San Marino but rather at the Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari here in Imola). We watched with butterflies in our stomachs as, on lap seven of the race, Senna's Williams F-1 car snapped a suspension rod and careened headlong into the concrete wall at the high-speed Tamburello curve. Senna suffered a massive head injury as the broken suspension bits pierced his helmet on impact with the wall. We could tell it was serious, and within hours, the horrible news: Aryton Senna had died.

His death affected us more than you would think from a distant, elite sports figure. Maybe it was simply his flair and scrappy fighting spirit, which was at times off-putting but riveting to watch. Or maybe it was the fact that he was a combination of superb, almost otherworldly driving talent combined with a certain humility and devotion to charity that belied his wealthy background. There was something distinctive; something that made him different than all of the other famous F1 drivers. Something that made him ... beloved. He managed to somehow foster an actual emotional connection to millions of people.
Streetside Parking at racetrack
Fast-forward thirty years. Luke and I had gone through our progression of hot hatchback cars, shared many road trips together, and now, finally, were living out our motorsports dream trip by receiving two Porsche sportscars together. The draw to visit and pay respects at the spot where Senna lost his life - especially while on this trip - was very strong. And given our itinerary, it was not a difficult thing to incorporate.

After a surprisingly excellent breakfast (the best so far on our trip) at the Hotel Donatello, we packed everything back into our two GTSes and emerged from the parking garage. It was a short five minute drive to the where the Autodromo was located, on the opposite side of the Santerno River from the Imola's center. To call it a river is stretching it - it is a very lazy, shallow watercourse.

Like many of the older racetracks in Europe, this one was integrated into an existing parkscape. Although the paddocks and the surface of the actual track were fenced off, everything else was publicly accessible. This was handy for us, since it meant we didn't have to plan anything in advance to visit. We simply found some streetside parking next to the leafy trees of the Parco Acque Minerali, and started walking.
Autodromo Tower
Although we were also interested in visiting the Imola track in its entirety (simply because of its rich racing history and our familiarity with it from watching so many races so long ago), we specifically wanted to visit the spot of Senna's crash. We knew there was also an official monument to Senna, but that was likely to be busier and less intimate. The spot closest to where the accident actually occurred, along the outer wall of the track, was off the beaten path and not groomed or marked in any official way. That seemed more "real" to us.
Motorsport Graffiti
We headed back along the road we came in on, walking through an underpass underneath the end of the main straightaway, from there we turned off the road and onto a faint, unkept path that followed the outer edge of the track. On our right-hand side, the sluggish Santerno river trickled its way through Imola, on its way to the distant Po.
The New Chicane
Soon the entrance to the Tamburello Curve came into view through a track fence on our left. This was the start of the curve where Senna's accident happened. Back in 1994, this was an extremely high-speed gently-curving left-hander. These days, because of Senna's crash and a call for a safer section of track, this was now the Tamburello Chicane - a set of sharp back-and-forth esses had been built here, forcing race cars to greatly slow their speed, and therefore - if something were to happen - lessen the impact forces against the close and unyielding outer wall.

We continued walking counter-clockwise around the outer edge of the circuit. We knew that the impact point must be somewhere not too far ahead, given that a high-speed departure on the high-speed original Tamburello curve would have carried one's car to the far outside wall. We kept going, looking uphill to the bushy band of trees that separated our little forest path from the track fence.
The crash spot
As we neared the end of the Tamburello curve, we headed up into the brush to bushwhack around and locate the precise spot. It had to be here somewhere. Exactly where was not obvious. I actually preferred it this way, because it felt like we had to work a little to discover something special. A special spot where we could have a private moment to reflect. It seemed more authentic and definitely less commercial this way.
Capturing the mementos
Eventually we found the spot. At first we noticed only a few indicators - a bit of fabric wedged against a support beam; a wilted bouquet of flowers stuck through the fence mesh; then more obvious signs. Little messages written on galvanized steel panes, and plastic bottles affixed via loops to the fence, with small flags and other mementos in them. Although we couldn't really see the race-side of the low concrete wall at the base of the inner fence (there was a double-fence setup here, so we couldn't actually touch the concrete wall), we knew that it was just a few feet away - the spot where Aryton Senna spent his final waking moments on this planet.

Although the spot was a little unkempt, perhaps even shabby, it was perfect: Silent and respectful and free of any vestige of crass commercialism. We could now make out more homages and farewells to Senna, markered onto the metal panels of track structures.
Heartfelt Tributes
Goodbye, Champion
Memorial sign for Senna
Simple Salute
Flowers for Ayrton
I've done my best to translate some of the more legible ones below:

"Aryton - you will always be magic - the king of F1"

"I would gladly give my heart to make yours beat again, and that also goes for millions of your admirers. To say thank you is obvious. For always, in my hoped heart. signed, M.M."

"Never will there ever be another champion. F1 for me doesn't have significance any more. Your devoted. Signed, Maggi and Erika."

"Aryton, you have given us so much. Give us the strength to continue without you. Signed, your fans"

"Aryton - for always. Signed, Marion"

"Goodbye, Champion".

They were all so beautiful, these tributes, so full of reverence and sadness. It was hard to not be misty-eyed - even though this was about an event now decades old, and to a sports figure, no less. Luke and I felt privileged to be able to visit here, to be in silence in this spot for a few moments. Just what was it about Senna that evoked this depth of emotion?

After paying our respects at the accident site, we returned down through the bushes to the path. We now wanted to get back across the track and into the park itself, where the official memorial was and where paths would take us to other parts of the circuit. Just as it was looking like we were going to have to do a big detour around to a crossover point, we came upon a large, dark culvert. A bit of further inspection revealed that its floor was not flooded (although it was a little muddy and damp), and there was no continuous grate on either side. We'd be able to shortcut underneath the track here. Completely unofficially, of course.

After carefully picking our way through the mucky, dark culvert, we emerged back into the sunlight, and were now inside the track. Nearby was the playground / outdoor gym area of the Parco Aqua Minerale. This was also where the official Senna monument was located. Situated as it was on the inside of the Tamburello curve, it was fairly close to where Senna's accident occurred, but in an area much more conducive to putting up a statue and providing good public access.
History of the area
To Official Memorial
More Tributes
The main tribute to Aryton Senna consisted of an interpretive plaque and a large bronze statue. The statue incorporated a figure of Aryton in a sombre pose, along with a huge block embedded with various moments of his life "emerging" from it. A great number of tribute flags were hung on the nearby track fenceline, including many of Brazil - Aryton's home country. Innumerable more tributes were signed onto these flags and onto the various plaques and walls and pedestals.
More Tributes
Tribute Flag
Endless Flags
Wistful Luke
"To Ayrton Senna" sculpture
Embedded Racecar
The official memorial was tasteful and the outpouring of goodwill evident. We were still glad we had first visited the actual (and unsanctioned) tribute location.
Luke's Thoughts
[on remembering Ayrton...]
I take just a couple of pictures, but feel very sombre. It's a piece of F1 history here, and my F1 history too - I remember the day, calling dad after it had happened. The shock of it. I'm glad we came here. Senna's statue. It's a fitting pose, I think, and I'm happy it's not some display of triumph or showiness or anything like that. Just a man sitting introspectively. I get a bit overwhelmed with some tears in my eyes and have to walk off a bit on my own.


Moving on, we passed through the children's playground (where the playground gear was "race-car" styled), passed the [currently dry] aqua minerali spring, and along pleasant forested paths to a higher area of ground looking down on one of the track's most famous curves: the Acque Minerali curve. Now, it might be obvious to you that there would be a curve named after the park and its spring. But for us, being long-time F1 fans, we had long-ago internalized Acque Minerale as first being a curve on a famous track, rather than a park name. The much more recent discovery that there was a park named Aqua Minerali - that felt a bit weird and novel.
Even playground is race themed
Acque Minerali
Describing the spring
There was a beautiful bench under the shade of a grand tree that offered a sweeping view of the Acque Minerali bend. This would be such an amazing spot to watch an F1 race - but of course on an F1 race day this area was going to either be packed to the gills, standing-room only, or else off limits. But one could dream.

Luke and I sat here and contemplated life and racing and life for a bit. So much racing history had unfolded here. It was special to be able to visit.
Acque Minerali (the curve)
Absorbing the scene
Acque Minerali curve
Into the Apennines

The morning was drawing on, and it was time to wrap up our visit to the Imola track and the Acque Minerali park. I wanted to make some progress on our road itinerary for the day.
A last look
We headed away from the track around noon, ready to start the next phase of our roadtrip: exploring the northern Apennine Mountains. Here in Imola, we were right at the foothills of those mountains, which rose to the south of us. My plan was to head up these foothills and into the heart of the range, then turn west, heading generally towards France over the course of two to three days. And, of course, all the while hitting the good road segments I had identified and visiting scenic outlooks or interesting towns or historic points of interest.

We could have gone directly into the hills from Imola. But instead I suggested that we actually stay in the flat Po Valley, and drive east for a bit, before going up into the hills. It was because of a small historical curiosity that I wanted to turn into a bit of a content moment. I had come across this particular curiosity as I was cataloguing good roads in the area, and I thought it would be no big deal to include it in our journey, and we'd still be able to circle around and head back west, on mountain roads, and still arrive roughly at our intended destination area at the end of the day.

We drove east-southeast on the E45 Autostrada for about an hour, before getting off and heading up into the hills at the city of Cesena. Soon the land started to undulate, rising gently into small hills and shallow valleys. The land was heavily cultivated. Vineyards and orchards of various types were everywhere. Cyprus trees dotted the edges of fields and farmhouse driveways. And the road became a little curvy, and it places there was even a hairpin or two.
Hilltop Castle
Rooftops of Longiano
Hilltowns are cool. There's something about a cluster of buildings on a highpoint, surveying all around, that is just neat. Even more so when said buildings are historic or architecturally attractive in some way. And ahead of us, we could see such a hilltown - both on our map and in the distance. The town of Longiano. We were feeling in an exploratory mood, and we decided to give it a visit.

As we got closer, we realized that only part of the town was actually atop a hill, punctuated by a castle-like structure at the highpoint. That seemed like a cool structure to explore, so we headed straight for it.

The streets of the town of Longiano were quiet. Very quiet. There was virtually no traffic as we located the circular road that wound around and then up to the top, where the castle structure was located. At the top, a small piazza and parking area provided a good place to park the Cayman and Boxster, only a few metres from the entrance to the castle structure.
Castello Malatestiano
All was quiet. There were no people about. No sound of cars. It wasn't even breezy. It was still and warm, and the feeling was very much ... siesta. Sleeping time. And it was, actually about that time of the classic post-lunch break, when many traditional or rural Italians did catch an hour or two of afternoon ZZZs. Maybe that was why no one was around. In any case, it was wonderful. We had the place to ourselves and we valued the silence. I actually felt a bit guilty about the sporty sound of our exhausts coming up here, and even of speaking too loud. I wanted to preserve the stillness, to not intrude as a selfish tourist.

After taking in the view over the roofs of the town below us (there was a small treed park with a nice railing promenade looking down over the lower parts of the town here), we wandered over to the entrance of the old castle.
Visiting the courtyard
Known as the Castello Malatestiano, it had very old origins - back to the 8th century. Apparently there was concrete verification of its existence in 1059. It was then inhabited during the 13th, 14th, and 15th centuries by a local noble family, then changed hands amongst the upper crust of Italian society as the centuries passed. More recently the town has purchased / taken over the castle and uses it as a kind of art exhibition location. And also for its tourist value, no doubt.

The main gate to the castle was open, so we wandered inside (again, absolutely no one about) and poked around. We didn't attempt to go inside the buildings lining the courtyard, and stuck to just wandering around in the courtyard.

We returned to the shady little garden/park next to the cars and had our lunch. I then thought that this would be a great spot for some shiny-cars-against-ancient-buildings photos, and we spent a bit of time scouting out and then shooting/filming our cars in the piazza in front of the castle and as we slowly inched our way back down into the lower town.
Scouting for shots
Nice butts
Ok, so now it was time to head west. I had my mind set on a spot where - strangely enough for sportscar road trippers - we could camp for the night. Yes, you heard me: camp. In fact, I had located in my research several spots that looked totally suitable for us, and we had indeed brought outdoor camping gear for any situations where we might not be able to find accommodations. And in any case, it would be cool to camp in two Porsches.

A [Botched] Crossing of the Rubicon

We continued further towards the spine of the Apennine Range, following routes in the area that I had determined would have the highest fun quotient. At one spot, where the highway crossed a small river and then ascended a valley side in an amazing burst of twisties, I stopped and turned to crewmember Andy. I explained to him the little historical curiosity that I had discovered, and now for which I wanted to generate content.

The unassuming river we were about to cross is known in Italian as the Fiume Rubicone. In english, that translates to the Rubicon River. Yes, you heard right. That Rubicon. The one made famous by Julius Caesar's crossing in the civil war of 49BC, and which now has essentially become a synonym for "no going back now!" I was thinking to surprise Luke with this, who very likely had no idea of the significance of this nondescript little trickle of water, and to tie it to the momentousness of his journey to owning a Porsche Boxster GTS 4.0. In the sense that he had purchased this pure, focused car, had now experienced it, and at this point, there was "no going back". That he had crossed his sports-car "Rubicon". Or at least that's how I hoped it would play out, in my head.
Crossing the Rubicon
It didn't go as planned. A few moments before reaching the bridge crossing of the Rubicon, I raised Luke up on the radio. I then had Andy begin filming from inside the car. I then drove across, explaining over the radio to him that this was a "special crossing" ... that the little creek was THE Rubicon, and that he had now crossed his own personal Rubicon. No response. Turns out that for some reason he hadn't heard me, or maybe was listening to a podcast or perhaps on the phone or ... whatever. I botched the whole thing, and ... I think Luke was a little irritated with my tone. Which ... if I'm honest ... I was in fact a little irritated too. Ah well, such is life with ad-hoc filming like this - there was only ever going to be once chance for this sort of thing. And it won't always work.

Ok, so with the "crossing of the Rubicon" moment over, it was time to move on. We powered up the most-excellent switchbacks on the slopes to the south of the crossing, and then we turned right, following a beautiful country route that stayed on the crest of a ridgeline, occasionally going through little idyllic groupings of farm houses. On the right, the land dropped away into the drainage of the headwaters of the Rubicon River, and on the left, a different valley drainage. This sort of ridgetop route was pretty typical for these foothill areas of the Apennines. It all had a very relaxed, Tuscan sort of feel. And the ridgetop road meant that we often got great views across the countryside.
Hills of the Rubicon
The ridgecrest narrowed nicely at a point further along, where the land literally dropped off - not steeply - but dropped off immediately in grassy slopes on both sides. We could look into the distance and see it winding along with the form of the ridgecrest. Breathtaking spot. We got out to do some exterior shots of our two 718 GTS 4.0s through this stretch.
Along Scenic Ridgecrests
We continued westward, following idyllic hill-country roads and enjoying the complete lack of traffic. They day was perfect, too - sunny and calm and not too warm - but still warm. We did notice quite a large number of spots where a bit of road had been partially reconstructed after some sort of washout event. I think this was the aftermath of the extra heavy rainstorms that battered the area the previous fall.

Travelling east or west as we were doing meant we were going, in a sense, "against the grain" of the landscape. The terrain was all north-trending drainage basins, perpendicular to our line of travel. Drainage basin after drainage basin after drainage basin. Occasionally there would be a bit of ridgeline we could follow, but mostly the roads we were on would wind down into the bottom of one drainage and back up the other side, then over the crest and down into the next basin. And repeat. This was great for fun driving, but I soon realized that our progress was much too slow to reach the camping area I had targeted before sundown.

This was a bit of an agonizing moment for me. To continue crossing the corrugated landscape westbound would be super fun from a driving perspective, but I had to consider the time as well. Amazingly, google maps showed that if we drove all the way back down to the Plain of the Po, then took the Autostrada back to Modena and then turned up into the hills at that point, it would actually be faster. A lot faster. Even though at a glance it looked like about three times the distance.

Reluctantly, we decided to do the time-efficient route (you can see exactly what we did in the strange-looking trackmap at the end of this page). In retrospect, I probably should have skipped that whole crossing the Rubicon nonsense and just gone up into the hills directly above Imola, as it would have given us much more time to explore interesting roads without jeopardizing the day's schedule. Oh well ... live and learn.

Our big circuitous bypass worked quite well, and it wasn't long before we were back at Imola (didn't think we were going to be passing through here again on this trip, but there you go....). From Imola we took an arterial highway that led up one of the region's larger mountain rivers - the Santerno River - the very same one that lazily winds past the F-1 track, but which cuts deep into the northern slopes of the Apennines - and provides an easier valley-bottom travel route into the heart of the range. We followed this road as far as the town of Firenzuola, arriving at roughly 8pm. We had about an hour or so to make it the last little bit to this campground place I wanted to stay at.
Luke's Thoughts
[on runnin' dry again...]
We head towards the outskirts of where we think we will be able to do some camping. It's becoming hard to enjoy the curves though, as my low fuel warning is on again and I know there aren't any fuel stations for miles around - let alone ones with 94 octane! It stresses me out more than Andrew I guess. He's nonplussed, but I'm not able to enjoy the road much. I'm driving 'lightly' to save fuel.
Some sweet twistiness
Camping With Porsches

The campground we were headed to for the night was not far from Firenzuola. To get there, we had to take this quiet (but nicely-paved) backway called the Strada Statale Passo di Giogo (the State Road of the Giogo Pass). Very official-sounding. But it was clearly a low-volume road. Anyway, this road - I had noticed it during my scanning over the years leading up to the delivery trip - it had an *amazing*-looking stretch leading up a grassy slope to that Giogo Pass (which was a very minor low pass). The road climbed up this hill in an amazing way, as if the road designer was reading the mind of a car enthusiast. The roadbed snaked back and forth up the hill in a novel way. They were no true hairpins, and there were no straightaways. It was a sinuous continous sequence of curves, some fairly sharp and some less so. Typically I would call this sort of thing "esses", but these curved back and forth much farther than was usual for esses. And to top it off, the slope was mostly open grassland - so you could see everything coming. Excellent sightlines way ahead to know if any vehicles or animals or people were around. I mean ... very, very cool (And I won't lie and say that the existence of this road so close to the camping spot didn't influence my decision to stay there).
Free Camping!!
We powered our four-litre flat-six beauties up this amazing road. No traffic. Wonderful. There was a bit of gravel strewn across the road in a few specific spots - looked like a recent rainstorm had deposited them there. At the top, we crossed over the low Giogo Pass and quickly descended back down. In a few short moments, we came to the entrance of the camping area (actually there's a larger park here, too). There was a large gravel parking lot next to the tenting area but virtually everyone had driven their vehicles onto the grassy tenting area itself. We did the same. The other campers took notice as we slowly purred up to an empty patch of grass.
Luke's Thoughts
[on camping with Porsches...]
We progress, and again, Andrew's direction-finding comes to the fore and he finds the beautiful camping spot nestled in the hills along a spectacular road. With the tent set up, a light snack dinner consumed, and some philosophical chit chat about the nature of risk (my fuel stresses prompting the discussion?) and a society that seems bent on completely eliminating risk, we hit the sack. I think I fell asleep within 30 seconds. The brook nearby, the cool air, the complete darkness. Perfect.

(to read more of Luke's thoughts from this day, check out his blog post)


The campground was filled with the usual folks and vehicles you see in campgrounds. Small SUVs. Estate cars. Maybe a small RV. A couple of long-distance bike-packers. But, unsurprisingly, no other sports cars. And certainly no other Porsches. I wonder what was going through the other campers' minds ... did they think we were crazy? lost, maybe? Maybe they thought we had spent every last penny of our life-savings on sportscars and now had to eke out our existence by living in campgrounds. I mentally tried to envision the Venn diagram that overlapped Porsche sportscar buyers with backcountry campers. It probably wasn't a very big overlap.
A Boxster Owner and his Mat
Speaking of the campground, it was pretty nice. There were no formal tent spots - folks just set up where there was space. There was a small concrete building that had the communal bathrooms, which actually had flush toilets, and even a pay shower. And best of all - and somewhat strangely - it was free. There was no charge for staying here. I've stayed in many a car-campground in my day, and for it to be free felt pretty remarkable.
Camping with the 718
We had done pretty well on the arrival time, all things considered. It was 8:30 pm and we still had over 30 minutes of good light left. That left us plenty of time to get our gear out of the frunks and trunks of the 718s, set up the tents, blow up our camping mattresses, and, using our road snacks, fix up a passable cold dinner. I have to admit, it sure was strange pegging down a tent next to two shiny Carmine Red Porsches. But also cool.
GTS Chronicles Camping
Overall, the day had been pretty successful. The visit to the Imola F1 circuit and the visit to the Senna memorials (the official one and the unofficial one) had been special. The visit to the quiet hilltop town. The cruising through the vineyards and orchards and lazy twisty roads of the Apennine foothills had been enjoyable. The setup at this cool out-of-the-way free campsite felt different and fun. I still felt that I should have skipped that whole Rubicon river thing and charted a better course through the mountains, but overall, a solid day.

What would tomorrow bring?
Interactive trackmap with photo points - July 27 - click map to view
Interactive trackmap with photo points - July 27 - click to view
July 27 - Drive Data
Start Time: 10:28a.m.
End Time: 8:27p.m.
Duration: 9h58m
Distance: 267.44 km (166.18 mi)
Average Speed: 26.8 km/hr (16.7 mph)
Start Elevation: 76ft (23m) *
Max Elevation: 2180ft (664m) *
Min Elevation: 31ft (10m) *
End Elevation: 1745ft (532m) *
* : +/- 75 feet
Total Elevation Gain: 6274ft (1912m) *
Total Elevation Loss: 4681ft (1427m) *
 
 
* : +/- 75 feet
Elevation Graph
< Previous Page
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25
Next Page >
Send feedback or leave comments (note: comments in message board below are separate from those in above message board)
send feedback | homemade custom message board
(Message Board failed to initialize. )
Web Page & Design Copyright 2001- 2025 by Andrew Lavigne. (Privacy Policy)