Tracking Shots

That was a long day in the saddle. Metaphorically speaking for me at least.

Decided against the car to get to the velodrome, and public transport was decidedly unhelpful, with no shuttle buses from Buchanan Bus Station to the venue, necessitating a schlep from Queen Street to Central, train to Dalmarnock, then 5 minute hustle towards Celtic Park as a marker in the distance.

Media accreditation was picked up no problem (after being warned of the potential problem to head up by Mark, who had sorted this all for me); red bib was procured; and there I was, in the middle of the velodrome with the action already started. There weren't many photographers already there for me to gauge just what I could do, so for the first 20 minutes or so I stayed at the top of a flight of stairs, getting bearings, before finally launching into the narrow corridors between team pits.

I didn't have a pass that got me onto the track apron, but at two points I could get right up to the barrier, and it was great being able to move about and take it all in and have a think about shots. I was desperately trying not just to focus on the 'action' (especially as Cycling Weekly want to have a look at the shots, and wanted some to be a bit more 'arty'), so time was divided between trackside and the infield. 

Now I'm used to shooting cyclocross, and while that tends to be cold and uncompromising, compared to the extreme warmth and comfort inside, the riders there almost all are keen to get shots of themselves. The track riders seem a bit more guarded. I did get smiles from a female French rider, and a couple of the female Spanish riders, but almost all the rest clearly just wanted to be in their zone. Headphones on, do not disturb.

At the 3 hour break in the middle I wound up talking to Dave, the Derny driver, and got a fabulous insight into how it all works in the Keirin, and Derny-paced races in general (he's just won a European championship event), as well as his times in the past looking after Robert Millar on a couple of stage races, and Chris Hoy on a youth stage race in Ireland (where he got hammered by the opposition every single day - he was always destined to be a pure sprinter).

Watching the men's Scratch and Points Races was an education (and it's much easier to follow when you're actually there), with a masterclass from Cameron Meyer in the Points especially; but the roof came off when GB won the women's Madison. The racing there was even more fraught, and included a couple of crashes, both of which were right in front of me, and one of which had a Belgian rider having to leave the track looking like she might have done her collarbone. Afterwards I got shots of another Belgian rider having splinters plucked from her bruised shoulder by the team soigneur.

It was all an immense experience, and one which I'll hopefully get another shot at. Made me want again to give the track a try; and just get back on the bike in general (not been on since Wednesday due to minor, but lingering, cold - the first time I've been ill in 2016!).

Home took a ridiculous 2 and a half hours. Another photographer had kindly offered me a lift, but he was having to hang about afterwards to process shots for the agency he was employed by, so I figured the walk-train-walk-train-taxi option would be quicker. A couple of delayed trains, then no taxi (but thankfully the last number 5 of the night) got me in a bit after midnight.

Beer while I processed some more shots of my own. Shattered. Back to cyclocross photos next week over in Dunfermline.