2012 Newsletter - Olympics
Was it bad planning that meant that I was on a UK bound flight during the Opening Ceremony of both the Olympics and the Paralympics? Well, for the Olympics, I had no choice. I was on a course in Silicon Valley the previous week, so could not leave before the Friday night, but as we had tickets for the Three Day Event Dressage on the first Sunday, I had to land in UK on the Saturday to be able to get to the Olympics in person. It was actually quite fun to be outside the country in the few days before the event and watch the build up in the press knowing that only a few days later I would actually be visiting “The Olympics”.
As I sat in the airport in San Jose, I happened to see a most magical night-time picture of the Olympic rings hanging over the Thames at Tower Bridge. It really brought a lump to my throat and I felt insanely proud to be British. The Olympic Games were going to happen and they would be something for the country to be proud of. Two days later, I found myself on the Thames seeing those rings for myself; only this time through rain – still I am jumping ahead, let’s allow the story to unfold.
As you can image, the Saturday was a bit of a non event as I was on West Coast time, eight hours away from BST. I was also acutely aware that to get to Greenwich at a decent time, we had to be up at very early on the Sunday morning. There was nothing to be done but to accept that my jet lag was going to be compounded by this and so I had taken the Monday and Tuesday off work to be able to re-adjust to the UK time zone.
When we arrived at the train station on Sunday morning, dawn was just breaking and we really wondered whether we were totally mad. The one thing that had always worried me about the Olympics was how London would stand up to the extra traffic that a two week long mega sporting championship event would bring with it. I had at one point considered getting tickets for the sailing at Weymouth since it is not far along the coast, but knowledge of the road between here and there gained from many trips to dog shows convinced me that that would not be a great idea and that I should leave the chaos to those whose love of the sport would out weigh the inconvenience.
We had decided to travel first class to ensure that we would have a seat on the train. We also followed the advice of the authorities who told us to take a bizarre route into London. So, we left the train at Clapham Junction, changed to another train that would take us into Victoria rather than Waterloo and then at Victoria took a train out to Greenwich. All of the trains were virtually empty, maybe this should not have been a total surprise early on a Sunday morning, but heck – the Olympics were on and this was London!
We had a first glimpse of the army of Olympic volunteers at Victoria wearing the uniform that we would all become so familiar with in the weeks to come. The station was pretty empty and everyone seemed to know where they were going and so pairs of volunteers were chatting and in one case providing the opportunity to be photographed with an Olympic torch.
When we got to Blackheath, we really saw the Olympic army in operation. Our path to the venue was shown by volunteers every few yards equipped with huge foam hands and insane smiles extolling us to be happy and “have a great day”. What on earth were they thinking? We were British and had been up at an insane hour to get this far on a Sunday morning!
After our walk across the heath, we finally arrived at our destination and had our first experience of the military who were running the security check point at that entrance. They were wonderful. As usual, my titanium hip ensured that I got a full body pat down. The treatment was not as officious as I am used to at airports, and probably not quite as diligent, but I put that down to the fact that they were experienced in assessing threats and that we were obviously very low risk!
In a couple of minutes we were through, so much better than the long queues that we had been told to expect by the literature that came with our tickets. Maybe these happened on other days and at other venues? Anyway, we were at the Olympics!
Although we went on dressage day, it had never been my intention to watch the dressage. Over the years, I have learnt that the best way to experience the three day event cross country is on TV. This way you can experience all of the interesting bits. But, to get the best understanding of a cross country course, it has to be walked. So the way to do this is to walk the course on the dressage day. Often the competitors are walking the course too, although in their case it will be their second or third walk round and so you can watch which fences are causing anxiety in their minds. Some will be virtually walked past, whilst others will get a lot of attention as distances and alternative routes are decided upon.
There were two possible entrances to Greenwich. By dint of following the best directions from Southampton to the venue, we found that we had arrived almost at the start of the course rather than half way round. What good luck. We only had to back track slightly on ourselves to get to the first fence. But before we did that, I made use of an enormous TV screen to watch Zara Phillips’ dressage test. It was rather surreal being able to hear the enormous roar of the crowd as she finished her test, coming from over the trees, but not yet knowing the layout of the site well enough to be able to envisage the precise location from whence it came.
Very quickly I realised the main difference between this event and others I have been used to attending – they were not keen on people actually walking on the course. This is an obvious precaution when horses are competing, but since on dressage day there is no chance of finding a horse on the course, I have become used to walking straight up to the fence itself. This is a very different experience than being kept a few yards back, particularly for the more complex fences. Thinking about it, this made complete sense given the number of people and the very wet weather that we had in the months leading up to the Olympics, the last thing they wanted was to have the ground churned up by thousands of feet which would have made the conditions very dangerous for the horses. That said, there were a few fences, early in the day before they stationed people at every fence to protect them, which I got up close and personal with!
As usual, the first couple of fences were pretty straight forward, designed to get the horses going. What was very evident was the beauty of the fences. Three day events normally put some effort into their fences, but the budget for these must have been massive. That said, it was certainly worth it. They really felt in a different class than those I have seen before at other major events.
The start of the course felt very much like other events that I have been to and I almost forgot that I was at the Olympics and in the centre of London. There weren’t too many people on that part of the course at that time and the environment was typical of that at other events with grass and trees. Yes, there were many more portaloos than normal, but that was to be expected! Then suddenly, we rounded a corner and a vista of the London skyline poked through the tree line in front of us. It was an iconic moment which still gives me tingles when I think back to it. The Olympics truly were in London!
From this point on, just beside the Greenwich Observatory, the whole nature of the course changed. It wasn’t the fences, though they were just as beautiful as the early ones, but rather you became part of the Olympics. The number of people on the course massively increased and the whole feeling of occasion gradually took over. Soon we crossed through a security barrier into the inner sanctum of the event. The forces personnel completed the bag check with a relaxed thoroughness and soon we were in the middle of the heaving throngs near the arena.
We had been warned that we would not be allowed to take any liquids into the venue, but that we were welcome to take empty bottles which could be filled inside. Down near the arena, we saw the only tap that we saw all day, with a ginormous queue ?. Like many other people, I assume, we decided to join the shorter queues at the nearby food court and pay for our liquid intake.
Since we had finally reached the arena, we thought we should investigate the seats that we had paid for and watch some dressage. Behind the plastic curtaining, we walked into a massive scaffolding structure providing our seating. We walked up a few levels until we reached our designated area and suddenly, the huge arena was laid out below us. As we climbed to our seats, I suddenly remembered that I had decided to go for the cheapest seats as I really hadn’t intended to actually use them. We climbed and we climbed to the very top of the structure. Our seats were in the last but one row. We made our way past a few people and then we had found our “home”. The plan was to sit down and spend at least 30 mins, maybe an hour of watching the dressage before we made our way back onto the rest of the course. But we hadn’t reckoned with my vertigo.
I have always had a problem with heights. Many years ago, when a friend who lived at the Barbican took us to the top to see the wonderful view of London, I remember an intense desire to jump off the building. Maybe it is genetics as my father was a parachutist in the war. When I worked in flour mills, the mill manager always wanted to show off the view from the top of their building, which usually provided the best vantage point in the area. I would always hang back as much as possible from the edge and nod politely, whilst praying with every bone in my body that we would be allowed to leave the roof as soon as possible.
During the first test, I became increasingly uncomfortable. We were so high up that horse and rider below were so small that they reminded me of the tiny plastic horse that was in my childhood Matchbox trailer. During the second test, I realised that I really couldn’t stay much longer. My stomach was churing, my eyes couldn’t focus on the dressage, it just wasn’t fun. I felt so sorry for Brian, he was just settling into relaxing and watching the dressage. Of course he could have stayed and watched and we could have met up later (thank goodness for mobile phones), but we gathered our things together and made our way back down the scaffolding mountain.
Back safe and sound on terra firma, we decided it was time for lunch since the food court was so close. We managed to find a spot on the ground to sit down and quickly ate the over priced food – well we were at the Olympics! As we finished eating, I received a text from a friend who had just got soaked in a torrential downpour in Surrey. It was overcast in Greenwich, but it didn’t look too bad, so we carried on with our course walk.
The course was much busier. Not only were we closer to the main entrance, but we were now in the middle of the day, so the crowds were at their highest. There was also the frequent announcements over the tannoy encouraging visitors to take the opportunity to walk the course and many of the punters were responding to the invitation. Having been there and having seen the situation, it was rather ironic when newspaper pictures the following day showed pretty empty dressage stands alongside stories about empty seats suggesting failures in the Olympic Organising Committee. How wrong they were, about this at least. But then it was only the second day of full Olympic competition and the press were still being very cautious about heaping praise on the event. It would not take too long for all that to change. It should also be noted that the photo of the empty seats, showed a few brave souls sheltering from rain, a topic to which we will return shortly.
The first of our postprandial fences was a water fence made very cleverly from a typical London park pond. How on earth they managed to make it safe for horses to jump into, I will never know, but it really worked. On we went. The fences came fast and furious. Great use had been made of the contours of the land. Fences that looked really quite horrid turned out the following day to cause very little, if any, problems to the horses and riders. But then that is the art of a good course builder. By one of the fences, we found ground staff sprinkling something on the course, which got us intrigued. After a couple of people had asked what they were doing, they sheepishly admitted that they were sprinkling green dye on the ground to ensure that there were no brown patches to be seen anywhere on the course – what attention to detail!
The course was very cleverly built with loops that took the track back toward the main arena a couple of times. Luckily we were approaching the stands as the rain that had soaked our friend an hour before arrived in our part of London. Having advance notice of its severity, we did not spend long trying to get shelter from the trees, but made our way towards the stands around the arena in the hope that they would offer some protection. We joined the huddled throngs under the scaffolding and boards that formed the seating area. At least the plastic cladding stopped any driving rain, but that was the most that could be said. People dodged the drips under the structure as we moved to different areas trying to keep dry. Somehow, it was all so British, more reminiscent of a wet summer’s day at the beach than the Olympics. Boris Johnson must have had a hotline to God during the Olympics. Despite the heavy showers that day, the majority of the Olympics were rain free, which was a rarity during the very wet summer of 2012.
Eventually, the rain eased and we continued our course walk. The fences by now had service personnel guarding them to ensure that none of the public put a foot on the hallowed turf. Interspersed with the announcements encouraging us to walk the course, there were now others which highlighted the time and energy that had been put into ensuring that the course was in tip top form for the horses the next day. As we climbed to the highest part of the course, near to the start / finish area, the crowds abated a little. Only the die hards were prepared to walk so far away from the main area without any idea when they would return. The fences continued to be spectacular. The one nearest to the Greenwich Observatory commemorated the fact by showing the time difference in all the competing countries at noon GMT. There were loads of references to British culture in the fence design including cricket and a Saxon village. Eventually, we found ourselves at the last fence. It was a fence commemorating the spirit of the event being a huge horse shoe flanked by two huge horse sculptures made out of horse shoes.
Our task was at an end, we had walked the entire course, in order and would have to wait for the following day to see how it rode. Now we could actually enjoy being at the Olympics. We decided that we would ignore the travel advice and this time we would take a trip along the Thames to Waterloo before getting a train home. This meant that we had to return to the area by the arena to exit into Greenwich, so we wandered off in that direction.
Fortunately, we came across the only permanent building in Greenwich Park which is a small café. Since the day was drawing to a close, the queue was thankfully almost non existent and we were quickly served. The food was their normal menu, so refreshingly different from standard Olympic fare and at standard non-Olympic prices. Exhausted, we thankfully settled down to enjoy our tea and cake. No sooner had we done this than the heavens once again opened. What brilliant timing!
Refreshed, we made our way out into a damp Greenwich Park. There was not enough time to get down to the arena for the last tests of the day, so we decided to try and watch them from the promontory outside the Observatory. Thank goodness for the huge TV screens which almost made this a practical thing to do.
Whilst there, we got talking with one of the many service personnel on duty. He had just got back from a tour of duty and was meant to be on holiday with his family; instead he was living on a naval boat on the Thames and working at Greenwich. Despite the obvious inconvenience, there was no malice in his voice as he talked about his situation. He was very matter of fact about it all. We were incredulous to learn that officially, the forces were reporting to the civilian security services on site. One particular story he told was of a couple of nights previous when they were patrolling the site. A couple of civilian staff were guarding a gateway when a vagrant climbed over a nearby fence into the Park. Since the man had not come in through their gate, they did not see why they should do anything about the situation. The soldiers of course quickly and gently resolved the situation. The encounter with this one soldier made me even more proud of our services than I had been previously. I hope he did manage to spend a few days with his family before departing for his next assignment - a training course in Africa.
After the dressage was over, we made our way back to the arena and as the crowds had abated a little, decided to take a look at the shopping opportunities available. Well, you have to don’t you. A few mementoes were far too quickly acquired. Stock was running low and so there was far less options available than there would have been earlier in the day. The selling point was that certain items were only available at Olympic venues and so were even more special. I suppose it is one way to justify the rather high prices.
The atmosphere was much like the end of a long anticipated party when time has been called, but that no one really wants to finish. Slowly, we made our way through Greenwich’s historic colonnade, down the steps and toward the gates. When we approached the gates, there were a few small groups of civilian security guards chatting who were in complete contrast to the small guard of honour formed by the services personnel on each side of the gate. There were four soldiers on the left and four sailors on the right. They were relaxed and had obviously had a good day, but still felt it appropriate to once again highlight, in a very subtle manner, the differences between the military and civilian security services. What a lovely touch.
And then we were back into the normal hustle and bustle of London life as we made our way to the Thames. A food fair that might have tempted us earlier in the day was not sufficient temptation to draw us away from our homeward journey. The brightly clad Games Volunteers were very much in evidence showing us the way to go, including one who was using what looked like a tennis umpire’s chair to give himself a vantage point above the small groups of people leaving the venue.
Having bought our tickets, we took our place in the queue for the boat that would take us on the first phase of our homeward journey. Water travel is always enjoyable for me, but especially so in this case as the shared experience of visiting the Olympics continued just a little bit longer. After queuing in the damp atmosphere for about thirty minutes, at last our time to board came along. I managed to get a seat by the window and enjoyed our leisurely journey along the Thames. After a short time, we went under Tower Bridge and I had my own personal view of those huge Olympic rings that I had seen a couple of days ago in an American newspaper and we were back to normality.