The Mt Coot-tha hillclimb caught me off guard the first time I went. I had expected something formal, fenced off, the way most motorsport events manage themselves — but this was nothing like that. People brought their kids, set up camp chairs on the embankment, and just watched machinery go past at close enough range to feel the wind shift.
That intimacy is what makes it worth photographing. You are not separated from the action by two hundred metres of gravel trap. You are standing metres from the apex of a corner watching a fifty-year-old Austin go sideways with a grinning man at the wheel.
On panning shots: Motorsport teaches you panning the hard way, which is to say by throwing away hundreds of blurry frames until something clicks. The trick is not in your hands — it is in your feet. Plant yourself, pick your focus point, track the car before you fire, and follow through after. The lens is just along for the ride.
On reading the course: I spent the first half of the day walking the circuit before I raised the camera. Where was the light best? Where did the road camber throw the vehicles into drama? Where would a rider naturally push the limits? The photographs are better for that reconnaissance. You cannot photograph a place you have not first understood as a place.
On the variety: One of the things I love about events like this is the democratic chaos of the entry list. Vintage motorcycles, modern supermoto, hand-built buggies, classic sedans from the 1960s — they all share the same strip of bitumen. A black Cobra replica growling away from the start line looks completely different from a scooter kid pulling a wheelie for the crowd, and yet they belong in the same album.
On crowd and context: The spectators are as much a part of the story as the vehicles. A marshal in a yellow vest watching a car depart, a father lifting his child for a better view, the scattered applause after a particularly brave corner — these are the photographs that make the racing images mean something. Context is not a distraction from the action. It is the action.
I left with a sore neck from craning around corners and a memory card full of frames I was genuinely excited to look at. That is about as good as a day’s work gets.