The Palio- world’s most exciting race

For a fourth time, the horses began lining up behind the thick rope. The crowd roared again as the horses’ jockeys tried to calm their mounts and maneuver for position. All of a sudden, the crowd became silent. A very eerie silence fell upon the entire Campo. For about three seconds, not one of the 30,000 or so spectators made any sound whatsoever. I could almost hear myself breathing.

The next thing that I heard was the most deafening roar that I’ve ever heard…and they were off!

The throng roared as the horses streaked around the track…whips raised and lowered onto the horses, dust flying all over and a blur of colors and movement bearing down upon my turn, all after just a few seconds. I could see them bunched together running furiously straight for me. I really hadn’t thought about this part. The idea of taking pictures of ten semi-controlled horses, racing at breakneck speed, whipped by the jockeys to run even faster bearing down upon me! I was standing on the track-on the sand, at their level, without any protection and in about five seconds, they’d be just thirty feet from me!

I decided, in a one second thought process that four other photographers may have been here before and are here now. Although, I did notice that they put themselves into a less exposed place whereas I was straight in line for a collision…but I had the best angle. I also decided that neither the horses or riders didn’t want to crash into the stands, thus they wouldn’t crash into me.

They were upon me and past me in the blink of an eye and I was still alive! I did notice, when shooting that my field of vision was severely limited and that was dangerous. Just as they passed by me, the crowd to my right let out a great roar, then groaned, almost at

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the same time. I took my eye from the viewfinder just in time to see a jockey’s leg go over the railing and into the stands, causing a lot of commotion. Paramedics appeared from somewhere within seconds. Before I knew it, only about fifteen seconds later, the horses were coming again. They were a bit more strung out and the rider-less horse was in about third place. They raced by me closer than the first time and splattered sand all over me and the people in the stands behind me.

In just a few seconds more, they roared past me, in a blur of flesh and color, whipping their mounts furiously as they headed into the home stretch to my left. I, too, was very busy trying to take what pictures I could. After the race, I figured that I had about two-three seconds to shoot as they rounded the curve.

Just a few seconds after passing me for the third time, the crowd at the finish line roared and soon a chant started; ‘Ugo, Ugo, Ugo’ (Hugo). I couldn’t tell which contrada won the race from where I was standing, but by the chant, it seemed as if a jockey with the name ‘Ugo’ won.

I gathered my gear and headed for the victorious crowd to continue photographing.