STRAP yourself in, prepare for take-off. These final days leading up to the Cheltenham Festival are usually spent anticipating the unknown and uncertainty of what lies ahead. Over the past week, for a number of us in the racing community, it’s been a case of those same feelings, but resonating around something many thousand miles away from Prestbury Park.

The copy for this column is coming to you from row 15 of a Boeing 777-31H, poised for take-off on a runway just off Dubai International Airport’s Terminal 3. The cabin crew have taken their seats and, finally, it seems the starting tapes are in sight.

It’s been 10 days in the UAE that I certainly won’t be forgetting in a hurry. No doubt, it will be a similar story for the many international jockeys, trainers, owners, stable staff, bloodstock agents and racing body representatives, who have been stranded here since Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu effectively waged war on Iran last Saturday.

The idea of coming to Dubai for a handful of days to visit a close friend from home, and recharge the batteries before a week of Cotswolds madcappery, seemed a sound idea at the time. With the exception of getting a right schooling from jockey Andy Slattery when trying to lie up against him in a game of padel on day three, things were all going smoothly to start in the Dubai heat.

That picture changed dramatically on Saturday with reports of Iranian missiles being fired towards the region changed the outlook for everyone. Somehow, the Dubai racing authorities hardly blinked regarding whether their Super Saturday card would go ahead that evening. At a time when many were assuming the meeting would be cancelled, the Dubai Racing Club’s X account simply posted a picture of the Meydan straight with the caption: “We’re ready #SuperSaturday”. A case of nothing to worry about? Nonchalance? A show of strength? It was impossible to know.

I watched the first two races from my accommodation, weighing up whether I’d go racing at all with the ongoing concerns, but noticed that all seemed to be taking place as normal. Like the rest of the racing community there, I proceeded to hop in a cab out to Meydan and meet up with friends from home. Given the vastness of the racecourse, it’s impossible to sum up what the mood was like for everyone on site.

However, in an outdoor bar area alongside the parade ring where many of the European connections spent the evening, the atmosphere was mostly quite relaxed during the card. The fact that racing was still going ahead supported a theory that we were in a safer area than most in the city, and that view only strengthened when Sheikh Mohammed, ruler of Dubai and Godolphin supremo, arrived into the parade ring mid-meeting.

Ruler arriving

He was in remarkably jovial form. I mean, he even looked to briefly dance a celebratory jig, waving a stick in the winner’s enclosure, after his Rebel’s Romance plundered the Group 2 Dubai City Of Gold. The globetrotting gelding has raced at 18 different tracks across seven countries, yet he will never have come across a meeting like this in all his travels. None of us had.

Less than an hour before Rebel’s Romance’s success, several of us looking out towards the backstraight from the parade ring area could see missiles flying through the air. In fact, there was clear footage of an object being intercepted in the background as Silverstre De Sousa returned to the winner’s enclosure after a Group 3 winner three races before. It was surreal to witness first hand. The bangs continued in the distance into the evening. We raced on.

With all we know now, you’d have to seriously wonder about the merits of Super Saturday going ahead. Had one of those bangs gone off nearby when horses and riders were being loaded into the stalls, the consequences could have been catastrophic. At the time of writing, another Meydan fixture is still on course to race on Friday [yesterday].

Roughly an hour after watching Coolmore’s Title Role win the last, I was preparing to make the roughly 20-minute trip back to my accommodation. Those plans shifted, however, after we sighted two missiles coming from the direction of the backstraight over the grandstand. A sense of edginess we were probably all trying to block out to some degree only ramped up with videos being circulated of a fire near the entrance of Fairmont The Palm Hotel in Dubai (debris reportedly fell from the sky after an Iranian missile had been intercepted).

Within a matter of minutes, our phones began to blare with a siren. An emergency alert sent in Arabic and English from the government read: “Due to current situation, potential missile threats, seek immediate shelter in the closest secure building, and to steer away from windows, doors, and open areas. Await for further instructions.”

It didn’t take long for the crowd to retreat indoors to an area downstairs in the base of the grandstand. We were joined there by a large cohort of racecourse staff taking shelter, until many of us made our way to a carpark under the stand and gradually moved to the Meydan Hotel (attached to the course).

It was in the hotel that the vast majority of the racing community gathered for some time. Understandably, they kept the hotel bar busy for as long as it stayed open. With the alarm having sounded at roughly 12.30am, some trainers and owners had been in bed and came down to the lobby in shorts and t-shirts. Others staying in worse-affected parts of Dubai had quickly travelled to Meydan when the most intense Iranian attacks had kicked off earlier.

Mixed atmosphere

Sitting in the lobby area, there was a spectrum of emotions on view. Some people were noticeably relaxed, others - even some of the coolest of horsemen in racing - were beginning to box-walk. A much smaller number of guests were visibly shaken. In a time of major uncertainty outside, offers to share beds and couches in hotel rooms from Irish and British racing people with rooms on site were greatly appreciated. There was an awful lot of goodness, kindness and camaraderie amidst the madness.

As some others went back to bed - and after being assured by valet staff outside the hotel that there were no bangs in the area for the previous 45 minutes - I chanced going back to my accommodation. It was a relatively short trip that felt like an eternity - not helped by the nervy local taxi driver refusing to break 60kmph on a road he could have easily travelled at double. As we crept along the virtually empty triple-lane roads, I had flashbacks to what Richard Pitman said about that famous Grand National when he rode Crisp; the sense of dread that something he couldn’t see, but could feel, was going to nail him on the lonely run for home. Thankfully, there was no Red Rum in my sights. The line came in time when reaching the front door around 2.40am. Breathe. Text family at home. Sleep.

After the sound of various bangs well out in the distance through the night, it was 8am when I leapt awake to the sensation of my apartment walls shaking after another missile interception overhead. This one must have been very close by. Again, there was more activity in the early afternoon that Sunday, when two even louder, and closer, missiles were taken down by the busy - and highly-accurate - UAE military. It was a proper rattle felt around the building.

Immediate response

As the days went on, the missile and drone strike interceptions continued intermittently; some worse than others depending on where you were based, though there were clear signs of many people living completely normal lives in the middle of it all. I’ve tried to assure friends and family at home that the situation has looked much more dramatic on the news than is the reality for many. The real headwrecking concern for a lot of us has been the uncertainty of when we would get home. After all, The White House says this war could extend to eight weeks.

As airspace closures and flight cancellations continued, the communication from both Emirates and the Irish Embassy in the UAE has been fairly shambolic. The image portrayed by Irish authorities in our home media versus the actual reality for those of us on the ground was difficult to square. For example, on Wednesday, when the majority of flights were cancelled until Sunday at the earliest, my experience (and that of several others I’ve met) was that it was virtually impossible to speak to anyone within Emirates or the Embassy - despite ringing, emailing and trying live chat functions for hours. It has to be said, these are challenging times for all, but it was an utter mess.

Against that backdrop, a massive word of appreciation must go to the outstanding Eimer Hannon of Hannon Travel in Navan, who has worked wonders to get a large number of the racing and corporate community home. When I spoke to her on Wednesday night to somehow secure a seat on this Thursday flight, she told me she hadn’t slept since the previous Saturday - I can well believe that. If it hadn’t been for her, I and several other Irish people would not be sitting on this plane right now. A sincere thank you, Eimer.

Typing right now from the window seat, I can see two other planes lined up alongside us ready to take off. There is no sign of the fighter jets to escort us into airspace like others had mooted.

For now, it’s time to put in the AirPods and turn the music up loud. The image in my mind of entering those hallowed gates of Cheltenham Racecourse next Tuesday feels like the ultimate sight for sore eyes after this past week. Strap yourself in, prepare for take-off.