The piercing sound of the four strokes took over the airwaves as the smell of petrol and oil filled the air. The ocean was within sight, yet the sound of waves crashing against the coast of Phillip Island was muffled by screaming engines of the two-wheeled variety.

The weather was wreaking havoc as rain from the previous two days had turned the dirt into a thick slippery sludge. The wind was forcing everyone off the track and ducking for cover as hours spent of manufacturing hair styles threatened to be lost in a gust.

Wet weather slicks were a necessity as the slightest over-commitment walking through the carpark, or around the track, would cause you to lose your balance - and a weekend's preparation would be spoilt.

All these challenges were met as I stepped out of the car and onto the glassy ground of the paddock-cum-parking lot at the 2010 Iveco Australian Moto GP.

Slowly walking towards the Gardner Straight, making sure not to lose my front end, I was overwhelmed by the number of people braving the difficult weather to watch this world-class event.

Most of them who were shuffling along were covered in yellow with a smattering of red clearly visible throughout the throng. There was enough rouge to make you realise Casey Stoner's popularity was slowly catching the Valentino Rossi juggernaut, but even at his home event the Australian's supporters were still outnumbered.

It was truly a sensory overload as I entered the press box that overlooks the Gardner Straight and its namesake's grandstand. As this was my first major sporting event as a journalist, I was completely unprepared for the size and magnitude of the media contingent.

I was utterly overawed by what I was seeing and hearing as I picked up semblances of French, Italian, Spanish, Japanese and a slight hint of a British accent.

After attempting to take this spectacle in my stride I headed out the back of the press box and into the paddock.

If I thought I was overawed before, I was certainly in a state of shock as Rossi, the nine-time world champion, walked past me, deep in conversation with his head mechanic Jeremy Burgess. The champ glanced at me briefly but there didn't seem to be a flicker of recognition.

I put aside my disappointment and, in an attempt to pull myself back to reality, headed out to the Lukey Heights Grandstand where I was almost blown away by the fierce wind that was sweeping around the back of the circuit.

I can only imagine how the riders dealt with the wind as they exited Siberia before rounding turn eight and heading into Lukey.

One thing I know for sure is how eternally grateful I was for the kindness and generosity of the average Moto GP fan down at Phillip Island. Foolishly I left my coat back at the Media Centre, a rookie mistake in its purest form. Fortunately a middle-aged gentlemen took pity on my stupidity and lent me his jacket for the time I was in his presence.

Before leaving I thanked him profusely for his generosity to which he replied, "We like to look after our own on the Island." Thankfully he hadn't noticed my press pass and realised what an imposter I was.

This chance meeting reinforced the impression that you really had to get out of the paddock and the corporate areas if you wanted to meet the true diehard fans, and get a real taste of the race.

They are the ones that brave the vast array of elements that Mother Nature has to throw at them. And today She threw plenty. Most of them had come prepared, though - unlike me - and wore a thick coat, beanie and gloves to shield them from the Arctic blasts.

If you are smart enough to plan ahead, and most of the race goers I met down at Lukey Heights were, then you take your favourite beverage to keep you warm. For the majority it was tea and coffee but I was sure I detected a hint of Bourbon on my new friend's breath.

As I made my way back to the press box I had to remind myself that the main event was still to come. I had been so captivated and consumed by the sideshows of the day that I had, in fact, become side tracked.

This, I thought, was quite refreshing as it helped me realise that there was clearly a lot more to the Australian GP than just the racing.

As much as I enjoyed marvelling at past champions such as Mick Doohan and Wayne Gardner, and watching the roulettes fly above, the piece de resistance was still the race in the premier class.

Watching Casey Stoner lead from start to finish passing the Media Centre at close to 320km was phenomenal. The battle between Valentino Rossi and Nicky Hayden for third position was riveting, with crowd favourite Rossi beating the Kentucky Kid to the line by one hundredth of a second.

Excitement was everywhere with Rossi repeating his newfound aggression that he has showed in past two races to come from ninth to the third in the space of 10 laps. This time, however, he avoided nudging handlebars with teammate Lorenzo and instead scraped paintwork with his future teammate Hayden.

The only blight on a day that was otherwise a great staging of a world-class sporting event was the actions of Moto 2 rider Wayne Maxwell. Maxwell was fined 5,000€ for striking Spanish rider Hector Faubel after the two collided and subsequently crashed.

Although Maxwell apologised immediately after the event, describing his actions as "unreasonable and stupid", the Federation of Internationale De Motocyclisme still imposed the penalty sighting a breach in the "interest of the sport."

This incident was quickly forgotten, however, as fans rushed the track as soon as the chequered flag was waved signalling Stoner's fourth consecutive win at the island. Their enthusiasm was shared by one cadet reporter who had arrived at the circuit early Sunday morning as a journalist but left as a diehard fan.