Arena: 3 Aintree: The high drama of being there: Sue Montgomery explains the national interest in the special atmosphere that pervades Aintree racecourse

RACING is rare among spectator sports in that the spectator often happily pays to watch something he will not be able to see. At some courses, such as Aintree, the action extends so far into the distance that it is invisible even through binoculars.

The grandstands there look directly over the Chair and the water jump but the Canal Turn, the furthest part of the course, is a mile away. Unlike those who watch sports in other large-scale venues - such as motor racing fans, who see the drivers come round again and again, or followers of golf, who can take a gentle stroll to keep up with play - the Grand National crowds get just two swift blasts of bright colour, galloping hooves and shouting. Then it is all over until next year.

So why will more than 55,000 people pay up to pounds 55 to be there next Saturday? The answer is in the question. Being there. Liverpool may not have the county glamour or the beautiful setting of Cheltenham, but its history is far greater, and for many the challenge of four and a half miles and 30 fences around Aintree is the essence of steeplechasing. The Grand National has the knack of producing drama every year.

The part of the course away from the grandstand, or 'in the country', was not fully railed until after the Second World War. When the race was first run in 1839, Aintree was not a dingy suburb of a problem city, but flat, open countryside. The course was very different then, too, and it included a fearsome stone wall and stretches of ploughed land. In sight of the grandstand it was railed and turfed, and the obstacles were specially built, but off in the distance the horses raced with the route marked by flags. The name of the first winner - Lottery - was perhaps an omen.

The place holds such a significance in so many hearts that early in the morning people can often be seen making pilgrimages to it. They come to set foot in the places where history has been made. Places such as the heart-stoppingly huge Chair, a fearsome 5ft 2in obstacle preceded by a 6ft-wide, 4ft- deep ditch. And the sixth - Becher's Brook - named after the bold eponymous Captain who twice fell into the landing side during the first running of the race.

The infamous brook and ditch are now filled in, the most controversial of the changes made five years ago in deference to calls to make the course safer. Becher's remains a drop fence, but now the landing side is flat, so horses do not have to scramble up rising ground. Nevertheless, it still commands enormous respect. There remains the risk, which generates the spectacle, but the drop into the ditch which occasionally invoked the ultimate penalty for a horse's mistake, has gone.

The Canal Turn, where the course swings 90 degrees to the left, has ended many hopes. More than one horse has failed to change direction and gone straight into the Leeds-Liverpool canal. It is not just the horses' shortcomings that cost races, however. In 1919 Tommy Williams was going well on All White, up with the eventual winner, when he had to pull up, get off his mount and be sick.

At the crack of dawn on National morning, as the big-race runners come out of their stables to test the springy turf, 'Breakfast at Aintree' is held. What used to be a magnificent secret for a few has now become very organised and involves a commentator introducing the horses and interviewing the hopefuls' connections.

Over the years Aintree has hosted many other events. Stirling Moss and Juan Manuel Fangio used to fight grand prix duels on the infield's motor-racing circuit - now used for club meetings - and during the war US forces were billeted in the grandstands.

Aintree went through some depressing times when its ownership, but since Seagram took over sponsorship (the Grand National is now run under the banner of one of its subsidiaries, Martell) 10 years ago, the place has been revitalised. The draughty, uncomfortable monstrosities that were built as grandstands at the turn of the century have been pulled down and replaced with pounds 3m-worth of comfort. The improvements include two splendid new permanent stands as well as other temporary structures scattered at strategic points. Flowers, paint, tented villaging, massive TV screens, and, this year, hi-tech starting equipment have all made a visit to the course more pleasurable.

The future of the Grand National is as secure as money can make it, but the threat of disruption from the animal rights lobby is real. The size of the place makes it all but impossible to make entirely secure, and the race, though part of the country's sporting fabric, would find it hard to survive a repeat of last year's fiasco.

(Photograph omitted)