Land Rover going back to its roots
Mark Walton takes our Discovery Sport green laning along with his 1950 Series I
What’s the appeal of off-roading? I have no idea. It feels instinctive, but my nomadic ancestors weren’t exactly cruising round the savannah on 20-inch alloys, so I can’t claim it’s primeval. It feels liberating, so maybe it’s to do with escaping modern life? Turning off that crowded main road, with its speed cameras and warning signs, to strike out across a field… No, wait! NOT A FIELD!
I didn’t mean that. I’m NOT TRESPASSING.
Off-roading has become controversial. Unless you own a Scottish shooting estate, there aren’t many places left in the UK to venture off tarmac. The last public tracks, open to the likes of you and me, are green lanes, and even those have come under fire recently. A high-profile case in the Lake District last year tried to shut down a couple of green lanes to 4x4s. The campaigners lost, but their cause was plastered all over the media.
The 4x4 drivers realised their hobby was under threat a long time ago and they got organised. This year marks the 25th anniversary of the Green Lane Association, or GLASS. GLASS promotes responsible off-road driving and it spends most of its members’ cash on restoring and maintaining green lanes. GLASS doesn’t even like the term ‘off-road’. ‘Green lanes are unsurfaced public roads that were never tarmacked,’ explains Lauren Eaton of GLASS. ‘They retain the same status of any legal road in the country. If people think it’s off-road, they immediately think the rules don’t apply. But they do.’
Lauren’s point is borne out by looking at old maps. One of the resources available when you join GLASS is Trailwise2, the organisation’s online mapping tool that shows every green lane in the UK, along with notes and advice from other members. You can overlay the routes on the latest ⊲
Ordnance Survey maps, but you can also choose historical maps, dating back to 1885. Sure enough, the green lanes were always there, often shown as roads.
After 120 years of tarmacking, most green lanes are very short these days. The campaign in the Lakes surrounded a 1.5-mile track in Little Langdale, and a 0.3-mile lane near Coniston. Which seems crazy to me – think of the traffic visiting the national park every year, millions of cars clogging the roads. If you’re worried about the Lakes being ruined, all that angst about a few 4x4s on a 500-metre stretch of track seems a bit disproportionate.
Oh well, it’s time for me to have a go. After joining GLASS and spending hours absorbed in Trailwise2, I find some lanes in nearby Leicestershire. Because the lanes are so short, you’re really looking for a route that can link a series of gravel tracks together, with lots of narrow B-road in between. Strictly speaking it should be called ‘back laning’.
It’s a stunning day, and my wife Melissa joins us with our Series 1, roof down, windscreen folded. I’ve owned this car for two years and I love it. It’s an early 80-inch, exported to Australia in 1950. When its working life ended it was parked in a barn, where it stayed for 35 years. It was then dragged out, stuck on eBay and bought by a Belgian collector, who shipped it back to Europe and mechanically restored it, keeping its 70-year-old patina. It eventually found its way home in stunningly original condition.
Compared to the Series 1, the Discovery Sport looks like a spaceship, and of course it can’t compete on character – or interior ambience – on a day like today. Still, there’s something about Land Rovers, old and new: they always look at home on a dirt road.
Even after triple-checking the map, there’s something unnerving the first time you open a farmer’s gate and drive into a field. I keep telling myself, ‘It’s a public road, a public road!’ But I have no need to worry – we quickly come across a couple of dog walkers and then the farmer himself, in a tractor. I’m half expecting a showdown, but everyone just waves.
There’s something about Land Rovers, old and new: they always look at home on a dirt road
The tracks make their way across idyllic, undulating countryside, and we roll along at 10mph. Apart from some deep potholes, the lanes are hard-packed and smooth at this time of year, before winter gets going, posing no challenge at all to the crude all-wheel-drive of the Series 1 or the supercomputer 4x4 of the Disco. There are a couple of times when extra ground clearance would have been nice on the Discovery Sport, but with no air suspension option, raising the ride height isn’t possible. Never mind, with a bit of careful maneouvreing we avoid scraping any plastic.
Much more fun are the fords, which definitely add a feeling of adventure. Again, I’m not sure which bit of my brain this is all appealing to, but I glow with satisfaction when I drive the Series 1 through the water. The Discovery just shrugs and follows, wondering what the fuss is about.
At these speeds and in these conditions, neither car feels stretched by these green lanes, but the instinctive pleasure is undeniable. Ironically, the chasm in capability between them – that 70-year age difference – is mostly felt when we turn back on the tarmac. My wife takes the Discovery and is home in 30 minutes; meanwhile the Series 1 grinds home at 40mph and by the time I get back I’m almost deaf from wind noise.