Team Adventure
Hopkins and Walshe reveal the hidden wonders of the Lake District by touring it in the middle of winter in two hoofing great Eighties execs
Two Eighties execs tackle Britain’s finest roads at the perfect time.
The mountains of Cumbria contain some of Britain’s finest roads but you’d barely know it. For eight months of the year the lakeland byways are rammed with tourists in a depressing trail of caravans and for the other three, the peaks and valleys are blanketed in a foggy drizzle.
During the recent planning of a winter visit there, we saw little hope of viewing any of the scenery, but the trip was nevertheless necessary. We had received an invite from friend of PC, Gina Campbell – daughter of speed legend Donald. She would be in Coniston for a service to commemorate her father’s life – fifty years on from his dramatic passing at the wheel of Bluebird K7 – and both Danny and I were cordially invited to attend.
We would travel north from Cambridgeshire to one of our favourite inns on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales and then head for the Lakeside ceremony. But what to take? Walking to the window, Danny and I gazed across the car park of PC Towers to browse our small fleet of classics. Since this was winter, a good heater and the ability to cruise comfortably from Peterborough to Cumbria would be handy. And despite the good forecast, snow was always possible so front wheel drive would be sensible. Two cars stood out: Danny’s Rover 820 and my Citroën CX. Both base spec 2-litre executives of the same late Eighties vintage, they would provide us with an economical and comfortable ride north.
Would we tackle the mighty passes and lakeside roads of Cumbria? The passes of Honister, Kirkstone, Wrynose and the infamous Hardknott would be under water surely? Still you can’t beat a good weather app – we might get lucky.
We steered our Eighties execs into the evening thrum of the A1 and headed north. Three hours later, we pulled into the car park of the Fat Lamb country inn – located between the Lake District and Yorkshire Dales. It is a superb ‘classic-friendly’ base for exploring both regions. Owner Paul Bonsall owns Austin-healey 3000 and welcomes classic car clubs from all over Britain each year. As we arrived he eyed up our pair of saloons. ‘Bet your heaters are better than mine.’ Paul would be joining us for our trip to Coniston next morning. Although he seemed to like the clean lines of the Rover and the svelte CX, we suspect he’ll probably stick with his Healey.
Later Editor Hopkins and I were having an evening ‘planning meeting’ with a beer and, having glanced at the bright and sunny forecast on my mobile phone, we decided that after the Coniston ceremony, we might head for the hills after all – if the sun was shining.
Lakeside memorial
Up at 6am – it was still dark and frosty as we picked our way through the lanes of Cumbria, pulling onto the ferry at Bowness-on-windermere at 7am. Daylight appeared from a clear eastern sky as we crossed the lake aboard the diesel-powered ‘Mallard’. A Windermere ferry service has operated here for more than 500 years, with passengers (horses and carts originally) rowed across the lake, before all-conquering steam power arrived in the 19th century.
A bright morning sun flashed across the mountain peaks as we pulled up beside Coniston and stood on the shore of the calm waters in silence at the precise moment when, fifty years ago at 8.51am, Donald Campbell’s Bluebird K7 flipped at more than 300mph. The distant hum of a motor launch could be heard. On board, Gina was with her family, laying a wreath on the water. An hour later, we met up for breakfast at the Waterhead Hotel. ‘It’s such a tranquil place, isn’t it?’ said Gina. ‘My father loved it here and was well liked by the locals.’
‘Our pair of Eighties execs made light work of the Lakes country lanes’
Energised by our brush with history and, looking at the clear blue winter sky, we tapped into Donald’s sense of adventure. It was time Danny and I headed into the wilderness. Our friend and local resident Stephen Mcevoy joined us as our ‘support vehicle driver’ with his Volvo XC90. Using his car as a camera vehicle would allow us to get some good shots of the Rover and the Citroën on the move.
And move they certainly did. The pair made light work of the road between Coniston and Ambleside, but in quite different ways. Whilst the CX sedately floated over the potholes and undulations as if they were not there, Danny edged ahead as he enjoyed the Rover’s firmer handling. These roads lend themselves to either driving style and whatever kind of classic you drive, you can’t fail to enjoy the experience of negotiating your way through this breathtakingly beautiful countryside.
We turned off and headed for the Wrynose Pass. It is a single track road that begins just off the A593 west of Skelwith Bridge and it was predictably hair raising. You’ll need your wits about you when tackling it (whatever you drive) but what an experience and what a test!
After Wrynose we aimed for England’s steepest road, up to Hardknott Pass which rises to 1289 feet above sea level. On the way we were greeted stunning views and a mass of sweeps through a wide-open valley. The weather was perfect, the road was empty and we were in classic heaven. Danny whipped away at pace. I took a few bends with more speed – the CX was remarkably composed as the tarmac dipped and tumbled beneath its wheels. The wideboy Volvo support vehicle – as podgy as any modern SUV – fell behind.
We began the ascent. Hairpins coincided with impossibly steep tarmac and blind summits but both cars coped well, the Rover’s slim pillars and large screen helping a grinning Hopkins to attack the bends with vigour while behind, the CX’S effortless and steering made them just disappear. Once at the top, we realised we were missing somebody. The Volvo wheezed up behind us, steam pouring from underneath the bonnet.
The edge of heaven
Driver Stephen hopped out nonchalantly and muttered: ‘Not this again.’ A poor fitting radiator hose had come adrift. While he reattached it, Hopkins skipped across the road and into a nearby mountain stream to fill an empty water bottle. A few trips later, the stricken Volvo was repaired and refilled. We glanced back at the Rover and Citroën, in the winter sunshine. Beyond them is a truly epic view towards the Irish Sea to the Isle of Man, accompanied by the most perfect silence. It’s a feast for the senses. The wild valley beneath towering peaks of granite, breeze swirling around the heather that peeks out from the crumbling rock. Before us, in the foreground, one of England’s greatest roads stretching down to Dalegarth.