The Real Grand Tour
The PC team embarks on a 1700-mile journey around Britain with Footman James in a bid to find the ultimate classic destination.
JAMES WALSHE DAY THREE Haynes and Moretonhampstead
Aaah, the sweet sound of home. Waking to birdsong and distant bleats of sheep through the open window, I tug at the curtains to reveal my beautiful West Country homeland. Unfortunately, yesterday’s unbroken sunny skies have been smothered in a dreary mist as we amble over to the Haynes Museum – a place I had been taken to many times as a child. Back then, it was more of a large shed filled with gravel, with catering facilities consisting of a kettle and some paper cups. Me and my dad liked its haphazard arrangement and so I find myself wary of the sight of the immaculate new building.
However, if you want to know how best to spend £6m on a musty old shed full of cars, look no further than the impressive new building at Sparkford. The refurbishment of the Haynes Motor Museum has been superbly executed and transformed into a sparkling showcase for a hugely varied collection of 400 cars and bikes. The home-cooked food in the cafe is excellent, too and is served up in an airy environment where you and your fellow enthusiasts can sprawl yourself about the place, happily nattering about motors all day long.
We fall out of Haynes via the best gift shop of this trip and hit the Devonshire-bound A303, later rolling onto the B3212 – a thumpingly good rollercoaster route that rises high onto Dartmoor via Dunsford. Matt Tomkins gets into a brief disagreement with a cyclist, who has decided he must undertake the MG on a steep set of tight bends, at all costs.
A shaking fist appears from the window of the MG, followed by a parp of the horn. Devonshire road rage behind us, we arrive at the Moretonhampstead Motor Museum. Jaws drop to the floor. It’s a small but bursting-to-the-roof place – a refurbished bus depot run by enthusiast Frank Loft, who owns almost all of the cars in the collection. They aren’t the usual suspects either – there are some deeply intriguing old vehicles here. Every nook and cranny is full of memorabilia and motors in a display we reckon you’d need a whole day to explore properly.
Alas, we must turn our backs on the magic of Dartmoor and head for the M5. Then we’re thundering north through Somerset, over the Avonmouth Bridge and past Bristol. The Cotswold Hills begin to rise to the east and soon we’re skipping off the motorway and right into them, for our overnight stop at Charingworth Manor. Our pals from Footman James have turned up for drinks and we settle down for one of editor Hopkins’ legendary quizzes. Myself and team mates Richard Dredge, Rich March and Alex Singleton triumph. It was categorically NOT a fix, okay?
JAMES WALSHE DAY FOUR Elan Valley to Llanberis
Our noisy little convoy winds its way out of the rolling Gloucestershire hills, the Triumphs of Hopkins and George woofling in response to the bark of Tomkins’ MG and the shriek of Anderson’s Ami. The DS and I float along behind them all, my arm flopping outside my window as the drystone walls and hedgerows chirp to the sounds of the sunny English countryside. It never fails to amaze how this tiny country contains so much contrasting terrain. A few hours up the A44 and the hills become increasingly lofty and the landscape becomes more barren, signifying our entry into Wales. A new group of owners and their classics hook onto the back of our convoy as we snake around the Elan Valley’s Victorian-built reservoirs, punctuated with colossal dams. The lakes supply water to the West Midlands, via a 73-mile aquaduct and such was the precision of the design, no pumps were required. The perfect 1:2300 gradient means water takes three days to flow downwards to Birmingham. Victorians, eh.
There’s no such precision to our convoy that, having deposited photographer Howell in the wilderness so he could snap us as we passed by, completely forgets to pick him up afterwards. Fortunately, we return to collect him just before the rain begins. We expected a shower or two but it seems Wales wishes to give our convoy a good soaking. Bacchus in the roofless Sprite isn’t fazed. Up comes the hood on his raincoat and we’re off again. Good man!
The main event of the day begins at Machynlleth and we begin our ascent into Snowdonia. By now the rain is lashing sideways and making progress unnerving, as we romp through puddles and the mist hanging in the trees of Coed-y-brenin Forest Park, where white water rivers follow the snaking trail of the road. On the A4086, the group ascends to Pen-y-pass, taking refuge in the YHA cafe, perched on the mountainside.
Well-earned coffees for all, before we head back into the squally rain and begin a memorable plunge into the valley below towards Llanberis. Even if the craggy mountaintops were visible, they’d be largely irrelevant as the road itself is the focus here. Well surfaced and with countless satisfying twists, it really is one of the country’s greatest drives. Soon, we’ve punched out of the cloud and the final stretch of the day sees us romping across the top of North Wales on a much sunnier A55 – the long sweeping stretches of coastal dual carriageway are thankfully empty and the smiles remain all the way to our overnight stop at the Farington Lodge Hotel near Preston. Wales has delivered grins all-round and frankly, we expected nothing less.
MATT GEORGE DAY FIVE Lakeland Motor Museum to Fat Lamb
Up bright and early to happily clear skies, we are warmly welcomed by a delegation from the Wolseley Owners Club, who have come to meet us at Farington. Obligatory photographic duties completed, editor Hopkins leads us off, only to immediately attempt to exit the car park through the ‘IN’ entrance. Once the correct ‘OUT’ exit point is located, our convoy soon settles into a leisurely lope up the M6 towards the Lake District. After the mile-filled thrash that was Wales the day before,
thankfully Day Five has only one location on our official itinerary – the Lakeland Motor Museum.
And what a place – filled with heartland classics and bizarre left-field paraphernalia in equally delectable measure. After spending some time meeting the owners of the classics assembled in the car park, then enjoying a super lunch in the cafe, we dive in for the full tour. Who’d have thought that a selection of classic trolley jacks would invoke so much enthusiasm – cue plenty of jokes about ‘jacking off’ in the museum. After leaving Lakeland, we follow the winding route along the west bank of Lake Windermere to Ambleside, culminating in an epic climb up the Kirkstone Pass – with an altitude of 1489 feet, it is the Lake District’s highest pass that is open to motor traffic. And our assault on it really is epic… after stopping for a breather halfway through our ascent, Tomkins utters the words: ‘The Frogeye is on fire. The Frogeye is ON FIRE!’
Never have so many men reached for so many fire extinguishers so quickly. Upon seeing that Tomkins is already under the bonnet and addressing the situation, snapper Howell rejects the extinguisher Danny is thrusting at him, instead demanding: ‘My camera. My camera!’ It turns out that the problem is again electrical system-related. The shut-off points on the voltage regulator have welded themselves shut, meaning that the dynamo is trying to act as a motor, taking a feed from the battery rather than charging it. Restricted by the fan belt, the dynamo has got hotter and hotter until it could take no more and burst into flames, taking out the wiring between itself and the voltage regulator, and the voltage regulator itself, in the process. Crisis averted – always carry a fire extinguisher.
With the Frogeye now running without a charging system, we press on to our evening halt at the Fat Lamb Country Inn at Ravenstonedale. Owner Paul Bonsall is a classic car nut and even has a four-post ramp in his shed. Which is handy, as the exhaust on Tomkins’ MG is again intent on falling to pieces. Matt takes advantage of the MIG welder and sorts the issue for once and for all, before indulging in a celebratory Bishop’s Finger or three. To end the day, readers turn out to meet us for a ‘Noggin & Natter’ event in the car park. Day Five: job done.
‘Tomkins utters the words: The Frogeye is on fire. It is ON FIRE!’’
MATT TOMKINS DAY SIX The Falkirk Wheel, the Kelpies and the Bo’ness Revival
This area of Scotland has loads to offer, so we combine three locations in one locality. First stop of the day is the Falkirk wheel, an impressive feat of turn-of-the-millennium engineering that replaced the series of 11 locks to transport boats 35 metres vertically between the Forth and Clyde canals and the Union canal above them. Greeting us is another group of enthusiastic classic owners – some local and some not so. Jim Mcgill had just bought a Fiat Tempra in London and diverted to come and see us en route back to Ireland. This sort of enthusiasm is typical of the readers we meet on the tour and really makes the trip worthwhile.
From here we head in convoy to the Kelpies – a pair of 300-tonne, 30-metre-tall horse’s heads, representing mythical horses possessing the strength analogous with the heavy horses which transformed the Scottish landscape. It’s an impressive sight with an interesting story, but as a classic destination is somewhat let down by the management’s apparent lack of interest in our tour.
To take the photo you see in the magazine, over 30 classic owners had to pay £3 to park and no one (apart from a couple of friendly tour guides) is available to receive the shortlisting certificate. A real shame.
Next, we head east to Bo’ness and the site of the Bo’ness Hill Climb – Scotland’s oldest motorsport venue. Each year on the first weekend in September the hill comes alive with the sounds and smells which made it a regular haunt for some of the biggest names in British motorsport in its heyday – certainly worth a visit if you’re in the area while the event is on. We get in a sneaky blatt up the hill… this is another one for the bucket list. As we head to the hotel in Alnwick, we wave goodbye to James Jefferson who needs to return home a day early. He’s now in Theo’s Mercedes-benz 190, and Theo has taken control of the Footman James van so it can finish the tour. But 30 minutes later the phone rings. ‘It’s broken down!’ says James. ‘It’s as if it’s run out of fuel’. Danny and I divert and head to the A68 to help, arriving with two cans of diesel. It fires up, hits the main road to the petrol station… then dies. It’s out with the tow rope and the venerable MGB is pressed into action, towing the wounded soldier to receive a full tank of Super Diesel. We press on. It’s perfectly happy at idle or down hills but the 190 loses all power ascending. It’s back out with the tow rope and once again we prove the torque of BMC’S 1800cc B-series. Some 52 slow and steady miles later, we roll into the White Swan Hotel, Alnwick. In the morning, Theo quickly diagnoses the issue as an air leak from an aftermarket fuel filter. This removed, reliability is restored. It’s amazing how simple these things become when you’re refreshed.