TEAM ADVENTURE
James takes a break from the old routine to join our friends in the north
WORDS & PICTURES JAMES WALSHE
Explaining the less glamorous side of motoring journalism is really quite futile. The endless hours in front of a computer screen each month – researching, planning, scheduling and, unseen to colleagues or the outside world, filling in gaps and mopping up critical little tasks so essential to the magazine – is irrelevant. Just when we’re ready to begin the more satisfying process of writing, we’re dragged into dreary meetings (albeit necessary) about software updates and workflows. And you would be forgiven for not being in the least bit interested in any of that… because we’re certainly not!
We are, however, happy to be chained to the desk for 95 percent of the month if it means that we get to spend the other five percent standing on a blustery hilltop with fellow car enthusiasts about to hit the road for a day in the countryside. Sliding into the cockpit and turning the key – the joyful cacophony of everyone’s engine simultaneously bursting into life. A rumbling Stag, the fizz from an XR3i tailpipe and the mad jangling sound of a Fiat 500, forming a uniquely harmonious soundtrack? That’s what we’re talking about here. And today is one of those days. I’ve escaped the office, I’m in the north of England and we’re off for a drive.
Plan of action
Usually, when the PC team hits the road, we take the form of a somewhat disorganised ramble of twits with a vague plan. Indeed, you’ll be reading about that very type of road trip in next month’s edition of Practical Classics, when the team heads for Cornwall on our annual winter road trip. But today, here in Cumbria, we’re in the hands of Paul Bonsall for what is a much more coordinated kind of adventure. He is one of many enthusiasts in the UK who specialises in providing a service to we classic car owners – a well-structured, worry-free ride out to beautiful places among England’s rolling hills around his pub, the Fat Lamb Country Inn. Did I say pub? Yes, I did. Which means – at least this time of year – an open fire, ale and an extremely comfortable bed for the night.
We’ve visited the Fat Lamb many times but, on this occasion, I’ve decided to join Paul on one of his famous organised tours of the area and he has indeed promised me an ale and seat beside that fire afterwards. There’s an extra treat in store midway through the journey, which is a visit to Bolton Steam Museum. I’m no steam buff, admittedly, but I grew up completely captivated by one Frederick Travis Dibnah – the Bolton-born engineering genius, steeplejack and TV star – although in his own more humble words, and with finely-tuned Lancashire accent: ‘I'm just a backstreet mechanic, really’. The museum celebrates an industry which, at its peak, saw Lancashire producing more than half of the world’s cotton. Fred’s hometown alone had 120 working cotton mills so, for the very first time in my life, I’ll get a chance to get a taste for the things that drove Fred’s unwavering and infectious enthusiasm.
Orderly queue
We assemble in the car park of the Fat Lamb, among cars of all shapes and sizes. My own transport for the day lurks in the background. I’ve borrowed Craig Cheetham’s second-generation Mondeo to see how it shapes up a quarter of a century after it was launched. It was also a very comfortable way of getting to Cumbria from PC HQ in Cambridgeshire, but I’m too ashamed to mention this to Steve Ormerod, who has arrived in his ’66 Austin-Healey 3000… roof down. ‘It’s all about wearing the right clothing!’ He’s fearless, having driven the car to all four corners of the nation, and across the Channel on more than one occasion. Thankfully, I’m not alone in feeling a little guilty about having a roof and a fierce heater. Finn Morriss has driven over from Kendal in his 1993 Volvo 245, which predictably serves as his daily driver, while Dougie Wilson has come down from Dunfermline in his late-Nineties Bentley Turbo R. ‘She’s big, but she’s still good enough for these country roads! And the heating is great!’
Having provided menu instructions to his excellent chef at the pub, Paul takes the lead in his 1998 Jaguar XJ8 and is followed closely by David Nugent in a stunning 1974 XJ12. He’s driven here from Surrey but isn’t expecting the economy to improve, reckoning ‘between 9 and 12mpg will be satisfactory’. I suggest ‘diabolical’ is a better description but, there you go. Paul had warned me you get all sorts turning up at these events – in David’s case, he simply wanted to get out of crowded southeast England ‘and to hell with the fuel economy!’
With grins behind every wheel, the convoy heads through the Yorkshire Dales National Park under bright wintry sunshine, past the majestic Ribblehead Viaduct, then wiggles southwest into one of Britain’s best kept secrets. The Forest of Bowland sits mostly in Lancashire, trickling into a small part of North Yorkshire, and despite its name, is mostly heather and blanket bog. Ah yes… and an outstanding network of dreamy roads scattered across this vast moorland.
I wince every time I see Steve Goddard’s cherished Triumph GT6 splosh through a muddy puddle and tell him so as we pull into a layby south of Bentham. He bought the car new from a Leicestershire main dealer in 1973 and after a serving for a while as a daily driver for his young family, he and his wife have taken the car all over Europe. ‘It’s fine! I’ve driven it in worse conditions than this! It has survived this long – and without the need for any welding!’ I glance at my own transportation, remembering just how bad Ford’s rustproofing was in the late Nineties.
B-road belters
Thankfully the second-generation Mondeo was a little better at resisting corrosion than its predecessor, but it did retain Richard Parry-Jones’s brilliant chassis. That means Ford’s characteristic sharpness and, while not the hottest ST version, this 2.5-litre V6 ‘Zetec S’ zings along with a pleasingly grunting soundtrack. It’s an estate, too – my favourite incarnation. Something about a fast estate, isn’t there?
That said, the Forest of Bowland is MX-5 country. All three of the examples here are perfectly proportioned for the narrow, lumpy roads and tight bends, each providing flawless, unequalled joy to their pilots. All with the added benefit of refinements such as a heater and a roof that doesn’t flap about or leak. It really was a classic straight out of the box – while so many car makers abandon the segment, long may it reign supreme. Alan Cooper says of his 2015 model that he’ll never sell. ‘The day I let it go is the day I can’t get into it!’ We arrive at Bolton Steam Museum to be greeted by a group of volunteers who enthusiastically show us around the array of beautifully preserved machines. They are truly enormous – 150 tonne monsters with flywheels 30 feet in diameter. It’s hard not to stand there and appreciate their importance in the nation’s extraordinary industrial history and we’re thankful to those who continue to celebrate it.
As for Fred Dibnah, his own place in the region’s history is just as assured. Those of a certain age will recall how a 1978 debut on a BBC news report (he was repairing Bolton Town Hall) captivated audiences. Viewers loved watching him scaling and demolishing the very chimneys built to serve a 19th century boomtown that put Bolton at the centre of the industrial revolution. Fred died in 2004 at the unspeakably young age of 66 and is remembered with a bronze statue in the town.
Last leg
Having said a warm thank you to our hosts at the museum, we head out of town and we’re soon scaling the Trough of Bowland, a high pass that leads us to the Jubilee Tower and a blockbuster sight. The sun has begun its late afternoon tumble, and we get unbroken views to a sparkling Irish sea. Straight ahead of us, the Isle of Man peeps above the horizon, while to the northwest we can see the peaks of the southern Lake District and to the far southwest, the mountains of Snowdonia. Closer, and silhouetted in the low sun, is the Blackpool skyline – Tower clearly visible. Winter sun lighting up the grins of those standing beside me, it’s a moment that marks the closing stages of a journey to places none of us have seen before, on roads we didn’t know existed.
That night we tuck into a superb homecooked meal, after which Paul and I host a quiz. Later, as everyone heads for the bar, I wander outside into the dark and pad through a light dusting of snow to look at the cars, admiring the perfect neatness of the MG TF and the Scimitar’s uniquely handsome shape. Clutching my beer, I turn back and look through the window at the owners, who are by now enjoying a pint around the fire, and I smile contentedly, reminded that outside of the unavoidable daily routine, there is a place for us all to escape. This is ours – and it’s yours, too.
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