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Lagondas to the fore!  Long-distance rallies are strange affairs. Before and during them, attention to the smallest detail is vital. Car preparation, route plotting, spares and kit selection and a general thinking ahead are essential. A wrong turning or a parts failure, or arriving a few seconds too early or a few seconds too late at a control mean the difference between success and failure.
During the event itself everything is compressed. The seven days of the Rally as such have no meaning. The activity is continuous, punctuated only by brief interludes for food and sleep. Afterwards it all becomes a sort of general blur broken by a number of specific and vivid memories. The start was at Hampton Court, full of colour, cars, people and excitement. Down went the flag: we were away on the first leg to Portsmouth. Fortunately this did not count in the final results. My own and my friend and navigator John Herbert's rustiness were in strong evidence, but it was great practice and good fun. The rally proper started in Bilbao at the Guggenheim Museum. Here we met Macko Laqueur in the team car and Howard Bellm in a beautiful T7; three LG 45s together as Team-Lagonda. Against us were some tremendous cars; a 2500c Alfa, a 328 BMW, 105 Talbots along with several others.
Before the flag goes down the adrenalin is fierce and although the brain says "slow down - take time - calm down", the right foot pays scant attention. We are the second car off. Within a kilometre we are passed in the town centre of Bilbao by the Team car making a wonderful sound and sight overtaking us among local traffic. Game on. The first day was splendid: inland from the coast on absolutely stunning routes. Narrow, winding, car free roads up into the mountains: all sunlight, waterfalls and superb scenery. And all the while the clock is ticking. At the top of the mountain Howard needs petrol and has to turn back and despite the most determined driving loses lots of time. Macko Laqueur and we do well, only a few points lost on the day, both on gold standard. Evening sees us fettling, preparing the route and, thankfully, downing a few beers.
Later that afternoon the rain starts really heavily. My son has spent a long time fashioning new and elegant wing stays. I hear an ominous rattle from the off-side: the rear wing bracket has broken. At the speed of light the wing is removed and lashed on to the back of the car. The clock still ticks. Within five km the second rear wing bracket also breaks, work hardened in an identical place, and this wing joins the first behind us. The car sends up vast columns of spray, soaking us and drenching the maps - making navigation extraordinarily difficult for John. We just make the final control at Santiago on time. I spend the evening learning Spanish technical terms and metallurgical theory. Importantly I find out that "soldar" doesn't mean"solder" but thankfully means electric welding. The wings are back on. Misty dawn and a superb climb on a fast sweeping road through forests and dappled sunlight down to a little town, The Lagondas are running 1,2and 3 together. Howard Bellm drives straight on through the town. We miss the turn by 100 metres, Macko Laqueur doesn't. We turn and chase. There follows the fantastic run on narrow twisting roads up and down the mountains. The roads have been freshly tarred, and every time we get near to the team car we are sprayed with gravel and lumps of tar. Faster and faster, sweep after sweep, up and down the gearbox. We just make time at the control. The next day takes us into Portugal and a short break at the Croft vineyard sees the start of what turns out to be the most demanding section. Many pre and post-war cars have dropped out but the BMW and the Alfa are still there. We hurtle into a corner to find the team car stopped, brakes jammed full on. Our offers of help are declined and we learn a whole new vocabulary of Belgian expletives. Macko Laqueur joins us later - but his gold standard has gone. It appears that the repair was effected by a firm blow struck in the right spot by a passing local, thus avoiding a complete strip down of the braking mechanism. The afternoon sees me reverse into a "hidden" boulder and the self-same rear wing and stays that have been replaced are bent out of all recognition. The navigator and passers-by learn a whole new vocabulary of Welsh expletives. On into Portugal: down the Douro Valley through golden, misty, autumn vineyards with glimpses of the ever growing, steel-grey river down in the gorges. The mist thickens. A regularity section sees us pressing on in one direction and coming face to face with the other Lagonda appearing out of the thick mist pressing on in precisely the opposite direction. Hopefully one of us is correct.
The last morning has one test left, up to the old race circuit of Monsanto high above the City of Lisbon. We travel there in slow and stately convoy along the coast road and through the city, which really gets the adrenalin going. We have to drive the circuit as fast as possible: the fastest car will set the standard for others. Finally to Lisbon, the blue sea and the excitement of the finish. HERO as ever ensured a first class finale: the crowds, the noise, the location at Black Horse Square and the wonderfully warm welcome of the Portuguese underlined a sense of achievement. It was truly an occasion. Lagondas had come first and second in the pre-war section and moreover were the only two pre-war to finish this quite gruelling rally. The only regret was that the T7 and Howard Bellm were not there with us.
London to Lisbon also incorporated a Touring Rally which the participants found a great event in itself. Several pre-war cars completed it and we travelled back to Bilbao using many of the sections of their route down. These were outstandingly beautiful and it was great to have some time to enjoy and relish the magnificent countryside. I had never intended to go rallying. Richard Mann is the one to be blamed, or more accurately to be thanked. Reading his account of the Megeve-Simplon rally in the Lagonda Club magazine some four years ago, just after I had acquired my car, set my imagination off. If you had said then that we would be standing alongside the Team Car in Lisbon, let alone with the result, the experience, new friendships and a fantastic sense of achievement and satisfaction, I quite simply would not have believed it. Roy Williams Jan 2001 |
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The challenge set by HERO (the organisers), in an outstandingly well designed event, is to reach Lisbon by precisely the right route and not to be early or late at any control point. Moreover, in this event (unlike most others) the pre-war cars are given the same times as the post war with no allowances. So times will be very, very tight.
We are lying in first place and Macko Laqueur in second in the pre-war category as we go to the race circuit at Estoril. We screw up badly. On the circuit the red mist descends on me and our timing system goes to pot. We contrive to incur more penalties in about 15 minutes on the racetrack than we have all the rest of the rally. Gloom and despondency descend. John is virtually suicidal and a joint run through of the full repertory of Anglo-Saxon expletives is fortunately lost in the exhaust notes of cars still on the circuit. The results that evening show that we have just held first place.