Syd Stelvio - London to Lisbon Day 9
Sobrado to Vidago – 339km
It feels incredible to report that the rally has now found its way to Portugal, the final country on our travels across Europe. It only feels like yesterday that the cars crossed into Spain, and yet here we are, with just two days to go.
After all of the anticipation, Spain has flashed by in the click of a trip meter, but before we bid farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies, as the old song goes, there was another day of fun in the sun in Españita.
I say sun, we actually woke to an overcast sky for the first time on the trip and rain clouds out in the Atlantic, rain clouds that had swooped in on Gunther Smetana and Fanny Zara, who’s Porsche 911 had been suffering ignition issues that the crew had determined were terminal, and so they had retired the car before the day began.
There had been another mechanical retirement overnight as well, but not for a competitor, this time it was just some berk from HERO HQ, Patrick Burke as it happens who had joined up with the rally for some morale support and as an extra pair of hands and had now added an extra headache as his Frazer Nash needed recovering. Never one to shy away from getting involved though, Patrick is now riding with hospitality as chief coffee and cake taster, a risky occupation he takes very seriously.
Back to the serious business of rallying then, and the day would include three lengthy regularities before we left Spain, occurring in increasingly mountainous terrain. The first took place after a shortish hop inland, and by the time the first cars were into the reg the cloud and morning mist had burnt off entirely, and we were reunited with the sunshine that has been ever present since the flag dropped at Brooklands.
The reg rolled along through a mixture of arable land and woodland, following the gentle contours of the topography as the cars passed the flaking bark of Eucalyptus forests and the carefully planted fields of larger farms and smallholdings, beginning to display the green shoots of fresh crops. Not that anyone would have noticed, not even our resident farmers, Dick and Harry Baines, who only had eyes on having a better day than Graham Platts and Neil Ripley, who they bested by 2 seconds over the first act of the day. I daresay the Baines’ barely even had time to pass opinion on the Hórreo’s, the traditional grain stores unique to Galicia that were commonplace on the roadside throughout the day. They weren’t the only ones who were focussed though, as Dave Maryon and Henry Carr had also only dropped 2 seconds in the third placed MG, but this was matched by the Bowsers, one of their rivals for the third spot on the podium.
The second regularity of the day would begin in similar terrain to the first, as the scent of Salvias hung thick in the air. The road climbed in altitude quickly, and would finish high in the hills, amongst the wind turbines that seem to be as common as the Galician Hórreo’s. Again, the timekeeper couldn’t claim much from the top five, but there were problems elsewhere. The Antipodean’s in the Escort had a recurrence of their half shaft issues, but this time the Pete’s replaced the part entirely, as they continue their testing and preparation for the 2028 Peking to Paris.
After dropping out of the sky and leaving the turbines behind, a brisk run down the highway followed, including crossing some of Spain’s larger viaducts. There were some steep climbs, but these were followed by lengthy descents where even the most tortoise like of cars could build up a head of steam. This included the oldest car on the event, the 1929 Chrysler Roadster, crewed by Pieck van Hoven and Thea van Gelderen. Pieck would be the first to admit he is no demon of speed, but even they were shifting down the slopes, with Pieck’s trademark mane of white hair juddering in the breeze as though he had stuffed his fingers into the mains, a study in the visceral experience of driving a vintage motor car.
The final reg of day nine was an extensive one, at 27km long, though I’m told there is longer to come. It wound its way up the Montes de Piornedo, under the gaze of the peak of Alto de Coutada and offering views across valleys that were a mix of dense green forest, and swathes of piste stripped bare by wildfires. Things were heating up for the cars as well, and in some cases boiling over, such as the Lancia Beta Coupe of Keegan Horton and Morgan Hill, for whom the overheating is perhaps something a bit more serious, as they needed recovering to the end of the day.
Elsewhere Tom Moloney and Martyn Reeves were perhaps wishing that instead of baking in the sun in a classic car, they were sipping cocktails on golden shores. Either way they wrong slotted up a hairpin right and when reversing back towards the route managed to get the Triumph Stag beached, but not quite the beach of their dreams. Worse still, the only buxom lifeguards in the vicinity were our sweep crews, the daydream fast becoming a nightmare.
At the close of play the tit-for-tat scrap at the top of the table had flipped again in the favour of the silver Porsche, crewed by the Baines’, with a marginal advantage of 2 seconds over second. Indeed, the positions amongst the top five had held fast, with just 11 seconds separating the three crews vying for the final podium position. The table is tight then, as the rally begins its final act with just two days to go, as we leave Spain behind. Farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain, but we hope, very soon, we shall see you again.
Syd.