Bentley offers a very unusual holiday – take its entire range of cars around a frozen lake in Finland. Sideways. In Power On Ice. Consider us interested.
The exhaust of the Bentley Continental Supersports crackles as I lift off the gas. The substantial weight of the car lurches forward and I use the extra grip from the front tyres to flick the nose towards the corner. The tyres dig in to the surface and the car shifts left hard. I wait, ready for the back end to swing round and break traction, and then I wind in a big application of opposite lock before getting back on the gas. More than 621bhp gallops to all four wheels and for a glorious few seconds I’m sliding sideways, looking forward out of the passenger side window and feeling like a driving god.
But then the weight shifts. Pendulum-like, the drift corrects itself and starts to slide the other way. I’m not ready for it. My hands windmill around the steering wheel, but it’s too late. This hugely expensive, handcrafted British sports car is careering sideways off the track, and all I can see through the side windows is a forest of stout pine trees. Oh no.
Flumph. The car beds itself into a pile of snow. I put my foot down to see if I can pull myself out, but it’s no use – I’m stuck. As I smack the steering wheel in frustration, the instructor next to me gets on his walkie-talkie. “Traktori, traktori, dynamic area one,” he says.
Thankfully, there’s no damage at all, save to my pride and dignity. See, the trees I was careering towards are the best part of a kilometre away, and the foot or so of snow is the only thing there is to hit on this particular race track. I’m in Finland, on a frozen lake, flinging an entire range of Bentleys around on ice with carefree abandon, and for once I’m not terrified that I’m about to bend something.
It’s all part of the Bentley Driving Experience, otherwise known as Power on Ice, and I’ve been invited along to get a taster of what is, in effect, a very nice weekend holiday for the affluent petrolhead. A two-hour flight from Helsinki, just shy of the Arctic Circle, is an area of countryside close to Kuusamo, where the annual cold weather has left a vast lake covered in ice almost a metre thick. Here, we find four-time World Rally Champion Juha Kankkunen, who runs the facility used by Bentley for this exclusive vacation. Targeted predominantly at Bentley customers – but available to anyone – it’s pitched as a two- or four-day luxury break, where visitors can learn to handle the Bentley range at extreme angles that would be extremely tricky to replicate in warmer conditions. Kankkunen has brought together a team of experienced race and rally staff that spend the racing off-season training up the lucky attendees.
I’m here with a group of journalists, and we’re getting a one-day preview of what to expect. The price – starting at around $13,000 – includes a flight from Helsinki to Kuusamo, and transfer to the luxurious Ruka Peak hotel. It’s a sign of just how high-calibre the staff are that I’m collected from the airport in a Volkswagen Touareg by former British karting champion Tiffany Chittenden – and she’s not even coaching.
After a fine night’s sleep in a winter chalet larger than my Dubai apartment, Tiff picks me up bright and early and we drive for 15 minutes along treacherous icy roads to the site of the day’s activities. It’s approaching -10 degrees outside, and all the cars – both for transport and amusement – are fitted with studded tyres. Even winter tyres, of the type mandated when it gets chilly in more central Europe, would be useless in these conditions.
We gather in a small hut, located at the edge of the lake. A welcome fire burns in the centre, and the benches are lined with reindeer fur. Despite this, and the fact that I’m wearing pretty much all of my clothes, I’m still extremely cold. However, a fire in my heart warms me up a bit when our instructors for the day are introduced. They are a fine bunch of talent – as well as the trainers employed by Juha, and the great man himself, Bentley has brought in former Indy Lights driver Jamie Morrow, multiple British rally championMark Higgins and Intercontinental Rally Champion Kris Meeke. If these guys can’t teach me how to get a 2.5-ton luxury car sideways, then no one can.
I start off in the Continental GT V8. Clad in bright red, it’s completely stock save for some Pirelli winter tyres with added studs, and a small extra bumper on the front – just in case. We roll slowly down the hill and onto the lake, which is a surreal experience. I know there are millions of gallons of icy water below me, but it feels like driving on to a big field. Snow covers everything, save for a selection of track layouts, personally designed by Juha on his skidoo and then cleared down to the ice by the tractor. The fact that a tractor can drive over a frozen lake allays the mild fear I had of plunging through the ice. I know Bentleys are well made, but I don’t imagine they’re completely watertight when submerged.
There’s a pause as I wait for my first instructor – Kris Meeke. Well known as the IRC champion and also as a MINI driver in theWorld Rally Championship, he was left high and dry when MINI unexpectedly dropped him due to budget issues before the 2012 season. But that doesn’t mean he’s not still one of the best rally drivers out there, and well versed to taking things sideways. I listen intently.
“The cars are quite heavy,” he explains in his Northern Irish brogue, “but when you come off the throttle they tend to go into a real nice slide. So you need to get off the throttle and induce the slide using the steering wheel. Try to pick up the slide mid-corner on the throttle.”
Kris demonstrates, barely moving the steering wheel and powering through each bend on the short track, adjusting the car with the gas. Of course, he’s used to doing this at much higher speeds between trees, so this must be child’s play to him. I’m sure I can get the hang of this. I step into the driver’s seat, confidence brimming. Although I’ve never really drifted, I’ve driven plenty of powerful cars and wagged the tail on lots of them for the cameras. All I’ve got to do is hold the slide and learn to transition between corners. Easy, right?
The GT’s electronic stability control is off, and I put the gearbox into manual – I should be able to do all of this in second gear. There’s a woofle from the exhausts as I move away, trying to gauge how much grip the studded Pirellis will offer. Not a great deal, as it turns out. The front turns in well, the short studs digging into the ice and dragging the nose in towards the apex. But the momentum caused by this change of direction overwhelms the rears quickly, and we’re sliding. Step one achieved.
Step two, however – holding the drift – takes a lot longer for me to learn. All my advanced driving training, and all my track experience in both karts and cars, has taught me that sliding is bad. Sure, it looks good for the cameras, but it slows you down, and it’s to be avoided. Consequently, I’m conditioned to avoid drifts almost instinctively. As soon as I feel the back stepping out, I feather off the throttle and apply opposite lock to catch the slide. And before I know it, I’m facing forward again. This would have been great if I was chasing lap times at the Dubai Autodrome, but it’s no good for drifting.
So I try again. And the same thing keeps happening. I can’t seem to program myself not to correct the slide, and when I consciously focus on what my hands and feet are doing, they get all confused. Barely a lap into my experience, I come out of a slide with the steering facing the wrong way, and ditch the GT into the snowbank. I am embarrassed, but it will not be the only time today.
Every half an hour or so, we change cars, the idea being that by the end of the day we’ll have driven every car in the range. And so I experience not being able to drift properly in the GT V8, the GT W12 and the Flying Spur Speed, before doing the same in the Flying Spur and Continental Supersports. I continue to struggle, and get increasingly annoyed with my inability to get it right. The Flying Spur Speed session is a particular disaster – even though the longer wheelbase means slides are more graceful and the car is slower to shift its weight around, I get barely a single lap in before ditching it again, and have to wait half an hour for the tractor to arrive. The reason for the delay, however, is that he’s busy hauling other people free. Thankfully, it seems I’m not the only one struggling to get the hang of it.
After getting used to applying gas to keep the slide going, the main issue I’m now having is balancing the levels of steering and throttle. Lifting off and turning in gets things sliding, and then applying the throttle spins up all four wheels. Exactly how much throttle I apply determines the angle of the slide and the balance of the car. Basically, more throttle means more angle. I have to wind on opposite lock to start with, and then the throttle takes over. But I keep applying too much lock, and I’m not syncing up the steering with the throttle use – as the gas goes on, the steering should come off. It all feels completely counter intuitive, and usually results in my flailing around from lockstop to lockstop, trying to correct the damage I’ve done with too much steering and all-too-often merely making it worse.
Mark Higgins tells me that I need to anticipate the change of direction faster, and he should know: you may remember this terrifying wobble while trying to break the lap record for a rally car around the Isle of Man TT course. He also teaches me to realise that power is really rather useful with a four-wheel drive car – with a hefty dollop of right foot, the Flying Spur we’re in can haul itself out of seemingly impossible angles. All I need to do is catch it when it comes back. Which I can’t seem to do with any kind of regularity.
With only a day to get it right, I start to feel rather down. Lunch has come and gone, and still I keep getting stuck. And on the final session of the day, in the hardcore Supersports, it happens again – the third time I’ve had to wait for the tractor. And then, with barely an hour remaining until the end of the session, it starts to click. Jamie Morrow tells me to relax, to keep my steering inputs small, and together with the advice from the other instructors, it stars to come together. My brain gets itself into gear and I manage to sync my arms and right foot. Turn, wait, slide, apply opposite lock, gas, unwind the lock, point front wheels at the next corner. Wait for the back end to swing round, apply lock, gas, unwind the lock. Suddenly the rhythm is there, I know what the Bentley is going to do and how it’ll react, and I can finally control it, even with the shorter wheelbase and huge amounts of power. Let’s face it, none of the cars are particularly lacking in grunt, but the Supersports is easily the most responsive and eager. It’s a superb feeling, sliding gracefully through a bend, holding it, and then seamlessly moving into the next corner. I can see why drifters find it addictive – it’s like golf. Maddening, but I just want to keep doing it.
Of course, I’m by no means perfect. A passenger lap with Juha confirms that – he barely moves his hands, and chats nonchalantly about his world-record-breaking run in the exact car we’re in, when he hit more than 330kph on ice. All the while, we’re gliding around the track, never in a straight line and always sideways. To watch his hands, you’d think he was manoeuvring around a supermarket car park. It’s a humbling experience, but I’m nevertheless delighted with my progress.
There follows, for us and for regular customers, a dogsled tour and a visit to a reindeer farm, all of which will no doubt delight those that have shelled out for the holiday. Later, I have the pleasure of heading to a dodgy karaoke bar in the town of Ruka, where Mark Higgins showcases his lungs with a rousing rendition of the Beatles’ Can’t Buy Me Love as Kris reminisces about his time in the WRC and Juha fends off a line of adoring locals. I’m not sure paying guests get to enjoy that particular unofficial extra to the trip. But that doesn’t mean that if I end up with a big cash windfall, I won’t be heading back to the ice as soon as possible. For sheer driving enjoyment, not much comes close.
by PHILL TROMANS from crankandpiston
